by Robin Crumby
“But, sister, I told you last week that I was coming to collect her. There’s no point denying it. This poor man has been driving me around all day trying to find her. I came all the way from Freshwater this morning.”
“How silly of me. Yes, of course.” Sister Imelda seemed confused for a moment. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how I could possibly have forgotten. Perhaps I got my wires crossed, somehow. It’s so easy to lose track of names. We’ve taken in so many girls over the last few weeks. You see, the school needed to make room for the new arrivals.”
“But Heather’s thirteen. She’s far too young to join your programme.”
“My dear Riley. Whatever you’ve been told, we’re a charity for homeless young women. We’ve taken girls far younger than Heather. They have to be at least thirteen years old to join the programme.”
“So it’s true then. You really are press-ganging all these vulnerable women into joining?”
“Hardly. We don’t force them. Barely half decide to join,” the sister whispered, imploring Riley to lower her voice. “Why don’t we take a walk in the gardens and I can explain properly.”
“I really don’t have time for all this. I’m meant to be back at the hospital by 5pm.” Riley looked at her watch. There were only three hours until the soldiers closed the roads again for curfew.
“At least allow me the opportunity to explain. I’m sure you’d like to see Stella and Adam before you leave.”
Riley relented. She knew she was being manipulated. The sister’s calm authority seemed to relax her. As she often found when dealing with these people, it was impossible to refuse without appearing ungrateful. It was one of the many reasons she found the sisters both beguiling and frustrating.
Sister Imelda linked arms with Riley and led her down the lane towards Ventnor Park. The wrought-iron gate was hanging from its hinges and the entrance overgrown, but within, the sheltered beauty of the park was inviting.
“This is one of my most favourite places on the island. The locals say there’s a microclimate here.”
“It’s beautiful,” Riley said, distractedly.
“You should see the Royal Botanical Gardens. When the sun comes out, it’s a small slice of heaven. Palm trees, trumpet flowers, fuchsia, magnolia, the colours are stunning.” The sister sighed, leaning her head to study the trees.
“Another time, I’d like to see that,” said Riley impatiently. “But right now, I need to find Heather and get going. I so wish you hadn’t meddled.”
“Is that the thanks I get for rescuing Zed’s daughter from that school? Who knows what happens to young children there?”
“I appreciate you have the best of intentions, but let’s not pretend that this was pure altruism.”
“If you’re suggesting an ulterior motive, I assure you, you’re mistaken. Our only concern here is protecting the vulnerable, giving young people a fresh start. Most of the young women who come here have suffered terrible hardship or been abused. Can’t you see? This is a sanctuary from that world. We can give these young people back a future, teach them new skills, finish their education, restore their hope. We’re doing God’s work.”
“You may fool everyone else, but not me. Your judgement is just as subjective and questionable as any other survivor group. You’re doing what you believe is necessary to survive. At the end of the day, we’re all in competition for resources.”
“How can you say that about the Sisterhood?”
“You fail to appreciate how your behaviour could be perceived by others. I suppose it’s a matter of perspective. Heather is only thirteen, for goodness’ sake.”
“Regardless of what you think you’ve heard, no one is forcing these young women to do anything against their will. I assure you, all the girls who choose to join the regeneration programme are volunteers. Motherhood is Nature’s greatest gift.”
“But they’re still children. They’re much too young for that responsibility. I understand full well what you’re trying to do, but really?”
“As soon as girls reach puberty they are eligible for consideration. Sister Theodora is the final arbiter. We insist on a level of emotional and physical maturity. You do realise that it’s a modern invention that women should put their careers ahead of their biological function. Back in Victorian times, the average age of first-time mothers was much younger. Circumstances demand that we adapt.”
Riley felt her eye twitching again. “And what happens to these newborn children? Is it true they’re sent to St Mary’s for testing?”
“Good heavens, no. We’re not monsters.”
“Sister, I’ve just come from St Mary’s. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Do you have any idea how many children are there?”
“They’re crying out for volunteers. I’m fully aware of the vaccine trials they are undertaking. We do whatever we can to help. Stella’s son, for example, is a regular visitor there.”
“Why Adam?”
“Because he’s one of the first of the newborns to exhibit increased resistance. I’m told he has natural antibodies that help counteract infection.”
“This place is acquiring quite a reputation, you know. Every man on the island is talking about your regeneration programme. They’re queuing up to enrol.”
“So I’ve heard. It’s a testament to the levels of support we enjoy, but we don’t just take anyone. First, the men have to undergo various tests to make sure they qualify. We need to be sure they are fit and healthy.”
Riley was shaking her head in disbelief. The sister’s naivety was blinding. “Don’t you see? We’re all just meat for the grinder. They’re using you. They’re using all of us. This whole vaccine trial rides rough-shod over people’s human rights. They’re all so focused on finding the cure, they don’t care about individuals.”
“I don’t blame them. Finding a cure is paramount.”
“Even if it means only the genetically pure get put forward? Medical screening for those with family histories of illnesses? Racial profiling? Screw the rest of us.”
“These are just stories, Riley. You’re seriously accusing a hospital of prejudice and bias?”
“Absolutely. And to think I’ve just left Adele in their care. What was I thinking?”
“Look, these last few weeks, we’ve all been under a huge amount of stress. You of all people know how that affects us,” she said, stroking her arm tenderly. Riley softened at the contact.
“Look, set aside your misgivings for a moment. You must see that we’re building something that matters. We already have almost two hundred volunteers in the programme, and there are probably a hundred more waiting to enrol. You should see it, Riley. Accommodation spread over large houses and B&Bs throughout Ventnor. We have our own maternity unit, full to bursting with expectant mothers. It’s the most wonderful sight. We’d love to have you stay with us. Join us?”
Hearing it from the sister’s point of view, made Riley question whether this regeneration programme was really all that bad. She didn’t like their methods, but in the face of an uncertain future, she found it hard to argue against this biological imperative. If they didn’t compromise, then what hope was there for the survivors? If science could find a way to alter the odds in their favour, then surely it was worth the cost? Right now, survival was no better than a lottery.
“What happens to the children?”
“Other than monthly check-ups, they get to stay right here with their mothers. They will go to nursery and the local school. I assure you, it’s all perfectly normal.”
Coming towards them along the footpath were half a dozen mothers with pushchairs. They were each dressed in a royal blue uniform that reminded Riley of Wrens, the female volunteers in the Royal Navy during wartime. The group was in high spirits, laughing and talking loudly above the wail of several over-tired infants. Riley spotted Stella from a distance. She shouted her name and ran towards her. Stella’s laugh froze on her lips, eyes wide in disbelief.
“Riley!” she shouted,
embracing her tightly, “My God. I’ve been praying for you.”
“And who’s this?” Riley cooed, peering into the folds of blankets to get a look at the angelic face of a child who must have been nearly six months old.
“Please don’t wake him. I just got him off to sleep.”
Stella turned to address the other mothers who were watching them. “Why don’t you ladies go on? I’ll catch you up.”
Riley noticed a couple of girls were probably no more than fifteen or sixteen. She turned her attention to baby Adam. Now that the buggy was no longer moving, he was beginning to stir.
“He’s gorgeous. You must be so happy.”
“I can’t begin to tell you. It’s been amazing. Say hello to your godson.”
“Me, a godmother? Really, I’m touched. Thank you.”
“The sisters have been great, but being a single parent is hard work. Now that Adam’s going into the crèche, I’m volunteering to be a mother again.”
“Again? So soon?”
“They need all the help they can get. Why don’t you stay? You might like it. It’s different here now. “
“No, I’d go crazy. I get why you like it, but really, it’s not for me. My place is with the others back in Freshwater. Adele needs me.”
“Of course. How’s she doing?”
“Actually not great. She was diagnosed with leukaemia a while back. Without a bone marrow transplant, there’s not much they can do, but she’s putting on a brave face. She has some pills to relieve the symptoms. She’s volunteered to help with these vaccine trials.”
“Adam too. He’s been back and forth to St Mary’s most weeks. The doctors seem to think he’s special.”
“Do they know why?”
“They say that because I was immune, he will be too. All I know is that they keep taking more and more of his blood. That’s why they’re so insistent that I volunteer again. Apparently, there’s a male volunteer, like me, with very high levels of resistance.”
“I’m told they’re trying to genetically engineer immunity in the next generation.”
“When there’s a chance you can make a difference, it’s hard to say no. Who knows? Maybe Adam’s little brother or sister might help them figure out the answer.”
Riley reached out and placed her hand on Stella’s arm. “I’m sure you’re right. I just don’t like the idea of them taking advantage of you like this.”
“They’re really not. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t believe in it.”
Riley checked her watch and realised they were running short of time if she was going to make it back to the hospital with Heather before curfew.
“Listen, I promise you I’ll come back another time, but I really have to get back. My driver won’t wait forever.”
“Why don’t you stay the night?”
“I can’t. Adele will be waiting for me.”
They set off back towards the hotel, linking arms again.
“So how come Zed couldn’t be bothered to pick up his own daughter?” said Stella.
“It’s a long story. He’s been working up at St Mary’s. Some investigation for the colonel. Wildfire, I think he called it?”
Recognition flickered briefly in Stella’s eyes, before she shrugged and made light of it. When they got back to the car park, the car and driver were nowhere to be seen.
“Maybe he parked around the back,” said Riley, looking in all directions.
At that moment, Sister Theodora emerged from the hotel entrance, her long robes dragging across the dirt. “If you’re looking for the man who was here, he said he couldn’t wait any longer. He’s gone back to the hospital.”
“Without me? How am I meant to get back?”
“I told him we would make arrangements to get you back in the morning.”
“You told him not to wait?”
“Child, curfew begins in two hours. He wouldn’t have made it back otherwise. It’s not worth the risk of being caught out in the open.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make. You realise a little girl’s waiting for me. She’ll be worried if I don’t return.”
“Your driver will inform the hospital of the change in your plans. It will give us a chance to talk.”
“Come on, Riley,” said Stella cheerily. “Stay and have dinner with us. There’s so much to discuss.”
“I will ask Sister Imelda to take you both back to the hospital in the morning. I trust you can ride?” asked Sister Theodora.
“You mean horseback?”
“Stella, perhaps you can find Riley a bed for the night and tell the kitchen we have a guest for dinner.” To Riley, she said, “We eat at seven.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Zed followed the Russia specialist through a maze of underground service tunnels that snaked beneath the Porton Down buildings. There was a low rumble of machinery down here. The air smelled musty and damp.
At the end of a long dark passageway, they reached a heavy steel door protected by a CCTV camera. A tiny pin-prick of red light on the camera housing suggested the power was active here. Anton knocked three times, and with a scrape of metal, the top and bottom security bolts were released.
Inside, a uniformed guard waved them through into a modern interior. Beyond a pressure-sealed door, a further security checkpoint granted access to sub-level two. By the time they took their seats in the theatre-style auditorium Doctor Hardy and his team were ready to begin their presentation.
In the pit of the generous subterranean lecture theatre, Hardy introduced a series of awkward-looking eccentrics who mumbled through their prepared statements, barely looking up. Zed tried to follow but found the endless acronyms and technical language impenetrable. As far as he could tell, they were conducting more than a dozen parallel vaccine trials, two of which were showing promise, and worthy of further study. The rest had already been abandoned.
Zed was absent-mindedly looking around the room when he noticed the striking woman from the canteen sitting at the far end of the row in front of his. She was twiddling a strand of light brown hair, listening distractedly as she scribbled notes. She leaned back in her chair. Her navy-blue trouser suit, patent leather shoes and cashmere cardigan marked her out as civilian.
From where he was sitting, Zed could safely study her profile from a distance. There was something so familiar about her, yet he struggled to place her. A colleague of his wife? Another parent from school? Someone he had known when he was younger?
She wore silver hoop earrings, her shoulder-length hair pulled back into a ponytail. There was a healthy glow about her, considering how little daylight the team enjoyed down here. She had soft eyes, high cheekbones and naturally olive skin. Her cheeks seemed to redden, perhaps aware of his attention.
The meeting broke up, and the assembled crowd began to disperse, returning to their offices and laboratories. The object of his gaze seemed to linger, taking her time to put her papers back into a small leather briefcase. Zed took his chance and wandered over.
He pretended to look at a community noticeboard covered with faded sheets advertising book groups and football tournaments, lift shares and social clubs. Out of the corner of his eye, he waited for her to notice him. She abruptly stopped what she was doing and looked up at him.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” she challenged.
At first, he wasn’t sure if she was addressing him, but when she spoke again, there was no question.
“You’re Zed Samuels, right?” She squinted, waiting for the penny to drop. “I’m Gillian Forrester. Carol’s friend?”
As soon as she said the name Carol, he instantly made the connection. She studied him carefully as he shook her hand, holding on a little longer than was strictly necessary, noticing the prosthetic.
“Of course, I’m so sorry. It’s been how many years now?” He shook his head, still trying to recall whether she was Carol’s disapproving flatmate.
“Nearly fifteen.” She smiled. “You’re forgiven.”
“Remind me, you and Carol shared a place when she lived in Salisbury?”
“You see, you do remember. We did until I got my own place.”
“What was that pub around the corner called?”
“The Cloisters?”
“That’s right, off Friary Lane. That brings back memories.”
“I used to love that place. You really didn’t recognise me? I haven’t changed that much, have I? You certainly haven’t.”
“I assure you, your powers of recognition are much better than mine.”
“Did you keep in touch with Carol then after Salisbury?”
“Not really. We were always on and off. I could never work her out. I think she met someone else.” He sighed, remembering how keen he had been on Carol Farman. “I suppose we drifted apart. Our careers took us in different directions… How long have you been working here? I didn’t know you were a scientist.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Actually, I’m an epidemiologist.”
“So what exactly does an epidemiologist do?”
“Basically we’re data geeks. You should meet my team. Wall-to-wall nerds. We’re the ones who come up with all the models and simulations to show the impact of different variables in an outbreak. Containment strategies, deployment of vaccination, quarantine procedures, that sort of thing.”
“Interesting.”
“If I’m honest, it’s pretty dull.” She laughed, noticing his raised eyebrows. “But since the outbreak, we’re like rockstars round here.”
“I would have thought Doctor Hardy’s team got top billing?”
“We don’t all work in a lab, you know. There are all sorts working here: geneticists, mathematicians, computer scientists, physicists, pathologists and programmers.”
“So you must work with Doctor Hardy?”
“Not directly, but I know some of his team.”
“What’s he like?”
“Other than a charisma bypass, I hear he’s all right once you get to know him. So how about you? What brings you to Porton?”
“Long story,” he said, tapping the side of his nose. “I’m conducting an investigation.”
