The Doctor
Lisa Stone
‘I was gripped immediately’ Katerina Diamond, Sunday Times bestseller How much do you know about the couple next door? When Emily and Ben move in next door to Dr Burman and his wife Alisha, they are keen to get to know their new neighbours. Outgoing and sociable, Emily tries to befriend the doctor’s wife, but Alisha is strangely subdued, barely leaving the house, and terrified of answering the phone. When Emily goes missing a few weeks later, Ben is plunged into a panic. His wife has left him a note, but can she really have abandoned him for another man? Or has Emily’s curiosity about the couple next door led her straight into danger? A gripping, sinister thriller with a twist you won’t see coming from the international bestseller Lisa Stone.
LISA STONE
THE DOCTOR
Copyright (#ulink_122e4798-f643-5a96-b150-e50c50ed8472)
Published by Avon an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street,
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2019
Copyright © Lisa Stone 2019
Cover design © Alison Groom 2019
Cover photography © Shutterstock
Lisa Stone asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008322922
Ebook Edition © July 2019 ISBN: 9780008322939
Version: 2019-06-27
Praise for Lisa Stone (#ulink_fc6e5c2e-b362-50e5-81a0-ebe1a5e73f68)
‘The Darkness Within hooked me from the start. Once you start you won’t be able to stop!’
Katerina Diamond, No.1 bestselling author of The Teacher
‘This is a cracking good read that had me hooked from the beginning until the end. Full of murders, spiritualistic intrigue and just a hint of romance. It is quick paced, extremely thought provoking and full of twists and turns. I didn’t want to put this book down.’
Amazon reviewer
‘Fantastic book, couldn’t turn the pages quickly enough!’
Amazon reviewer
‘A well-written and extremely addictive novel that will stick in your head long after putting it down.’
Amazon reviewer
‘I flew through The Darkness Within; it maintained a dark and gritty atmosphere whilst covering some rather disturbing subject matters. But despite there being some very emotive and hard to read scenes described, I raced through the pages desperate to know how it would end and I certainly wasn’t disappointed.’
Goodreads reviewer
‘A unique plot and storyline – I enjoyed the book immensely. It really makes you think.’
Goodreads reviewer
‘What a powerful novel. I have read all of most of Cathy Glass’s books and here she is writing under a new name Lisa Stone. I love the fact she has branched into crime thriller and I think she has done it really well.’
Goodreads reviewer
‘I really enjoyed this. Interesting and captivating story line, great characters and easy to read – not the subject matter which is difficult, dark and pretty violent, but the style of writing. A gripping thriller.’
Goodreads reviewer
‘The Darkness Within is certainly a dark and gripping read and one that will win over new fans as well as old.’
Goodreads reviewer
‘With areas that lead us to the dark depths of our own imagination, and parts so well described you could almost be in the same room, The Darkness Within is a struggle to leave unfinished.’
Amazon reviewer
‘Thank you Lisa Stone for making my long train journey feel like a ten minute ride! I will now look forward to your next book.’
Amazon reviewer
‘A great read. The author has a style of writing that makes the words just flow off the page and as the story develops it’s a difficult book to put down as you want to know how it’s all going to end.’
Amazon reviewer
‘Absolutely fantastic, I could not put it down. Cannot recommend this book highly enough. You will become addicted to this author.’
Amazon reviewer
‘An enjoyable chiller for the summer reading pile!’
Goodreads reviewer
‘I loved the premise, it appealed to the horror/sci-fi loving side of me. Lisa understands human relationships and the ugly side of people very well, and this shone through in her work.’
Amazon reviewer
‘Stalker had me hooked from the beginning and I read it in one session!’
Amazon reviewer
‘Stalker got better and better, with a few surprises along the way. I’d highly recommend Lisa Stone.’
Amazon reviewer
‘Had my heart pounding towards the end! Couldn’t put it down.’
Amazon reviewer
‘Stalker is a completely and utterly gripping, engrossing read. What starts off as a case of voyeurism turns into something much darker and sinister, leading up to a fantastic ending. If you want a cracking good crime thriller, then I highly recommend this one.’
Amazon reviewer
Contents
Cover (#ud44a4708-a5b3-54ef-b281-0fe9d98b7a40)
Title page (#u791b59cf-9d84-5b5b-b30e-7e763bde3026)
Copyright (#uc5100fcb-d159-56a4-8402-eca5ae95cb66)
Praise for Lisa Stone (#u758d394f-c115-50b1-8850-6a951f6eaa32)
Chapter One (#u2a7b982d-ee50-542b-ba5f-4b902f452e0a)
Chapter Two (#u707b070d-72ae-5726-9eac-fbe8f7d5275f)
Chapter Three (#u3cef3da3-342c-575b-8749-529b67ae97c5)
Chapter Four (#u727776e5-5fff-5908-a378-7c069c356bf0)
Chapter Five (#uf385b16b-3dff-5633-9548-131e97074509)
Chapter Six (#ua3d60eee-f77c-59a5-a528-b75d928b9a11)
Chapter Seven (#u235a516b-f55a-5bd2-a244-f74b8584df51)
Chapter Eight (#u1dd88bb8-6c5b-5c95-8816-1799cd3a1c76)
Chapter Nine (#u5052d5fc-1cf7-5211-a9d6-70121a6ead50)
Chapter Ten (#u97789620-4195-56e6-9e3c-aaa8a6f6bb4a)
Chapter Eleven (#uf68abce2-697a-5ff3-aa51-396a04dd555c)
Chapter Twelve (#ub464c903-6246-554e-8d59-8586a6f3142a)
Chapter Thirteen (#uada74bf9-e3c9-5b1d-b743-e5cb38573f94)
Chapter Fourteen (#u6d2962e0-3077-56c7-a573-810585a7eb5f)
Chapter Fifteen (#uaeb2ae36-060a-5e37-8f52-cd27258a2075)
Chapter Sixteen (#u39405eae-475a-54f2-bda3-c98f5a0a4295)
Chapter Seventeen (#ubcd8d465-e0dc-54a2-bf9e-446e2632f3a9)
Chapter Eighteen (#ua25e1348-8fa1-5d57-92a3-4949b9a92e82)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Author’s note (#litres_trial_promo)
Suggested topics for reading group discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading … (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Books by Lisa Stone (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
We all want to live forever, don’t we?
Chapter One (#ulink_5a5c509a-bfe1-5407-8320-95bcda9bfcba)
It was pitch-black outside except for the small light coming from the outbuilding at the very end of their neighbours’ garden. Emily could just make out the slither of light through the tall shrubs and trees that flanked their boundary fence. No moon or stars shone in the cloud-laden sky and no wind stirred the foliage. She liked their secluded garden, it had been one of the reasons she and Ben had bought the house, but sometimes it felt just a bit creepy. Especially at night.
‘What do you think Dr Burman does in that outbuilding so late at night?’ she asked Ben as she stood at their bedroom window, gazing out, before drawing the curtains. ‘He’s in there most nights, often until very late.’
‘It’s his man cave,’ Ben replied. ‘His escape. It can’t be easy being a doctor all day, only to come home and have to look after your sick wife.’
‘I suppose,’ Emily said. ‘But I do find him and his wife odd. We’ve been in this house over a year now and they just about manage to say hello. I’ve tried to be neighbourly, but she doesn’t want to know.’
‘He says a few words to me in passing,’ Ben said, joining her at the window.
‘I would have thought she’d be grateful for some company. I never see her go out or have any visitors.’
‘Not everyone is sociable like you,’ Ben said, kissing her cheek.
‘And all those CCTV cameras at the front of their house,’ Emily continued, reluctant to let the matter go. ‘It’s completely over the top for these houses. I mean, none of us is rich or famous.’
‘Perhaps they’re secret millionaires,’ Ben laughed, then looked seriously at Emily. ‘Em, are you sure you don’t want to go back to work when your maternity leave ends? Is being at home really enough for you?’
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ she said, and turned to him with a smile. ‘Thank you for giving me the chance. I want to stay with Robbie a while longer. I know money will be tight, but I really wouldn’t be happy leaving him with a childminder all day until he’s a bit older.’
‘OK, I just wanted to make sure. I should be due a rise soon.’ He kissed her cheek again. ‘It’s late, love, I’m going to hop into the shower now.’
As he left their bedroom, Emily turned again to the window and began to close the curtains. The light went off in Dr Burman’s outbuilding, plunging their garden into complete darkness. Eleven thirty. The same time as the night before. Why she should make a mental note of the time, she wasn’t sure. It was something she found herself doing, as well as looking into their house and garden at any opportunity. It seemed important to keep watch. A gut feeling that it felt safer that way. Although had she told Ben, she was sure he would have laughed.
Chapter Two (#ulink_77839b36-060c-5f93-804f-d2a34184efe4)
BACK FROM THE DEAD!
A 15-year-old boy is to be frozen in the hope he can be brought back to life at a later date and cured of the disease that killed him.
The teenager, who cannot be named for legal reasons, is close to death from a rare genetic condition. Because he is a minor he needed the court’s permission to have his body frozen using a process called cryonics.
He told the judge he had investigated cryonics and was convinced that it would give him the chance of life in years to come when a cure had been found. The judge agreed.
Following his death, his body will be taken from where he lives in England to the US, where it will be frozen and preserved at a cost of £40,000.
‘Read it!’ Dr Amit Burman snapped, throwing the newspaper onto his wife’s lap. ‘Perhaps you will believe me now a judge has ruled it’s acceptable.’
Alisha picked up the newspaper, her fingers trembling, and read the article while he stood by waiting impatiently. She hated him when he was like this, all agitated. He scared her even more.
‘No, I’m sorry,’ she said, her voice slight. ‘You know my feelings. I think it’s unnatural, macabre, and against the laws of God and nature.’
‘And where is your God now you, you silly bitch?’ Amit demanded, his eyes blazing. ‘I don’t see him saving your life. Only doctors and advances in medicine can do that, and research is not progressing fast enough.’
‘But …’ she began and had to stop as a coughing fit took hold. She picked up the glass of water she always kept within reach and took a few sips. Her hand shook.
‘Don’t you see there’s nothing else the doctors can do for you?’ Amit persisted, trying to lower his voice. ‘You’d be making medical history. At the forefront of science. I’d do it if it was me.’
‘This is not the answer,’ she said quietly. ‘And there is no proof it will work. I think that poor lad and his parents have had their hopes raised for nothing. It is immoral. All that money that could have been better spent. I would hate to think of being sealed in a metal drum rather than at peace in the earth. He won’t even have a grave they can visit.’
‘No! Because he won’t be dead. You’re not listening to me!’ He thumped the coffee table hard and her water slopped from its glass. ‘He’ll be in a state of suspended animation. Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said?’
‘Amit,’ she said, already recoiling from the blow that was sure to follow if she crossed him, ‘I’m not doing it. I don’t want to be frozen when I die and you can’t make me.’
But the look in his eye as he raised his fist said that he could and would if necessary.
Chapter Three (#ulink_414faa9e-c876-5182-b351-cb10c78e2947)
‘Welcome to the future. Welcome to ELECT – the gateway to everlasting life. I’m Owen, your guide for the day. You all have your information packs? Good. Sit back and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll start by saying a bit about our organization, then we’ll watch a short film of an operation in progress, followed by a tour of our facility.’
As Owen began his talk, Dr Amit Burman glanced around the room. There were twenty of them seated in rows of matching leather armchairs in this small lecture room. Of different ages, ethnicity, male and female, but united in the belief that they or a family member could be preserved after death and brought back to continue their life. Some were clearly already ill – one woman had a portable oxygen tank hissing quietly by her side, while others, like him, were planning ahead. Here was the proof that old age and terminal illness needn’t be the end, that science would allow them to return and continue where they’d left off. Amit couldn’t understand why there weren’t more here. Twenty wasn’t a huge number considering what was on offer.
He was taking notes, as were some of the others, although he thought he probably knew more than most – from being a doctor and all the research he’d done. He probably knew as much as Owen, he thought smugly, who was, after all, only their rep and tour guide.
Owen was winding up the introductory talk now and about to start the film. The room fell silent as he pressed the remote control to dim the lights, and moved away from the large wall-mounted screen. The film began with a smiling shot of the founder, welcoming them and explaining their mission statement. Then his voice continued on the voice-over as the film moved to the operating theatre.
Amit sat upright in his chair and concentrated hard. It was just like any high-tech operating theatre, and he was used to that. A dozen gowned and gloved staff: doctors, nurses, technicians, but with one significant difference – the patient was already technically dead. As the surgeon cut into the patient’s artery to drain the blood, the camera moved to a discreet angle to protect the squeamish. But Amit didn’t mind blood, not one bit. He saw it a lot in his job.
‘The patient’s blood is replaced by a chemical solution to stop ice crystals forming,’ the commentary on the film continued. A mass of wires and tubes could be seen snaking from the patient to bottles, monitors and a computer. ‘Then the body is gradually cooled down to minus 130 degrees Celsius before being submerged in the aluminium tank.’ A shot of rows of aluminium tanks standing like soldiers in the storage facility, their motors running in the background and labelled with the dangerous chemical symbol. ‘Inside the tanks, the temperature is minus 190 degrees Celsius. Colder than any place on earth and cold enough to stop the body from deteriorating. They are checked daily and will remain there until a cure is found when they will be brought back to life. Welcome to the future. Welcome to ELECT – Eternal Life Education Cryonics Trust.’
The film ended and the room remained very quiet as the enormity of what they’d seen stayed with them.
Owen slowly raised the lights and then returned to the front. The silence in the room continued until he spoke.
‘Quite something isn’t it?’ There were murmurs of agreement. ‘I’m sure you have plenty of questions, so if you could raise your hands we’ll take it in turns.’
‘I’m sorry.’ A middle-age woman stood. ‘You’ll have to excuse me, this isn’t for me. I won’t waste your time further.’
‘No problem. If you go to reception someone will see you out.’
Apologising again, she hurried from the room, which left the group feeling united with the dissenter gone.
Hands waved in the air.
‘Yes, sir,’ Owen said, pointing to a man in the front row. ‘Your question.’
‘How do you check on them each day? Is there a window in the aluminium tank?’
‘No, sir, we lift the lid of the tank. The liquid nitrogen needs topping up a little each day and this is done manually at the same time.’
The man nodded and Owen pointed to the next hand.
‘Why are the patients suspended upside down in their tanks?’ a young woman in her thirties asked.
‘So that if there was an incident, the head would be the last to be affected. I would add that we haven’t had an incident yet.’
He moved swiftly on, pointing to another person with their hand in the air.
‘All this relies on electricity. What happens if there is a power cut?’
‘We have our own emergency generating system. Also, the building is designed to withstand hurricanes and earthquakes.’
‘Do you store family members?’ a man asked.
‘Yes, we have a husband and wife here already.’
Amit watched as an elderly lady raised her hand a little sheepishly.
‘Yes, ma’am?’
‘This may sound silly, but do you store pets?’
Idiot, Amit thought.
‘Absolutely,’ Owen said. ‘It’s not a silly question. We have two dogs and a cat. They are held in a separate room as their preservation tanks are that much smaller.’
‘Is ELECT financially stable?’ a middle-aged man asked. ‘What you are doing here is obviously very long term. How can we be sure you will still be here in fifty or a hundred years’ time?’
‘We have insurance to cover bankruptcy but our organization is sound. You can view our accounts online.’
‘Can loved ones visit the deceased here?’
‘Yes, but we encourage them to visit their memorial stone instead. It’s a more pleasant experience. All you can see here is a metal tank.’
‘The film we’ve just watched said you also store body parts,’ someone else asked. ‘Why?’
‘So that when we wake the patient we can replace any damaged or diseased organs.’
‘I am right in saying that no one has ever been woken yet?’ a man asked sceptically.
‘That’s correct,’ Owen said, unfazed. ‘No human at least. But we know the process works. Embryos have been frozen successfully for years using this method.’
Amit slowly raised his hand.
‘Yes, sir, your question.’
‘Do you always need the consent of the person to be preserved or do you accept the consent of their next of kin?’
‘We always need the consent of the person,’ Owen replied. ‘The decision to be preserved is made in life, unlike organ donation that can be made by the next of kin after death.’
‘And there is no way round it?’ Amit asked. ‘I mean, supposing the person is too ill to make the decision or not of sound mind?’
‘Then it would be a matter for the court to decide.’
Amit was about to follow this up with another question when Owen’s phone bleeped. ‘Excuse me,’ he said and read the message, then addressed the audience. ‘That was to let me know a new patient is on their way. A fifteen-year-old boy from England. We have time for a quick tour, then the operating theatre will need to be prepared for his arrival. I’ll answer any further questions as we go.’
Chapter Four (#ulink_4d196cd6-0fc8-5872-b932-0ed6226f39a4)
‘Not again!’ Amit shouted as he read the delivery card Alisha had left on the hall table. ‘I told you a parcel was coming for me today! Couldn’t you have answered the fucking door?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, anxiously watching him from the far end of the hall. ‘I was upstairs and couldn’t get down in time. They only ring once and then rush off and leave it with the neighbour.’
‘That’s the third time in two weeks, you silly cow, and that woman next door is fucking nosy.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Alisha said again. ‘I’ll serve your dinner so it’s ready when you get back.’
Amit threw open the front door and went down their garden path, seething at her incompetence. He didn’t ask much of his wife but got even less! Couldn’t she do anything he asked?
Latching their garden gate behind him, he paused and breathed in the fresh air. He couldn’t turn up next door in a rage. Others weren’t as forgiving as Alisha.
At seven o’clock it was still light, but the air had an edge to it, a reminder that autumn wasn’t far away. Amit liked the seasons, the changes, the cycle of nature, that spring came after winter with the promise of new life. It was a metaphor for his plans, he thought as he began along the pavement. Alisha had refused to sign up to ELECT, but that wasn’t the end of it, oh no, not by a long way. He could – and would – succeed. Maybe not the first time; it would take trial and error, but he would practice until he got it right. Thanks to the internet, he could buy virtually everything he needed online, but it was worrying that his parcels kept being delivered next door.
He continued up the neighbours’ drive. They didn’t have a gate; their front garden and drive were open plan. Ben Johnston and Emily King; they weren’t married. He seemed OK and was content with ‘good morning’ and a few words, but she wanted to talk and kept inviting Alisha in for a coffee. He’d warned Alisha to stay away and he knew she wouldn’t disobey him. He’d seen Emily King looking at their house, scrutinizing it as she walked by or drove past in her car. He doubted she suspected, he was too careful, and had given her no cause for suspicion. She’d do well to concentrate on her baby and housework. The elderly couple on the other side weren’t a problem, but he couldn’t ask them to take his packages, they were frail and took longer to answer their door than Alisha did.
Pressing the doorbell, he took a step back and waited. Their cat appeared from around the corner and meowed loudly, wanting to be let in. Amit detested cats or any domestic animal. As far as he was concerned, they served no useful purpose and just cost the owner money.
The door opened, the cat shot in, and even before he’d had a chance to say good evening, she was inviting him in.
‘Come in while I fetch your parcel,’ Emily said, smiling.
‘Thank you, but I’ll wait here.’
‘You always say that,’ she laughed and disappeared down the hall, leaving the door open. Why didn’t she have his parcels ready in the hall? There was always this palaver and she knew he collected them on the day they were delivered.
Ben appeared. ‘Hi, how are you?’
‘Well, thank you.’
‘Em won’t be a minute. She puts your parcels upstairs for safekeeping. Robbie is crawling now and into everything.’
Amit assumed Robbie was their child and managed a polite smile.
‘Here we go,’ Emily said, reappearing and handing him the shoebox-sized package.
‘Thank you,’ he said stiffly. ‘I’m sorry you’ve been troubled again.’
‘No problem. How is Alisha?’ she asked.
‘As well as can be expected,’ he said tightly.
‘Please tell her I’d love to see her for coffee. If she isn’t up to coming here, I could pop in with Robbie.’
‘I’ll tell her,’ he said, with no intention of doing so. Saying goodbye, he returned down their drive and the front door closed behind him.
The irritation he felt at Emily’s bouncy cheerful personality was quickly replaced by excitement. He knew what the package contained: another vital piece of equipment. As soon as he’d had dinner, he’d go to his workshop and continue.
Half an hour later, leaving Alisha at the sink washing the dishes, Amit let himself out the back door, briefcase in hand and the package under his arm, and went down their garden path. The sun was setting now, elongating the shadows of the house and trees across the lawn. He preferred this time to the harsh light of day, which seemed to highlight flaws and imperfections. At the end of the path, he unlocked the padlock on his workshop, switched on the light and, going in, bolted the door behind him. No one could see him now. Blackout blinds were permanently down at all the windows, and he’d covered the glass in opaque film. It was pure luck the house had come with this substantial outbuilding, built by the previous owner as a recording studio. Already soundproofed, well insulated and with electricity running from the house, it hadn’t taken much for him to adapt it for its present purpose.
With a growing sense of pride and a little apprehension, Amit carefully took the bottle of anaesthetic from his briefcase. Opening one of the metal cabinets that stood against the wall, he placed the bottle on the top shelf with the other bottles of solutions. Drugs such as these were the only items he needed that couldn’t be bought legitimately from the internet as they required a special licence. Doubtless he could have bought them illegally, but there would be no guarantee they were pure and hadn’t been watered down or mixed with something to give the supplier more profit. The wrong or inferior drugs would be disastrous, and besides, no one at the hospital would notice the drugs were missing. As the anaesthetist, he was responsible for signing the drugs in and out of the operating room, and he took them one at a time.
Returning to the workbench, he slit open the package and took out the bag valve mask. It was in a sealed sterile package and was used for manually pumping air into a patient’s lungs. It would be crucial that Alisha’s brain received oxygen while he lowered her body temperature. He’d already bought a portable heart-machine. He’d use the manual pump as he transported her body from the house down the garden to his lab and then hook her up to the machine.
Retrieving a pen from the bench, he flicked through his list of essential items and ticked off the bag valve mask. He placed it in the cabinet on the second shelf. The shelves were nearly full now: bottles, tubing, scissors, forceps, scalpels, speculums, retractors, wound dressings, and so on. Items he would need to operate. Not a standard operation of course. He’d do what ELECT were doing: drain the blood from the body and replace it with preservation fluid. Then he’d store Alisha in liquid nitrogen at minus 190°C until a cure for her condition could be found. He’d be at the forefront of medical science, making a name for himself, and finally his parents would be proud of him.
Taking his laptop from his briefcase, Amit set it on his bench and perched on the stool. He brought up the bookmarked web page and ordered an aluminium tank large enough to hold a body. He’d been surprised at just how easy it had been to find what he needed online, partly due to the trend in cryotherapy – a treatment where otherwise healthy people paid to stand in a tank at minus 90°C for two minutes. It was being used to treat minor conditions, including sports injuries and skin conditions, as well as supposedly generating a feeling of youthfulness and well-being.
Having entered his card details to pay for the tank, he arranged a delivery date, then went to another website and ordered half a dozen white mice. He’d only get one chance with Alisha, so he’d practice the procedure on small animals first, until he was confident he had everything right, just as any reputable scientist would.
His mobile phone rang, making him start. He took it from his pocket and saw the call was from the house. It would be Alisha. Reliant on him, she phoned if she needed him urgently. Irritated at being interrupted, he pressed to accept the call.
‘What is it?’ he demanded.
‘I need your help quickly.
He sighed. He had to go. ‘I’m coming.’
Leaving everything as it was – he’d return later – he let himself out of his workshop.
The sun had set now and the lights were on in his and his neighbours’ houses, including Ben and Emily’s bedroom window. Emily was standing at the window looking out, watching him, as he’d seen her do before. His anger flared. Didn’t the nosy cow have anything better to do! Standing there brazenly. She must know he could see her. Drawing his head in, he hurried down the path to the back door. She needed to be careful, if she knew what was good for her.
Chapter Five (#ulink_7c7a9e75-5823-5ec1-b9e1-0a75c7e81573)
While the surgeon, Mr Barry Lowe, worked on his patient’s abdomen, Amit sat by her head and monitored her vital signs on the screen. Heart rate and rhythm, breathing, blood pressure, body temperature, oxygen level and body fluid balance were all normal. It was a relatively minor and straightforward procedure – an appendectomy – on an otherwise healthy thirty-year-old, so he didn’t envisage any problems. In operations like this, once the patient was under there was little for him to do but monitor the green and blue lines that ran across the screen.
Being an anaesthetist was a thankless job, he thought now as he often had before. Anaesthetists were at the bottom end of medicine. A branch you went into when you didn’t really want to be a doctor or didn’t make the grade. He’d been forced into medicine by his pushy parents who saw it as the gold-standard career. That or being a lawyer, which had appealed even less. Having a doctor or lawyer in the family gave his parents respect in their community, and he hadn’t had the guts to stand up to them. So with no calling to medicine or the law, and achieving poor grades at med school, he’d become an anaesthetist. Thankfully it involved very little contact with patients and required no bedside manner as they were unconscious, which suited him fine.
He watched Barry Lowe snip the infected appendix clear of the intestine and, with a sigh of satisfaction for a job well done, drop it into the stainless-steel bowl. He began closing the wound.
‘How’s your wife?’ he asked Amit, glancing at him over his surgical glasses.
‘As well as can be expected,’ Amit replied stiffly. ‘Thank you for asking.’ Those he worked with were vaguely aware Alisha had a life-limiting illness, but he’d never told them the details. He kept himself to himself and used Alisha’s illness as an excuse for not socializing with colleagues or attending hospital functions.
‘Did you ever get in any agency help?’ Barry Lowe asked, stitching the wound.
‘It’s not necessary,’ Amit replied. ‘She’s still able to look after herself. I can manage.’
‘Well, don’t get burnt out, we need you here,’ he said and put in the last stitch.
With the wound closed, Amit switched off the drugs that had kept the patient asleep and began the process of bringing her out of the anaesthetic. He turned down the nitrous oxide and turned up the oxygen. As expected, the patient’s facial muscles began to twitch as she started to regain consciousness. Then she gagged and he removed the endotracheal tube from her throat.
The operation over, the team began to dissemble. Barry Lowe removed his surgical gloves, dropped them in the bin and called goodbye as he left. The theatre nurses were clearing up, but, as usual, Amit stayed by the patient, monitoring her vital signs until she was responsive enough to speak.
‘Can you hear me?’ he asked her. ‘Your operation is over.’
‘Thank you,’ came her groggy reply.
Satisfied, Amit flexed his shoulders. They were always stiff, even after a short operation. His patient was ready for the recovery room and one of the theatre nurses would take her through soon. They were occupied at present, facing away from him as they cleared up and swabbed down after the operation. Quietly and quickly, in a smooth, well-practised movement, he slid the unused bottle of anaesthetic from the cart and tucked it into the pocket of his scrubs.
‘Thank you for your assistance,’ he said politely, moving away from the operating table. He always remembered to thank the theatre staff even if the surgeon forgot.
‘Goodbye, Dr Burman,’ the nurses returned.
The locker room was empty, good. Changing out of his scrubs, he transferred the bottle into his briefcase and headed for home where his true work awaited him.
Chapter Six (#ulink_458bb480-cf5f-5f55-bd43-278c24c61116)
‘Well? What do you think?’ Emily asked Ben as soon as he came home from work. ‘Have I been busy or what?’ She led him to the patio doors.
‘You have been busy,’ Ben agreed. ‘You’ve done a good job, Em. It must have taken you ages.’
‘Most of the day. But it’s saved us having to pay a gardener. I enjoyed it. Robbie was with me, playing in the leaves. Now he’s toddling it’s so much easier to do stuff as he can amuse himself.’
‘Where is the little fellow?’ Ben asked, looking around.
‘In bed. He was exhausted. So am I. My arms are already aching from using the pruning shears. I’ve got muscles I didn’t know I had.’ She laughed. ‘Obviously I couldn’t trim the trees, they’re too high, but the hedge looks neater.’
‘It does. I hope Amit approves.’
‘What’s it got to do with him?’ Emily asked. ‘It’s our hedge and on our side of the fence.’
‘Whoa,’ Ben said, raising his hands in defence. ‘I just thought perhaps we should have mentioned it to him first. You really don’t like that bloke do you?’
‘Even less so now,’ she admitted. ‘While I was up the ladder trimming the top of the hedge, I could see over and into the living room. Alisha was standing at their living room window watching me. I waved and signalled for her to come out, but she shook her head. She looked like a scared rabbit, Ben. I’m not kidding. I’m sure it wasn’t that she didn’t want to come out but more that she daren’t. I think he could be abusing her.’
‘Oh come on, Em, just because you don’t like the guy doesn’t mean he’s a wife beater.’
‘Maybe not, but there was something in the way she stood there – like a trapped animal. I might have another go at asking her in. Anyway, glad you approve of my gardening. Let’s eat. The spag bol is ready. Can you dish up while I try to get Tibs in? She hasn’t been back all day.’
‘Will do,’ Ben said and kissed her cheek.
As Ben served dinner, Emily took the bag of cat treats from the cupboard. Opening the patio door, she called, ‘Tibs! Tibs!’ whilst shaking the bag. Usually by this time of day Tibs was home and wanting her dinner, but if not, then hearing the bag of treats brought her running from whichever garden she was in. ‘Tibs, Tibby,’ Emily called again, rattling the bag of treats, but there was no sign of her. ‘I’ll try again later,’ she said at last. Closing the patio door, she took her place at the dining table. ‘It’s not like her. I wonder if she’s got shut in somewhere. If she’s not back by tomorrow, I’ll knock on some of our neighbours’ doors and ask them to check their sheds and garages.’
‘I’m sure she’s fine,’ Ben said. ‘It’s a dry evening. She’ll be off hunting.’
‘Tibs! Tibby!’ Emily called repeatedly at 9.30 p.m. She was outside now, standing on the patio and shaking the bag of treats. ‘Tibs!’ She paused and listened for any sound suggesting Tibs had heard and was starting her journey home. Sometimes when she strayed a long way she could hear her in the distance. The foliage stirring, her claws scraping as she clambered over wooden fences, going from garden to garden. Then, when she entered her own garden and saw Emily, she meowed loudly. But now the air remained still and eerily quiet, a clear November night, with a waxing moon rising in a cloudless sky.
Emily tried once more before she went to bed at 11 p.m. This time she put on her coat and went right down to the bottom of the garden, calling ‘Tibs, Tibby!’ The light in the outbuilding next door was on and with the hedge lower now she could see the top of the windows. As usual, the door was closed and the blinds were down, but even if they hadn’t been it would have been impossible to see in for the film covering the glass. She had watched Amit stick it on about six months ago when he’d started using the building every evening and most weekends. What he did in there, she’d no idea, but if Tibs wasn’t back in the morning, she’d ask him or his wife to check it and their garage for Tibs, although she doubted she was in there. Amit didn’t hide the fact he hated cats. She’d heard him throwing stones at Tibs when she’d strayed into his garden – one of the reasons she didn’t like the man. She’d read somewhere that people who were cruel to animals were invariably cruel to people too.
‘Tibs! Tibs!’ she called again. Giving the bag of treats a final good shake, she admitted defeat and returned indoors. All she could do now was leave the cat flap open and hope that Tibs found her way back during the night.
‘We’re going to find Tibs,’ she told Robbie the following morning as she zipped him into his snowsuit. ‘She hasn’t come home. I think she’s lost or got shut in somewhere.’ The alternative – that she’d been run over – she pushed from her mind.
Robbie babbled baby talk and tried to say Tibs.
‘Yes, that’s right. Tibs. Good boy.’
Strapping him into his pushchair, she then tucked her phone, keys and the missing cat leaflets she’d printed into her coat pocket and left the house. It was mid-morning and she knew many of the houses would be empty, with their occupants at work. If there was no reply, she’d push one of the leaflets through their letter box. It had a picture of Tibs and gave her address, telephone number and asked them to check their shed, garage and any outbuilding in case she’d been shut in. It was of some consolation that Tibs had been microchipped and Emily’s mobile phone number was engraved on a metal disc on her collar, so if someone found her dead or alive they would hopefully contact her. However, it was also possible, Emily thought, that Tibs had been lured into a home with food and hadn’t wanted to leave. Cats were renowned for cupboard love. But when they let her out for a run, she’d return home.
‘Tibs,’ Robbie gurgled again.
Emily approached the task methodically and began with the house to the left of theirs. She knew the family would be at work, so she pushed one of the ‘missing cat’ leaflets through their letter box. She continued to the next house and worked her way up the street, crossed over at the end and began back down the other side. It was time-consuming, but those who were in were generally sympathetic. Some invited her in to check their garage or shed, others said they’d check as soon as she’d gone and hoped she found Tibs soon. The Burmans’ house was the last and by now Robbie had grown restless, having had enough of sitting in his pushchair. ‘Soon be home,’ Emily reassured him and gave him a leaflet to hold.
It was only after she’d unlatched their gate and began up their path, giving her a clear view of the house, that she saw it.
‘Bloody hell!’ she said out loud. All the windows at the front of the Burmans’ house were now covered with the same opaque film Amit had used on the windows of his outbuilding. He must have done it last night after she’d cut the hedges, for it hadn’t been there yesterday. Although she’d cut the front hedge as well as the back, it still offered them privacy. The man was obsessed, she thought. Had he done the same to the windows at the back of the house? Surely not?
Robbie agitated again, squirming to get out.
‘Last house,’ she told him.
Glancing up at the CCTV, she pressed the bell on the entry system, then began folding one of the missing cat leaflets ready to push through their letter box. She doubted Alisha would answer the door; she hadn’t for a long while. Robbie grumbled and struggled to get out, then to Emily’s amazement, she heard a noise on the other side of the door and a key turn in the lock.
‘Alisha, how nice to see you. How are you?’ she asked, barely able to hide her surprise.
‘I’m not bad, thank you.’ She looked very thin and pale and had dark circles under her eyes, but she managed a small smile.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but have you seen our cat, Tibs? She’s been missing for twenty-four hours.’
‘No, I haven’t. But I’ll ask Amit when he comes home tonight.’
‘Thank you. Can you ask him to check your garage and that outbuilding in your garden in case she’s got shut in?
‘Yes, of course.’ She didn’t immediately start to close the door as she had done before.
‘Your husband has certainly gone to town on your windows,’ Emily couldn’t resist commenting. ‘Is that because I trimmed the hedges?’
Alisha nodded, embarrassed. ‘Amit worries about security with me in the house all day. We were broken into where we lived before.’
‘Oh, I see. I’m sorry,’ Emily said and felt slightly guilty. ‘Has he done the back windows as well?’
‘Yes, even the upstairs. I’ve told him we’re safe here, it’s a nice neighbourhood. But when he gets an idea into his head he won’t listen to reason and there’s no stopping him.’ It was the most Alisha had ever said to her, Emily thought.
‘I understand,’ Emily said. Robbie began whinging. ‘I’ve got to go now, but won’t you come in for a coffee? I know I’ve asked you before, but I would really like it if you did.’
Alisha hesitated but didn’t refuse outright. ‘It’s difficult. Amit wouldn’t like it. He worries about me.’
‘Does he have to know?’ Emily asked. ‘I mean, I’m not suggesting you lie, but couldn’t you just pop round while he’s at work? Or I could come to you?’
‘No, it’s better if I visit you,’ Alisha said quietly. ‘But I can’t stay for long.’
‘That’s fine. Stay as long as you like. I’m free tomorrow afternoon.’
‘OK. I’ll try to come at one-thirty.’
‘Great. See you then.’
And although Tibs hadn’t been found yet, Emily went away feeling she had achieved something very positive indeed.
Chapter Seven (#ulink_fd23b57b-7cb5-5dbb-97a8-9b34fe77a0fa)
That night, Amit sat at the workbench in his lab and looked dejectedly at the dead rat; its pink eyes bulging and its mouth fixed open in a rigor mortis snarl. He couldn’t understand why it and the mice had died. He’d only stopped its heart for fifteen minutes, during which time it had been submerged in ice. Animals and humans had survived much longer than that after accidentally falling into icy water; their hearts stopping as they entered a state of suspended animation and then restarting once resuscitated. In one case, a child had been brought back after being submerged in a freezing lake for two hours with no ill effect, so why couldn’t he replicate that here?
He threw the rat into the bin with the others and dug his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat. He stared at the remaining two rats in the cage. Perhaps there was a genetic weakness in the rats and the mice he’d bought, for doubtless they’d been interbred. Yet the other animals he’d tried the procedure on had all gone the same way. He knew from a science journal that dogs in a lab had been brought back to life after three hours following this process, so what on earth was he doing wrong?
Resting his head in his hands, Amit studied his notes and calculations, then opened the cage door and took out one of the remaining rats. It squirmed and squeaked as if sensing its fate. He placed it on the bench beside the syringe that was ready with the solution and held it down firmly. He’d try a smaller dose this time – see if that made any difference. Then he suddenly stopped and looked up, deep in thought.
He’d been stopping their hearts artificially, but of course when a person or animal fell into icy water, their heart was still beating as they went under and suspended animation occurred. Patients who were going to be preserved for cryonics treatment were put on a heart-lung machine until they could be submerged in ice, so they too were technically alive. Was that the answer? Something so simple: the subject’s heart had to still be beating. At what point the heart-lung machine was switched off, he didn’t know. It wasn’t a detail ELECT made public. But it was possible it wasn’t switched off until the person was frozen, so they were frozen alive, although unconscious. Could that really be the solution? If he froze the rat while its heart was beating would that allow him to bring it back from the dead?
Amit temporarily returned the rat to its cage while he took a bottle of anaesthetic from the top shelf of the cabinet and drew some into a syringe. It was the anaesthetic he used on his patients at the hospital and would keep the rat asleep while maintaining its vital signs. He would only need a drip or two as the rat’s body was a fraction of the size of a human’s. If this worked, he’d try the process on larger animals, just as scientists did in lab experiments, before he attempted it on a human.
Opening the cage, he picked up one of the rats – the other squeaked in protest at losing its mate – and set it on the workbench. Holding it firmly by the scruff of its neck, he injected the anaesthetic. Almost immediately, the rat’s eyes closed and it relaxed, unconscious, on the bench. Taking his stethoscope, he listened to its heartbeat and then placed it into the ice bath and began monitoring its temperature. Normal body temperature for a rat was 37°C, the same as for humans. It quickly plummeted to 30°C, 24°C, and then down to 20°C. Circulatory arrest happened at 18°C and its heart stopped beating. The rat’s temperature continued to drop to zero and further still. When it reached minus 90°C, following the procedure used at ELECT, Amit took a scalpel and made a small incision into the rat’s jugular vein and drained off half its blood into a bottle. He then injected preservation fluid into the vein – the same solution used for preserving organs for transplant – and returned the rat to the ice bath.
He felt hot, clammy and anxious, for despite carrying out similar procedures before, if he failed now he’d made the adjustment he’d no idea what else he could do. Failure wasn’t an option.
The rat’s temperature continued to fall down to minus 130°C. It was at this point in the cryonics procedure the body was lowered into the tank of liquid nitrogen and stored at minus 195°C. But Amit waited five minutes and began to reverse the process, gradually raising the rat’s temperature and then returning its blood. At 37°C he tentatively placed his stethoscope on the rat’s chest and listened for any sign of a heartbeat. Nothing. Not the faintest murmur. He massaged the rat’s chest, hoping to stimulate its heart, and listened again. Still nothing. It had gone the same way as all the others! Whatever was he doing wrong?
He stared at the lifeless body of the rat and was about to give up and throw it in the bin when he thought he saw one of its toes twitch. Returning his stethoscope to its chest, he listened hard, his breath coming fast and low. It wasn’t his imagination! He could hear the very faintest murmur of a heartbeat. He massaged the rat’s chest again and listened. Yes, there it was, stronger now. The irregular beats joining to form a steady rhythm. Then the rat gasped its first breath. He’d done it! He’d really done it. He could barely contain his excitement.
But scientists never rely on one positive result, he reminded himself, so he would repeat it on the last rat and then on larger animals. How proud his father would be if he knew his son was about to create immortality.
Chapter Eight (#ulink_b775b523-bc24-5334-9ed3-9d0cab901543)
‘Come in,’ Emily welcomed Alisha the following afternoon as she opened her front door. ‘So pleased you came. I wondered if you would.’
‘Thank you, but I can’t stay for long,’ Alisha said straight away, slightly out of breath from walking from next door.
‘Come through into the living room. We’re in here.’
‘We?’ Alisha asked, stopping still in the hall.
‘Yes. Robbie and me,’ Emily laughed. ‘Don’t look so worried.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Alisha replied and cautiously followed her into the living room. Emily noticed how tense she was, as if attending an interview rather than a neighbour’s for coffee.
‘Do sit down. Make yourself at home,’ Emily encouraged. ‘What would you like to drink?’
‘Just a glass of water please.’
‘Sure?’
‘Yes. Thank you.’
Emily left Alisha in the living room perched on the edge of the sofa and went into the kitchen to pour two glasses of water. Robbie toddled after her. Returning, she set the glasses on the occasional table within reach. ‘So how are you?’ she asked.
‘Not too bad, I manage.’
‘You know if you ever need anything to let me know. I’m on extended maternity leave.’
‘That’s kind, but Amit sees to everything I need.’
‘OK,’ Emily said. She took a sip of her water and wondered what to say next. The poor woman seemed so ill at ease. ‘Good boy,’ Emily told Robbie who was playing with his toys, then smiled at Alisha. An awkward silence fell, and then Emily asked, ‘You don’t have children?’
Alisha shook her head.
Another silence before Emily asked, ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a hot drink?’
‘No thank you. Did you ever find your cat?’
‘No. But she’s microchipped and my mobile number is on her collar, so I’m still hopeful someone will spot her and contact me.’
Alisha nodded.
‘I miss her,’ Emily said. ‘She’s like one of the family. We had her before we had Robbie.’
Alisha gave another small nod. ‘I’d like a pet, but Amit won’t have one.’
‘Oh? Why is that?’ Emily asked, seizing the chance to make conversation.
‘He doesn’t like them. Says they carry germs. My immune system is weak, so I have to be careful.’
‘I see. Although I think if pets are well looked after they don’t carry many germs, do they?’
‘I don’t know, but Amit won’t change his mind.’ As Alisha took a sip of her water, Emily saw her hand tremble.
‘So Amit looks after you and treats you well then?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘What does he do in that shed every evening? He’s often still in there when I go to bed.’
‘Research,’ she replied without hesitation.
‘Research on what?’
‘The disease I have. It’s a rare genetic condition and hardly any research has gone into finding a cure. We lost our only son to it five years ago.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I’d no idea.’
‘We don’t really talk about it. It’s too upsetting, especially now I’m going the same way.’
‘I am sorry,’ Emily said again and felt even more uncomfortable. ‘Do you have friends and family who can help and support you?’
‘A few.’
Robbie came over and tried to engage Alisha by placing a toy on her lap. She removed it straight away and set it on the floor. Then stood. ‘Thank you for the drink, but I must go now.’
‘Really, already? You‘ve only just arrived.’
‘I can’t be away from home for long.’
Was it Robbie’s presence, after losing her own son? Emily wondered, as she saw Alisha to the door. But if that was the reason for her sudden departure, why come at all? She had known she had a child.
‘If it’s difficult for you to go out, perhaps I could come to you next time?’ Emily offered as she said goodbye. But Alisha was already heading down the path, eager to get home.
Chapter Nine (#ulink_c789afd6-ccbc-5a4e-8b0e-bf411b25f9ba)
‘Fifteen minutes, that was all,’ Emily told Ben as they sat at the dinner table that evening. Robbie was in his highchair.
‘You made a good impression then,’ Ben laughed.
‘I wondered if it was Robbie, you know, reminding her of the son she lost, but I don’t think so. She seemed on edge from the start and when I suggested I went over there next time, she blanked me.’
‘I don’t think she wants to be your best friend Em,’ Ben said dryly. ‘At least you tried. Would you like to hear my news now?’
‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I’ve been talking non-stop since you walked in. I’ve been a bit short of conversation today.’
‘I’ve got the promotion – marketing manager for the whole of the South East. It comes with a decent pay rise.’
‘Well done!’ Emily cried, delighted. ‘That’s fantastic. I’m so proud of you.’ Leaning across the table, she planted a big kiss on his cheek. Robbie chuckled.
‘It’ll mean more travelling, but I’ll keep it to the minimum. I don’t intend to leave you and Robbie alone any more than I have to.’
‘We’ll be fine, don’t you worry. I’m just glad the company has recognized your worth.’
‘I thought we could celebrate at the weekend. Go out for a meal somewhere nice, if your parents are free to babysit.’
‘Great. I’ll phone them just as soon as we’ve finished dinner. All we need now is for Tibs to return and my week will be complete.’
Ben’s smile faded. ‘Em, you realize Tibs might not come back. I mean, if she’s been run over. She’s been gone some time now.’
‘I know, but at present I’m staying with the hope she’s in someone else’s house.’
He nodded and wiped Robbie’s mouth. ‘Where would you like to go to eat? You decide.’
‘There’s the new Italian on the High Street, or The Steak House – that’s always reliable. Or we could drive out to The Horse & Carriage …’
Twenty minutes later, Emily had decided on L’Escargot, a French restaurant they’d been to once, prior to having Robbie, and had been wanting an excuse to return. Having cleared away the dishes, she went through to the living room to phone her parents to see if they were free to babysit at the weekend, while Ben took Robbie upstairs to get him ready for bed. Her parents’ answerphone was on, as it often was now they’d both retired and were out enjoying themselves. Emily left a message. They’d return her call either this evening or, if they were back late, first thing in the morning. She could rely on them; they loved babysitting Robbie, their only grandchild.
As she replaced the handset, she heard the letter box snap shut. Seven-thirty, too late for regular post. It was probably a circular. Leaving the living room, she crossed the hall from where she could hear Robbie chuckling loudly in the bathroom as Ben changed him. There was a brown envelope lying face down on the mat. She picked it up. It held something – something firm, more than just paper. Turning it over, she read the writing on the front. Ms King, I found this in the road. I think it belongs to you. Signed, Dr Amit Burman.
The formality was weird and why not knock and give it to her in person? Emily assumed it was a small item of Robbie’s. He was always jettisoning his belongings from the pushchair as she wheeled him along the pavement – small toys, socks, mittens and boots in winter. Sometimes she spotted them straightway, other times she found them on their next trip or a neighbour returned them, and sometimes they just disappeared. She supposed it was good of Dr Burman, although it didn’t feel like a sock or toy of Robbie’s. Opening the envelope, she saw straight away what it was. Her stomach churned; she felt sick with fear. Not something of Robbie’s, but Tibs’ red felt collar. Her mouth went dry and her heart raced. No mistake, there was her mobile number engraved on the metal tab and the bell was missing. Tibs had lost the bell a while back and Emily had never got around to replacing the collar.
‘Ben!’ she cried, running upstairs. ‘Ben!’
Hearing the panic in her voice, he came onto the landing with Robbie in his arms half-dressed. ‘What is it?’
‘Look! Burman has just pushed this through the letter box.’ She held out the collar and envelope for him to see, her voice unsteady and her hand shaking. ‘What does it mean and why didn’t he knock?’
‘Perhaps he didn’t want to disturb us. It must have come off Tibs. Cat collars are designed to come off if the cat gets caught so they don’t choke.’
‘I know, but it says he found it in the road. Does that mean …?’
‘I’m sorry, Em, love, but it was decent of him to return it.’
‘But we’d have seen her body. Perhaps she slipped it and is still alive, but why hasn’t she come home? I need to know where and when he found it. I’m going to see him now.’ She tore downstairs.
Ignoring her coat in the hall and wearing her slippers, Emily rushed out the front door and down the drive, still clutching Tibs’ collar and the envelope. A damp November mist had descended, thickening the darkness. The alarm box just below the eaves of the Burmans’ house flashed like a warning beacon. Throwing open their front gate, Emily slowed her pace and walked to their front door. It was very dark here, the light from the street lamp mostly blocked by the large evergreen trees and shrubs at the front.
She pressed the buzzer and waited, the cold and damp seeping into her. The downstairs lights were off and only one shone from an upstairs window, faint behind closed curtains and the opaque film now covering all the glass. She pressed the buzzer again. Someone must be in. Alisha never went out and Amit’s car was on the drive. She glanced up at the CCTV camera trained on the front door and shivered. She should have grabbed her coat.
A light went on in the hall, a door chain rattled and a key turned in the lock. Amit Burman opened the door, the top button on his shirt undone and his tie loosened at the neck. She felt a familiar stab of unease, something in his expression, although she couldn’t say what.
‘I’m sorry to trouble you,’ she began, trying to meet his gaze. ‘You pushed this through our letter box just now.’ She held up the envelope and collar.
‘I did. It is yours?’
‘Yes, but where did you find it?’
‘In the road outside my house.’
‘But you didn’t see Tibs, our cat?’
‘Clearly not, or I would have told you.’ His eyes narrowed to a patronizing smile. It was then Emily realized what she found so unsettling in his expression. His eyes were completely different colours. The iris in one eye was brown while the other was green. ‘The correct term is heterochromia,’ he said. ‘My vision is normal.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she stammered, embarrassed and trying not to stare.
‘It’s not a problem. We’re all different, aren’t we? You told my wife your cat was missing, so I thought you’d want its collar back. She’s resting. She’s exhausted from visiting you.’ He held her gaze, his green eye seeming to bore into her. ‘Of course, she would tell me of her visit. We have no secrets. I’m only concerned for her health and well-being.’ The tone in his voice made it feel like a threat. ‘Is that everything?’
‘When did you find Tibs’ collar?’ Emily asked.
‘About an hour ago, when I came home from work. Now, if that’s all, I must go. I have to see to my wife.’
‘Yes of course.’
Emily supposed she should have thanked him, but the door had already closed. She walked back down his path, looking left and right and into the foliage for any sign of Tibs. Then in the gutter. She must be dead. If she’d been alive and had slipped her collar outside the Burmans’ house, then she was close enough to find her way home. The most likely explanation for her collar being in the road was that she’d been run over, perhaps separating from her collar in the accident. If someone in the street had found Tibs’ body there was a chance they may call, as her number was on the leaflets she’d pushed through letter boxes. Otherwise she might never know, for she doubted anyone would bother to take a dead cat to have its microchip read. If there was still no sign of Tibs by the weekend, she’d have to accept she was dead.
Chapter Ten (#ulink_5c08fa98-a793-5019-a66a-63f5e4a0bbbf)
‘I disagree,’ Amit said forcefully. ‘The process of cryonics has already been shown to work on animals in laboratories. They have survived three hours using existing medical technology. Even longer periods if the preservation solution is continuously circulated.’
Mr Barry Lowe was staring at him, as was the student doctor.
‘You seem well-informed,’ Lowe said. ‘But three hours isn’t a hundred years. It’s a fantasy playing on peoples’ fears of death. Humans have been searching for immortality since they became intelligent enough to realize that one day they would die. It used to be just religion that offered immortality, but now this pseudoscience has got in on the act.’ He paused to concentrate on what he was doing – a hernia operation. The discussion had begun after he’d asked if anyone had seen the documentary on television the night before on cryonics, and had quickly become heated.
‘You can’t put religion and cryonics in the same category,’ Amit retaliated. ‘And it doesn’t matter if it’s three hours or a thousand years. At minus 190 Celsius there is no cell degeneration.’
‘And you can be sure of that?’ Lowe asked sceptically, glancing up at him. ‘There is no proof whatsoever. Those frozen bodies could be mush when they are thawed.’
‘Also, cell degeneration will have already occurred,’ the student doctor put in. ‘My cousin is a doctor at Saint Claire’s where that fifteen-year-old boy died. It was over an hour before he was put on ice.’
‘That’s appalling!’ Amit cried passionately, unable to hide his feelings any longer. ‘It’s a breach of our code of ethics.’
‘That’s a bit strong,’ Lowe said. ‘The boy was dead.’
‘Temporarily, and his wishes were that he should be frozen. The system failed him.’
‘Why the wait?’ Lowe now asked the student, as he began to close the wound.
‘My cousin said the instructions were not to touch him as it needed someone trained from ELECT who knew what to do.’
‘Who knew how to stabilize him,’ Amit clarified.
‘His mother phoned a member of ELECT,’ the student continued. ‘But he got stuck in traffic.’
Lowe laughed cynically. ‘The traffic always gets you in the end!’
‘I assumed the boy was put on a heart-lung machine during that time?’ Amit said.
‘No. The staff didn’t realize he should be. He was dead and his organs weren’t going to be used for transplant.’
Amit shook his head. ‘Appalling. What a waste. When I …’ he stopped. ‘It’s crucial the patient is kept on a heart-lung machine until intravenous lines can be put in and protective medications administered.’
‘You know a lot about it,’ Lowe said. ‘Is bringing people back from the dead a hobby of yours?’
The theatre staff laughed.
Amit fought to retain control. Ignorant lot. What did they know? But he had expected better of Lowe, a surgeon. He’d be laughing on the other side of his face one day when he showed them what could be achieved. Just you wait and see, he thought.
Chapter Eleven (#ulink_e6a3df4d-3c67-5d68-aae2-554ed318b1de)
‘Let go of me!’ Alisha cried in pain as Amit’s fingers dug into her arm. ‘You’re hurting me.’ He was half pushing, half dragging her out of the living room and through the hall. ‘What are you doing? I haven’t done anything wrong. Where are you taking me?’
‘The cloakroom,’ he snarled.
‘No! I don’t like being shut in there. I’ll be good. Please. No.’ The room didn’t have a window and Amit had changed the lock so it could be locked from the outside. Alisha knew from experience what it meant to be shut in there – sometimes for hours at a time. She struggled and tried to free her arm, but his grip tightened. ‘Please,’ she begged.
‘If you’re good and stay very quiet, I’ll let you out after he’s gone.’
‘Who? No, don’t, please. I can go upstairs and be quiet if you want.’
He dragged her the last few paces and pushed her in. Slamming the door shut, he locked it.
‘Amit! Let me out. Please, I promise I won’t look.’ She banged on the door.
‘Shut up now or I’ll leave you in there all night.’
Alisha bit into her bottom lip and tried not to cry.
Perspiration stood out on Amit’s forehead as he hurried to the back door, let himself out and then rushed down the sideway. He unpadlocked the gate. The lorry was just parking outside, half an hour fucking early! If it had arrived when it was supposed to, he’d have had Alisha sedated and out of the way in plenty of time. He had taken the day off work to receive the delivery and a couple of minutes ago the driver had texted to say he’d be with him shortly. There was no way he could risk Alisha seeing – the size and shape would raise her suspicions. He hoped the nosy cow next door wasn’t watching. He needed to get the cylinder down the sideway and into his lab as quickly as possible.
‘Delivery for Dr Burman,’ the lorry driver called from the pavement, reading from his e-Pod.
‘That’s me, but you’re early.’
‘Do you want me to come back later then, mate?’
For a second Amit thought he meant it and was about to say yes.
‘Where’s it going?’ the driver asked. ‘It’s big.’
‘The building at the very rear of my garden. It will fit down the sideway.’
‘I’ve heard that before; I’d better take a look.’
Amit led the way down the path.
‘It’ll be a tight squeeze, but I’ll give it a go,’ the driver said. ‘What’s plan B?’
‘Through the house,’ Amit said. ‘But it will fit down here. I know, I measured it.’
‘With the packaging?’
Amit felt his stomach sink. He should have thought of that. How stupid! He’d taken the dimensions of the cylinder from the website and had checked them against the width of the sideway. He could have kicked himself.
‘If it won’t fit down here, it will have to go through the house and out through the patio doors,’ he said. But with Alisha not sedated that ran the risk of the driver hearing her if she began screaming and shouting again.
Amit followed the driver out to the front and then watched nervously as he climbed into the back of the lorry. He reappeared a few moments later with his precious package balanced on a hand truck. It was huge and, clad in padding, overhung the edges of the truck, but at a glance it could pass as a very large hot-water cylinder, Amit thought. His heart raced as the driver slowly lowered the tailgate and then pushed the hand truck off, then paused and waved up at the neighbour’s house. Amit followed his gaze. The bloody woman next door was holding her son up at the window to look!
‘All kids like big lorries,’ the driver said amicably as he pushed the truck up the drive.
Amit hurried down the sideway, which thankfully was on the opposite side of the house to Emily, and out of her view. He watched and waited, his breath coming fast and shallow as the driver began inching the package in through the side gate. Pressing the cladding in to ease it through, it just fitted.
‘Thank god,’ Amit said, relieved once it was clear, and hurried ahead to the outbuilding. The driver followed.
‘You want it in there?’ he asked, surprised.
‘No. Leave it outside.’ Amit pointed to a spot to the left of the door.
‘You sure, mate? It’s not so heavy, but it is bulky. I can put it inside if you like.’
‘No. It’s fine there.’
The driver manoeuvred the cylinder from the trolley and stood it where Amit pointed, then passed him his e-Pod to sign for the delivery.
Glancing anxiously at his neighbours’ houses, Amit quickly saw him out and padlocked the side gate behind him. He returned down the garden path to his lab and unlocked the padlock there, then took out the two sheets of hardboard he’d previously cut to size to use as ramps. He’d had it all planned days ago. He placed them either side of the step and then, encircling the cylinder with his arms, he began walking it forward. Small measured steps, as if dancing with a partner, up one side of his makeshift ramp, over the top, down the other and into the security of his lab.
Relieved, he quickly closed the door. He’d done it. The most important item he needed to continue had been safely delivered.
Chapter Twelve (#ulink_52f792a4-86b0-55a9-8a7f-22a8e49fd6f8)
Inside the house, Alisha sat on the floor in the cloakroom, cold and sick with fear, willing Amit to return and release her, but at the same time dreading having to face him. His behaviour was becoming more and more alarming with each passing week, frighteningly so now. She no longer recognized the man she’d married. But had she ever really known him, even back then? She doubted it. She’d had to trust him and, as far as she’d known, they’d had no secrets, but now most of his life excluded her. She was sorry she’d failed to give him healthy children, but did she really deserve the punishment he meted out? The abuse – verbal and physical. It was frightening. She spent most of her time terrified of him. And the grim determination on his face when he’d locked her in here said he would stop at nothing to make her do as he wanted.
She rubbed her wrist and looked at her upper arm. Bruises were already forming under the skin. She bruised easily now, just as their son, Daniel, had done as the disease progressed. His tissue breaking down, blood capillaries rupturing, his skin sloughing off. Even when she bathed him and was so gentle, he still bled.
It was a cruel disease and she could understand why Amit had become obsessed with finding a cure, just as other parents of children with rare genetic conditions had. Michaela and Augusto Odone had produced Lorenzo’s oil. She’d seen the film of the same name. Years of research and then a breakthrough. Perhaps Amit might find a cure, but there was no excuse for treating her as he did. He was so unpredictable and violent.
She knew he had a right to blame her for the compromises he’d had to make now she’d fallen ill too. Once she died he would be free to marry a healthy woman who could give him normal children, for she doubted he would find a cure in time to save her. She thought he doubted it too. Hence all that nonsense about freezing her until a cure had been found. What a macabre thought! She’d been shocked that he’d even considered it. It made her skin creep. She couldn’t imagine anything worse – replacing her blood with preserving fluid and then suspended upside down in a cylinder when she should be at peace in the earth. It was the stuff of nightmares. Yet many had signed up to it and had paid huge amounts to be stored. Thankfully Amit had finally taken no for an answer and had put away the literature and stopped talking about it.
But his behaviour was even worse now. Sometimes injecting her to sedate her or locking her in. But why? Why was she in here and for how long? It was the third time he’d shut her in the cloakroom. She wished she had someone to confide in. Estranged from her parents, she knew they wouldn’t sympathize. Not after everything that had happened between them and Amit. She could hear her mother’s admonishing voice: you’ve made your bed, so you’ll have to lie in it.
It had crossed her mind that maybe Emily next door would be a good confidante. She wondered if she might even suspect that Amit didn’t always treat her right. She seemed perceptive and, being at home with her child during the day, had perhaps seen things the other neighbours hadn’t. And the way Emily kept inviting her into her house, and when she’d finally accepted, she’d asked if Amit looked after her and treated her well. A pity she hadn’t had the courage to admit that Amit treated her badly and she was petrified of him, for she doubted Emily would invite her again, not after staying such a short time and leaving so abruptly. Her behaviour had been rude, but she couldn’t tell Emily the real reason she had only stayed fifteen minutes. Pity. It would have been reassuring, comforting, to have her knowing, even looking out for her.
Chapter Thirteen (#ulink_37f85ef7-ff3a-566d-b3fc-cc9705309b5a)
‘What do you make of this?’ Emily asked Ben, as they settled in front of the television to watch the evening news. She clicked on the video clip, passed her phone to him and waited while he watched it.
Ben laughed. ‘Goodness knows. But I hope he didn’t see you take it. It won’t help neighbourly relations.’ He handed back her phone.
‘He was too busy with what he was doing to see me,’ Emily said. ‘I heard the lorry at the front while I was changing Robbie. He was all excited when I showed him. When the driver took that thing off the lorry and wheeled it down their sideway, I couldn’t resist going into our bedroom for a better view. Why would you want that in your shed?’
‘No idea. It looks like a water cylinder. Perhaps he likes a bath down there,’ Ben joked.
‘It’s the right size and shape to hold a body.’ Emily shuddered.
‘Perhaps he’s going to do you in,’ Ben teased.
‘Or his wife,’ Emily said. ‘Seriously though. Don’t you think it’s odd?’
‘I guess. But each to his own.’
They fell silent as the main news came on. They always tried to watch the news in the evening once Robbie was in bed. There was the usual depressingly familiar update on war-torn Syria, rape allegations against another prominent figure, doom and gloom about the world economy and the persistently high levels of city pollution. After the UK and international news, the channel went through to regional news where a female reporter was standing beside a taped-off area in Coleshaw Woods.
‘A shocking and grisly discovery was made here early this morning by a man walking his dog,’ the report began. ‘A grave containing more than fifty animals including cats and dogs was unearthed when the man’s dog began digging. The owner called the police and they and the RSPCA – Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals – have taken away the carcasses for examination. One line of enquiry is that this could be part of a gruesome satanic ritual as all the animal bodies appear to have been drained of their blood.’
‘Oh no!’ Emily cried, shocked and disgusted, her hand flying to her mouth.
‘There are some nutters around,’ Ben said.
The man whose dog had dug up the animals was now interviewed. ‘It’s left me completely shocked,’ he said. ‘I took a different route through the woods this morning, a part that not many use in winter and suddenly Rex began digging frantically in that spot.’ He pointed to the area behind them. ‘He dug up a few mice first and I thought they might have died naturally, but then he dug up part of a rabbit, a cat and a dog and I realized it was a graveyard.’ He said again that the incident had left him badly shaken; he was an animal lover and would hate the thought of his pet ending up like this. The reporter said that other possible reasons for the animals being there were that they had come from a laboratory or a veterinary practice that had dumped the animals rather than pay for the correct disposal, which was illegal.
Emily felt sick. ‘You don’t think Tibs could be among them?’
‘I doubt it,’ Ben said. ‘Coleshaw Woods is over half an hour’s drive from here. It’ll be as the reporter said – a lab or vet avoiding the costs of disposing of them properly. Gruesome all the same.’
The camera went to another local news item and Emily took her iPad from the coffee table. As Ben continued watching the news, she began searching online to see if there were any more details about the animals found in Coleshaw Woods. There was nothing beyond what the news report had said. A shame there wasn’t a telephone number for those worried about their pets to phone, she thought, similar to the helpline number given out for relatives after a major disaster. She closed the tablet and sat with it on her lap, half watching the news. Ben was probably right, but it didn’t stop her worrying. Bad enough that Tibs hadn’t returned and they’d had to accept she was probably dead, but far worse if she’d met her end sacrificed as part of a sadistic cult ritual.
She went cold. Who knew what Tibs might have suffered in her final hours. The news item had said the animals had been drained of blood. How? Why? Had they been alive? She tried to push these thoughts from her mind, but they returned. Again and again. There were some really evil people out there.
That night, Emily dreamt she heard Tibs meowing, crying out for them, as she was held down and gruesomely slaughtered. She woke in a cold sweat. Coleshaw Woods was half an hour’s drive away as Ben had said, trying to reassure her, but that wasn’t far, not really.
The following morning as soon as Emily was up and Ben had left for work, she checked online to see if any more details had been added to the news story. The local Gazette had covered the story, but it was now old news so it had been pushed off the first page. There were no further details.
She’d arranged to meet a friend, Hannah, for lunch. She lived locally, had a similar-aged child and had also seen the news item. It wasn’t long before they were discussing it and Emily confided she feared Tibs might be among the dead animals.
‘I think it’s unlikely,’ Hannah said. ‘I mean, how would Tibs have got all the way over there?’
‘Unless someone grabbed her close to home – from our street?’
‘I think they’ve come from a lab, probably been bred there or bought for experimenting on. Poor things,’ Hannah sighed. Emily knew she was trying to reassure her, but it didn’t help any more than Ben’s words had.
‘Tibs was microchipped,’ Emily said. ‘I’ve been wondering if any of those animals were.’
‘It didn’t say on the news, but if they’ve come from a lab they won’t be.’
‘But if they haven’t, they could be people’s pets,’ Emily persisted. ‘Dogs run off and you can’t watch cats the whole time.’
‘It’s obviously worrying you, so if you think there’s a chance Tibs might be among them, why not phone and ask if any were microchipped?’
‘Yes, but who would I phone?’
‘The RSPCA, I guess, or our local police station. If it’s not them, then they should know who’s dealing with it.’
Robbie was asleep in the pushchair by the time Emily arrived home and she quietly parked him in the hall. It was virtually impossible to have a phone conversation when he was awake, so she grabbed the opportunity to make the call now. Closing the living room door so she wouldn’t disturb him, she used her mobile to google the number for the RSPCA.
The customer services number went through to a recorded message which offered various options including animal emergencies, but none of them were relevant for what she needed to ask, and included the suggestion of looking at their website. She cut the call, googled the number of the local police station and pressed to call. Another answerphone message that began by saying if it was an emergency to hang up and dial 999, if not stay on the line. She waited and was then presented with more options, the last of which was to hold to speak to someone in person.
Five minutes later, her call was answered and she explained she was phoning about the animal bodies found in Coleshaw Woods. The officer said he was unfamiliar with the case but would find out who she needed to speak to. He came back on the line with another number for her to phone. She thanked him, tried the new number, but an answerphone clicked in inviting her to leave a message. At the same time, Robbie woke; frustrated, she knew she’d have to try again later.
The rest of the day disappeared in keeping Robbie amused, housework and then preparing dinner. Ben was late home, tired, and had to catch an early train in the morning. They watched the news, although there was nothing more about the animals in Coleshaw Woods and Emily didn’t mention it again.
The following morning she kissed Ben goodbye and saw him off at the door in her dressing gown, grateful that she didn’t have to leave for work on a cold frosty morning. It was only when Robbie had his lunchtime nap that Emily was able to use the phone again uninterrupted. She called the number she’d been given by the officer the day before and this time it didn’t go through to answerphone but call waiting. She was third in the queue. Her initial enthusiasm for trying to find out if Tibs could be among the animals in Coleshaw Woods was waning and she wondered if she was wasting police time – phoning about a missing cat when they would have many other more important crimes to solve. When it was finally her turn, she began with an apology. ‘I’m sorry, this is probably nothing, but my cat is missing. I saw the news report about the animals found in Coleshaw Woods and was given this number to phone.’
‘Yes, your name please,’ the officer said with resignation.
‘Emily King.’
‘And your address and telephone number? We’re keeping details of all those who’ve phoned in.’
‘So others have contacted you with missing pets?’
‘Yes, hundreds,’ he sighed. ‘From all over the country.’
She gave him her contact details.
‘And a description of your cat please, although I should say we won’t be able to match owners to their pets.’
‘So they are definitely pets?’ Emily asked.
‘It seems likely.’
‘They haven’t come from a lab?’
‘No. Would you like to leave a description of your cat?’ he asked, a little impatiently.
‘Yes. Sorry. She was four years old, a brown tabby, spayed. She used to wear a collar with my mobile phone number on, but that was returned to me.’
‘So why do you think your cat might be among those in Coleshaw Woods?’
‘She’s vanished without trace. Were any of the cats microchipped? Tibs was.’
‘We believe some were, yes.’
Her heart missed a beat. ‘Have you contacted the owners?’
‘No. The microchips were cut out from the animals.’
‘What?’ she gasped. ‘Cut out? Why?’
‘Presumably to stop identification.’
‘Oh my God. That’s horrible.’ She thought she was going to be sick. ‘So I’ll never know if Tibs was one of them?’
‘It’s unlikely.’
She took a deep breath. ‘How long had they been dead?’
‘Varying lengths of time, but some quite recent. I’ve noted your details and someone will be in touch if we have any news. But, as I said, it’s unlikely we will be able to match the animals to their owners.’
‘Has anyone else had their pet’s collar returned to them?’ Emily asked.
‘Not as far as I know.’
‘So perhaps Tibs isn’t among them.’
‘I’m sorry, ma’am, it’s impossible for me to say.’ And with a polite goodbye he ended the call.
Emily told herself that Tibs wasn’t one of the cats dumped in Coleshaw Woods, for the alternative – that she had died as part of a sadistic ritual and her microchip had been cut out – was too awful to contemplate. No, Tibs was dead, probably run over when her collar had become detached, as Ben had said.
That night, she put Tibs’ food bowl and bed in a bag in the garage where they stored items they no longer needed but couldn’t bear to get rid of.
Chapter Fourteen (#ulink_43c62941-da6a-51b8-a710-946b8bdaaa12)
Generally, Emily was enjoying her extended maternity leave, she thought, although it was essential to get out of the house with Robbie each day, otherwise he grew fractious and she developed cabin fever. Even now winter was setting in, she wrapped him up warm and they went out. The fresh air, exercise and change of scenery did them both good. Sometimes she met up with friends, other times, if the weather was fine, she took Robbie to the local playground, where he chuckled loudly as she pushed him in the baby swings and enjoyed playing on the apparatus for very young children.
Christmas was only three weeks away and Emily was also visiting the shops in the high street more to buy gifts. She was looking forward to Christmas but with a little trepidation as this would be the first time she was hosting Christmas dinner for both sets of parents. She wanted it to be perfect: the table laid with the festive linen tablecloth she’d bought, silver pine place mats, matching table centrepiece, turkey with all the trimmings. It was a huge operation and she had numerous lists of what to buy and when. She and Ben were also throwing a drinks party for their friends the Saturday before Christmas – homemade canapés, sweet mince pies and mulled wine. It would be their best Christmas ever!
Returning from the high street with yet more shopping, the pushchair was loaded with bags. They’d been to the park first and Robbie was exhausted and reasonably happy to sit in his pushchair rather than wanting to walk, which took forever. Emily turned into their road and glanced at the houses they passed. Like theirs, most of the houses in the street were decorated ready for Christmas, many with a Christmas tree in their front room window, festooned with baubles and fairy lights. Some had really gone to town – even over the top – with model reindeer, Santas on sleighs and illuminated snow scenes in their front gardens. Sometimes, less was more, Emily thought as she continued looking at the houses.
It had come as no surprise that the Burmans’ house wasn’t showing any signs of the festive season. It was possible they didn’t celebrate Christmas, Emily acknowledged, although it seemed more likely they just didn’t want to. She doubted Dr Burman had any Christmas spirit in him – definitely a bah-humbug type of person. Dour and sour. And, of course, Alisha, being ill, couldn’t make the effort by herself. Emily hadn’t seen Alisha since her fifteen-minute visit and had only caught glimpses of the doctor going in and out of his house and shed. She thought Alisha might have been a very different person without him, but then again she was ill and he seemed to take care of her, so she shouldn’t really criticize.
As she passed their house, she automatically glanced over as she had the others in the street. But the glimpse between the trees and high evergreen shrubs showed the same gloomy front with blacked-out windows. It was a sad-looking house, even more so now many of their neighbours’ houses were gaily decorated. The sadness inside seemed to seep out, bleed through the walls, Emily thought and hurried by. She was pleased to turn into their drive with its warmth of fairly lights draped under the eaves and sparkling through the glass panel of their front door. She switched the lights on when she got up in the morning and they stayed on until she and Ben went to bed. Having gone to all the trouble of putting them up, she wanted to make the most of them. Their house looked welcoming and, with a frisson of excitement, she took her keys from her coat pocket and unlocked the front door. Closer to Christmas – so they would still be fresh on the big day – she was going to buy a Christmas planter with seasonal flowers and set it just to the right of the front door. The finishing touch.
Her key in the lock, she suddenly stopped, senses alert. She thought she’d heard a child cry from next door – from the Burmans’ house? She must have been mistaken. They didn’t have any children, nor had she ever seen any visitors. Perhaps it was the television or radio, although she’d never heard any noise come from their house before. The windows were always closed, even in summer, and they never used their garden. She pushed open her front door and was about to go in but stopped.
There it was again. It sounded like an older child, not a baby, a girl, and it had definitely come from the Burmans’ house. It didn’t sound like a radio or television. Could they have visitors? It would be a first, as far as she was aware. But why was the child crying? Was she upset? It was a distressing cry, no words spoken, a shriek, animal-like and intense. It made her blood run cold. What should she do?
Emily stood still for a moment, torn between ignoring the crying child and continuing indoors, or going next door and asking if everything was all right. Dr Burman wasn’t home, his car wasn’t on the drive where he kept it, and there were no other cars there suggesting visitors. She knew what Ben would have said – mind your own business and go indoors. Her head agreed with him, while her heart told her something wasn’t right. A child in distress in a house where there were no children and the woman was unwell. Since she’d had a child of her own, Emily was more sensitive to the cries of children, especially if they were upset. It was as if something had been switched on when her milk had come in – a primeval need to protect children which was too strong to ignore.
Closing her front door, she dropped her keys into her coat pocket and wheeled the pushchair to their boundary fence. Robbie, wanting to be home, protested. ‘We won’t be long, little man,’ she said, her voice tight.
From her side of the fence, she looked down the Burmans’ sideway and up at their house – to where the cries seemed to have come from. It was quiet now, but a small fan-like window on the upper floor was slightly open, which was unusual. Emily didn’t know which room the window was in as all the houses in the street were different. As she looked, the cry came again, followed by Alisha’s voice, high-pitched and distressed, ‘Oh my God! I’m trying to help you!’
Emily stayed where she was, her unease building. What was going on? Who was Alisha talking to and why was the child upset? Surely, she wasn’t a guest? It had gone quiet again now and it crossed her mind to call up – ‘Is everything all right?’ – but the child screamed and the decision was made.
Quickly turning the pushchair round, Emily hurried back down her drive then up the Burmans’, trying to convince herself there was a rational explanation for what she’d heard. But what rational explanation there could be escaped her. Better to look a fool than ignore a tragedy, she told herself. If she’d known the Burmans better, she could have made a more informed decision. Now she acted on instinct. She pressed the bell on their entry system as the camera focused on the porch watched her. Robbie struggled to get out. ‘We won’t be long,’ she reassured him again.
She waited. Perhaps no one would answer. Then what would she do? Return home and try to forget it? Impossible. Things heard cannot be unheard, and she knew she’d worry about this until she found out that Alisha and the child were all right. Perhaps she should call the police? And say what? That she’d heard a child crying next door, but the woman who lived there didn’t have a child and was ill? Wouldn’t they suggest she might have a visitor? Perhaps she should go home, but the desperation she’d heard in Alisha’s voice told her to stay.
The door suddenly opened and Alisha stood before her, distraught. ‘Thank goodness. I need your help. Come in.’
‘Is something wrong?’ Emily asked.
‘Yes. Come quickly. You must help me, but never tell anyone what you see.’
Emily stopped, fear gripping her. ‘Why not? What’s going on?’
‘Come quickly. You’ll see. This way.’
Emily pushed the stroller into the hall as Alisha began upstairs. She glanced at Robbie, wondering if it was safe to leave him alone in the hall, but the child above cried out again, even more distressed.
‘Please come now,’ Alisha nearly begged.
Glancing at Robbie, Emily ran up the stairs behind Alisha and then followed her into a room at the side of the house. It was a bathroom, adapted for disabled use. Alisha was going to a bundle on the floor, something wrapped in a towel and wedged between the side of the bath and the hand basin. The cry came again from the bundle, like a trapped animal, and Emily realized it was a child. But not like any child she’d seen. She remained where she stood as Alisha knelt beside her. No child should ever look like that.
Chapter Fifteen (#ulink_b7b2dd64-fd8c-5946-9132-eb09849d20bb)
‘Please help,’ Alisha said. ‘She won’t hurt you.’
Emily pulled herself together, crossed the bathroom and knelt beside Alisha.
‘If you take that side,’ Alisha said, ‘we can hopefully move her onto her side and be able to slide her out.’ Emily did as Alisha directed and together they released the child from where she’d become trapped. She moaned.
‘It’s OK,’ Alisha soothed, stroking her forehead. ‘We’re going to sit you up now.’
Emily tried to concentrate on what she was doing and not look at the child’s deformities. Together, they eased her into a sitting position. One claw-like hand tightened on Emily’s arm and she tensed. There is nothing to be frightened of, she told herself. She’s a child.
Alisha quickly drew the girl’s bathrobe around her. She whimpered again. ‘It’s all right, you’re not hurt,’ she reassured her. Then to Emily, ‘I need to get her into that wheelchair. That’s what I was trying to do when the hoist broke. I can’t lift her alone.’
Alisha pulled the wheelchair closer and Emily helped draw the child upright and then into the wheelchair.
‘Thank goodness,’ Alisha sighed and carefully set the child’s feet on the footplate. It was clear the child’s wasted legs would never be able to carry her weight even though she was thin. Her small blue eyes were set too far apart in her enormously swollen forehead, giving the poor child a bulbous appearance as though she was top-heavy.
‘Naughty Daddy,’ Alisha said as she made the child comfortable. ‘I told him the hoist needed looking at.’
‘Daddy?’ Emily repeated numbly.
‘Yes, this is our daughter, Eva.’
‘Your daughter. But …’
‘I know. Don’t tell anyone, please.’
Downstairs in the hall, Robbie began to cry. ‘I need to go,’ Emily said.
‘Don’t go until I’ve had a chance to explain,’ Alisha pleaded. ‘See to Robbie but stay until I come down. I won’t be long, just a few minutes while I settle Eva in her room. Take Robbie in the living room. Please wait.’
Emily hesitated.
‘Please, I won’t be long.’
She saw the fear in her eyes. ‘All right. Do you need any help here?’
‘No thank you. Wait for me in the living room.’
‘Mummy!’ Robbie called again from the hall and Emily went downstairs. Releasing him from the harness, she picked him up and held him close.
Alisha had said to wait in the living room. With her heart thumping and her thoughts racing, Emily pushed open the door directly in front that she guessed could be the living room. It was. She carried Robbie in and then sat on the sofa with him on her lap. The house was hot and she undid their coats. She looked around as her heartbeat began to settle. It was an ordinary enough living room with a large black leather sofa, two matching armchairs, a television, bookshelves and a hearth rug. Strangely normal and at odds with whatever else was going on in the house. Through the patio window, she could see the outbuilding where Dr Burman spent so much of his time. Although it was a closer view than the one she had from her bedroom window, it was no more distinctive as the opaque film covering the glass gave everything outside a hazy look.
Robbie agitated to be off her lap and she put him down so he could toddle around. There were no children’s toys in the room, nothing to say there was a child living here at all. Whatever was going on? Alisha had called the child Eva. How old was she? Emily guessed about six or seven, although it was difficult to tell with her disabilities. How had they kept her a secret for so long, and why? She had so many questions, comments and criticisms. The situation was unreal and she wasn’t sure she should stay.
She could hear Alisha moving around upstairs. A child had been living here all this time and she’d had no idea. A secret child hidden away. It was unsettling and worrying. It reminded her of cases that came to light every so often and were reported by the press, when a child or sometimes an adult had been held hostage for years. When interviewed, neighbours always said the same thing: that the couple were quiet, polite and kept themselves to themselves. Wasn’t that exactly what she would have said about the Burmans? Kept themselves to themselves. Their house and their lives cloaked in secrecy. What other secrets did they have? Ben had been dismissive of her concerns, sometimes making fun of her, but she’d been vindicated, proven right. She’d said Amit Burman was odd and had something to hide, and he certainly did – his daughter!
Emily had just decided that it would be better to leave now when she heard footsteps on the stairs.
‘Thank you for waiting,’ Alisha said, coming into the living room. ‘And thank you for your help. Eva is fine, nothing broken, but I couldn’t have managed without you.’ She sat in one of the armchairs and threw Robbie a small smile. She seemed more relaxed now. ‘I am annoyed with Amit. I told him that hoist in the bathroom needed fixing, but he was too busy in his lab last night.’
‘So, Eva is your daughter?’ Emily said, still struggling to believe it.
‘Yes. She has the same genetic condition that I have and that killed my son. The difference is Eva was born with it. The damage was being done while she was in the womb. My son never looked like that, but I love Eva as I loved my son and always try to do my best for her.’
Emily held her gaze. ‘I am sorry. I’d no idea. I mean, I knew you were ill and you’d lost another child, but I’d no idea Eva was living here.’
‘That was our intention. No one knows. Our son spent all his life in and out of hospital. There was nothing they could do to save him. We don’t want the same for Eva. We had to move from our last house because someone passing saw her at the window. News spread that we had a monster in the house. That’s what they used to call her – our pet monster.’
‘That’s dreadful,’ Emily gasped.
‘Yes, yobs would gather outside and throw stones at the windows and push things through our letter box. You understand now why we have all this security?’
‘Yes I do. I can’t have helped by cutting the hedge.’
‘No. But you weren’t to know.’
‘Don’t you have any help? Surely the social services can offer something? Shouldn’t they know?’
‘They offered help a long time ago when Eva was born, but we refused. They will keep wanting to take her into hospital, like they did our son, and it doesn’t do any good. The doctors can’t help. Eva stays upstairs; the main bedroom has been converted for her use. She is comfortable and has everything she needs. It has become more difficult looking after her since I became ill, but I manage.’
‘Do you?’ Emily asked sceptically. ‘Supposing I hadn’t been here today. What would you have done?’
‘Phoned Amit at work. He would be annoyed, but he always comes eventually. I was about to when I saw on the CCTV it was you at the door. I thought I could trust you. I can, can’t I?’ She looked worried.
‘You mean trust me not to tell anyone?’ Emily asked. Alisha nodded. ‘I suppose so, but don’t you ever take her out?’
‘No. She doesn’t need to go out. She has everything she wants upstairs.’
‘But don’t you need to go out?’ Emily persisted, feeling Alisha was a prisoner in her own home. She glanced at Robbie who had his face pressed to the patio window.
‘I can’t leave Eva alone. She was the reason I could only visit you for fifteen minutes. You were so insistent, I felt it was easier to accept your invitation so you wouldn’t keep asking me.’
‘Sorry, I was just trying to be friendly. I’d no idea …’ her voice fell away.
Alisha raised a small smile. ‘It’s fine. I would have liked for us to be friends, but Amit said you’d tell if you found out.’
Emily shrugged. ‘I would probably have told Ben. We share most things.’
‘Please don’t tell him. I don’t want to have to move again and if Amit found out he’d be very angry. He spends every night working in his lab, trying to find a cure, not just for me, but Eva too and others with the same condition. I doubt he will, time is running out, but it has become his obsession. His way of coping.’
Just for a moment Emily felt a pang of guilt that she had judged him so harshly. There were clearly worse obsessions than trying to save your wife and child. She also felt she couldn’t just walk away without offering something. ‘I understand why you don’t go out, so perhaps Robbie and I could come here again to visit you?’
‘Oh I don’t know,’ Alisha said, concerned. ‘I mean, I’d like that but …’ She looked at Robbie. ‘Wouldn’t he say something to his father?’
‘No, he only has single words at present – mummy, daddy, car, that type of thing. I could pop in when it suits you. No one would know. But only if you want me to.’
‘Yes, I’d like that. I really would. I get so lonely, but you must promise never to tell anyone.’ Fear appeared in her eyes again.
‘I promise,’ Emily said.
‘Early afternoon is good for me,’ Alisha said, visibly brightening. ‘After I’ve given Eva her lunch, and I know Amit will be in the operating theatre all afternoon.’
‘Great. Pick your day.’
‘How about this Friday? At two o’clock.’
‘Suits me. Do you have a mobile?’
‘No. Only the house phone.’
‘I’ll give you my mobile number just in case you need me again in an emergency.’
‘Thank you.’ Alisha found a pen and sheet of paper and wrote it down. ‘I’ll keep it somewhere safe.’ She smiled.
‘See you Friday then.’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’
Chapter Sixteen (#ulink_cb2847ca-c985-53e1-8871-d433929c5da3)
That night, Emily stood at her bedroom window gazing into the clear still air. As usual, the light was on in Amit Burman’s lab, although nothing could be seen but the faint glow around the very edge of the opaque film and blinds. Ben was downstairs finishing off a report for work and she’d come up for an early night. She was tired. Exhausted. She’d worn herself out thinking about what she’d seen and learnt at Alisha’s that afternoon. How she would have liked to have confided in Ben. Share the burden of this, as she normally shared most things with him. Her thoughts were in chaos, she needed some perspective on what she’d found out, but to do so would break her promise to Alisha, and she couldn’t risk the consequences of doing that. If she told Ben, he could let it slip to Amit. They often exchanged a few words when they saw each other going in or out of the houses. Ben was as honest as they came and wasn’t good at keeping secrets or telling lies. But the fact that she was the only one apart from the Burmans who knew they had a child was a huge responsibility. At the time Alisha had explained the reasons for keeping Eva secret it had seemed rational, but now Emily wasn’t so sure.
Supposing something dreadful happened in that house and she hadn’t told anyone? Wouldn’t she be partly responsible and to blame? Parents under huge pressure, such as the Burmans were, must sometimes snap and the result could be devastating. The strain must be enormous and Alisha had admitted Amit was obsessed with finding a cure, although it was obvious that Eva could never be cured. Might there come a time when he realized this and it all became too much and he lost it? Theirs wouldn’t be the first family to be found slaughtered in their beds after a parent had suffered a breakdown and run berserk. Perhaps he was already at breaking point, Emily thought, and she was the only one who knew Eva was there. It was a confidence she wished she didn’t have.
Her mobile phone, already on her bedside cabinet for the night, began to vibrate behind her. She turned from the window. Their bedside clock showed it was after ten o’clock. It wouldn’t be her parents or friends phoning at this time. Nuisance call? She picked up the phone and saw the call was coming from a local landline number, although not one the phone recognized as a contact. Something stopped her from letting it go through to voicemail and she pressed to accept the call. ‘Hello?’
‘Emily?’ a small female voice asked tentatively. It was vaguely familiar but so slight it was impossible to place.
‘Yes. Who is it?’
‘Alisha. I am so worried.’
‘Oh Alisha. What’s the matter?’ Concern immediately kicked in, but why was she phoning when Amit was home?’
‘I’m in trouble, Emily. I’ve just realized that your visit today will all be recorded on our CCTV. If Amit sees it, he will be furious. I don’t know what to do. You must never come here again. It was wrong of me to ask you for help. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Calm down,’ Emily said and returned to the window. The light was still on the outbuilding. ‘Amit is in his shed, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, for now, but supposing he looks at the recording? He does sometimes. If he checks it, he’ll see you’ve been here.’
‘Can you delete part of the recording? We haven’t got CCTV, but I’m guessing you can.’
‘I think so, but I don’t know how.’ Emily heard the panic and desperation in her voice.
‘There must be a control box somewhere. How do you control it?’ Emily asked, watching the outbuilding for any sign that Amit might be leaving it.
‘There’s a box under the television. Amit views the recordings on our TV. I’ve seen him do it.’
‘And he hasn’t viewed it yet today?’
‘No.’
‘So delete the bit where I arrive and leave.’
‘Yes, but how?’ Alisha’s hysteria grew.
‘Calm down. It can’t be that difficult. Are you in the living room now?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you got the remote control there?’
‘Yes. It’s on the table.’
‘Look at it now while Amit is in the lab. I’m in my bedroom. I can see him from here if he leaves.’
Alisha fell silent and Emily concentrated on the outbuilding. ‘I’ve found the channel it’s on,’ Alisha said at last.
‘Good. Can you see a main menu?’
A short pause then, ‘Yes.’
‘Click on the menu,’ Emily said. ‘I’m guessing there will be something that says device.’
Silence again. Emily hoped Ben wouldn’t choose this moment to come up. She’d have difficulty explaining what she was doing.
‘Got it,’ Alisha said.
‘Right, move the recording to the bit just before I arrive.’
‘How?’ Alisha’s panic rose again.
‘Try to stay calm. There must be a way of rewinding it. Some little arrows maybe, pointing backwards?’
Another silence. ‘Yes. Here they are. Shall I click on it?’
‘Yes.’
A second later. ‘It’s rewinding.’
‘Good.’ Emily watched the outbuilding, her mouth dry and her pulse racing. Alisha’s fear and anxiety were contagious.
A minute later, ‘I’m back to where you arrive.’
‘OK, now press delete and keep deleting until just after I’ve gone.’
‘Yes, I’m doing it.’
Emily waited. She could hear Alisha’s breath coming fast and shallow.
‘Done it.’
‘Good. If Amit finds out, just act dumb and say you don’t know anything about it. He’ll think its malfunctioning.’
‘I think I must be dumb,’ Alisha said.
‘No. You just panicked. Are you OK now?’
‘Yes.’
At that moment, the light went off in the outbuilding and the door opened. ‘Alisha, Amit’s leaving now. Is the television back to normal viewing?’
‘Yes.’
‘Try to relax and stay calm. Do what you would usually do. I’ll see you Friday. You can switch off the CCTV before I arrive and then put it back on after I’ve gone, but we’ll speak again before then.’
‘Yes. Thank you.’ The line went dead.
Emily stayed by the window and watched Amit Burman as he carefully padlocked the door of the outbuilding and then began up the path towards the house. Alisha’s fear of being discovered had unsettled Emily. She had been panic-stricken. Genuinely afraid. Emily had heard it in her voice. Why, if Amit really was looking after her, as Alisha had claimed? She had doubts now.
Emily drew the curtains and then saved Alisha’s house phone number to the list of contacts in her mobile, just in case it should ever be needed.
Chapter Seventeen (#ulink_ec2affb3-8fde-5cb9-aa53-30fdb41e180f)
‘It’s off, I’ve switched it off!’ Alisha declared, having phoned Emily’s mobile at 1.55 on Friday. Emily heard her sense of achievement and the excitement in her voice.
‘Great. Well done. I’ll be round in five minutes. Just putting Robbie into his coat.’
‘See you soon.’
Alisha was waiting behind her front door and ready to open it as soon as Emily and Robbie approached. She was smiling, wearing a lovely dress and had styled her hair.
‘You look nice,’ Emily said, helping Robbie over the doorstep.
‘Thank you. I thought I should make an effort. You always look very fashionable. It’s so long since I had a visitor.’ Alisha quickly closed the door. ‘You and Robbie can sit in the living room while I make us some tea. Oh, but I need to take your coats first,’ she flustered. ‘Sorry, I forgot.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Emily said and slipped off her coat, touched by just how much their visit meant to Alisha. It nearly hadn’t happened. The day before, she’d had to spend ages on the phone persuading Alisha that the sky wouldn’t fall in if she switched off the CCTV for a while.
Emily handed their coats to Alisha, who hung them in the under-stairs cupboard.
‘Please go through to the living room and make yourself comfortable,’ she said a little formally. ‘I found some of Eva’s toys from when she was younger for Robbie to play with.’
‘Great,’ Emily said. Taking hold of Robbie’s hand, she steered him into the living room while Alisha went into the kitchen to make tea.
Laid out on the rug by the hearth was a collection of brightly coloured early years activity toys. They were similar to the ones Robbie had at home with buttons and knobs that could be turned and pressed to make different sounds, music, numbers, words and letters. Robbie toddled over to investigate as Emily sat on the sofa and looked down the garden. While her own garden was very bare in winter – a sea of lifeless twigs and brown earth – this garden was largely evergreen, with a screen of shrubs all around the edges forming a tall hedge. The one she’d cut between their gardens was shorter than those on the other two sides and she felt another stab of guilt. But she hadn’t known then that they were there to stop prying eyes from seeing Eva.
‘Please help yourself,’ Alisha said, returning with a tray set with tea and a plate of pastry savouries.
‘Wow. You’ve been busy,’ Emily enthused, impressed. ‘These look delicious.’
‘It was nice to cook something different. Eva’s food is very simple and Amit often eats at work.’
Emily took a couple of the pastries and put them on the plate Alisha gave to her, together with tea in a white bone-china cup and saucer.
‘What about Robbie?’ Alisha asked. ‘Does he want anything?’
‘He’s all right for now, he’s just had lunch.’ Emily settled back, took a sip of her tea and a bite of one of the pastries. ‘Very nice,’ she said. Alisha smiled, pleased. ‘So, you worked out how to switch off the cameras, well done. And you know how to switch them on again?’ she asked.
‘Yes. It’s simple when you know how. I’d never had a reason to learn how to use it before.’
‘You seemed very worried that Amit might find out.’
‘He …’ she stopped.
‘Yes?’ Emily prompted.
‘Amit has a lot on his mind and he can sometimes become angry over little things, but everything is all right, really. It was nice of you to help me.’
Emily gave a half-hearted nod. ‘No worries.’ Perhaps with time Alisha would confide in her. ‘What exactly does Amit do in that outbuilding?’ she asked as she had before. ‘I know you said it was research to try to find a cure for your illness, but how?’
‘I don’t know the details,’ Alisha replied, avoiding Emily’s gaze. ‘And I don’t ask questions.’
‘You’re very good. I’m sure I’d ask,’ Emily returned with a small irreverent laugh.
‘But you’re different to me,’ Alisha said, and looked sad. ‘You’re more confident and do as you wish. You feel you can speak your mind.’
‘Too much sometimes,’ Emily said. ‘So tell me to shut up when you’ve had enough.’
‘I wouldn’t do that,’ Alisha said seriously. ‘I am pleased you came. But I honestly don’t know what Amit does in his lab and I wouldn’t question him.’
‘Ben is jealous. He calls it a man cave. He wants one,’ Emily laughed.
‘I’m sure Ben would much rather spend his time with you and Robbie in the evenings and weekends than in a building at the bottom of the garden.’
Emily saw Alisha’s hurt and disappointment. ‘Yes, I suppose he would really,’ she said quietly and took another sip of her tea. ‘I’ve accepted Tibs isn’t coming back,’ she said, changing the subject.
‘I am sorry. Will you have another cat?’
‘Maybe in the future, although Ben would like a dog.’
‘It’s such a pity she didn’t come home. When I found her collar, I was hopeful it had just come off and she would return.’
Emily set her cup in her saucer and stared at her. ‘You found the collar? I thought Amit found it?’
‘No, I found it just outside our back door. Amit returned it to you.’
‘It wasn’t in the road then?’
‘No. Didn’t Amit explain?’
‘Yes, but I’m sure he said he’d found it in the road.’
‘You must have misunderstood. It was outside our back door. I was putting out some rubbish and found it by the bin.’
‘I see,’ Emily said thoughtfully. ‘I don’t suppose it matters.’
‘No,’ Alisha agreed.
But it did matter.
‘Why would Amit lie about where and who found Tibs’ collar?’ Emily asked Ben that evening. She had told him she’d seen Alisha briefly when she’d taken a parcel there.
‘I don’t suppose he lied on purpose,’ Ben said with a small sigh. ‘It was probably just a mistake. The bloke got home knackered from work and his wife started going on about the cat collar and that he had to return it. So he quickly scribbles a note and pushes it through our letter box, then you rush round and cross-examine him. He says he found it in the road, which is the most likely place if a cat has been run over. It was a mistake, that’s all. No evil intent.’
‘But Alisha never goes out as far as the road. How could he make that mistake?’ Emily persisted.
‘What are you talking about, Em?’ Ben said testily. ‘She came here once, didn’t she? Of course she goes out sometimes. Just not very far as she’s ill.’
She looked at him and realized how ridiculous it must sound if you didn’t know the full story – that Alisha couldn’t go out, not so much because of her illness but because she had a severely disabled daughter whom she couldn’t leave. There was no doubt in Emily’s mind that Alisha’s version of events was true and, for whatever reason, Amit Burman had lied, but she knew she needed to let it go. She was starting to sound obsessive, and Ben’s comment about Amit arriving home from work knackered and his wife going on at him about the cat collar was surely a dig at her.
‘Sorry, I won’t mention it again.’ She kissed his cheek. ‘Tell me about your day at work.’
Chapter Eighteen (#ulink_94c1a4b6-aba6-5a89-b284-8e78d39c8aba)
It mattered, Alisha also thought that evening, and it had worried her since Emily had left. It had plagued and dominated her thoughts. She’d done her best to hide her surprise and concern when Emily had told her what Amit had said about Tibs’ collar, but after Emily had gone she’d found it impossible to think of anything else. She felt unsettled, anxious and couldn’t understand why Amit had lied to Emily. Without doubt he had known he wasn’t the one who’d found the cat collar, and she’d told him exactly where she’d found it. So why had he told Emily he’d found it in the road? Had he forgotten what she’d said? Unlikely. He rarely forgot anything and he’d taken the collar round straight away; there hadn’t been time to forget. ‘I’ll return it,’ he’d said, snatching it from her and placing it in an envelope.
Alisha liked Emily a lot, she acknowledged. She seemed a genuine sort of person who could be relied upon, and she trusted her not to tell anyone – even Ben – about Eva. She was pleased they were becoming friends; indeed, Emily was the only friend she had now. Amit had seen to that, telling her old friends she was too ill to meet them or come to the phone, so eventually they’d stopped calling. But now she had Emily, and it felt safe having her telephone number and knowing she was just next door. She’d enjoyed Emily and Robbie’s visit and now she was confident in working the CCTV and could switch it off and on they could visit any time and Amit would never know. She’d already made a date for their next visit. Yes, she liked Emily and wanted to do right by her.
Alisha was suddenly jolted into the present by something she’d just thought. The CCTV. Now she was competent at using it why didn’t she rewind it to the day she’d found the collar? It might give a clue as to how it had got there, even to where Tibs was, then she could tell Emily. She’d be so pleased to know, even if it was bad news. Emily had said it was the not knowing what had happened to Tibs that was the worst. There was a camera pointing down the sideway that covered the back door. Amit was in his lab for the evening and wouldn’t reappear for hours.
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