Dead of Winter - James Goss [58]
Perdita looked at me. ‘I know, my dear.’
‘But what are we going to do?’
She considered this. ‘I know someone who can help. But you won’t like it at all, I’m afraid.’
Which is how we ended up outside the door of my own study, knocking on it. Infernal, infuriating cheek! But Perdita nodded, encouragingly, giving me the strength to carry on. I knocked and I waited. It was like waiting to see Herr Gustaffson back at the medical academy in Switzerland. I felt suddenly like a young man again, full of ideas and nerves and…
A Letter from Maria
St Christophe
7th December 1783
Oh Mother!
I’m so scared – this place is so dreadful! I simply can’t stay here any longer. It’s just utterly, utterly terrifying. First there’s the storm and the mist – they’re both filling up the corridors. Then there’s the other patients. They’re all behaving really oddly.
Finally there’s Prince Boris, who is suddenly being REALLY NASTY.
He’s like… Oh, you remember how Aunt Claudette was always ever so nice, and ever so lovely until Uncle Jean died and left her very rich and then she became impossible and cruel and had all of his dogs put down? It’s like that, like he’s suddenly got the chance to show off just how nasty he can be. I really don’t like it. He’s jolly unpleasant.
I ran back to the Doctor who was still in the cupboard under the stairs, cradling his head.
‘Monsieur Doctor,’ I said to him. ‘How are you? I have something to tell you!’
He shook his head sadly, ‘Not now, Maria.’
I stopped.
He paused. ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry. That was rude, wasn’t it? I don’t mean to be. It’s just so much is happening and I’ve got everything wrong and I’ve lost Amy and my head hurts and I am pleased to see that you’re not affected. That’s one less thing to worry about. Actually, is it? If you don’t mind, I’ll just think about that…’
I burst into tears. It normally helps with grown-ups.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Sorry again. It’s all a bit much, isn’t it? Let’s go and hide somewhere else. Somewhere with toast would be nice.’
We ended up in Dr Bloom’s study, sitting in front of the fire.
‘Thinky thinky think,’ shouted the Doctor. He’d found a jar of biscuits and we were sharing them. They were ginger, and I didn’t much like them, but I didn’t want to say that to the Doctor as he looked ever so preoccupied and cross. I was bursting to tell him about Kosov, but the Doctor held up a hand. ‘Now then, now then. Maria, I suppose the building isn’t on fire, is it?’
I shook my head, solemnly.
‘Ah well. That’s one thing not to worry about. OK, then. Right.’ He bit off half of a biscuit, chewed it a bit and then spat it out. ‘How many of these have I eaten?’
‘Four, monsieur.’
‘Oh dear. I hate ginger biscuits. Eurch.’ He screwed his face up. ‘So, then, this is the problem. Dr Bloom’s accidentally built a giant battle computer on the beach and I think someone has realised this, but who? Who? – No, don’t interrupt, that’s a biggie. Then there’s all those people who have been cured who really shouldn’t be. Then there’s all of the knowledge that Dr Bloom has. Then there’s Amy in danger. Or Rory who’s in just as much trouble. Then there’s the fact that the one machine that could stop all this is missing. It’s a lot of problems, and I don’t know where to start, and the taste of ginger really lingers, doesn’t it?’
See, Mother, this is what the Doctor is like. I worry about having him to stay. I’m sure he’d write things on the tablecloth. And probably upset a few of the servants. But I do like him. Can we invite him, perhaps?
‘Have I left anything out?’ he asked me.
I shrugged. ‘I’m a bit confused.’
‘Me too,’ he admitted. ‘So what bit should we do something about first?’
I thought about this, swinging my legs a bit under the chair. ‘Your friends, monsieur,’ I said solemnly. ‘They are important to you.’
‘Well then, maybe. But what about Europe?’
I shrugged. He took the last biscuit, chewed it, grimaced, and finally swallowed. ‘Fine then.’
There was a knock at the door.
‘WHAT NOW?’ snapped the Doctor.
I jabbed him with my elbow.