Kate stared into her cup. 'I do. I remember meeting him, and I remember losing him. It's a lot of the stuff in between that's lost.'

'I'm sorry if I seemed irritable earlier, but I have to admit I don't get it. It doesn't sound possible that you could forget so much.'

'But it is!'

'Sorry...'

'No, it's okay. I know it makes me sounds stupid. How could I have forgotten the most important summer of my life? It's amnesia, but I don't know what caused it.'

'Have you ever been to see anyone about it, to get help?'

She shook her head. 'For years, I haven't wanted to remember. It's too painful.'

'So you've repressed it?'

'I don't know. Maybe.' She sighed. 'I've been too busy with my work, with bringing up my son, to try and un-repress it, you know? Until I came back to England and saw you, I'd done a pretty good job of forgetting there was even something I was supposed to remember. And now you come here, show me a letter a literal blast from the past and ask me to tell you everything. Do you know what it's like? It's like when you try to remember the details of a book you read years ago. You remember that you read it. You can still recall a few scenes and the general gist of what it was about, but the rest of it, the details, the ending it's all gone, or at least buried so deep that you can't get to it.'

Paul spoke softly. 'Kate, it's okay. I'm sorry. After my initial attempts to find out what the letter was all about, I forced myself to put it from my mind too. Until today and suddenly I feel the desperate urge to know the truth. And you're the only person who can help me find out.'

'I know.' She finished her drink. 'I know. I need to know too.'

'Just tell me what you do remember.'

'Okay.' She touched the rim of her coffee cup. 'We're going to need more of these though.'

Kate checked that Jack was still fast asleep, and began.

'It was 1990. I sat my finals in May, and then well, I didn't know what to do for the summer. I remember being out with my friends, still wearing my gown, sitting down by the Isis drinking cheap wine. All the other students on my course were delighted to have finished, even though most of them were mock-convinced they'd done really badly. There was a lot of talk about the future, about jobs and travelling, but I knew I wanted to carry on studying. Virology was my pa.s.sion, even then. I know it sounds like a weird thing to be pa.s.sionate about, but, well, there's a reason. I'm digressing though. The important thing is that now, after my exams, I wanted a rest. Somewhere to recharge my batteries.

'I remember going back to my Great Aunt's I suppose I should explain that my parents had both died when I was little.'

'I'm sorry.' He wanted to ask how they'd died, but decided to save it for later and let Kate get on with her story.

'My Aunt Lil brought me up, and after my finals I went back to her house in Bath to think about what would happen next. I remember sitting down one evening after dinner and telling her that I wished I could go away on holiday so I could think, but I didn't have any money. And she said, "Leonard is always looking for volunteers. Why not go and stay there?"'

'Who was Leonard?'

'Leonard Bainbridge was an old friend of the family. He was the top man at the CCU. Maybe Stephen told you about him?'

Paul shook his head. 'He told me very little about his work.'

'Anyway, it was true that the unit was always looking for volunteers. They wanted people to go and stay there for a period of ten days to help them with their research into the common cold. It was free, of course. They'd put you up, feed you, and the worst that could happen would be that you might be given a cold.' She smiled. 'I'd had plenty of colds before. I could deal with it. And it seemed the perfect solution a place for me to relax. Also, because of my interest in viruses and health, I thought I might also be able to do some good by volunteering, and maybe even learn something. Plus Aunt Lil rea.s.sured me that the countryside around Salisbury was a really nice place to go for a quiet holiday. You weren't allowed to talk to other people, apart from the staff, or your room-mate. But that was fine with me. After four years of university, I felt quite happy to not talk to anyone much for a while.'

Paul sipped his coffee and waited for a moment while Kate gathered her thoughts.

'I didn't really know Leonard that well, although I'd met him a few times at my parents' house when I was a little girl, and always liked him. But Aunt Lil called him at the unit and asked him if they had any need for volunteers. I was listening to her side of the call. It sounded like he was trying to put her off the idea but she pressed him and he finally gave in. I went at the very beginning of June. It was a beautiful summer that year. Record breaking heat.'

Jack murmured something in his sleep. He had Billy the robot cradled against his stomach hardly the most cuddly of toys. Kate wondered how long it would be before Jack grew bored of the robot and moved onto the next must-have toy. Or perhaps he'd return his attention to the grubby teddy that went in and out of favour.

'So anyway,' she said, 'I packed my suitcase and took the train to Salisbury.'

'Which is where you met Stephen?'

'Yes. Whatever memories have deserted me, that one remains: the day I met your brother. And fell in love.'

CHAPTER 9.

1990.

Kate Carling felt remarkably carefree, considering that she had just lugged a bag of textbooks on the train from Bath. Textbooks she suspected that, diligent as she was, she probably wouldn't get around to reading. She'd just finished her finals, and this trip was supposed to be a break from study. But old habits died hard, and she'd be starting her post-graduate virology studies in October there was no harm in bringing the books, just in case she was really bored, was there? Her shirt was sticking to her back when she finally arrived at her destination in the late afternoon, and both her shoulders ached from carrying the heavy backpack of books but she was happy in the knowledge that she didn't actually have to do any study; not unless she wanted to.

A friendly middle-aged man in a rattley old white minibus had picked her up from Salisbury train station and driven her through the centre of town, pointing out the soaring grey spire of the ancient Cathedral to their right as if she could have missed it! - and up a long hill. Gradually the houses thinned out, and the spire became a tapering narrow spear behind them, until all of a sudden it seemed as if they were back in the countryside.

'Here we go,' said the man cheerfully, as he pulled up in front of a series of unprepossessing grey and green Nissan huts. 'Home sweet home! Let me give you a hand with your things. Lordy, what've you got in there? Bricks?'

'Textbooks. In case I get bored of reading trashy paperbacks and painting my toenails.'

The man laughed. He had a shiny bald pate and big yellow teeth, but nonetheless there was something very endearing about him. 'Well, you might need them. No late nights down the pub here. Let me show you to your quarters, madam. One of the doctors will be along in a bit to get you checked in and sorted out. I'm Geoffrey, by the way. Caretaker, gardener, chauffeur and general dogsbody. You'll see me and my colleague, Mr. Sampson, wandering around looking like we don't know what we're doing. We're the ones without the white coats.... Here we are now, room seventeen. It's not the Ritz, but you should be comfortable here.'

'It's fine. Thanks very much.'

Kate was pleased to see that her room was in the end hut, with a view over rolling hills dotted with meadow flowers. As soon as Geoffrey had gone she flung open the window, fanning her hot face with a folder of information that had been left on the desk for her. The air smelled of gra.s.s and warm earth. Two white b.u.t.terflies flitted across her line of vision, and swallows were swooping high above her. She sighed with pleasure. OK, so it would mar her enjoyment if she did catch a cold but it was worth the risk. All her meals cooked for her, long solitary walks, and lots of sleep, unhindered by all-night, Pro-Plus-fuelled study binges? She was going to feel like a new woman by the end of these two weeks.

She turned back and surveyed the room: basic, whitewashed walls, twin beds, two desks, a small TV, transistor radio, bedside cabinets, and a door leading to a tiny bathroom. She hoped her roommate would be nice. Someone awful would definitely put a damper on things, even more so than a streaming cold. Maybe she'd be lucky and get the room to herself. She unzipped her suitcase, removed her washbag; Buster, her childhood teddy; and a fresh t-shirt.

Perching Buster on the pillow of the bed nearest the window, she stripped off her sweaty shirt and flung it into a corner. Then she went into the bathroom, filled the basin with tepid water, and washed her face, neck and armpits with a flannel. She towelled herself off, and was just walking back into the bedroom in her bra when, to her shock, the door opened and an extremely tall and s.e.xy man in a white coat walked in, carrying a medical case and a clipboard.

Kate squealed and covered her b.r.e.a.s.t.s with her arms. He didn't look much older than her, either, which made it even more embarra.s.sing. 'Don't you people knock? Is this what I've got to expect no privacy at all for the next two weeks?'

'I'm really sorry,' said the man, blushing to the roots of his hair in a very un-doctorly manner. 'I did knock, actually. You must not have heard me.'

'Excuse me a moment,' she said, trying to sound dignified as she grabbed her clean t-shirt and retreated back into the bathroom.

When she re-emerged, the man had put his bag on one of the desks. He'd obviously regained his composure too, because he was now grinning at her, in a distinctly cheeky way.

'Let's start again, shall we? I'm Dr.Wilson. I just need to take a few details from you, and a blood sample, if that's OK.'

'Kate Carling although I'm guessing you know that already,' said Kate, unable to prevent herself grinning back at him. He just had one of those faces which made her want to smile: a lovely curved mouth, great big brown eyes, and the sort of floppy blond hair for which she had adored David Soul for many years. She became aware that they were staring at each other, holding the gaze for longer than was strictly necessary.

Dr. Wilson cleared his throat, and took a ballpoint pen out of the breast pocket of his lab coat. Kate was pleased to notice that he didn't have a whole row of pens, like most of her fellow biochemists at Oxford had. She glanced down at his feet, and was even more relieved to see trendy Adidas trainers, rather than the green towelling socks and open-toed sandals which she was beginning to fear might be the actual uniform for the profession.

'Now, if we could just go through this basic health questionnaire... Do sit down.' He pointed towards the edge of the bed, as he turned the chair at the desk around to face her. 'Have you ever had any of the following: Mumps? Measles? Influenza? Chicken pox? Pneumonia?'

'No, no, yes, yes, no,' said Kate obediently, looking at Dr. Wilson's slim hands as he ticked boxes. The list went on and on, until Kate found herself tuning out and answering automatically, whilst unable to take her eyes off him.

'Any other illnesses so far not mentioned?'

Kate tuned back in. 'Oh. Yes. When I was twelve, I had the Watoto Virus.'

Dr. Wilson sat up. 'Really? Good grief. That's rare. I've never met anybody else who's had that. You were lucky to survive.'

'I know. Apparently it was touch and go for a while. We were living in Africa at the time. My parents both died from it. My sister was the only one who didn't contract it.'

'I'm really sorry about your parents,' he said.

'Thanks, Doctor,' she replied awkwardly.

'Please, call me Stephen.'

'Really?' Kate was genuinely surprised. That seemed very informal. Perhaps.... Oh no, don't be silly, she told herself. He couldn't possibly fancy her this immediately, could he? She didn't believe in love at first sight... but he was definitely having a very strange effect on her.

Dr. Wilson Stephen, thought Kate, trying out his name in her head and liking the way it felt cleared his throat. 'Well yes Stephen's fine....although perhaps not when there are other people around... One more question, by the way, I forgot to ask earlier: marital status?'

He met her eyes again, slowly, and Kate's heart started hammering so hard that she was glad she was already sitting on the edge of the bed. She couldn't help glancing behind her at its crisp white pillowcase and hospital waffle-weave blanket, and then blushed, in case he realized she was imagining them rolling around on it.

'Single,' she said firmly. 'Definitely...single.'

They chatted a little more about Kate's illness, and Stephen visibly relaxed, becoming more animated and lively. He was gorgeous, Kate thought. Did he talk to all the young, attractive-ish women like this, or was it just her?

Somehow she knew it was just her.

'Right, let's get your blood sample, so we can a.n.a.lyse it this afternoon.'

He tied a length of black rubber tubing above her left elbow, gently holding her forearm and peering at the veins that sprang up thick and red. Kate broke out in gooseflesh at his touch.

'Now, this'll just be a little p.r.i.c.k uh, I mean, a small scratch.' He seemed fl.u.s.tered again, and Kate noticed with amus.e.m.e.nt that he had blushed once more. Guess he didn't want the words 'little p.r.i.c.k' to be in any way a.s.sociated with him, she thought, swallowing hard and looking over his shoulder, in order to stop a smirk escaping. His hands were shaking very slightly, but nonetheless Kate barely felt a thing as he slid the needle into her vein. They both watched in silence as the syringe filled with viscous dark blood.

'All done,' he said, expertly removing the needle, sealing the tube and labelling it, then sticking a tiny round plaster on the soft skin inside Kate's elbow. 'Since you aren't yet in quarantine, you can go to the dining room for your supper at six. I think most of the others here are already quarantined, so you might be on your own. If you could read the instructions in that folder, that'll explain the rules about contact with the other patients, and what you are and aren't allowed to do if and when we give you a cold.'

'If?'

'Yes we don't give a cold to everyone who comes here; you might be part of a control group. Oh, your roommate should be along this afternoon too. You've got a lady called....' He consulted his clipboard, '.....Mrs. Harrington. Georgina Harrington. She's in her fifties so don't go having any wild parties and keeping her up all night, will you?'

Any disappointment that Kate might have felt about having a roommate, especially one much older than her, was instantly diminished by the way he was smiling at her.

'No wild parties?' she queried straight-faced. 'But what on earth will I do to stop myself getting bored while I'm here?'

He slowly reached out and touched the back of her hand with his forefinger.

'I can promise you won't get bored. At least not on my shifts, anyway.'

After he'd gone, Kate lay back on her bed replaying the entire meeting in her mind, a huge smile spread over her face. She couldn't believe what he'd said to her nor what she'd said to him. It wasn't at all like her to be so forward and flirty. There was just something about Stephen Wilson and his blond floppy hair and the way he looked at her with those big brown eyes...

She changed her mind about going for a walk, and retreated into the bathroom again, this time to pluck her bikini line and shave her legs. She hadn't expected she'd need to do this but she now had the distinct feeling it might be necessary. Pity she'd have to share with this Georgina woman. Although maybe Stephen had his own room where...

...No, stop it, Kate told herself. He's the doctor! Probably nothing's going to happen.

But somehow she knew that it would.

'No, I don't think I am going to be at all bored,' she said out loud.

CHAPTER 10.

The effort of telling the story had taken its toll on her. Kate tried to bite down on her yawn but it escaped, and then Paul yawned too, and they looked at each other and laughed.

'I think I need my bed,' she said.

'Me too.'

As they stood up Paul turned to put his jacket on, and when he turned back he caught her eye. Something pa.s.sed between them. Or was she imagining it? The tiredness that made her body feel strange, the state of the high emotion she was in, the mention of bed, and the undeniable fact that this man looked exactly like Stephen it was a dangerous mix. She averted her eyes and concentrated on lifting Jack G.o.d, he was getting heavy hoping she hadn't flushed pink the way she knew she did, and, if she had, hoping Paul hadn't noticed.

Because he wasn't Stephen. And wouldn't it be a betrayal to get involved with his brother? Not that Paul would be interested in her. Would he? He would undoubtedly see it as a betrayal too. He could be married himself, for all she knew. Although he hadn't mentioned it, and he wasn't wearing a ring...She wanted to slap herself. Kate, what the h.e.l.l are you thinking? This is the last thing you need now.

'Let's meet here tomorrow morning,' Paul said. 'Nine o'clock?'

'Make it nine-thirty.'

'Okay.'

He hovered. What was he doing? She had this awful feeling he was trying to decide whether to kiss her goodnight.

'Night, Paul,' she said.

'Okay. Night.'

She watched him walk across the lobby. At the revolving doors he looked back at her and nodded. A little shiver went through her.

After putting Jack to bed he hadn't stirred all the way from the coffee bar to the room; again, she had paranoid thoughts about being a bad mother because he hadn't cleaned his teeth or washed his face Kate lay down and tried to join him in sleep. But her brain was too active and her heart refused to slow down. She got up, fetched herself a gla.s.s of water and went out onto the balcony. Her room had a view of the river, the lights of the South Bank shimmering orange and lemon on the water. Voices floated up to her: a man shouting, a woman laughing. A plane drifted in the s.p.a.ce between clouds.

Her life was in a mess. Her marriage was over, she had no home or job, and probably no friends any more. The only people she had were Aunt Lil, who barely recognised her, and her sister Miranda and her family.

When she'd boarded the plane in Boston she'd experienced the intoxicating thrill of new-found freedom, a euphoria that had made her want to stand up in her seat and scream with joy. But like a prisoner who busts out of jail after years inside, the euphoria didn't last long. The outside world was a scary place.

But even though a primitive part of her the part that longed for safety and comfort wanted to flee back to the States, she knew she had done the right thing. She would get through this period.

If Vernon doesn't find you, an internal voice whispered.