Dead of Winter - James Goss [18]
‘I should be interested to hear it, my dear sir.’ I forced a grimace.
Dr Smith paused, waiting until he had all of Nevil’s attention. ‘I am afraid, Mr Nevil, that I can only agree with Dr Bloom. You are very seriously ill.’
Nevil deflated, sinking back onto the bench. ‘I see, I see,’ he gasped, his eyes rolling madly.
I nodded gratefully at Dr Smith, and then continued, gently. ‘As I was saying, enough is enough. If you won’t try the fresh air cure, then I shall simply make alternative arrangements. Please come to my study at eight o’clock tonight. If you do not attend, then I shall reluctantly ask you to leave my establishment. Is that clear?’
I did not wait for a response, I simply turned on my heel and left. These English! They are truly awful!
Perdita was her normal supportive self when I told her what had happened. ‘You did exactly the right thing, Johann,’ she enthused. ‘These rude men respect only rough handling.’
I nodded. ‘I know, I know, but it does rather lack our normal subtlety.’
She cupped a hand to my face. ‘But he’ll be delighted with the results. Mr Nevil is a very important man back in England. He’ll spread the word of your marvellous work, and then more important people will come here.’ She smiled, tapping me fondly on the nose. ‘And you will cure them all, my brilliant husband.’
I took her hand in mine and smiled up at her endlessly lovely eyes.
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘I will cure them all.’
It took a lot of arranging, but everything was prepared by eight.
Nevil marched into my study without knocking. He immediately saw the open French windows. ‘Dashed freezing in here,’ he complained. ‘That Smith fellow tried to tag along. He didn’t want me to come alone, blast him. Dashed fellow probably just saw a chance to send me a bill! I will not be mollycoddled. Do something about that perishing draught, though, will you?’ He jerked a fat thumb at the open door, swinging in the evening breeze.
I demurred. I was keenly anticipating what was about to happen. ‘I’m afraid it’s necessary.’
‘Blazes it is,’ he thundered like a cross toad. ‘It’s like my nanny, she was always making me sleep at night with the window open. Nearly killed me as a child and I’ve never stood for the cold since. Nor do I fancy wasting my time shivering under a blanket on your blessed beach. Let’s go to it – you promised me hope, and all I’ve had so far is thin soup and cheap cuts of meat.’
I bowed and drew back the curtain further, exposing the open door, the terrace, and the thing beyond it. The thing that had sat there, waiting for him.
Mr Nevil stared in horror as the thing drifted and crawled into the room.
‘What… what is that?’ he screamed.
‘That, sir,’ I said calmly. ‘That is your cure.’
The creature engulfed him.
A Letter from Maria
St Christophe
6th December 1783
Dear Mother,
The most horrible, terrible thing has happened! PLEASE come and get me! Oh, please do.
I had been looking for Monsieur Pond or Dr Smith to let them know where Amy was, and there was Monsieur Pond, standing on the veranda outside Dr Bloom’s study. He was admiring the flowers.
‘Ah, Maria, hello, your dress is very pretty,’ he said, handing me a flower. He was dressed very smartly, I noticed.
‘Why thank you,’ I said, thinking him ever so nice. ‘What are you doing out here?’
‘Taking a stroll,’ he answered after a pause. ‘Yes, taking a perfectly innocent stroll. Does that sound reasonable? It’s really quite true.’
I shook my head, smiling. ‘And monsieur, what are you really doing?’
He stuck his hands in his pockets. ‘I am waiting to see what happens. Softly, softly, catchee monkee. It can be our little secret.’ He stopped, and stuck his tongue out as though he’d just said something silly. ‘Now then,’ he said, his face stern. ‘I heard a noise and some rustling in those bushes. Was that you?’
I shook my head again.
‘Oh dear,’ he said. ‘Well, far too big to be a rat. So… what is it? And where has it gone?’
I was about to pluck up the courage to tell him about his wife and Prince Boris when there came a sudden