Then Sarah turned her attention to Christopher. ‘So how long have you been a GP?’

‘Oh, nearly thirty years now.’

‘Always around here?’

‘Not at first. But for the last twenty or so.’

Sarah sipped at her glass of white wine. ‘Never thought of going private? Harley Street or anything like that?’

Christopher laughed. ‘No. I’m not a specialist. Just a general practitioner. Aches, pains, wounds and rashes, you know.’

Gary watched Sarah warily. He knew where she was leading.

‘How does it work then? Harley Street? If you need a specialist how do you find one? I mean, you wouldn’t just knock on doors would you?’

‘Well, not quite, but almost. It’s rather different to the way it used to be. Much more open. Years ago your doctor would probably have recommended you to someone. Or if you had a health-care insurance scheme then they’d do the same.’

‘And now?’

‘Well, some firms advertise. You can ring them up and make an appointment.’

‘So you could shop around. You know, go to several specialists and get different quotes?’

‘Certainly. Harley Street has become competitive, just like anywhere else.’

‘And there would be nothing to stop you talking to several different people if you wanted a second opinion?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Is it all specialist medicine there, then? Rather than aches and pains?’

‘Oh, it tends to be. Things like cosmetic surgery. Complimentary medicine. Transplants. And simple operations, too, for private patients. People who can afford not to wait.’

‘I see.’ Sarah paused and considered the facts.

Taking advantage of the lull, Gary butted in, nervous of the fact that Sarah had slipped into interrogation mode. ‘Er, look, if we want to make that restaurant for dinner I think we’ll have to be getting along.’

Sarah looked across at him. ‘Oh. Are we going out for dinner?’

Gary responded without a flicker. ‘Yes. I’ve booked.’

‘Not the Red Dragon?’ asked Tiger.

‘No. Not tonight.’

‘Good.’ He sipped his pint then added, ‘I’m not sure about that place. Not since we saw our “protection man” there. It’s rather put me off it.’

Christopher chipped in, ‘I’ve not been there yet. Was the food any good?’

‘Not bad at all,’ confirmed Tiger. ‘But I’m not sure you’d want to go.’

‘Why not?’

‘Saw Randall Cummings sitting in a corner. Talking to the owner. At least I take it that he was the owner. He was Chinese. Looked very proprietorial. Thought Dr Cummings must be adding him to his clientele.’

‘I’ve never met him,’ said Gary. ‘What does he look like?’

And then they noticed Christopher.

‘Are you all right?’ enquired Tiger.

‘Sorry?’ replied Christopher absently.

‘Only you look a bit pale.’

Gary took Sarah to a gastropub down by the River Itchen. He thought she would protest the moment they left the Hare and Hounds, but she seemed surprisingly amenable.