Her post-surgery scan had been delayed a little due to a combination of Christmas and chronic underfunding of local health services, but she hadn’t minded too much. In a way, not knowing had provided her with relief. But there was a growing sense that she needed to know. The clarity that would come from a definitive answer would allow her to move on.
After she was called through, she was asked a few questions about how she’d been after her surgery. They seemed surprised that she’d been back at work — as did most people — and although she was tempted to tell them to mind their own business, she instead politely pointed out that she felt just fine, and that she hadn’t been taking on anything too taxing. If pushed, she’d happily explain how sitting around at home doing nothing would be a whole lot riskier.
‘How are the energy levels doing?’ the nurse asked.
‘Fine. I mean, I’m not sure I remember what “normal” is, but I certainly feel a hell of a lot better than I have in the last year or so.’
‘Good. Well, the notes seem to indicate the surgery went well from a practical point of view, but what we’re going to do today is an MRI scan. It’s very similar to the CT scan you had pre-diagnosis, insofar as we lay you down and slide you into a weird white tube, but the MRI will give us a more detailed image of what’s going on. It just means that if there are any signs of regrowth — even small ones — we should be able to see them and do something about them. Does that all make sense?’
Caroline let out a small laugh. ‘To be honest, you can do whatever you like as long as you get rid of it.’
The nurse gave a friendly smile laced with the slightest touch of I’ve-heard-that-one-a-thousand-times-before-but-I’ll-humour-you-anyway. ‘With a little bit of luck, it should all be gone already, but we’ll soon know.’
‘How soon?’ Caroline asked. ‘I don’t know if anyone actually mentioned that to me. Sorry if they did.’
‘It depends. You’ll get a letter within the next few days with a date for a follow-up appointment. By that time we should have the results and we’ll be able to talk about the next steps, continued monitoring, all that sort of thing. Shall we get cracking?’
Caroline looked through the window towards the MRI scanner. It was an odd feeling, knowing that machine would — quite literally — dictate her future. It would either signal the success of the surgery and a new start, or something else entirely. With her heart beating heavily and a soaring sense of trepidation, she stood and followed the nurse.
15
Less than an hour later, Caroline was back in work mode, having buried her health worries in the back of her mind. She was in Uppingham, at the premises of Allure Design, having picked Dexter up on the way. She’d been surprised to find Monique — despite her release from custody — nowhere to be seen.
Caroline didn’t like to stereotype, but she was fairly certain she could’ve picked Tom Mackintosh out of a line-up of potential IT managers. His grey t-shirt was at least two sizes too big for his lanky frame, and the frayed bottoms of his jeans declared they’d seen better days. As she got closer, she noticed he smelled of stale smoke, although somewhat sweeter. She wondered if it wasn’t purely tobacco he’d been smoking, or if her sense of smell was still recovering from heavy chemotherapy. Right now, though, she had more important matters on her mind.
‘Good to meet you, Tom,’ Caroline said, shaking his hand. ‘How was the break?’
‘Lovely, thanks. Always good to get away.’
‘Anywhere nice?’
‘Up to Scotland. Love it there.’
Caroline winced. ‘Crikey, it must’ve been cold up there. It’s bad enough down here.’
‘Exactly,’ Tom replied, with a know-all smile. ‘I’m a big fan of all-weather camping. I love all the survivalist stuff. No better way to get away from it all than be in the middle of nowhere for a bit. The cold just gives it an extra edge.’
She couldn’t deny that sounded like heaven at times. ‘Not that we’re ever far from the middle of nowhere round here,’ she said.
‘Oh, definitely. In fact, if it’s something you’re keen on, there are some great local places I go to. Fineshade and Wakerley Woods are brilliant. Whack a tent in a bag, kit up and off you go. They’ve both got facilities if you want them, and if you know the right spots you can even get wi-fi.’
‘I couldn’t think of anything worse. Especially in this weather.’
‘Ah, you’re missing out. Get yourself down to Fineshade and hire a Danish shelter. Basically a tiny three-sided log cabin with a fire pit outside. Beautiful.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ Caroline said, tickled by his enthusiasm. ‘Still, sorry to burst your bubble.’
‘Indeed. This isn’t really what I expected to come back to, I’ll be honest, but I’ll do what I can to help.’
Caroline smiled. ‘Looks like they’re a bit stuck without you. What happens if something goes down while you’re away?’
‘To be honest, there isn’t really anything much that can go down. If there are network problems it’s usually down to our internet service provider, if the website collapses it’s down to the designer or the host, and if someone forgets their computer password for the sixth time that month — well, that’s their problem, isn’t it?’ Tom replied, smiling.
‘Sounds familiar,’ Dexter said, looking at Caroline.
‘So, how can I help?’ Tom asked.
Caroline took a deep breath and considered her wording carefully. ‘Well, at the moment it’s more a case of gathering evidence. We don’t have our eyes on anything specific, but there’s always the slightest possibility there
