Chapter 22
Just like that.
It was a bit of a blur when she tried to remember the details of how an evening with friends had simply imploded so quickly.
She’d watched Angus walking back and forth in the square outside Sophie’s house, having a private conversation that left him looking grim.
She’d offered to walk him back to his car when he said he had to get the first available flight to London but Luc took one look at Tilly’s face and told her to stay with Sophie.
He’d make sure Angus didn’t get lost in the village.
And then he was gone. With no more than a hurried farewell. One phone call and Angus McLeod had, apparently, walked out of Tilly’s life with barely a backward glance. He hadn’t even kissed her goodbye.
When Luc got back, he said Angus had spent the whole time on his phone, organising his flight, along with taxis and accommodation and appointments to meet people. It seemed that something catastrophic had happened with the case he was working on but he wasn’t at liberty to discuss it.
‘He did say to apologise for leaving you without transport,’ Luc told Tilly. ‘I told him we’d look after you. I can drive you home. Or you could stay with us?’
‘Yes…’ Sophie echoed. ‘Stay with us. I don’t want you being alone tonight.’
Tilly shook her head, trying and obviously failing to hide how upset she was.
Not so much by Angus’s abrupt departure but by what felt like a totally unexpected sabotage of the vision she’d had for the new direction in her business.
Why hadn’t he said anything when they were on top of the mountain?
Or when she was talking about it again over dinner that night?
Why was he so angry about it?
‘Control freak,’ Sophie had muttered. ‘I said that right from the start, didn’t I?’ She’d wrapped Tilly in her arms. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered in her ear. ‘You deserve so much better. I might just tell him that when he comes back.’
‘Maybe he won’t come back.’
Tilly could feel her heart breaking. It was an actual, physical pain that made her want to draw her knees up and wrap her arms around them so tightly it might prevent it from shattering completely.
‘He’s only got an hour to get to the airport,’ Luc said. ‘He won’t have time to grab anything more than his laptop and a change of clothes.’
‘So he’ll have to come back.’ Sophie gave Tilly another hug. ‘Something’s gone wrong,’ she said. ‘This is about his work, not you.’
‘Telling me how stupid my idea was and that I would go bankrupt was about me.’
‘That’s his job,’ Sophie reminded her. ‘He’s an expert in seeing what can go wrong. It could be that he was trying to protect you.’
‘He did have a point,’ Luc said gently. ‘You’ve got a brand that’s working beautifully. Why would you risk that?’
Tilly couldn’t answer that. Why had she been so determined to make such a dramatic change?
Had it been because she wanted to show Angus that she could be less clichéd about romance?
That she’d recognised that the icing wasn’t the glue that could hold a relationship together all on its own?
That she was willing to take a risk and be with someone who wasn’t, at heart, as romantic as she was?
‘He didn’t have to be that vehement.’ Sophie was shaking her head. ‘He’s quite passionate, isn’t he?’
‘I wouldn’t say that.’ Tilly sighed. Passion and romance went hand in hand, didn’t they? ‘But he can be angry. He was angry when I first met him.’ Her huff of laughter was resigned. ‘Angry Angus, I called him.’
‘You don’t get that angry if you’re not passionate about something,’ Luc said.
‘I’m with Soph. I got the impression he was trying to stop you taking too big a risk.
He got a bit carried away but…’ He shrugged, sharing a lingering glance with Sophie.
‘We men are only human,’ he said. ‘We get things wrong sometimes.’
‘Give it time,’ Sophie added. ‘See what happens when this blows over. That will tell you all you need to know.’ She glanced at the staircase leading to the upper floors of the house.
‘I’m going to take a peek at our wee Maddie and then get into the kitchen.
My croque-monsieur are most definitely called for.
They are the best comfort food ever invented and one of the things I love most about France. ’
* * *
There was no time – or head space, for that matter – to think about anything other than what Angus was heading towards.
A double disaster for Novaryn Pharmaceuticals. The patient who’d been admitted to ICU was now critically ill in a coma after suffering repeated seizures, and the fact that he’d been enrolled in a trial of an experimental drug intended to modify brain functions had been leaked to the media.
It was a big ask to get ahead of the adverse publicity that could ruin the company.
Novaryn executives were gathering in London.
By the time Angus arrived at the hotel, the chief medical officer, the head of corporate communications, who would control media messaging and press releases, and the company’s head lawyer were in town.
The hospital’s clinical director and director of communications arrived as soon as a dedicated boardroom had been made available and the meetings went on until well into the night.
There was no waiting for newspapers to hit the streets in the morning these days. The first headlines were hitting the Internet within hours.
Patient Critical after taking part in Experimental Drug Study
Family demands answers as beloved father in coma…
The hospital and Novaryn made sure their responses were aligned.
‘A patient enrolled in a trial is being treated for a serious neurological condition.’
‘At this stage, no causal relationship to the drug trial has been established. It’s possible that all these symptoms can be the result of a viral illness.’
The next day was treading water. Hourly updates on the condition of the patient, endless meetings and reporters wanting answers to questions.
All trial participants were being called in to be given a thorough check.
Early symptoms, even though they were nonspecific, like fatigue and headache – were found in several volunteers, who were admitted for observation.
‘We are proceeding with an abundance of caution. The trial medication has been stopped. We are monitoring all participants closely.’
‘Patient safety remains our priority.’
But, late that day, the situation escalated alarmingly with the death of the man in ICU. Angus found himself alone briefly, pacing the boardroom as he waited to chair the meeting that would decide what the media response would be and examine the potential repercussions to the news.
The stress was enormous already and it was only going to get worse.
Angus looked out of the boardroom window onto a dark London park that was getting drenched with rain. He could see how heavy the downpour was in the halo of light from the streetlamps and he had a sudden, deep yearning for the soft evening light and warmth of the South of France.
Along with an even deeper longing for Tilly’s company.
He wanted to hear her voice and that adorable accent.
He wanted to hold her. To kiss her until they both surrendered to the sheer joy of physical touch that could make whatever was happening in the rest of the world totally irrelevant.
He wanted it so much that he knew he had to shut it away.
Lock it in and throw away the key to make sure it couldn’t distract him again.
He had a job to do and it had just become a hell of a lot harder.
The next days were one escalation after another.
It wasn’t just the family of the man who’d died demanding answers, it was the families of other volunteers who were showing symptoms. Who was going to be next?
Headlines multiplied. Television reports brought in experts to discuss how drug trials worked and what this particular drug, Serovex, did that made it different to other antidepressants.
Theories were being offered that changing the way brain cells communicated might disrupt normal cell function and lead to swelling that could be the cause of seizures and death.
And then it got worse. Radical groups latched on to the fact that Serovex had been tested on rats and dogs before humans, and protest groups began to gather outside the hospital to hold up placards and chant.
‘Animal testing! Your cure, their pain!’
‘Humans shouldn’t be guinea pigs.’
Politicians became involved and there were calls for a formal regulatory investigation.
‘Patient safety is our top priority. We will be cooperating fully with any investigations.’
Safety.
The central concept that had shaped Angus McLeod’s life. This was what he understood above all else. What he was so good at achieving. For his clients.
For himself.
And he was working his magic. As the days ticked past, nobody else died and the furore began to die down. It began to look like Novaryn and future trials of promising drugs, although possibly not this one, would be safe.
Gradually, the dust really began to settle and Angus could make plans to leave London.
He sat in the hotel room that he’d been in for nearly two weeks and opened his laptop to book a flight but, as he did so, an alert popped up and he clicked on the headline.
Family speaks on heartbreak of Drug Trial death.
Angus clicked on the link. A man of about his own age was speaking.
‘He was my dad,’ he said. ‘My hero. He’d had his struggles. We all knew about how hard depression can be.’
The man was sitting on what looked like a kitchen chair.
He had a dog – a brown and white spaniel – sitting beside him and he had his hand on the dog’s head, fondling its ears as he spoke.
Angus could remember so well the kind of comfort that dogs’ ears could impart and he felt his heart crack open a little.