to see what was going to happen.’
‘You can’t blame yourself,’ said MacLean. ‘If his mind was made up he would have done it anyway. Maybe not on that day but on some other.’
Tansy looked directly at MacLean in a way that made him feel uncomfortable. ‘But you, Mr MacLean are still alive,’ she said. ‘And I am a stranger. Perhaps if you were to talk about it… ‘
MacLean shook his head and said, ‘No. No more talking, no more running, no more hiding, no more anything. I must be going.’ He got up from the chair.
‘Sit down Mr MacLean,’ said Tansy. She said it quietly but something in her voice made MacLean feel compelled to comply. He sank slowly back into the chair.
‘How long have you been running?’
‘Three years,’ he said. He felt himself start to lose the battle to remain detached. The warmth of the fire and exhaustion from his earlier tussle with the ice were conspiring to give the woman the upper hand.
‘Tell me about it,’ she said.
THREE
‘It’s a long story,’ said MacLean. He leaned his head on the back of the chair and closed his eyes for a moment.
‘There’s no hurry,’ said Tansy softly, ‘Begin at the beginning.’
‘I’m a doctor,’ said MacLean.
Tansy looked at him questioningly. She said, ‘You carry a gun, you smash your way through ice with your bare hands and you’re a doctor?’
MacLean smiled sadly at her reaction. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he conceded. ‘I used to be a doctor. So much can happen in three years.’
‘Go on,’ said Tansy.
‘I was born and brought up here in Edinburgh,’ said MacLean. ‘I played on the canal banks out there. I fished in the water for tadpoles; I skated on it when it froze over in winter and I fell into it from rope swings in the summer. I went to the local schools with the rest of the kids from round here and then, when I was nineteen, I spread my wings and went south to study medicine in London.’
‘I was a good student, a lad o’ pairts, as they say up here and it was what I wanted to do. Don’t get me wrong, I had as much fun as the next student but I never lost sight of the main goal and that was to become a doctor. Six years later I achieved my ambition.’
‘Then what?’ asked Tansy.
‘After my pre-registration year I was determined to become a surgeon so I set off on that road. In time I decided to specialise in plastic surgery.’
‘Nose jobs and face-lifts?’ said Tansy with ill-disguised disdain.
‘No,’ replied MacLean evenly. ‘In my last year at medical school my closest friend was burned when some idiot threw paraffin on a barbecue fire. He was badly disfigured and had to give up any idea of being a doctor because of the damage to his hands. I’ve never forgotten how he looked when I went to see him for the first time after the accident. I wasn’t prepared and it must have shown on my face. His eyes told me that he’d seen the revulsion; I can still feel the guilt to this day when I talk about it. Anyway, that was what decided me that I should go into plastic surgery. I thought, if I could make a difference in improving the lot of such patients then it would be a life well spent.’
‘And did it work out that way?’ asked Tansy.
‘It was frustrating,’ said MacLean. ‘Everyone knows about the dramatic results in cosmetic surgery but repairing accident damage is a completely different story. Patients can go through dozens of operations over many years and still end up looking not much better than they did in the beginning. I wanted to do better for them.’
‘How?’
‘The way forward is always through research. I heard that Lehman Steiner, the Swiss-based Drug Company, was working on tissue regeneration so I wrote to them. I sent them my c.v. and after a couple of interviews they offered me a job on their research programme.’
‘Just what you wanted,’ said Tansy.
‘Exactly what I wanted,’ agreed MacLean. ‘I moved to Geneva and everything went like a dream. The facilities were magnificent, the research went well and I liked living in Geneva. Within three years I was made head of surgical research.’
‘You must have been young?’
‘I was thirty-one and on top of the world. I had a penthouse flat, a Mercedes car and complete job satisfaction. Then came Cytogerm.’ MacLean paused as if a dark cloud had come over him.
‘Cytogerm?’ prompted Tansy gently.
‘It was our biggest breakthrough, a brand new compound that aided tissue regeneration. Treating burns cases with Cytogerm reduced tissue damage by eighty-five percent. We could hardly believe it at first but the early indications were proved right. Suddenly we had the power to perform miracles.
‘It sounds wonderful.’
‘It was, until the nightmare began,’ said MacLean, his eyes beginning to show painful memories. He paused and Tansy remained silent, unsure if he would be able to continue.
MacLean looked at her distantly and said slowly, ‘We were all sworn to secrecy until full clinical trials were carried out.’ He paused again and Tansy could see that tiredness was overtaking him. She put a finger up to his lips and said, ‘Stop there. Continue in the morning.’
MacLean was prompted into saying, ‘No, no more, I have to go.’
Tansy restrained him gently. ‘No you don’t,’ she whispered. ‘Your room is ready.’
MacLean woke to the sound of Carrie’s laughter. She was playing in the snow in the garden. He listened to Tansy giving her advice on snowman building. After a few minutes he got up and went to the window to be struck by the brightness of the snow and the vivid colours of Carrie’s outfit. He was startled when Tansy saw him and waved a greeting. It wasn’t a film scene after all. He was really here.
Tansy came back into the house and announced breakfast. MacLean came to the kitchen and hovered uncertainly in the doorway.
‘How are you feeling?’ Tansy asked.
‘I’m fine,’ replied MacLean.
‘Well, sit down,’ directed Tansy with girl-guide bossiness and MacLean did as he was told. She put a plate, heaped with bacon and eggs, in front of him and added toast and a jug of steaming coffee to the table. ‘Eat up before it gets cold.’
MacLean knew that Tansy was mounting a rescue operation. There was nothing subtle about it. She was doing it with a disarming innocence that was much more effective than anything more sophisticated might have been. A part of him insisted on clinging to the belief that this was all just a momentary respite in a continuing nightmare but, as he ate, another part of him was beginning to waver ever so slightly.
With breakfast over, Tansy re-charged his coffee cup and her own and suggested they would be more comfortable by the fire. Carrie was outside working on her snowman.
‘You were telling me about Cytogerm,’ said Tansy.
‘I was,’ agreed MacLean, pausing for a moment while he considered whether or not to continue. He couldn’t see an easy way out of it and the expectant look on Tansy’s face pushed him into continuing his story.
‘The clinical trials were conducted in secret at an exclusive private clinic in the mountains. Burns cases at category five or worse — that’s severe disfigurement — would be referred to us with the approval of their relatives. All expenses would be paid by Lehman Steiner on the condition that the visiting rights of relatives were waived, an offer eagerly accepted by all. Burns treatment is a long, expensive business.’
‘But not to be able to visit your wife or husband… ‘ said Tansy.
‘Disfigurement cases are difficult for everyone,’ said MacLean. ‘You may not think so but pretending you’re not horrified when your husband looks like a boiled puppet can be an unbearable strain. Paper-thin smiles while guilt
