‘Worrying doesn’t achieve anything. If we find a problem, we’ll look for a solution.’ He completed the necessary form and then washed his hands again. ‘I’m going to wait for those results before we look at anything else because I have a strong feeling that we’ve found the culprit.’

‘You’re confident.’

‘Would you prefer me to fumble and dither?’

She laughed. ‘You always were a bright boy, Conner MacNeil. Too bright, some would say. Bright and a rebel. A dangerous combination.’

Conner sat back down in his chair. ‘Call the surgery in three days for the result and then make another appointment to see me. We can talk about what to do next.’

‘All right, I’ll do that. Thank you.’ Susan picked up her bag, rose to her feet and walked to the door. Then she turned. ‘I always regretted it, you know.’

Conner looked up. ‘Regretted what?’

‘Calling the police.’ Her voice was soft. ‘At the time I thought you needed a fright. I thought a bit of discipline might sort you out. But I was wrong. You were wild. Out of control. But what you needed was a bit of love. People to believe in you. I see that now. What with everything that was happening at home—your mum and dad. Of course, none of us knew the details at the time, but—’

‘You did the right thing calling the police, Mrs Ellis,’ Conner said in a cool tone. ‘In your position I would have called them, too.’

‘At the time I was angry that they didn’t charge you.’

‘I’m sure you were.’

It was her turn to smile. ‘Now I’m pleased they didn’t. Can I ask you something?’

‘You can ask. I don’t promise to answer.’

‘There was a spate of minor shoplifting at that time but everyone else was taking sweets and crisps. You took the oddest assortment of things. What did you want it all for?’

Conner leaned back and smiled. ‘I was making a bomb.’

* * *

‘He blew up the science lab!’ Flora stood in front of Logan, trying to make him to see reason.

‘Funny.’ Logan scanned the lab result in front of him. ‘Conner said that you’d bring that up.’

‘Of course I’m bringing it up. It says everything about the type of person he is.’

‘Was.’ Logan lifted his eyes to hers. ‘It tells you who he was. Not who he is.’

‘You really think he’s changed?’

‘Are you the same person you were at fifteen?’

Agonisingly shy, barely able to string a sentence together in public. Flora flushed. ‘No,’ she said huskily. ‘Of course not.’

Logan shrugged. ‘Perhaps he’s changed, too.’

‘And what if he hasn’t? What sort of doctor is he going to make?’