Dead of Winter - James Goss [44]
‘What?’ The Doctor went pale.
‘Indeed.’ I put on my most candid expression. ‘He is in an advanced state of consumption.’
The Doctor looked as though he was about to say something. He stopped. He stared at me. In some ways, I was pleased. He didn’t say ‘you’re wrong’, ‘you’re lying’, ‘there must be a mistake’. He just looked at me. And nodded.
‘You haven’t done this to him?’
‘You have my word. I have taken the Hippocratic Oath. I am bound not to cause harm to others.’
‘But how… how has he caught it?’
‘How does anyone catch this dreadful illness? I have dedicated my life to eradicating it. You know this.’
‘It’s just…’ The Doctor stood up and stared out to sea. He pointed out the one thing that had been nagging at me. He wanted to shut down my clinic. The clinic that had become the only way of curing his friend. ‘It’s highly convenient.’
‘None of my doing.’
‘And yet… And yet… If I was to tell you that there was a force manipulating events… driving us to this… Well, you’d see my point?’
‘I’d see your point, yes.’
‘So, if I were to tell you that, whatever you’ve been promised, you’re not to trust it… would you believe me?’
I looked the Doctor over, carefully, before replying. What kind of man was he, I wondered?
‘I have given my life over to progress, monsieur,’ I told him. ‘Surely you can see that sometimes Fate itself takes a hand? Look at the happy accidents that have led to great progress – in order for someone to invent a wheel, they must surely have seen a log roll down a hill. The secret of bread, the genius of a candle… perhaps animal fat dripped onto the fire and burned, or some flour went mouldy on a hot day… but imagine the hand that sits behind creation, nudging these events along… it is a remarkable hand, and sometimes, rarely, we can glimpse its movements.’
The Doctor shook his head, obstinate. ‘Fate does not make my friends ill.’
‘Perhaps, in this case, monsieur, it has. In order to make you see the bigger picture.’
‘So… I have to let you cure him?’ The Doctor stood up, the chair scraping along the tiles. ‘Thank you for the chocolate. Much nicer than having a gun pointed at me. Can Amy see him?’
I spread out my hands. ‘But of course.’
The Story of Rory
I was on the beach. In a chair. The wind was blowing like a gale. Amy leaned over me. ‘Hey, babes. I’ve pulled up your blanket.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, trying not to cough. ‘It’s really not so cold out here, once you get used to it.’
She nodded. ‘Yeah.’
‘You look very beautiful,’ I told her. ‘Windswept.’
She laughed. ‘Thanks. It’s the autumn look. Pale and interesting. How are you feeling?’
I coughed a little. ‘Scared.’ I managed a brave smile.
In the distance, I could hear something singing… a strangely tuneless noise that I vaguely remembered.
She hugged me. ‘I’m scared too.’
‘I’m a bit lost… There wasn’t much call to know about tuberculosis in Leadworth.’
She smiled. ‘Well, no.’
‘It’s kind of like knowing about Bubonic Plague. Or scurvy, you know.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’m kind of glad to be a bit in ignorance. Medical people make the worst patients. We always know exactly what’s going on. It’s terrifying.’
‘You’re doing really well, though.’ She squeezed my shoulder reassuringly.
‘Kind of. I’m just sitting here.’ I shrugged, but it was difficult.
‘That’s probably a good thing.’
‘You think so, Amy?’
‘I don’t know. It’s so odd. It feels like something dreadful is going to happen.’ Amy stopped, and she shifted slightly, uncomfortable. ‘It’s just… Do you think the Doctor is right? Do you think this should all be stopped?’
I looked at Amy. I looked at the beach all around us. The wind tugging at the lonely tufts of grass. At a distance were some of the other patients, sleeping or nodding or murmuring quietly in their chairs. At the strange sea.
‘I don’t know. I’m just so scared, I can’t think straight.’ I stopped. ‘I mean, I know I should tell you that the Doctor will save me. But I’m just not sure this time.’
‘Do you trust him?’
‘You do. That’s all that matters.’
‘OK. But what if… what if I told you I don’t think he’s