normal.’
‘Could my disease spread to her?’
‘Technically, yes.’
She stared at Fine. ‘And practically?’
‘Practically, the chances of that happening are minimal. Such an occurrence would be so rare that it would make the medical journals.’
‘Could you give me chemotherapy, or radiotherapy, without harming her?’
‘Absolutely not, I’m afraid.’
‘Yet we’re agreed that there is a far greater risk to my baby’s life by curtailing my pregnancy than by continuing it?’
‘That is true. But, Mrs Steele, the same applies to you in reverse. I’ve been comparing your ultrasounds, and while they’re not definitive, they do indicate that your cancer is developing swiftly, as I’d expect it to. The growths in your Fallopian tubes are metastases, secondary tumours. That’s not a good sign, but it’s manageable. However, if there is a spread beyond the pelvic region, that will not be.’
‘Manageable? Let’s be more specific than that. Given my present condition, what are my five-year survival chances? Quote me figures; I can look them up on the Internet, I’m sure.’
For the first time, Fine looked down, away from her. ‘Overall,’ he replied, ‘studies show less than fifty per cent. That’s allowing for all age groups, all stages of detection.’
‘In my case, if I follow your advice, what will the odds be?’
‘I’d love to say better than even, but I can’t.’
‘So what it comes down to is this. If I risk my daughter’s life, and somehow she overcomes the odds against her, survives and grows into a healthy child, I’m unlikely to be around to see her start primary school. Or, to put it another way, if I do what you say, the balance of probability is that my husband will lose both his wife and child.’
‘Maybe, but, Mrs Steele . . .’
‘Forget the bloody maybes. Yes or no?’
‘Yes, but every case is different. These are statistics. Individual cases often throw up surprising outcomes.’
It was Maggie’s turn to draw his eyes back to hers. ‘With respect,’ she said, not unkindly, ‘you’re asking me to gamble my child’s life, and I will not, I cannot do that. I will carry her either full term or until you can put your hand on your heart and tell me that she can be delivered without risk above the norm. After that you can hollow me out, throw all the shit you like at me, and I will fight this disease with everything I have.’
‘If that’s your decision,’ the consultant replied, ‘I have to respect it.’
‘I know, but thanks for saying so. In the meantime, is there anything I can do to slow this thing down?’
‘Rest; that’s all. Do you have domestic help?’
‘No.’
‘Then my advice is that you get a cleaner in, do your food shopping online, and generally avoid physical activity.’
‘Including . . .?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so, that too.’ He looked at her earnestly. ‘Mrs Steele, Margaret: it might be a good idea if you asked your husband to come and see me, to let me explain what’s happening.’
Her eyes flashed, and narrowed. ‘No!’ she snapped. ‘Absolutely not. My husband is out there right now trying to catch a man who has murdered, so far, three people, and who may well be planning to kill even more. He needs to focus on that, not to be watching me every day for signs of deterioration. I love Stevie, I know the man he is, and I believe that if I put my decision to him, he’d back me up. He’ll find out when he has to. In the meantime I forbid you to contact him, or to discuss my condition with him. If you do that behind my back, you’ll find out why I made chief superintendent at my age. Is that clear?’
Fine smiled. ‘As clear as day.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Come on with me and I’ll make you a series of appointments. Come by taxi; it’ll be cheaper than parking in this bloody place. If nothing else, I’m going to watch you and your child like a hawk in these coming weeks.’
Thirty-nine
I wasn’t surprised when you rang me. I’ve been expecting you since lunchtime.’ Amy Noone’s wide eyes and pale face were witnesses to her claim. As she perched on the edge of her couch, she clutched a can of Irn-Bru, white-knuckled.
‘How did you find out?’ Steele asked her.
‘I was in the middle of shampooing a customer,’ she told him, ‘and STV was on the television like always. The news was on, then the woman said they were switching to Edinburgh, and two men walked in front of a camera. I wasn’t really listening until I saw that one of them was Zrinka’s dad. I knew him right away, from a photo she has in her flat. And then the other one, the big guy with the nice black curly hair, said that Zrinka was the girl that was murdered on the beach. I just screamed.’ She pressed the cold can to her forehead. ‘God knows what would have happened if I’d been cutting the woman’s hair at the time, instead of just washing it. Mervyn, the boss, was at the other end of the salon; he came rushing up thinking I’d scalded her or something, then the man said something else about Zrinka being shot and he screamed too. Then Harry’s name was mentioned, and the pair of us were in floods of tears.
Mervyn told me I should go home; gay blokes are kind that way. He said he’d finish off my customer, and cancel as many of the afternoon appointments as he could.’
‘He knew them too?’
‘Of course he did. Zrinka was a customer. That’s how she and I met; she came into the salon a year and a half ago, no, maybe a bit more, and Mervyn gave her to me. She said that she wanted a makeover to surprise her boyfriend. I told her that if he didn’t appreciate her as she was, he needed a mental makeover, or maybe changing altogether. She laughed at that, and we just got on from there.’
‘Can you tell us anything about the boyfriend?’ Tarvil Singh asked her.
‘Dominic?’ Amy frowned. ‘I never liked him. I never trusted him either.’
‘Why? Did he come on to you?’
She snorted. ‘In his dreams! Nah, he just didnae seem right for her. He was older than her for a start. Zrinka was just twenty-two then, and he must have been into his thirties. She liked a laugh, and he was a dour bastard, unless he was making an effort, and he never did, unless she was looking at him.’
‘Do you know why they broke up?’
‘No, Zrinka never let on, not even when I asked her. All that I know is that she chucked him out, no week’s notice, nothing. One day I went to see her and he was there. Next day he was gone.’
‘Her mother told us that they broke up on good terms,’ said Steele.
‘That’s what Zrinka wanted her to think. Wasnae true, though. My theory is . . .’ she looked at the detectives across her coffee table ‘. . . that he was a gold-digger.’
‘That’s a good old-fashioned term.’
‘It fitted him, though. I reckon he was after her because her old man’s filthy rich, and that Zrinka finally figured it out and bounced him. I suggested as much once, and she just said that if that was what I wanted to think it was all right by her.’
‘What about Harry?’
Amy’s face seemed to light up. ‘Aw, Harry was different. He was such a nice guy; one for the women, right enough, but once he met Zrinka, that was that. It was me that introduced them.’
‘How did you come to meet Harry?’
‘Through A-Frame . . . Sorry, Lionel; Harry gave him that name and it stuck. He’s my boyfriend. I took Zrinka along to hear the band one night . . . You know Harry had a band?’ Singh nodded. ‘I never thought she’d fancy getting off with him, but she did. Shagged him that very night, so she told me afterwards. I thought it would be a one-nighter, but that’s not how it turned out: they were pretty much inseparable from then on. She even took an interest in Upload. Not that long ago she brought the three of them into the salon. She said that if they were going
