Dead of Winter - James Goss [49]
What Amy Remembered
We went to the lounge, which was almost empty. The string quartet was now just the thinner Miss Elquitine, playing the violin in between fits of coughing. Scattered around the lounge were a few patients, pale as ghosts, clutching their armchairs like they were using them to grip on to life. In the corner an old lady with no teeth was slurping a cup of broth as if it was her last meal.
‘Not everyone gets cured, then?’ I asked the Doctor.
He shrugged sadly. ‘Only the important people. Another reason I don’t like what’s going on here.’
‘You’re sure Rory is perfectly safe?’
‘Oh yes.’ The Doctor waved an arm around. ‘He can’t tell them anything useful. Don’t worry. Trust me. When they realise there’s nothing there, they’ll let him go. It’ll be fine. Especially after I’ve done the next bit.’ He rubbed his hands together and then coughed loudly.
Miss Elquitine stopped playing her violin, and a hush settled over the room.
‘Ladies, Gentlemen, Boys and Girls,’ began the Doctor. ‘If I might have a word…’
It was kind of like when Hercule Poirot calls everyone into a room to say who did it, although at first everyone in the lounge looked totally uninterested. But the Doctor spoke on. He explained a lot of things – about who he was, about who they were, about why they were here. About all sorts, really.
‘The most important thing to know is that you all have a dreadful, dreadful disease – and you came here looking for a cure. Some of you are still waiting for that cure. The bad news is that the cure won’t work.’
At around about this point, some of the nurses sidled into the room, their faces sharp and interested. The Doctor spoke on. ‘There is a time for everyone. And I’m afraid to say, your time has come. You were all born too early. Dr Bloom is a brilliant man, but his cure won’t work. It can’t be allowed to.’
Helena Elquitine stood, with a little difficulty, her thin frame shaking, and pointed her violin bow at the Doctor. For a second, she looked about to speak, and then sat back down.
A tall, pale-skinned man started shouting at the Doctor. ‘What are you saying? That we’re dying?’ He laughed, a wet and deep laugh. ‘We’ve known that for years… but some of us… some of us have started to hope… that maybe one day we could be cured.’
The Doctor winced. ‘I’m here to take that hope away, sorry.’
That went down very badly. Jedward badly.
‘Tough crowd,’ I whispered to the Doctor.
He glared at me, furious. ‘Not now, Amy.’
I winced. But he’d already turned back to them, walking slowly around the room, like there was all the time in the world, talking to each one, so kind and patient. Trying to reason with them, to explain. To tell them all that they were going to have to die. He did it very nicely, I’ll say that for him. Like he was coaxing and encouraging and cajoling. But he was still spreading really very bad news.
As the Doctor talked, I noticed other patients slip in to listen to him. Mr Nevil came in, followed stiffly by the plump Elquitine sister. The Doctor started talking to a tiny, frail old man who was shaking his head sadly. I pointed out that we really should go, that we were running out of time.
‘So are these people, Amy,’ said the Doctor, straightening the old man’s blanket. He patted the man on the knee.
Olivia Elquitine stood at his side, shaking with fury. ‘What if you’re lying?’ she hissed, jabbing him with a plump finger.
The Doctor looked at her, so dreadfully still. You know how it is when it’s about to rain and there’s just a fraction of a second before the heavens open when the world pauses and braces itself? That’s how still the Doctor was.
‘Olivia, you know I’m not lying. You know. I am sorry.’ He patted her on the shoulder.
Mr Nevil was next, the great brute of a man looking scared. He was huge, old and large, but now he just looked like a scared little boy. Olivia grasped his hand protectively.
At that moment, Dr Bloom made his grand entrance with his wife at his side. They looked magnificently cross. Dr Bloom was in