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Geneva, April 1988

Jutte Hahn opened the bedroom door quietly and looked in at the sleeping figure of Sean MacLean. She smiled and flicked the hair back from her face. Anyone seeing the look in her eyes would have been in no doubt about the love that was there. She and MacLean had lived together for nearly a year now and every day seemed like the first. MacLean moved in his sleep and rolled on to his left side. Jutte came over to the bed and sat down on the edge. She ran her finger gently down the contours of his bare arm and smiled at the slight movement she induced. She stopped at his hand and thought how much she loved his touch. Strong, tanned wrists led to long sensitive fingers, surgeon’s fingers, for that was what MacLean was.

There was a gold ring on the second finger of his right hand; it had been his father’s wedding ring. She could make out the letters, JM on it and a tiny emblem, which she knew was a thistle, but could not quite see in the early light filtering through the still-closed blinds. MacLean was fiercely proud of his Scottish origins. Woe betide anyone at the clinic who called him English. Jutte smiled at the thought. MacLean was so gentle about everything else.

Jutte had met MacLean on the ski slopes above Zermatt. He had been having a weekend away from the clinic and she was employed to instruct parties of school children in the fundamentals of skiing. She had been taken aback by his directness when he came straight up to her and asked if she would have a drink with him when classes were over for the day.

When she thought back to that first evening she reflected on how easily it could have been their last. MacLean had spoken about nothing but his work. The company he worked for had come up with some new compound, which affected the kind of surgery MacLean was interested in and he was filled with such enthusiasm for it. She hadn’t understood much at the time but the one thing that struck her was that MacLean’s concern for his patients was genuine. When he had driven her home that evening she had expected him to make some kind of pass but instead he had suddenly apologised for being so boring. He had kissed her fingertips lightly and asked if he might be allowed to see her again.

After seeing each other regularly for two months they had decided to live together. If Sean MacLean had suggested they fly to the moon Jutte would have agreed without a second thought; she had fallen so much in love with him. He had become everything to her. She ran her fingers lightly along his forehead and curled a lock of dark hair. She wished with all her heart that she could do something to help him with what he was going through right now. Things had gone wrong with the project at the clinic and trials on the new compound had been abandoned. There had been a death and MacLean blamed himself.