The Doctor Page 3

  ‘Tibs! Tibs!’ she called again. Giving the bag of treats a final good shake, she admitted defeat and returned indoors. All she could do now was leave the cat flap open and hope that Tibs found her way back during the night.

  ‘We’re going to find Tibs,’ she told Robbie the following morning as she zipped him into his snowsuit. ‘She hasn’t come home. I think she’s lost or got shut in somewhere.’ The alternative – that she’d been run over – she pushed from her mind.

  Robbie babbled baby talk and tried to say Tibs.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Tibs. Good boy.’

  Strapping him into his pushchair, she then tucked her phone, keys and the missing cat leaflets she’d printed into her coat pocket and left the house. It was mid-morning and she knew many of the houses would be empty, with their occupants at work. If there was no reply, she’d push one of the leaflets through their letter box. It had a picture of Tibs and gave her address, telephone number and asked them to check their shed, garage and any outbuilding in case she’d been shut in. It was of some consolation that Tibs had been microchipped and Emily’s mobile phone number was engraved on a metal disc on her collar, so if someone found her dead or alive they would hopefully contact her. However, it was also possible, Emily thought, that Tibs had been lured into a home with food and hadn’t wanted to leave. Cats were renowned for cupboard love. But when they let her out for a run, she’d return home.

  ‘Tibs,’ Robbie gurgled again.

  Emily approached the task methodically and began with the house to the left of theirs. She knew the family would be at work, so she pushed one of the ‘missing cat’ leaflets through their letter box. She continued to the next house and worked her way up the street, crossed over at the end and began back down the other side. It was time-consuming, but those who were in were generally sympathetic. Some invited her in to check their garage or shed, others said they’d check as soon as she’d gone and hoped she found Tibs soon. The Burmans’ house was the last and by now Robbie had grown restless, having had enough of sitting in his pushchair. ‘Soon be home,’ Emily reassured him and gave him a leaflet to hold.

  It was only after she’d unlatched their gate and began up their path, giving her a clear view of the house, that she saw it.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ she said out loud. All the windows at the front of the Burmans’ house were now covered with the same opaque film Amit had used on the windows of his outbuilding. He must have done it last night after she’d cut the hedges, for it hadn’t been there yesterday. Although she’d cut the front hedge as well as the back, it still offered them privacy. The man was obsessed, she thought. Had he done the same to the windows at the back of the house? Surely not?

  Robbie agitated again, squirming to get out.

  ‘Last house,’ she told him.

  Glancing up at the CCTV, she pressed the bell on the entry system, then began folding one of the missing cat leaflets ready to push through their letter box. She doubted Alisha would answer the door; she hadn’t for a long while. Robbie grumbled and struggled to get out, then to Emily’s amazement, she heard a noise on the other side of the door and a key turn in the lock.

  ‘Alisha, how nice to see you. How are you?’ she asked, barely able to hide her surprise.

  ‘I’m not bad, thank you.’ She looked very thin and pale and had dark circles under her eyes, but she managed a small smile.

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but have you seen our cat, Tibs? She’s been missing for twenty-four hours.’

  ‘No, I haven’t. But I’ll ask Amit when he comes home tonight.’

  ‘Thank you. Can you ask him to check your garage and that outbuilding in your garden in case she’s got shut in?

  ‘Yes, of course.’ She didn’t immediately start to close the door as she had done before.

  ‘Your husband has certainly gone to town on your windows,’ Emily couldn’t resist commenting. ‘Is that because I trimmed the hedges?’

  Alisha nodded, embarrassed. ‘Amit worries about security with me in the house all day. We were broken into where we lived before.’

  ‘Oh, I see. I’m sorry,’ Emily said and felt slightly guilty. ‘Has he done the back windows as well?’

  ‘Yes, even the upstairs. I’ve told him we’re safe here, it’s a nice neighbourhood. But when he gets an idea into his head he won’t listen to reason and there’s no stopping him.’ It was the most Alisha had ever said to her, Emily thought.

  ‘I understand,’ Emily said. Robbie began whinging. ‘I’ve got to go now, but won’t you come in for a coffee? I know I’ve asked you before, but I would really like it if you did.’

  Alisha hesitated but didn’t refuse outright. ‘It’s difficult. Amit wouldn’t like it. He worries about me.’

  ‘Does he have to know?’ Emily asked. ‘I mean, I’m not suggesting you lie, but couldn’t you just pop round while he’s at work? Or I could come to you?’

  ‘No, it’s better if I visit you,’ Alisha said quietly. ‘But I can’t stay for long.’

  ‘That’s fine. Stay as long as you like. I’m free tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘OK. I’ll try to come at one-thirty.’

  ‘Great. See you then.’

  And although Tibs hadn’t been found yet, Emily went away feeling she had achieved something very positive indeed.

  Chapter Seven

  That night, Amit sat at the workbench in his lab and looked dejectedly at the dead rat; its pink eyes bulging and its mouth fixed open in a rigor mortis snarl. He couldn’t understand why it and the mice had died. He’d only stopped its heart for fifteen minutes, during which time it had been submerged in ice. Animals and humans had survived much longer than that after accidentally falling into icy water; their hearts stopping as they entered a state of suspended animation and then restarting once resuscitated. In one case, a child had been brought back after being submerged in a freezing lake for two hours with no ill effect, so why couldn’t he replicate that here?

  He threw the rat into the bin with the others and dug his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat. He stared at the remaining two rats in the cage. Perhaps there was a genetic weakness in the rats and the mice he’d bought, for doubtless they’d been interbred. Yet the other animals he’d tried the procedure on had all gone the same way. He knew from a science journal that dogs in a lab had been brought back to life after three hours following this process, so what on earth was he doing wrong?

  Resting his head in his hands, Amit studied his notes and calculations, then opened the cage door and took out one of the remaining rats. It squirmed and squeaked as if sensing its fate. He placed it on the bench beside the syringe that was ready with the solution and held it down firmly. He’d try a smaller dose this time – see if that made any difference. Then he suddenly stopped and looked up, deep in thought.

  He’d been stopping their hearts artificially, but of course when a person or animal fell into icy water, their heart was still beating as they went under and suspended animation occurred. Patients who were going to be preserved for cryonics treatment were put on a heart-lung machine until they could be submerged in ice, so they too were technically alive. Was that the answer? Something so simple: the subject’s heart had to still be beating. At what point the heart-lung machine was switched off, he didn’t know. It wasn’t a detail ELECT made public. But it was possible it wasn’t switched off until the person was frozen, so they were frozen alive, although unconscious. Could that really be the solution? If he froze the rat while its heart was beating would that allow him to bring it back from the dead?

  Amit temporarily returned the rat to its cage while he took a bottle of anaesthetic from the top shelf of the cabinet and drew some into a syringe. It was the anaesthetic he used on his patients at the hospital and would keep the rat asleep while maintaining its vital signs. He would only need a drip or two as the rat’s body was a fraction of the size of a human’s. If this worked, he’d try the process on larger animals, just as scientists did in lab e
xperiments, before he attempted it on a human.

  Opening the cage, he picked up one of the rats – the other squeaked in protest at losing its mate – and set it on the workbench. Holding it firmly by the scruff of its neck, he injected the anaesthetic. Almost immediately, the rat’s eyes closed and it relaxed, unconscious, on the bench. Taking his stethoscope, he listened to its heartbeat and then placed it into the ice bath and began monitoring its temperature. Normal body temperature for a rat was 37°C, the same as for humans. It quickly plummeted to 30°C, 24°C, and then down to 20°C. Circulatory arrest happened at 18°C and its heart stopped beating. The rat’s temperature continued to drop to zero and further still. When it reached minus 90°C, following the procedure used at ELECT, Amit took a scalpel and made a small incision into the rat’s jugular vein and drained off half its blood into a bottle. He then injected preservation fluid into the vein – the same solution used for preserving organs for transplant – and returned the rat to the ice bath.

  He felt hot, clammy and anxious, for despite carrying out similar procedures before, if he failed now he’d made the adjustment he’d no idea what else he could do. Failure wasn’t an option.

  The rat’s temperature continued to fall down to minus 130°C. It was at this point in the cryonics procedure the body was lowered into the tank of liquid nitrogen and stored at minus 195°C. But Amit waited five minutes and began to reverse the process, gradually raising the rat’s temperature and then returning its blood. At 37°C he tentatively placed his stethoscope on the rat’s chest and listened for any sign of a heartbeat. Nothing. Not the faintest murmur. He massaged the rat’s chest, hoping to stimulate its heart, and listened again. Still nothing. It had gone the same way as all the others! Whatever was he doing wrong?

  He stared at the lifeless body of the rat and was about to give up and throw it in the bin when he thought he saw one of its toes twitch. Returning his stethoscope to its chest, he listened hard, his breath coming fast and low. It wasn’t his imagination! He could hear the very faintest murmur of a heartbeat. He massaged the rat’s chest again and listened. Yes, there it was, stronger now. The irregular beats joining to form a steady rhythm. Then the rat gasped its first breath. He’d done it! He’d really done it. He could barely contain his excitement.

  But scientists never rely on one positive result, he reminded himself, so he would repeat it on the last rat and then on larger animals. How proud his father would be if he knew his son was about to create immortality.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Come in,’ Emily welcomed Alisha the following afternoon as she opened her front door. ‘So pleased you came. I wondered if you would.’

  ‘Thank you, but I can’t stay for long,’ Alisha said straight away, slightly out of breath from walking from next door.

  ‘Come through into the living room. We’re in here.’

  ‘We?’ Alisha asked, stopping still in the hall.

  ‘Yes. Robbie and me,’ Emily laughed. ‘Don’t look so worried.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Alisha replied and cautiously followed her into the living room. Emily noticed how tense she was, as if attending an interview rather than a neighbour’s for coffee.

  ‘Do sit down. Make yourself at home,’ Emily encouraged. ‘What would you like to drink?’

  ‘Just a glass of water please.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Yes. Thank you.’

  Emily left Alisha in the living room perched on the edge of the sofa and went into the kitchen to pour two glasses of water. Robbie toddled after her. Returning, she set the glasses on the occasional table within reach. ‘So how are you?’ she asked.

  ‘Not too bad, I manage.’

  ‘You know if you ever need anything to let me know. I’m on extended maternity leave.’

  ‘That’s kind, but Amit sees to everything I need.’

  ‘OK,’ Emily said. She took a sip of her water and wondered what to say next. The poor woman seemed so ill at ease. ‘Good boy,’ Emily told Robbie who was playing with his toys, then smiled at Alisha. An awkward silence fell, and then Emily asked, ‘You don’t have children?’

  Alisha shook her head.

  Another silence before Emily asked, ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a hot drink?’

  ‘No thank you. Did you ever find your cat?’

  ‘No. But she’s microchipped and my mobile number is on her collar, so I’m still hopeful someone will spot her and contact me.’

  Alisha nodded.

  ‘I miss her,’ Emily said. ‘She’s like one of the family. We had her before we had Robbie.’

  Alisha gave another small nod. ‘I’d like a pet, but Amit won’t have one.’

  ‘Oh? Why is that?’ Emily asked, seizing the chance to make conversation.

  ‘He doesn’t like them. Says they carry germs. My immune system is weak, so I have to be careful.’

  ‘I see. Although I think if pets are well looked after they don’t carry many germs, do they?’

  ‘I don’t know, but Amit won’t change his mind.’ As Alisha took a sip of her water, Emily saw her hand tremble.

  ‘So Amit looks after you and treats you well then?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What does he do in that shed every evening? He’s often still in there when I go to bed.’

  ‘Research,’ she replied without hesitation.

  ‘Research on what?’

  ‘The disease I have. It’s a rare genetic condition and hardly any research has gone into finding a cure. We lost our only son to it five years ago.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I’d no idea.’

  ‘We don’t really talk about it. It’s too upsetting, especially now I’m going the same way.’

  ‘I am sorry,’ Emily said again and felt even more uncomfortable. ‘Do you have friends and family who can help and support you?’

  ‘A few.’

  Robbie came over and tried to engage Alisha by placing a toy on her lap. She removed it straight away and set it on the floor. Then stood. ‘Thank you for the drink, but I must go now.’

  ‘Really, already? You‘ve only just arrived.’

  ‘I can’t be away from home for long.’

  Was it Robbie’s presence, after losing her own son? Emily wondered, as she saw Alisha to the door. But if that was the reason for her sudden departure, why come at all? She had known she had a child.

  ‘If it’s difficult for you to go out, perhaps I could come to you next time?’ Emily offered as she said goodbye. But Alisha was already heading down the path, eager to get home.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Fifteen minutes, that was all,’ Emily told Ben as they sat at the dinner table that evening. Robbie was in his highchair.

  ‘You made a good impression then,’ Ben laughed.

  ‘I wondered if it was Robbie, you know, reminding her of the son she lost, but I don’t think so. She seemed on edge from the start and when I suggested I went over there next time, she blanked me.’

  ‘I don’t think she wants to be your best friend Em,’ Ben said dryly. ‘At least you tried. Would you like to hear my news now?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I’ve been talking non-stop since you walked in. I’ve been a bit short of conversation today.’

  ‘I’ve got the promotion – marketing manager for the whole of the South East. It comes with a decent pay rise.’

  ‘Well done!’ Emily cried, delighted. ‘That’s fantastic. I’m so proud of you.’ Leaning across the table, she planted a big kiss on his cheek. Robbie chuckled.

  ‘It’ll mean more travelling, but I’ll keep it to the minimum. I don’t intend to leave you and Robbie alone any more than I have to.’

  ‘We’ll be fine, don’t you worry. I’m just glad the company has recognized your worth.’

  ‘I thought we could celebrate at the weekend. Go out for a meal somewhere nice, if your parents are free to babysit.’

  ‘Great. I’ll phone them just as soon as we’ve finished dinner. All we
need now is for Tibs to return and my week will be complete.’

  Ben’s smile faded. ‘Em, you realize Tibs might not come back. I mean, if she’s been run over. She’s been gone some time now.’

  ‘I know, but at present I’m staying with the hope she’s in someone else’s house.’

  He nodded and wiped Robbie’s mouth. ‘Where would you like to go to eat? You decide.’

  ‘There’s the new Italian on the High Street, or The Steak House – that’s always reliable. Or we could drive out to The Horse & Carriage …’

  Twenty minutes later, Emily had decided on L’Escargot, a French restaurant they’d been to once, prior to having Robbie, and had been wanting an excuse to return. Having cleared away the dishes, she went through to the living room to phone her parents to see if they were free to babysit at the weekend, while Ben took Robbie upstairs to get him ready for bed. Her parents’ answerphone was on, as it often was now they’d both retired and were out enjoying themselves. Emily left a message. They’d return her call either this evening or, if they were back late, first thing in the morning. She could rely on them; they loved babysitting Robbie, their only grandchild.

  As she replaced the handset, she heard the letter box snap shut. Seven-thirty, too late for regular post. It was probably a circular. Leaving the living room, she crossed the hall from where she could hear Robbie chuckling loudly in the bathroom as Ben changed him. There was a brown envelope lying face down on the mat. She picked it up. It held something – something firm, more than just paper. Turning it over, she read the writing on the front. Ms King, I found this in the road. I think it belongs to you. Signed, Dr Amit Burman.