Dead of Winter - James Goss [50]
‘My dear Doctor!’ she shouted. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ She flashed a smile around the entire room. ‘Oh dear, whatever next! You really mustn’t be up and about, must you now?’ She took an arm, and tugged it firmly. ‘The poor man’s had quite a nasty bump. We’d better get you back to your room before you have Another One.’ She underlined the last two words very neatly. ‘And you, dear Madame Pond.’ Her voice was as sugary as a honey-coated knife. ‘Madame Pond. Here you are, up and around with that dreadful concussion of yours. Why, I do despair. If we’re not careful we’ll find you both dead in your beds tomorrow.’
That surprised me. A clear, actual threat from Mrs Bloom. Sugar-coated, but still. I raised an eyebrow.
She acknowledged the challenge with a tiny, tight little nod, as stiff as the ringlets in her hair. The nod, the smile – it all said, ‘Oh yes, I know your game, and I am telling you right now that it stops.’
Olivia Elquitine stood up again. ‘But Madame Bloom! Dr Bloom! He’s been saying such dreadful things.’
Now it was Dr Bloom’s turn, all soothing warmth. ‘I am sure he has, my dear. This poor man is ever so ill!’ He chuckled, like he was reading a Christmas cracker. ‘Why, he even thinks he’s a doctor!’ More laughter. Which the Doctor joined in with. Startlingly.
He slapped Dr Bloom on the back. ‘Absolutely. Hilarious. Naturally I came in here to tell all your patients that they were going to die. Great joke. Lovely.’
The tiny old man looked up, eyes red and rheumy, and blinked. ‘Are we still getting rice pudding?’ he asked for no apparent reason. I was with him.
‘Yes,’ snapped the Doctor, angrily and coldly. ‘There’ll be rice pudding for you, buns for everyone and plenty of orange juice for the Silurians, too.’
Mrs Bloom tugged at his arm again, and found herself holding the Doctor’s jacket. He’d slipped free of it.
He strode into the centre of the room. ‘Dr Bloom, you are a brilliant, brilliant man, but you know that what you’re trying to do is wrong – it’s a short-cut, and it’s a short-cut that isn’t going to work. I’m going to give you a tip – fresh air, rest, lots of hygiene. That’s all on the right lines. Stick with that. But stop, I absolutely beg you, stop trying to use that thing on the beach to cure these people. It’s not going to work. It can’t work.’
Dr Bloom smiled a slow ‘got you’ smile. ‘If the cure is so wrong,’ he said, ‘why have you let me use it on your friend Mr Williams?’
‘Ah.’ The Doctor’s manner fell. He was met by a storm of muttering protest from the patients.
Mrs Bloom was at his side in an instant, wrapping his jacket around his shoulders. ‘See, Doctor, you’ve got yourself all in a dreadful tizzy. We really should just pop you back in bed. Come away now and stop making such a dreadful scene…’
The Doctor’s reply, when it came, was very quiet; as soft as an old towel. ‘I am letting you cure Rory because he shouldn’t be here. He definitely shouldn’t be sick. And because he’s too important to Amy for me to let anything happen to him.’
‘Interesting,’ said Mrs Bloom, her words all gooey with caring. ‘Can’t you see what a muddle you’re in? Tch! Tch! What a pickle! Perhaps it’ll all seem clearer when you’ve had A Little Rest.’ Clearly that was a signal – the attendants moved closer, gathering in around the Doctor. I wondered if they’d invented the padded cell yet.
‘Oh, very good.’ The Doctor frowned. ‘You did it deliberately, didn’t you? You infected Rory so that… so that…’ He slumped, letting two attendants grab hold of him. I felt someone else grab my arm. So that was it then, rebellion over. Well, we’ve had better.
Dr Bloom started, frowning at the Doctor. ‘I didn’t!’ he protested, his voice troubled. ‘Please, I really must assure you.’
Eyeball-to-eyeball the Doctor replied, ‘No, you didn’t, did you? So if you didn’t, who did?’
A crackling silence settled between the two of them.
Dr Bloom faltered. ‘I don’t… I mean… I don’t know…’
The Doctor nodded. ‘Something else is going on here, Dr Bloom. You think you’re at the centre