Catch Your Death. Mark Edwards

war. Its remit was to find a cure for the common cold, with the main aim of reducing the economic costs of the virus – caused by absence from work, mostly. It was based just outside Salisbury, on the grounds of a former military hospital.’

      ‘I remember Stephen going to live in Salisbury. But I thought he was working at that other microbiological research place – Porton Down. That’s in Salisbury too, isn’t it?’

      ‘It’s in the area, a few miles out of town on the other side. But the CRU was a completely separate establishment. I did some research and found out that it was true that the Unit was always looking for volunteers. They used to advertise in the local paper, promoting a stay at the Unit as a kind of quirky holiday for people who wanted to do their bit for Britain, like Butlin’s with less singing and more sniffing.’

      Paul grinned and Kate went on. ‘So, they asked people to go and stay there for ten days to help them with their research. 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. Not even flu – just an ordinary cold.’

      She smiled ruefully. ‘I’d had plenty of colds – and worse – before. I could deal with it. It seemed the perfect solution – a place for me to relax and, 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. Aunt Lil reassured 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 phoned him at the Unit and said I wanted to go along as a volunteer. 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 Sixteen Years Ago

      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 die 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 bored, was there? Her shirt was sticking to her back when she finally arrived at her destination late in the 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 rusty 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! 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 the folder of useful information that had been left on the desk for her. The air smelled of grass and warm earth. Two white butterflies flitted across her line of vision, and swallows were swooping high above her. She sighed with pleasure. OK, so maybe 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 the 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 room-mate 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, pulled out a fresh t-shirt, removed her washbag and retrieved Buster, her childhood teddy.

      Propping Buster up 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 attractive man in a white coat walked in, carrying a medical case and a clipboard.

      Kate squealed and covered her breasts with her arms. He didn’t look much older than her, which made it even more embarrassing. ‘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 mustn’t 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 hair which she had adored in Robbie Williams in her teenage 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