Dead of Winter - James Goss [59]
‘Whatever,’ he tutted. ‘Sorry! Come in!’
The door opened, and Dr Bloom walked in with his wife.
‘If I could perhaps have a word?’ he asked.
Dr Bloom’s Journal
7th December 1783
‘Come in!’ The Doctor sounded impatient and actually cross at being disturbed.
‘I do hope I’m not intruding,’ I said, managing, I hoped, not to sound sarcastic.
The Doctor actually waved an arm around airily. ‘Oh, not at all, not at all.’ He handed me a tin. ‘Biscuit?’ he said.
The tin, I noticed, was empty. Perdita had made me those biscuits.
‘Um,’ he said, snatching the tin back. ‘They’re all gone. Don’t worry, though, they were rubbish.’ He pulled a face.
How dare he, how dare he.
Perdita placed a soothing hand on my shoulder.
‘It’s not going very well, is it, Dr Bloom – I did warn you.’ The Doctor waved a finger at me like a patronising teacher.
I held my breath. Perdita stepped in. ‘My husband is as alarmed by this turn of events as you are. Which is why we came to see you.’
‘And you found me very quickly. Very quickly.’ The Doctor glared at dear Perdita. ‘I did wonder. Oh yes. Where are the rest of the patients?’
I shrugged. ‘Roaming the grounds, perhaps. Or down on the beach. In this weather. It’s not ideal. And Prince Boris—’
‘Never mind,’ snapped the Doctor. ‘There’s something you should know, Dr Bloom. There is a way of weakening the creature’s psychic connection over the clinic, but I just don’t want to use it. It’s more important that I find out who is behind all this.’
I tried to tell him again, but that was, of course, when the French windows opened. And there was Prince Boris, striding in. It was quite an entrance. He was smiling and even swaggering a little.
‘Doctor, you cannot be allowed to stop Dr Bloom’s work. I forbid it.’ He stopped, as though swallowing something. ‘We can’t have you standing in the way of progress, dear sir.’
The Doctor boggled at Boris. ‘Prince Boris… are you… feeling all right?’
Boris paused for a second, his confidence fading. ‘I… I don’t know.’ He pressed a hand to his temple. ‘Something is pressing down on my head. My mind… Oh, Doctor.’ He stretched out his hands, pleading. ‘It hurts. Please… can you stop it? I’m not myself! I can’t control my thoughts!’ He staggered back against the wall.
‘It’s the psychic link,’ said the Doctor grimly. ‘I’ve got to stop whoever is controlling it.’
Boris looked up, his teeth gritted. ‘I know. Please… stop it!’
The Doctor turned to me. His face looked so sad. I felt Perdita grip my hand.
‘Dr Bloom…’ he began, and then stopped.
‘Do it!’ urged Prince Boris. ‘For pity’s sake.’ He gasped and stared at me. ‘Damn you, Bloom, what about your wife?’
‘Not Perdita!’ I said. ‘Not my dear wife. She wouldn’t harm a hair on anyone’s head. She is my rock.’
And then the Doctor did something dreadful.
I cannot believe what happened.
‘Dr Bloom,’ he began. ‘I’m sorry, but how long have you known your wife?’
What a stupid question. I told him he was being an idiot.
‘No, but really…?’ The Doctor stared at me. ‘Think about it. When did you first meet?’
I stared back at him.
Perdita squeezed my hand. ‘Tell him, my dear.’
I stood there. Rooted to the spot. Feeling sick. I looked at Perdita. At her grip on my hand. At her smile.
‘I… Does it matter?’
‘Yes,’ said the Doctor. ‘It matters very much. I have to try and weaken the psychic grip of The Sea. I have to. And I have to do something. Tell me, Dr Bloom. When did you first meet your wife?’
I licked my lips and frowned. ‘I can’t remember.’ I turned to Perdita. ‘When did I meet you, dearest?’
She looked back at me and smiled. ‘Whenever you say I met you, dearest.’
I staggered. My knees went. My stomach heaved. And yet I just carried on gripping her hand.
‘No, Perdita, my love, when did we meet?’
She carried on looking at me, as calm as a lake.
Oh please, oh please, oh please, no.
‘Whenever you say, dear,’ she repeated. ‘You always know what’s best.’
I tried to look away from her, but I couldn’t. I wanted to look the Doctor in the face and scream