Dancing With Mortality (22 page)

He felt a touch of empathy with his mysterious fellow
patient. ‘You look very nice.’

‘Thank you, Harry. I must say there’s a change in you too.’

That surprised him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Your whole demeanour seems lighter somehow. What have you
been up to?’

‘A few things. First of all, the man who killed Natalie, or
at least ordered the killing, is dead. It feels like some sort of debt has been
paid.’

‘Did he die naturally?’

He smiled, a little grimly. ‘No, that wouldn’t pay any kind
of debt.’

‘And this payment of debt – has it relieved your anger?’

‘I think so.’

‘You said “a few things.” What else is there?’

‘Sophie is divorcing me.’

Cindy tossed her head back, probably more in surprise than
by habit, but it startled him anyway. ‘What did you do to deserve that?’

‘I slept with another woman.’

‘You wouldn’t be the first man to do that, Harry. Can’t you
do anything to get her to reconsider?’

 ‘I don’t think I really want to.’

‘I see.’ Cindy crossed her legs and he thought she looked
just as distracting in trousers. ‘And is this other woman married?’

‘No, she isn’t.’ He smiled to himself. ‘She likes her
independence.’

‘What about your illness?’

‘I’ve started the treatment. They’ve given me some
anti-depressants too, I was feeling rather low for a while. It’s a common side
effect apparently. I’m feeling much more positive than I was though.’

‘You have been busy. Anything else I should know?’

‘I’m de-cluttering my life. Harry Ellis is going to live the
simple life and stop helping investment banks enrich themselves and their
clients.’

She smiled. ‘That’s interesting. Perhaps you should take up
psychotherapy. It has it’s fulfilling moments.’

He laughed. ‘Don’t think I’ve got the legs for it.’

She looked mildly amused. ‘Well, that aside, I think we’re
finally making progress.’

Sabine didn’t reply to his email, he
knew she was working a lot after the breaks she’d taken, and she had a series
of gigs lined up again in Heidelberg and Munich in February, so he wasn’t
immediately concerned. He was confident now for her safety and no longer
expected daily texts.

The sale of the house was progressing rather slowly. There’d
been two offers but far lower than the asking price, and he’d rejected both of
them. In the meantime he’d agreed with Sophie, through the medium of her
solicitor of course, that he would stay until a sale had been confirmed.

He continued with his medication, and although some days he
felt tired and irritable, his body seemed to have adapted. The anti-depressants
had stabilized his moods and he was sure there would be no repetition of that
suicidal moment in Ireland. There was enough money in his account to keep him
going for a year if necessary, so he decided to rest as much as possible and
give the therapy the best chance of working. The odd prospective buyer would
call in, but apart from that he either spent time sorting his possessions in
advance of moving, or simply lazing around the house. It was strange to have so
much time to himself, he was used to the 9 to 5 commute cycle and the pressure
of a City job, so having so much leisure time brought him face to face with
himself. Strangely enough, he found he wasn’t bored. He wondered what else he
could possibly do for a living other than what he already did, and came up with
a blank. But now the thought had been planted it wouldn’t leave him alone, and
he knew that it would be only a matter of time before something realistic
occurred to him. The money, of course, would doubtless be much less than he was
used to, but he told himself that money wasn’t everything. Until you had none,
that is.

Finally the day arrived for his
three month hospital check-up. At Thomas’s he sat once more, awaiting an
audience with Dr Ashe. He felt nervous and hoped that the tablets and
injections, which had left him feeling like something of a human pin cushion,
had had the desired affect. After the customary wait he was called in.

Dr Ashe was studying his file, drumming his fingers on the
desk. Harry thought it looked ominous. The doctor looked up.

‘Mr Ellis, take a seat.’

He sat and waited. Dr Ashe spent another half minute reading
and then finally spoke.

‘Your blood test reveals no trace of your virus, Mr Ellis.’
He was smiling.

‘Really? You mean I’m cured?’ He felt like leaping up and
down and only just stopped himself.

‘It means you’re clear at the moment. That’s very good news
of course. But to ensure the best possible outcome you should continue the
treatment for another nine months. You were told that at the outset weren’t
you?’

Yes, thought Harry, I was. ‘That’s a long time. But as we’ve
come this far I can’t see any alternative.’

‘We need to be sure. I recommend another three months at the
least. If you feel it’s all too much after that we can stop, but our best bet
is to go the full year. It is my opinion,’ and here he held up a cautionary
finger, ‘that you are on course to make a full recovery.’

‘Alright then,’ concurred Harry, ‘as long as it takes.’

‘Good. I’m very pleased for you. Go and see Isobel now and
get next month’s supply.’

Isobel grinned when he appeared, saying how excellent it all
was, and actually gave him a hug. When he left Thomas’s and walked back across
Westminster Bridge, he was grinning too.

A week later a buyer finally made a
realistic offer. He realised with a start that it was finally time to move.
He’d had all this leisure time and been so lazy he still hadn’t bothered to
look for his next home. He thought he would rent somewhere near the station
until he found the right property. He ordered some boxes from a local removal
company and began packing as much as was practicable himself. The solicitor
doing the conveyancing contacted him to let him know contracts would be
exchanged in two weeks, so he redoubled his efforts and found a two bedroom
flat only ten minutes walk from the station, and paid a deposit.

Sabine had been on his mind every
day. It had been almost two months since his last email to her, and although
he’d wanted to call her way before now, he had deliberately refrained from
doing so until he knew what the outcome of his treatment was likely to be. That
evening he picked up the phone and dialled her number. It rang for so long that
he was about to give up, when suddenly she picked up.

‘Harry?’ She sounded hesitant.

‘Am I disturbing you?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘I thought I might have heard from you, that’s all.’

‘I thought you might be mad with me, you know, with the
divorce. I feel responsible.’

He cursed himself for his insensitivity. ‘It’s me that’s
responsible. Don’t feel bad on my account.’

‘I still feel responsible. How’s your treatment going?’

‘I’m clear. Well, for now. I need to keep going, but they
have high hopes for me.’

‘Harry, that’s wonderful. What will you do now? Go back to
work?’

‘I don’t know exactly. What I would like to do is see you
again.’

‘I see.’ He could hear the smile in her voice. ‘I thought
you said that was unwise.’

‘Yes, well I was wrong about that.’

She laughed softly and he knew she was happy. ‘I’m quite
busy right now. But if you should find your way to Heidelberg in the near
future, you know where I am.’

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http://www.junglekiwi.com

When the only form
of justice that counts is your own

DCI Nick Severance investigates murders, a rare occurrence
in the City of London. When a man dies violently one morning, only yards from
the police station, the motive eludes him. The victim had recently been in
India, looking for an ancient tomb that could contain something priceless. Was
that reason enough to kill him?

What seems to be a crime motivated by money, becomes
something far more sinister. As the chief suspects continue to elude Nick,
another agenda reveals itself, one that will bring death and destruction on a far
larger scale. And anyone who compromises that agenda will be eliminated.

As events unfold and the stakes get higher, Nick must
confront the prospect of losing everything he holds dear, and taking a course
of action that will change his life in ways he never imagined.