Ken McClure - Donor

‘Mmm,’ she said, unconvinced.

They had arrived at Lisa’s place. In the middle of the day there was plenty of room to park. Dunbar drew up outside the entrance to the block.

‘Will you come up for a minute?’

He nodded and got out.

‘Coffee?’ asked Lisa as they entered the flat.

‘I’ll make it. You go bathe your eyes,’ said Dunbar.

The comment made her self-conscious. Her hand flew to her face. ‘Oh God, I must look a sight. I didn’t think.’

She went off to the bathroom and Dunbar put the kettle on. While it boiled, he looked out of the window.

Lisa returned some minutes later, smoothing her hair and smelling of perfume. She’d put on light make-up. ‘That’s better,’ she said with a smile. ‘I feel human again.’

Dunbar smiled too, and responded to her attempts at small-talk as she tried to get back on an even keel. When she fell silent he turned to look at her and saw that her eyes were closed.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked gently.

‘There was something I didn’t tell you,’ she said.

‘What?’ Dunbar took her in his arms as the tears started to flow.

‘I went to Amy’s funeral… just to say good-bye to her properly. I tried to keep in the background but her mother saw me there… No one ever looked at me the way she did… There was such hatred in her eyes.’

‘You mustn’t dwell on it,’ soothed Dunbar. ‘She must have been confused and very upset at the time. You said what you believed to be true; that was the right thing to do and when we come up with the evidence of what really happened to Amy, you’ll be completely vindicated.’ He relaxed his hold a little and Lisa looked up at him.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘For what?’

‘For being here.’

‘Sssh.’

Lisa’s face was very close to Dunbar’s. He looked down into her soft dark eyes and found himself realizing just how much she had got under his skin in the past few days. Images of her had been subtly invading his mind. He saw her lips quiver and part slightly as she sensed his arousal. She didn’t draw back. He brushed an unruly tendril of hair from her face and tucked it gently behind her ear, his fingers tracing on down the curve of her cheek to tilt her face upwards. He brushed a kiss across her lips, still a little uncertain.

Lisa sensed his hesitation and reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair and draw his lips back down to hers. Their kiss, soft at first, deepened as each felt the other respond.

Any reservations Dunbar might have had about Lisa’s vulnerability ceased to matter. He was aware only of the closeness of her body and the little darting movements of her tongue inside his mouth. His hands slid down her back and over the neat curve of her buttocks to pull her into him until their hips and thighs met and she could feel him harden.

She drew back slightly. She drew in a ragged breath. ‘Come,’ she said, leading him by the hand through to the bedroom.

‘You’re sure?’ breathed Dunbar as he took hold of her again.

‘Very sure,’ replied Lisa, slipping her hands round his waist and easing his shirt free of his trousers. Pushing the fabric from his body, she smoothed her palms across the contours of his chest. Her eyes never left his as she moved her hands down to undo his belt and free him from his trousers.

Mimicking her actions, Dunbar pulled her blouse from the band of her skirt, slipped his hand underneath and ran it across the smooth plane of her stomach. He reached round to unhook her bra before capturing her breasts in his hands, making her groan with pleasure as he sought her nipples. She tilted her head back to expose her neck to his lips and allowed him to lay her down on the bed.

Dunbar trailed a line of kisses down her throat, opening her blouse in front of each kiss. His mouth encircled each nipple in turn, sucking and teasing, while his hand sought the bare skin of her thighs to peel off her panties. He straddled her and held himself poised above her to kiss her long and slow before easing into her and glorying in the depth of her arousal as she lifted her hips and took him in.

Lisa moaned and he shifted slightly to bring his hand between them, touching her softly and skilfully, capturing her cries with his mouth as he drove into her again and again until a shudder went through him and her body convulsed around him.

Passion spent, they relaxed together in a contented tangle. Dunbar was the first to move. He rolled over, kissed Lisa lightly on the forehead and cradled her in his arms.

‘God, it’s been such a long time,’ she murmured. ‘I hadn’t realized.’

‘There’s no one special?’

‘I was engaged for a while until he realized that Mother was going to be part of the deal. He disappeared like snow in July. It’s been over two years now. And you? I suppose this is where you tell me there’s a Mrs Dunbar and the twins will be three on Sunday?’

Dunbar smiled. ‘No Mrs Dunbar,’ he said. He had his arm round her and was gently stroking her forehead.

‘You know, that’s what I miss most,’ said Lisa.

‘What?’

‘Being touched. It’s so nice just to be touched like that. With affection. Sex can be great but feeling someone touch your arm or run their fingers through your hair, or even just pat your bum because they feel nice things for you, that’s really good. Does that sound daft?’

Dunbar kissed her hair softly. ‘No.’

There was a distant bleeping sound.

‘What’s that?’ she asked.

‘My phone,’ replied Dunbar, feeling silly.

‘You didn’t switch it off?’

‘I didn’t think,’ said Dunbar. ‘I didn’t imagine I’d…’

‘You’d better answer it.’

Dunbar got up and went in search of his phone. He took the call in the living room. He returned a few moments later and said, ‘It was Sci-Med. They’ve agreed to the exhumation.’

On the day of the exhumation, Dunbar was on tenterhooks. Sci-Med had enlisted the aid of Special Branch in carrying out an unofficial disinterment of the body, rather than taking the gamble of going to the courts for a high-profile official order, with all the subsequent upset that might cause. Dunbar was happy with that but was well aware that covert operations carried risks of their own should anything go wrong. One person in the wrong place at the wrong time and the fall-out could be spectacular.

Amy’s parents were out of the country on holiday — her mother was still suffering from depression some five months after Amy’s death and her father had thought some winter sunshine might help her. They had been in Tenerife for the last three days and would be away for another ten. It was this fact that had swung Sci-Med in favour of a secret operation. If everything went smoothly, Amy’s parents need never know anything about it.

The plan was to exhume Amy in the early hours of the morning, take her to a Glasgow mortuary and have a Scottish Office pathologist, appointed by Neil Bannon, carry out an autopsy under special instructions. When he was finished, he would phone his report to Dunbar. Amy would be returned to her grave before the day was over.

Everything was out of Dunbar’s hands now, but he still felt like an athlete pacing the area behind the start-line before a big race. The phone rang and he snatched it from its rest.

‘Yes?’

‘Steven, it’s Lisa. Any news?’

‘Nothing yet. They seem to be taking a hell of a time.’

‘I’ll get off the line in case they’re trying to get through.’

‘I’ll call you as soon as I hear.’

Dunbar went back to fidgeting and pacing the room. He began to wonder if there had been a breakdown in communications. Tension could make you imagine all sorts of things, especially when your perceived timescale of things was being stretched. Perhaps the result of the PM had been given directly to Sci-Med in London, the police had already been informed and they would arrive at the hospital at any moment, everyone having forgotten to tell the man on the ground what was going on. He was nursing this paranoia when the phone rang again.