Ken McClure - The Anvil

Coulson nodded. ‘She has to be stabilised first. We’ll see how things go and then take it from there.’

‘Good. You won’t do anything without telling Mrs Nielsen first, will you?’

Coulson looked at MacLean strangely. ‘Of course not,’ he said.

‘Good,’ said MacLean.

‘What was all that about?’ asked Tansy as they walked away from the hospital.

‘I didn’t want him doing anything to Carrie without telling us first,’ said MacLean.

‘Doesn’t he need my permission before he can do anything anyway?’

‘Officially, yes. But sometimes relatives are seen as little more than a nuisance. It’s not unknown for surgeons to do what they want and have the paperwork filled in later.’

‘Don’t the relatives kick up a fuss?’ asked Tansy.

‘It’s the easiest thing in the world to bamboozle relatives into believing that whatever was done was for the best.’

‘I see,’ said Tansy.

‘I was just making sure he knew we were the kind to make a fuss,’ smiled MacLean.

‘I’m learning a lot,’ said Tansy. ‘To think I used to have such faith in doctors…’

MacLean had given Tansy what money he possessed when he moved in with her and Carrie. Now he needed something to live on. Tansy had anticipated this and handed him an envelope. ‘When will you need real money?’ she asked.

‘I need time to think,’ MacLean answered. ‘I have to work out a plan.’

‘Will I see you?’

‘Come round tomorrow evening?’

Tansy nodded and asked if he would like a lift back to town.

MacLean declined. ‘Better not,’ he said. ‘We have to be careful.’

Tansy put up a hand to his cheek and asked, ‘You do think there’s a real chance for Carrie don’t you?’ Her eyes held all the vulnerability of a little girl. She was willing him to say, yes.

‘Yes I do,’ said MacLean.

‘Take care,’ said Tansy.

MacLean watched the Mini disappear and stood for a moment, feeling the sun on the back of his neck. He felt that he had just taken the first step on a journey with no clear horizons. Although he was apprehensive about the dangers to come he was perfectly clear about one thing; there would be no turning back. The sooner he applied himself to the practical problems of what lay ahead the better.

He decided that the first hurdle to overcome was how to get back into Switzerland. He still had a passport in his own name but using that would be asking for trouble. There was no telling how widespread Lehman Steiner’s network was, but if they could find him within weeks of him starting work in a British hospital, Swiss passport control was hardly going to be a problem.

MacLean got round to thinking about Tansy’s husband Keith. From what she’d said he had been about the same age as he himself. If Tansy still had his birth certificate then he had the makings of a plan. He would apply for a British visitor’s passport in Keith’s name. Travelling as Keith Nielsen should present no problem in the short term. The next question was, did Tansy have the certificate or had it been destroyed in the fire? On Thursday night he asked her.

‘All our papers were kept in a safety-deposit box at the bank,’ she said. ‘They still are. Why?’

MacLean told her.

Tansy said that she would get the certificate in the morning and asked if he had made any other plans.

‘I’m going to play it by ear,’ admitted MacLean. ‘I’ll fly to Geneva as soon as I sort out the passport. I’ll book in to a small hotel and then do some phoning around. I need inside information.’

‘That could be dangerous,’ said Tansy. ‘Someone might talk.’

‘I need to know what’s been going on at Lehman Steiner over the past few years,’ said MacLean, ‘I’ll concentrate on just one contact to start with. Eva Stahl, she was my theatre sister.’

‘I remember,’ said Tansy. ‘You gave her a new face didn’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can you trust her?’

‘I think so. We got on well.’

‘And she owes you a favour?’ said Tansy.

‘That sort of thing,’ smiled MacLean.

‘She might not be with the company any more,’ said Tansy.

‘True,’ conceded MacLean. ‘But she might be able to tell me someone useful who is.’

‘Do you have her address?’

‘It’s four years old but it’s a start.’

There was an awkwardness between MacLean and Tansy, which made both of them uncomfortable. It was due in part to the aftermath of Tansy’s outburst at the hospital. She still felt guilty about what she’d said and MacLean still felt uneasy because it had been true. He had brought disaster to Tansy and Carrie as he always feared he might and now there was tremendous pressure on him to put things right. The other factor in the equation was the prospect of great danger.

With the best will in the world, MacLean found it hard to think of anything other than what lay ahead. It was this that bestowed on him an air of remoteness which, although he regretted, he couldn’t help. Tansy, in turn, knew that it was she who had forced MacLean into this situation. Her growing love for him was now at odds with her love for Carrie and it was eating away at her.

‘I’d best be getting back,’ she said awkwardly, ‘Nigel and Marjorie will be wondering where I am.’

They looked at each other for a moment then Tansy said, ‘Oh, Sean.’ She put her head against his chest and closed her eyes She felt so relieved when he put his arms round her and kissed her hair. ‘I wish there was another way,’ she said.

‘Everything will be fine,’ whispered MacLean. ‘I promise.’

They arranged to meet in the morning after Tansy had been to the bank to get her husband’s birth certificate and MacLean had obtained suitable passport photographs of himself to go with the application form he’d obtained from a post office. He’d forged signatures on the back of the photographs to testify to his identity as Keith Neilson which matched the false details he’d entered on the form. He and Tansy set off for the main Post Office with Tansy coaching him all the way.

MacLean waited anxiously in line. He was usually impatient in queues but on this occasion he was not unhappy that the man in front of him appeared to be asking a string of questions that the counter clerk seemed unable to answer. While he waited, he looked at the photographs of himself and re-examined Keith Nielsen’s birth certificate. Nielsen had been born in Aberdeen and his mother had been called Christabel. He was reflecting on how nice the name sounded when the clerk said, ‘Next.’

MacLean pushed the documents and the photograph under the glass partition and tried to look casual. It was difficult when he felt the clerk compare him to the photograph. The truth was he didn’t look that much like himself in the photograph let alone Keith Neilsen. He concentrated on the posters on the wall until the unsmiling man looked back down and continued writing. Why did post-office clerks never smile, he wondered. He looked along to the other queue and saw another dour individual stare balefully up at the customer he was serving. Were they trained to show no emotion? Did they practise that vinegar stare? Maybe that was why they closed the office for half an hour on Friday mornings. Staff training. He pictured a row of clerks with dead eyes being trained to say, ‘Next.’

The thump of a rubber stamp broke MacLean’s train of thought and told him that he was getting his passport. The clerk slid the document under the glass and returned Keith Nielsen’s birth certificate. MacLean put the papers in his inside pocket and said, ‘Thank you.’

The clerk looked through him and said, ‘Next.’

MacLean and Tansy separated but met up for lunch together in a small cafe behind Princes Street. MacLean had been to a travel agent.