‘I’m really sorry,’ he said. ‘I wish ...’

‘Me, too,’ the woman said. ‘You know, he’s never been a bad laddie. Cheeky, but never bad. His problem was, he was always itching for something new, something to stop him getting bored. We all know where that can lead.’

Rebus nodded, suddenly not wanting to be here, not wanting to hear Danny Simpson’s life story. He had enough ghosts to contend with as it was. He squeezed the woman’s arm.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go.’

She nodded distractedly, wandered off in the direction of her son’s bed. Rebus wanted to curse Danny Simpson for the mere possibility that he’d passed on the virus. He realised now that if they’d met on the doorstep, that’s the way their conversation would have gone, and maybe Rebus would have gone further.

He wanted to curse him ... but he couldn’t. It would be every bit as efficacious as cursing the Big Man. A waste of time and breath. So instead he went to Sammy’s room, to find that she was back on her own. No other patients, no nursing staff, no Rhona. He kissed her forehead. It tasted salty. Sweat: she needed wiping down. There was a smell he hadn’t noticed before. Talcum powder. He sat down, took her warm hands in his.

‘How are you doing, Sammy? I keep meaning to bring in some Oasis, see if that would bring you round. Your mum sits here listening to classical. I wonder if you can hear it. I don’t even know if you like that sort of stuff. Lots of things we’ve never got round to talking about.’

He saw something. Stood up to be sure. Movement behind her eyelids.

‘Sammy? Sammy?’

He hadn’t seen her do that before. Pushed the button beside her bed. Waited for a nurse to come. Pushed it again.

‘Come on, come on.’

Eyelids fluttering ... then stopping.

‘Sammy!’ Door opening, nurse coming in.

‘What is it?’

Rebus: ‘I thought I saw ... she was moving.’

‘Moving?’

‘Just her eyes, like she was trying to open them.’

‘I’ll fetch a doctor.’

‘Come on, Sammy, try again. Wakey-wakey, sweetheart.’

Patting her wrists, then her cheeks.

The doctor arrived. He was the same one Rebus had shouted at that first day. Lifted her eyelids, shone a thin torch . into them, pulling it away, checking her pupils.

‘If you saw it, I’m sure it was there.’

‘Yes, but does it mean anything?’

‘Hard to say.’

‘Try anyway.’

Eyes boring into the doctor’s.

‘She’s asleep. She has dreams. Sometimes when you dream you experience REM: Rapid Eye Movement.’

‘So it could be ...’

Rebus sought the word ’... involuntary?’

‘As I say, it’s hard to tell. Latest scans show definite improvement.’ He paused. ‘Minor improvement, but certainly there.’

Rebus nodding, trembling. The doctor saw it, asked if he needed anything. Rebus shaking his head. The doctor checking his watch, other places to be. The nurse shuffling her feet. Rebus thanked them both and headed out.