Dead Of Winter (Willis/Carter #1)(80)

‘Don’t touch her,’ Martingale said. ‘She pretends she likes you and she wants you to pet her, but if you do, she bites.’

Carter looked down at the cat, still meowing up at him and arching her back as she purred. ‘Story of my life . . .’ He smiled at Martingale. ‘Would you mind if we talk to you for a few minutes? We tried the hospital but they said you didn’t work Mondays.’

‘Of course, come through, and do you mind if I carry on with what I was doing while we talk?’ Martingale held gardening gloves in his hand.

‘No . . . of course not . . . thought it was a bit cold for gardening?’

‘Not in my garden. Follow me.’

They walked through the kitchen at the back of the house then into a room floor-to-ceiling with orchids. The room was a blaze of tropical colour and heady scent.

‘Wow . . .’ Carter said. He smelt the air and closed his eyes. The mist settled on his face. It reminded him of a holiday he’d had in Thailand. When they got off the plane he had felt that same humid air settle on his face. Funny . . . he hadn’t thought about that holiday in a long time. It would be ages till they could go away again, especially with a baby . . . maybe not . . . maybe her mum could look after it. Or maybe Cabrina would never come back to him.

‘Thank you. I think of it as my piece of heaven.’

‘You’ve done well.’ Carter pointed to a wall full of framed certificates for first place in orchid shows around the world. ‘Fascinating . . . I watch those programmes on the telly sometimes – about when to cut this back, dig up that . . . don’t know why . . . haven’t even got a window box. But this is sophisticated stuff . . .’ He knelt down to have a look at the timers on the misting system.

‘Maybe you’ll get a garden one day . . . then you’ll be ready.’ Martingale smiled and picked up his secateurs to start pruning.

‘Do you mind if I take a photo to show my mum?’ Carter got out his phone.

‘Please . . . go ahead. I’m very proud of my orchids. I keep striving for perfection. They are wonderful survivors in nature. They don’t need soil. They can grow on moss, tree fungi or on the jungle floor.’

‘Are they like parasites?’ Carter started taking photos.

‘Not parasites. They are survivors. What is it you want to talk to me about?’

‘We didn’t get to chat much the other day. How is the kid, by the way? The one with the appendicitis?’

‘Doing well, thank you. How can I help?’

‘Can we just go through some of the events thirteen years ago? You weren’t in this country at the time?’

‘That’s right. I was working in Europe.’

‘Poland.’

‘Poland . . . yes, in a hospital out there. I flew back as soon as it happened.’

‘Can I ask you something about Chrissie’s mother Maria?’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘It would be helpful to have an insight into her life. Start with how you met?’

Martingale gave a look of curious amusement.

‘I met Maria when she was travelling and came to South Africa. She was a friend of a friend. We met at a dinner party; she’d already been in Africa a few months. She was an artist. I invited her to stay at my family’s lodge near Kruger National Park and our romance began there.’

‘The marriage only lasted a short while, didn’t it?’ Ebony asked.

‘That’s right. She was pregnant when we married and we were divorced by the time the child was born. A whirlwind romance, you might say . . .’ He smiled.

‘Chrissie was born in South Africa?’

‘Yes . . . It was important to me to be there at the birth; to make sure everything went okay. It was just as well because the birth didn’t go as planned and Maria almost died. She was very poorly afterwards. She needed to stay in hospital and I took care of things. As soon as she and the baby were well enough she left me and sadly I did not see my daughter grow up. I visited her when I came over to work. I made sure she had the best of everything but I was denied a relationship with her.’

‘Seems strange that she didn’t want that relationship when she was older. She followed in your footsteps, after all.’

‘Yes . . . in some ways. She was more of a general practitioner than a surgeon. She followed a different, no less worthy, but different path to me.’

‘And she didn’t decide to come out and stay with you in South Africa? Or maybe she could have joined the family business and been part of your hospital empire,’ said Carter.

Martingale smiled, flattered.

‘An empire is kind of you, but it’s still small in the world. I want nothing more than to do some good on this earth. I see so much suffering, especially in the poorer countries. You can’t just allow these killer diseases to remain unchecked. You can’t stop trying to wipe them out. I may not be any good at curing the common cold but I hope to be one step closer to curing cancer.’

‘You must have made many sacrifices in your life for the sake of your career in medical science?’

‘Yes, I suppose I have. I believe it is what I was meant to do. My massive regret is sacrificing my relationship with Chrissie. It was only after her death that I realized she had no one.’

‘What about her mother? Were Chrissie and her mother close?’ asked Ebony.