Like the Suzi Lake Centre? Is that what happened, the women independently joined the drugs trials and . . . No! ‘And the screaming came from down there.’ That’s what Ronnie told me. That does not sound like a safe environment.
‘Four women were taken there.’ I present Janice with the truth. ‘I believe that they were tested on without their consent. Only one managed to get away.’ Rage boils so hot I’m on the point of exploding. Patrick Walsh, of all people, wasn’t far off the truth when he talked about experiments, minus the aliens. ‘Is that what you’re calling revolutionary—’
‘I didn’t know any of that,’ she vigorously denies. Her fingers fold together, the knuckles white beneath. ‘I became aware of certain rumours and I made the decision to leave.’
‘Rumours?’ I refuse to let up on her.
Janice places her palms together in front of her face, as though she’s about to pray. Slowly and calmly her hands come up to sweep the hair off her forehead.
‘In passing I heard some of the team whispering about the testing that went on at night. I didn’t like the sound of it. One day I asked my manager about it. He brushed it all off as nonsense. When I came in the next day, my belongings and work had been moved around in my office. I understand that this type of scare tactic is sometimes used by criminals to warn someone to mind their business. Well, I didn’t take the hint and continued to ask questions.’ Her breath changes. Ragged and harsh in the air. ‘When I came in one day my manager asked to see me . . .’
Janice swallows. ‘When I went into his office a security guard I’d never seen before with a vicious-looking dog was also present. I was manhandled and forced against the wall.’ Her hand self-consciously rubs her neck, which makes me think he did more than back her into the wall. ‘He searched me; I think to ensure I had nothing that belonged to Pretty Lanes on my person.’
I’m stunned by her revelations.
‘When one of the trustees arrived I was made to sign what we’d now call a non-disclosure agreement. All my personal belongings had been shoved into a box; my contract was terminated. When I left I never looked back.’
‘Was the trustee Danny Greene?’
The rattled expression Janice suddenly wears gives me my answer.
I understand the fear she was in, the terror. Still . . . ‘You still should’ve gone to the authorities. Told someone.’
‘I didn’t have any evidence of wrongdoing,’ she cries. ‘The people at the top of Pretty Lanes were powerful. I heard that Danny Greene knew people. One word in the wrong ear and who knows what might have happened to me. Even when I heard that Pretty Lanes had closed up shop for good at the end of ’94, I was still looking over my shoulder.’
‘How did you end up working back here?’
‘Power.’ Her chin tilts up. ‘I’m one of the most powerful people in the field of respiratory care. I was headhunted for the role. I was no longer the young lass from a mining community up north who was driven from here by a bunch of thugs.’
Janice stands and walks to the window and stares out at the derelict medical block. I can’t join her because all I will hear are the screams and groans of my mother, a child and another woman as their lives were unlawfully taken from them.
‘They wanted to give me an office at the other end of the building’ – Janice’s eyes never wavering from the ugly, squat building – ‘but I chose this one. And do you know why? So that every day I come in and the first thing I do is look out the window and stare that building down. Remind myself that living in fear is something I will never do again.’
‘Can you tell—？’
Janice stops me. ‘I can’t tell you anything else. I’ve signed that agreement and have to live by it.’
That doesn’t stop me from probing further. ‘It must have been lucrative what they were doing. Pretty Lanes was willing to commit murder to get this drug out on the market.’
‘A new drug on the market that deals with treatment of a disease suffered by many people rather than the ailments of the few is always going to be worth big business.’ Janice tightens her lips.
My mind starts racing. A disease suffered by many. I have to hold on to the wall.
The words are forced from my mouth. ‘Was it the asthma drug we use in the clinic?’
The bleakness of her eyes gives me my answer. And devastates me.
The tidal wave of a dark history threatens to sweep me off my feet as soon as I’ve left Janice’s office. Numbness creeps up my legs. I’m going to collapse. I make it as far as the fire exit stairs. An animal grunt of rawness explodes from my mouth, crashing me down on to the rusty stairs. I sag into the rails. My fingers fuse with the cold steel, desperate for something to cling on to. An evil history surrounds me. It’s the ghost not just of Hope, Amina and Sheryl, but of all the black women whose bodies were taken from them. Whose free will was whipped away. That’s what Ronnie ran away from. What happened to Hope, Sheryl and Amina. The bastards tied them down, drugged them and did what they liked with their bodies. And Danny, my own father, was one of the ringleaders.