‘It did,’ said Karen, who was now taking the situation better than Dewar. She even found the look on Dewar’s face amusing. ‘Well, that cured your randiness, didn’t it?’
‘Damned right,’ replied Dewar, still stricken with embarrassment. ‘I may never rise again.’
‘It’s not the end of the world,’ said Karen. ‘I’m sure after all this time even my mother has worked out that we don’t spend all our time together playing Scrabble.’
‘Even though …’
The telephone rang and Karen left the kitchen to answer it. She returned saying, ‘It’s for you.’
‘I had to leave a number,’ Dewar apologised.
The call was from Ian Grant. ‘I’m at the hospital, Sandra Macandrew is showing signs of regaining consciousness. I thought you’d want to know.’
‘I’m on my way.’
Dewar explained to Karen that he’d have to go.
‘Saved by the bell,’ said Karen.
Dewar still looked embarrassed. ‘What should I do about your mother?’ he asked. ‘Apologise?’
Karen shook her head. ‘If I know my mother, she’ll pretend nothing ever happened. It’ll probably never be mentioned. Let’s just do the same.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Dewar putting on his jacket.
‘I’m not,’ said Karen. ‘It’s rather nice to be wanted. Long may it continue.’
Dewar gunned the Rover up the thirty odd miles to Edinburgh in a little over thirty minutes. He found Grant seemingly having an argument with one of the medical staff. Both men were speaking in whispers but the fact that it was an argument was pumping up the volume. Grant caught sight of Dewar and looked relieved. ‘Good to see you,’ he said. ‘I’ve been trying to explain to Doctor Sellars here that you must speak to Miss Macandrew first.’
‘What’s the problem?’ asked Dewar.
Sellars looking harassed, said, ‘I’m under pressure from her parents. They know she’s coming round and they want to be with her. It’s only natural.’
Dewar nodded his understanding. ‘Maybe I should have a word with them?’
‘Worth a try,’ said Sellars, happy to pass the buck to anyone in the circumstances.
Dewar was shown into the room where a nurse was attempting to pacify Sandra’s parents.
‘This is outrageous,’ her father was complaining.
‘I’m sorry. I’m the cause of all this trouble,’ said Dewar, announcing his presence. He held out his hand and shook hands with both of Sandra’s parents. ‘I know this must all seem totally unreasonable but it’s vital I speak to Sandra first. She knows something that could conceivably affect the lives of millions of people.’
‘Our Sandra?’
Dewar nodded. ‘I think you can take it as a good sign that she’s coming out of her coma and you have my assurance that you’ll be allowed to sit with her as soon as possible. Please, just bear with me a little longer.’
The couple seemed satisfied if more than a little taken aback at what Dewar had told them. They sat down and Dewar left them alone with the nurse again.
‘Okay?’ asked Sellars.
‘For the moment,’ replied Dewar. ‘Can I see her now?’
Sellars led the way.
‘Sandra! Can you hear me?’ asked Sellars loudly.
Sandra moved her head on the pillow as if annoyed at the insistence in Sellars’ voice. ‘Go away,’ she murmured.
‘Come on now Sandra. Open your eyes.’
Sandra’s eyes opened like those of a toy doll that had been moved into an upright position. ‘How many fingers Sandra?’ asked Sellars, holding up three fingers.
‘Three, ‘ replied Sandra.
‘How many now?’ Sellars held up four.
Sandra moved her head from side to side again in a gesture of annoyance. ‘Four,’ she mumbled.
‘Good. Who’s the prime minister?’
‘Leave me alone.’
‘Come on now, Sandra. Tell me who the prime minister is.’
‘Blair,’ mumbled Sandra.
‘Who? Louder.’
‘Blair. Tony bloody Blair.’
‘All yours,’ said Sellars to Dewar.
FOURTEEN
Sellars left Dewar alone with Sandra and the machines that monitored her every breath, their gentle bleeps and clicks creating a soothing background, the coloured LEDs complementing the subdued night-lighting in the room. He moved a chair up to side of the bed and sat down facing Sandra with his elbows resting on the edge.
‘Sandra, do you remember me?’ he asked. Unlike Sellars he didn’t raise his voice; his face was very close to hers.
Sandra’s eyes flicked open then closed again. A good ten seconds passed before she replied, ‘Dewar.’
Dewar felt elated. There was nothing wrong with Sandra’s long-term memory. There was of course, still the possibility that accident trauma had wiped out memory of the incident with the car and possibly for some time before it. This was very common.
‘Sandra, do you remember what happened to you?’
Again Sandra’s eyes flickered open momentarily then closed again as if she’d found her eyelids too heavy. ‘Hospital,’ she said slowly.
‘Do you know why you’re in hospital?’
Sandra made a sound as if she were about to answer then she stopped and exhaled. She did the same twice more then uttered, ‘No.’
So there was memory loss. This was bad news. If she couldn’t remember anything about the accident right now, there was no guarantee she ever would. It was impossible to predict what might happen in cases like this. She might remember everything within a couple of days or nothing at all for the rest of her life. The big question now was, how much of what had gone on before the accident could she remember?
‘You had an accident on your bicycle, Sandra.’
‘Bike,’ repeated Sandra. The word did not seem to trigger any special memory for her.
‘You don’t remember?’
‘Bike. No.’
‘Do you remember Pierre, Sandra? Pierre in the lab.’
‘Pierre, know Pierre … French.’
‘That’s right. He’s French. Tell me what else you remember about him.’
‘In the lab. He was in the lab.’ Sandra moved her head uncomfortably. Dewar felt encouraged. He’d pushed the right button.
‘When was he in the lab, Sandra? The last time you were there?’
‘Last time … yes.’
‘I think you came across him doing something wrong in the lab, Sandra. Is that right? What was he doing?’
‘The sequence,’ replied Sandra as if she was recalling something unpleasant. She frowned and tried opening her eyes again. This time she managed a few seconds before closing them again.
‘What sequence?’
‘DNA … Smallpox DNA. Not ours.’
Dewar felt his throat tighten a little with excitement. ‘Not yours?’ he said gently. He desperately didn’t want to upset Sandra’s train of thought.
‘Not our fragments.’
‘How did you know that, Sandra?’ he asked. ‘How did you find that out?’
‘Computer … Pierre left sequence in computer. I ran … database check. Not our smallpox.’
‘Let me see. You found a DNA sequence in the computer. It had been entered by Pierre and it was the sequence of a smallpox fragment that your lab was not supposed to have. Have I got that right?’
Sandra nodded her head on the pillow. She seemed pleased and relieved to have got it across successfully.
Dewar had understood what she’d said but he didn’t quite understand the implications. He frowned and said, ‘But the sequence of the smallpox virus is available to all scientists. Anyone can access it in the DNA database. ‘What was odd about finding a bit of it on the computer?’
This time Sandra shook her head as if to signify a misunderstanding. ‘Pierre’s sequence,’ she said. ‘Not from database.’
Suddenly Dewar realised what she meant. ‘Oh, I see,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t a sequence he’d taken from the database, it was a DNA sequence that he’d put in. Something he’d got from an experiment he’d done in the lab. It was you who checked it against the database to find out what it was?’