that she hadn’t heard for years. What was it? Some song that she and Stephen had danced to in his flat. The Cure, that was it. It was called ‘Just Like Heaven’, and the lyrics came back to her: a song about a girl who loved a boy too much; a boy who lost the girl because he couldn’t give her everything she wanted. She had deliberately avoided music from that period for years, because she hadn’t been able to bear the reminder of what she had lost. Now, though, the tune made her feel happy again, and it was all because of last night. When she pressed her body against Paul’s she didn’t feel his brother. When she closed her eyes, she hadn’t seen Stephen. It had all been brand new. She had been afraid that making love with Paul would be like making love to a ghost. In fact, it had been more like an exorcism.
Besides, she thought with a little smile, ghosts aren’t warm. Ghosts don’t leave you feeling tender and sated. Ghosts don’t have eyes and hands that pin you to the bed. Ghosts don’t make you climax like the world is folding in on itself.
Unlocking the car door, she leaned over to the back seat and picked up the envelope that Mrs Bainbridge had given her.
Kate used to think that Stephen had been stolen from her by fate, by God or destiny or bad luck. Now, she was sure the thieves had human hands. Sampson, of course. He must have had something to do with it. But who else? And why? She carried the envelope back to the room hoping its contents held some answers; at the same time dreading what she might find.
Paul was sitting up in bed when she got back.
‘Were you dreaming about being dragged through a hedge backwards?’ she laughed, going over and smoothing down his hair and kissing his stubbly face.
‘Eh? I thought you’d done a runner.’
‘Hoped?’
‘Don’t be silly. I was actually hoping that you might come back to bed.’
The quilt had fallen to reveal his naked torso. She almost licked her lips. She wanted to lick his lips. But that would have to wait for a while. She sat down on the bed and held up the documents.
‘I need to take a look at these – you know, the papers Mrs Bainbridge gave me.’
Paul flung aside the quilt and got up, giving Kate a full view of his body. A few seconds ago, this might have been enough for her to say the documents could wait; but by now she had started reading.
HIGHLY CLASSIFIED
Subject: Fem 634
Personal details
Sex: F
Ethnicity: White European
Kate gasped when she saw her birthdate on the next line. She was reading about herself. She tried to read on but her eyes skidded across the text, and she had to take a moment to steady herself and concentrate.
Medical history: contracted Watoto Virus, aged 12. (Note: Parents, known to CRU director Bainbridge, were killed by the virus.) No other history of serious illnesses. Subject is physically fit.
Mental health: subject suffered withdrawal following parents’ deaths, but no known recent history of psychiatric problems.
Subject admitted to psych unit following fire at CRU on Aug 27th for quarantine and reconditioning.
Kate, who had started reading the report out loud to Paul, paused. Her voice wobbled. ‘Reconditioning?’
Their eyes met. Paul’s were round with concern, and he gripped her free hand as she read on.
Quarantine successful. Subject is free of virus. (See separate report on the investigation into errors made.)
Subject has knowledge of microbiology and virology, and had embarked on relationship with Dr S Wilson of CRU. CRU security believed subject had become high-risk individual, and interview following fire confirmed this. Therefore reconditioning necessary to allow subject’s release into society, at request of Unit director.
We embarked upon course of treatment known as the Pimenov Technique. Subject responded well to drugs and hypnosis.
For your reference, the Pimenov Technique is based on
Kate turned to the next page. The sentence never finished.
‘I don’t believe it. There’s a sheet missing.’
Instead, the next sheet started with the end of a separate, chilling sentence:
recommend subject for disposal.
Awaiting clearance from Unit director.
ENDS
Kate dropped the papers onto the bed and clutched her face. Paul picked up the papers and quickly read through them.
‘Recommended for disposal.’
He put his arm around her shoulders. ‘You’re shivering.’
‘Disposal.’
He held her, stroking her hair until the shivering subsided. Then she pulled away from him and said, ‘What the hell is the Pimenov Technique?’
‘Kate, there’s another sheet you haven’t read yet.’
She hoped it might be the missing sheet from the report, but it was a letter, addressed to Leonard.
Dear Leonard
I must stress again that I am not at all happy with your decision to allow Kate Carling to leave the Unit when we are not yet 100% sure that her treatment has been fully successful. I appreciate that you have an emotional attachment to the young woman and I do not wish to accuse you of being unprofessional; however, I wish to remind you again that sacrifices sometimes have to be made for the common good.
Having said that, I understand that you have arranged for her to take a place at Harvard. I am happy that she will be leaving the United Kingdom, and it is fair to say that I hope she does not return. This is nothing personal: simply that if reconditioning has not been wholly successful – and I am not convinced that it has – then it is best that she stays far from the places and people who might cause her memories to resurface. I seek permission to monitor Ms Carling on return visits to this country. I trust that your contact at Harvard will be keeping an eye on her there.
Yours
Clive
Kate got to her feet and made a few lurching steps towards the bathroom. Paul sprang after her; she toppled and he caught her.
‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
‘Come and sit down.’
‘No, I really am going to be sick.’
She broke away from him and completed her staggering journey to the bathroom. Crouching over the toilet, she vomited. Last night’s dinner and drinks. She spat and flushed the toilet, falling back onto the floor, her hair in her face, her mouth sour. Paul, who had been hanging behind her in the doorway, came tentatively into the room and crouched beside her. He stroked her hair gently and she grabbed him, burying her face against his shoulder.
