As he approached the pillared portico the front door opened, and a large, grey-haired man in plus fours and a lemon-yellow cashmere sweater walked out onto the broad apron of steps.

‘Hello, Randall,’ offered Christopher.

‘You’ll have to be quick,’ growled Cummings, looking at his watch. ‘I have to leave in ten minutes.’

Christopher looked at his own watch, and then turned round to look at the golf course across the road, barely two minutes away on foot. ‘Right. Can I come inside?’

‘Can’t we talk here?’

‘I’d rather not.’

Cummings shrugged, turned and walked into the house. Christopher followed him.

Once inside the cream-coloured marble hallway, dominated by a large chandelier which was lit even at this early hour, Cummings rounded on Christopher. ‘I don’t like being bothered at home. Especially at weekends.’

‘Randall, I don’t relish having to come and see you whatever day of the week, but I wanted to talk to you. I think you know what it’s about.’

‘Why should I?’

‘Randall, nobody knows why I left the practice. Why I really left. And I don’t want to have to tell them.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know perfectly well what I mean.’

‘Are you trying to blackmail me?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t some cheap thriller. Of course I’m not trying to blackmail you, though heaven knows I’d have enough grounds.’

‘What then?’

‘It’s got to stop. You’ve got to start being more even handed.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘You can’t reserve your best treatment for the people who can pay most.’

‘That’s a slanderous allegation.’

‘It would be slanderous if it weren’t true.’

‘So what’s brought all this on? Why the pricking of conscience now?’

‘You know perfectly well that my conscience was pricked the moment I knew what was going on. And I said so at the time.’

‘So?’

‘Mrs Fraser came to see me the other day.’

‘Which Mrs Fraser?’

‘The Mrs Fraser whose husband died because he couldn’t get a kidney transplant.’

Cummings pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his plus fours. ‘Lots of people die because they can’t get a transplant. There are more people who need organs than there are donors.’

‘But Mr Fraser could have got one, if you’d not decided that money was more important than ethics.’

Cummings’ face began to turn red. ‘If you’re telling me that I made an error of judgement…’

‘Of course I am. Of course you did. You gave a kidney to someone who could pay for it.’

‘Are you saying…?’

‘Yes I am. You bumped them to the top of the list and ignored those who were already there and it’s got to stop.’

Cummings glowered, his face now a deep shade of crimson. ‘If you’re threatening me…’