again. It must all be in the files and I simply haven’t the stomach for it any more.’
‘Could that be because you’ve had a change of heart over the matter, Miss Fairfax?’ goaded Dunbar. ‘Maybe you decided that you’d been a bit hasty with your allegations at the time? And now that you’ve had time to think-’
‘No, it couldn’t,’ said Lisa icily. ‘I simply don’t want to go through it all again. It was unpleasant enough last time. Nothing I can say will bring Amy back. She’s dead but I’m alive. I need a job. I need to earn my living.’
‘Was Amy Teasdale special to you, Miss Fairfax?’
Lisa sighed. ‘Not that old thing again. I was not unduly attached to Amy Teasdale. I liked her; she was a nice kid. I was sad when she died. I was always sad when one of the patients died, but that was as far as it went. I’m a professional nurse. These things happen.’
‘Then you worked with children a lot?’
‘Yes. Why d’you ask?’
‘Nothing. I’d still like to meet you.’
‘Look up the files. You’ll find everything you need there.’
‘I’m not interested in the files. I’m conducting an investigation on my own. No one else up here is involved, and you have my word that everything you say will be kept absolutely confidential.’
‘I really don’t know,’ said Lisa uncertainly.
‘Why don’t I buy you dinner and we can talk while we eat?’
‘No,’ she replied quickly. ‘You’d have to come here.’
‘All right. Where’s that?’
She gave him her address and he pretended to write it down. He didn’t want to give away that he already knew where she lived from the Sci-Med file on her. ‘When can I come? Tonight?’
‘I suppose that would be as good as any other time,’ replied Lisa.
‘About eight?’
‘Very well.’
Lisa Fairfax lived in a sandstone block of flats off the Dumbarton Road, the arterial road that leads out from the heart of Glasgow to the banks of the River Clyde and the great shipyards that once built vessels for the world. The huge cranes were still in evidence but the contracts and the jobs had all but gone.
The street she lived in was quiet, but finding somewhere to park was a problem. Already at that time in the evening, cars were double-parked making negotiation of the area difficult for Dunbar in a car he was not used to and not that familiar with in terms of width when judging the size of gaps it could go through. There was a small piece of waste ground at the end of the second street he inched through. It was actually the frontage of a double lock-up garage with the message NO PARKING, IN CONSTANT USE painted on the doors. The paint was peeling and the padlocks were very rusty, so he took a chance and parked the Rover there. He didn’t think he’d be that long.
He walked back to Lisa’s street and found the number he was looking for. He pressed the entryphone button.
‘Yes?’
‘Steven Dunbar. We spoke earlier.’
The electronic lock released with a loud buzz that made Dunbar think of an electric chair and he entered the building. The entrance hall was well lit and had recently been painted. It was lined with terracotta tubs that would hold pot plants in season. At the moment they held nothing but bare earth. He climbed the stairs quickly to the third floor and found one door ajar. There was no name-plate on it but he assumed this to be the one. He knocked. ‘Miss Fairfax?’
‘Come in. I’ll be right with you. The living room’s on your right. Find yourself a seat and sit down.’
Dunbar closed the door behind him and walked up to the end of the hall and in through the door to his right. He chose to look out of the window rather than sit. Although it was dark outside, the curtains had not been drawn and he could see the lights on the far side of the Clyde like strings of pearls on black velvet. He thought he heard a movement behind him and turned to greet Lisa Fairfax.
‘Hello, Miss…’ His eyes widened as a woman in her late seventies came towards him with a wild look in her eyes and her arms outstretched.
‘Joshua! You’ve come home,’ she exclaimed, and made to embrace him warmly.
Dunbar was taken by surprise. He tried to fend her off, gently because she seemed so frail, but she persisted in her attempts to hug him.
‘I think there’s been some mistake,’ he offered weakly. He retreated and fell backwards over the arm of a couch — he hadn’t realized it was so close behind him.
‘Oh my God,’ exclaimed another woman as she came into the room. ‘Mother, stop that! Stop that at once!’
Dunbar did his best to recover his composure and looked up into the distressed face of Lisa Fairfax.
Lisa was in her early thirties, slim, attractive, with shiny jet-black hair tied back and deep, dark eyes that suggested intelligence but at the moment were filled with alarm and embarrassment.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I thought she was still asleep. She suffers from senile dementia.’
Dunbar nodded and let out his breath in a long sigh. ‘I’m sorry I’m not Joshua,’ he murmured kindly as Lisa put her arms round her mother and led her out of the room, remonstrating with her gently as if she were a small child. She returned alone a few minutes later.
‘I’m sorry, I was sure she was asleep, otherwise I’d never have let you come in like that. Can I get you a drink?’
Dunbar smiled at the progression to social normality. ‘Gin, if you have it.’
Lisa poured them both a gin and tonic, the slight tremor of her hands still betraying her embarrassment. She handed a tumbler to Dunbar and said, ‘Please sit down.’
‘Shouldn’t she be in hospital?’ Dunbar asked.
‘She should,’ replied Lisa. ‘But there’s little chance of that these days. Her condition can’t be cured so the hospitals won’t take her. She’s been “returned to the community” after a brief admission for assessment. That’s government policy.’
‘Surely you must get some kind of help?’
Lisa shook her head. ‘I am the “community” as far as the authorities are concerned. She’s my mother so it’s down to me to care for her. The only way I can get help is if I buy it. I was doing that but I don’t have a job any more.’
‘Sounds awful.’
‘I’ve known better times,’ said Lisa.
She said it matter-of-factly rather than with self-pity. She struck Dunbar as capable woman who was up against it but coping well.
‘Tell me about Amy Teasdale.’
Lisa’s face relaxed into an extremely attractive, albeit distant, smile. Her eyes said that she was grateful for Dunbar glossing over what had happened. ‘Ah yes, Amy,’ she said, before pausing for a moment to compose her thoughts.
‘Amy was a perfectly ordinary little girl apart from the fact that her kidneys weren’t properly functional. Practically from the time she was born she’d been in and out of one hospital after another, so she was well used to them. Because of that she wasn’t the uncomplaining little heroine the press likes kids like her to be. In fact, she could be a right little madam at times, if things weren’t to her liking. I suppose that was because she’d been spoilt by parents and relatives because of her condition, but in spite of it we all liked her. She was one of ours, and we were delighted when word came through that a suitable kidney’d been found. She’d been waiting for years and within weeks of coming to us a kidney had been located and the word was that the match was good, something around eighty per cent compatible, if I remember rightly. It seemed like a dream come true.’
‘So you expected a good result?’
‘Of course. It was an excellent match and kidney-transplanting has become practically routine these days. There was no reason to expect anything else. We were looking forward to seeing Amy skipping down the ward and saying good-bye. She could look forward to a normal life.’
‘But that didn’t happen.’
