Tansy smiled as she realised that the request was actually directed at MacLean. Feminine wiles at the age of five, she thought. She waited for MacLean’s reaction, ready to step in if he showed reluctance but he didn’t. His only concern was in being thought rude at interrupting the conversation. Tansy said, ‘Why don’t you two go out into the garden and I’ll have a think about lunch.’
‘His name’s Mr Robbins,’ said Carrie, ‘but his head won’t stay on.’
MacLean removed the blob of snow that served as Mr Robbins’ head and laid it on the ground. ‘I think it will be easier if we give him a mouth and a nose and eyes while his head is down here. What do you think?’
Carrie was clearly pleased at being asked her opinion. Grown-ups didn’t usually do that. They told you things. ‘Yes,’ she agreed.
‘We need pebbles for his eyes,’ said MacLean and Carrie scampered off to find some while MacLean re- shaped the head.
Carrie returned with a handful of pebbles of various sizes.
‘Well, what do you think?’ asked MacLean.
Carrie put her tongue out to aid concentration and examined the stones to pick out two. ‘These,’ she said.
‘Good choice,’ said MacLean. He inserted the pebbles as eyes.
‘What about his nose?’ asked Carrie.
MacLean thought for a moment then said, ‘If you ask Mummy very nicely she may give you a carrot.’
Carrie’s eyes opened wide at the thought. She dashed into the house and returned in triumph with a carrot, which she handed to MacLean.
‘No,’ said MacLean gently, ‘You do it.’
Carrie pushed the carrot into place and stood back to admire her work.
‘Excellent,’ said MacLean and Carrie flushed with pleasure. He picked up the remaining pebbles and formed them into a grinning mouth for Mr Robbins. Carrie beamed as MacLean lifted the head into place. She ran inside to fetch Tansy who came outside and made admiring noises. Her offer of a cap and scarf for Mr Robbins was eagerly accepted by Carrie.
After lunch Carrie announced her plans for the afternoon. She said to MacLean. ‘I’m going to build a glue house.’
‘A glue house?’ repeated MacLean.
‘Like the Eskimos.’
‘Oh,’ said MacLean softly, ‘an igloo house.’
‘Yes an igloo house,’ Carrie agreed, looking out of the corner of her eye for any sign of ridicule. She didn’t find any.
‘You’ll need snow bricks.’
Carrie looked at him questioningly.
‘We need an empty cardboard box.’
Carrie shot off and came back with two. ‘Can we go now?’ she asked.
‘First the dishes, young lady,’ said Tansy.
Momentary dissent from Carrie gave way to resignation and she buckled down to assisting with the washing up but, as soon as it was finished, she was off out into the garden like a red-wellingtoned greyhound. MacLean showed her the rudiments of snow brick construction and came back inside. Tansy smiled at him and thanked him for being so patient.
‘I enjoyed it as much as she did,’ MacLean confessed.
‘You seemed to suggest that there was more to the Cytogerm story?’ said Tansy.
MacLean nodded and accepted a cup of coffee. ‘Three weeks after the closure of the Cytogerm project I received a letter from the directors. It said simply that a Dr Von Jonek would be calling on me and that I was to afford him every co-operation. Two days later he came to call.’
‘Who was he?’
‘One of the most unpleasant people I’d ever met. He was overbearing, rude and arrogant. He demanded all the research files on Cytogerm and all relevant case histories. I refused, partly because he’d put my back up and I was determined to be as obstructive as possible, but mainly because he wanted the originals as well as copies. He wouldn’t even tell me why he wanted them. He just informed me that I had my orders and that I should obey them. I’m afraid I got rather rude at this point.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Tansy.
‘The next day I was summoned to the Stagelplatz to explain myself. I decided to go on the offensive and went in to the meeting with all guns blazing. The Cytogerm project was the brainchild of my division I insisted and no petty bureaucrat was going to tell me to hand over my files without explaining why.’
‘How did they take that?’ asked Tansy.
They smiled and nodded like these little dogs you see in the backs of cars. They were niceness itself and apologised for Von Jonek’s rudeness. It rather took the wind out of my sails. Von Jonek was the company archivist, they explained. It was unfortunate that he had such an abrupt manner but he simply wanted the information for the company’s records.’
‘I felt pretty stupid and to cover my discomfort I asked innocently where they kept these records. They took this as a sign of disbelief on my part. The temperature suddenly fell ten degrees and all the smiles round the table faded like snow in summer. One of the directors got up and came round from behind the table. He came right up to me and leaned down until his face was less than inches from mine. I could even admire the bridgework on his teeth when he spoke.
‘Dr MacLean,’ he said. ‘I think we’ve finished with you. Get out.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I got out.’
‘Did you have to give them the files?’ asked Tansy.
MacLean smiled ruefully and said, ‘I didn’t get the chance. Shortly afterwards, there was a fire at the clinic. Officially, the records were destroyed.’
‘And unofficially?’
‘The fire was started deliberately.’
‘But why?’
‘To cover up the fact that the clinic had been broken into and all the files on Cytogerm removed.’
‘By the company?’ asked Tansy.
‘I was too stupid to realise that at the time. I thought some outside agency must be interested in Cytogerm. I even reported this to the directors.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Tansy.
‘Oh dear indeed,’ agreed MacLean.
The silence grew long and Tansy said softly, ‘What happened then?’
MacLean sat looking at the floor but not seeing anything as he was forced to rekindle memories that he would much rather have left undisturbed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘No more.’
Tansy put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. She said, ‘Occupational therapy Doctor.’
‘I’m sorry?’ said MacLean.
‘I’m prescribing occupational therapy for you… an igloo?’
MacLean got the message and nodded. He got up and went out into the garden to help Carrie. Tansy was right about the therapeutic value of physical distraction. MacLean directed all his energy and concentration to the construction of Carrie’s igloo and she was delighted. Grown-ups usually got bored after half an hour and said that they were going for a cup of tea and, in her experience, they seldom came back. The pair of them stayed in the garden until the light became a leaden grey and the orange glow from inside the bungalow beckoned them indoors.
Carrie went off to her room to change her wet clothes and MacLean joined Tansy in the kitchen. ‘I have to go,’ he said.
Tansy did not turn round but she stopped what she was doing. ‘Why?’ she asked.
‘This is not my world,’ said MacLean.
‘Why not?’ asked Tansy.
