And the Rest Is History(28)

‘Everyone knows about the underground aliens in Saffron Walden. Do you know about the tunnel to the centre of the earth? Starts under Shepton Mallet.’

‘No.’

‘True as I’m sitting here.’

‘Well, for God’s sake don’t tell Professor Rapson.’

‘Who do you think told me? Is he for real, by the way?’

I said with the smoothness of long practice, ‘Professor Rapson is a valued and highly regarded member of this establishment.’

‘Dear God, whatever must the others be like?’

I was a little annoyed by this unwarranted criticism of my unit. And by a complete stranger, too.

‘You surely didn’t take this job without checking us out first?’

‘Well, I did several times mention the possibility of a preliminary visit before I committed myself, but I don’t think Dr Bairstow heard me.’

‘And that wasn’t your first clue?’

He was frowning at his scratchpad. ‘According to this, your records show you’re down for an eye test. And have been for quite some time.’

I closed my eyes. So that I wouldn’t wear them out, presumably.

‘Not … now.’

‘Of course not now. Whenever you have a moment.’

I nodded. That moment was never going to come. I’d see to that.

‘So, how are you feeling?’

I stared at him, bewildered.

He became aware of the silence and looked up. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘I’m confused by the question.’

‘Didn’t you understand it?’

‘Yes, but I’ve never actually heard it asked in this room before.’

He looked around. ‘This is the medical section?’

I nodded. ‘Yes, but the previous incumbent … Helen…’ I stumbled. ‘Dr Foster’s policy was to tell us how we felt, hold us entirely to blame for whatever had befallen us, outline the treatment we were to receive in gruesome detail, and describe the consequences should we fail to respond.’

My words seemed to drop into some sort of dark hole, because that was the moment I realised I’d never see her again. Never hear her voice again. Never watch her puffing her cigarette smoke out of the window. She was gone for ever.

My voice failed me. My eyes filled up with tears. I struggled.

He pushed a box of tissues across the desk.

I pushed it back again.

He smiled. ‘It’s all right to let go, you know.’

I shook my head. ‘Not in front of a member of the medical profession. They can smell fear.’

‘Very wise. Let me make you some cocoa.’

‘What?’

‘Cocoa. Magic stuff. Heals all wounds.’

‘I thought that was time.’

‘No, it’s cocoa.’

He passed me a mug of frothy brown stuff and I sipped suspiciously. It was gorgeous.

He sat back with his own mug. ‘When I was a med student’ – last Wednesday, presumably – ‘it was part of my seduction routine. I have a theory that you can overcome resistance and induce feelings of goodwill and cooperation in the opposite sex by feeding them hot sweet drinks. I scored my highest success rate with cocoa.’

‘How high?’

‘Oh. Um…’ He looked like a shifty twelve-year-old caught shoplifting.

‘How often did it work?’

‘Once.’

Out of how many attempts?

‘Several hundred. I think.’

‘Perhaps you could favour me with your definition of the words “success rate”.’

He sagged with dejection. Or possibly rejection. Whatever it was, his shoulders dropped. Even his sticky-out ears drooped.

I hardened my heart. ‘I hate to add to your catalogue of failures, but I don’t want to sleep with you either. Cocoa or no cocoa.’

He drooped even further. I began to feel like a bit of a monster. ‘Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just not very good at handling sympathy.’

He sat back. ‘Well, not handling sympathy is nothing to be proud of, is it? It’s like proudly announcing you bite your fingernails. You know – a bad habit. Harmless but not pleasant.’

‘But something to be proud of if you’ve just weaned yourself off heroin.’

Now he stared at me. ‘What?’

‘Well, if your previous bad habit was drugs and you’ve downsized to fingernail biting, then don’t you think that’s something to be proud of?’

‘Tell me,’ he said carefully. ‘Are you a glass half full or a glass half empty person?’

I said, ‘Well, it depends where you are at the time. The Technical Section will say never mind whether it’s half empty or half full, the glass was obviously too big in the first place. Dr Dowson will tell you it’s not contemporary to the time period and you should be using a goblet. The History Department will enquire what bloody glass? The Security Section will be gloomily surveying the broken shards on the floor, and Mrs Mack will just tell you to get out of her kitchen.

He blinked, but at that moment, Hunter stuck her head around the door to tell me Leon was asking for me.





They’d put the sleeping Matthew in the isolation ward. I stared through the window at the skinny form under the bedclothes.