Dead of Winter - James Goss [60]
‘I know.’ His voice was a whisper. ‘Don’t say it.’
‘But…’ I stroked Perdita’s face, so warm and tender. ‘My Perdita… my dearest Perdita…’
‘Dr Bloom, I am sorry.’ It sounded almost like the Doctor was crying. I couldn’t see. I didn’t want to see. ‘Your wife is a Familiar. She was never real. The Sea gave her to you. She’s been guiding you, making you do what it wants all along. I am so sorry.’
Your wife is a Familiar.
Your wife is not real.
The Sea gave her to you.
I had a sudden memory. Of standing on the beach and suddenly feeling a hand in my hair. Moving ever so gently down and stroking my shoulder. A gentle warm laugh on a cold day. And there she was. Standing there. My wife.
Perdita tilted her head to one side. ‘Dearest, what is he saying?’
‘He’s saying… he’s saying… he’s saying that you’re not real.’
Perdita dismissed it with a laugh. ‘But what does the Doctor know? He’s half the man you are. You always know what’s right. You always do.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Just this once… the Doctor is right.’
I squeezed her hand. And I shut my eyes. I’d seen what had happened to Kosov. I knew what was coming.
‘I love you,’ I said.
‘I love you,’ Perdita said back to me. And for the first time, the only time, I noticed how flat her voice was.
And then it started. A dreadful wet noise, like ice melting and falling from a roof.
When I opened my eyes, she had gone.
The Story of Rory
‘I feel dreadful,’ I said.
Things to bear in mind – as I’ve said, I’m a really bad dancer. But there I was, dancing. On a beach. With Amy. In the rain. Without a butler holding an umbrella over us. All around, the rest of the patients were dancing. It was slow. Ever so slow.
They had come down from the chateau, all of them, walking in a slow shuffle, the mist rolling around them, pouring out of their sleeves. Maria had told me she called them the Dead, and they looked like the Dead now – strange, lifeless things dancing.
Some of them were crying. Mr Nevil waltzed past, holding grimly onto Olivia Elquitine, while a dog bounded around at their feet. ‘My darling, I’m so tired,’ he sobbed to her. ‘So tired.’ She clung to him, holding him up – who would have thought that it was her who had more strength?
‘I know, my dear,’ said Olivia, gently. ‘But it’s the dog, it won’t let us stop.’
‘I am so sorry,’ sighed Mr Nevil. ‘That’s Stoker. Old fellow made me so happy. But not now… I don’t need him, now that I’ve got you.’ He squeezed her hand tighter and they danced on.
I looked at Amy, at the thing that was somehow Amy, as it dragged me on and on. ‘Why are you doing this?’
She smiled at me, just a little. ‘You’re needed for fuel. All the patients are. For sustenance. For the storm.’
‘Righto,’ I said. I could feel my legs starting to buckle. ‘Surely we can’t do this for much longer?’
Amy tugged me further and further on. ‘Until you drop,’ she said.
A Letter from Maria
St Christophe
7th December 1783
Dear Mother,
I don’t like the Doctor any more. He made Madame Bloom go away.
I feel bad now for never liking her. I really do. But I can’t unwish all the bad things I’ve thought about her now. Or can I, Mother, because I’d really like to?
I saw Dr Bloom’s face then. How much he loved her. How he couldn’t bear to look at that thing on the carpet, that bubbling thing that still had her hair.
I was very angry with the Doctor. I was furious with Prince Boris for making him do it. But I was so cross with the Doctor. I screamed at him.
He just nodded, ever so sad.
‘I am sorry,’ he said to the room. ‘I am really, really sorry. But… Dr Bloom… Johann… it had to be done.’
He had the air of someone who was hoping that what he’d said was just true.
‘The creature in the sea, it was feeding off of you. I had to break that link. Now it’s just a creature. All by itself.’
I wanted to tell him that he was wrong. But he wasn’t listening. He was just staring at Dr Bloom.
‘Open your eyes,’ said the Doctor, gently, pleadingly. ‘Please. Look at me