Dead of Winter - James Goss [7]
‘Extraordinary,’ sighed Dr Smith, humming along. ‘Quite beautiful.’
I agreed. ‘It is a good day, monsieur. Some days, not all of them are well enough to play.’
‘Oh, of course, a quartet.’ Dr Smith nodded gravely. ‘It must be taxing.’
‘The Elquitine sisters says it does them good… Well, the larger one does. The thin one, she does not speak…’
‘Really?’
I shook my head solemnly. ‘Why, no. Her sister says her lungs are so bad she keeps her remaining breath for herself.’
‘Ah.’ Dr Smith looked around us. ‘This is a clinic for consumption?’
‘Among other things, yes. Dr Bloom is famous for it.’
‘A place where the patients dance with creatures from the sea? That’s quite odd, isn’t it?’ He grinned.
I thought then how much you’d like him. ‘I know. Dr Bloom is not like ordinary doctors.’
‘No indeed.’ Dr Smith’s smile vanished. ‘Something’s wrong here.’
When the Elquitine sisters stopped playing, Dr Smith insisted on talking to them. Olivia, the large one, made sweet conversation while Helena, the thin, silent one sat scribbling away. Dr Smith kept up the conversation with Olivia, but I could see his eyes wandering to what Helena was writing. Her scribbles made no sense to me, but he was clearly fascinated, so much so that Helena noticed, and placed a protective hand over her work, like whenever Claude thinks I am copying his schoolwork (which I NEVER do).
‘I am so sorry,’ said Dr Smith, looking at Helena with those big eyes of his, ‘but those are wonderful equations.’
Helena said nothing, but Olivia spoke, her lips pursed disapprovingly. ‘My sister has always preferred numbers to people.’
‘Well, I can’t say I blame her.’ Dr Smith managed a quite dazzling smile. ‘Those are very beautiful numbers.’
Helena flushed, hurriedly picked up her papers, and left the room.
He was about to say something more, but we were interrupted by that angry Englishman, Monsieur Nevil. He had barely walked in and was already complaining about his breakfast.
He was yelling at one of the serving girls like an angry toad. ‘This egg is insufficiently cooked. I will not have it left runny again.’ He pounded a big fist on the table, making his little basket of pastries jump, and then glared at Dr Smith and me.
‘What?’ he demanded. ‘Have you brought us in a stranger, girl?’
I introduced Dr Smith, and Monsieur Nevil simply barked, ‘Ah, another quack! Another sawbones! I’m not surprised that old fraud Bloom has got someone else in. About time too. I keep telling him he needs to get a proper doctor. Not that you look any better, sir. I have provided Bloom with a list of physicians I have personally approved and can recommend. He pays it no attention. Says my condition is brought on by bad diet. Bad diet, I ask you! In this place even a cricket couldn’t get fat. Where is that girl?’ He swung around, his great cheeks rolling slowly after his eyes.
Dr Smith winked at me. ‘Actually, monsieur,’ he said smoothly, ‘I hear Dr Bloom has a remarkable rate of success. Are you not joining the other patients on the beach?’
‘That lot?’ spat Monsieur Nevil. ‘I’ve no time for exercise. I have work to do. Important papers and state documents and vital work that is proceeding very well and is not to be interrupted by fripperies.’ He waved an arm, dismissing us.
Dr Smith led me as far away from Monsieur Nevil as possible. We watched him yelling at a grapefruit.
Dr Smith smiled. ‘Well, I can see why you’re lonely here, Maria.’
I told him how much I missed you and the pony and the puppies, and he nodded sadly. ‘I miss my home too,’ he said. ‘Maybe, one day we’ll get back there… when Amy is quite…’ He closed his eyes. ‘Sorry,’ he sighed, tapping his head. ‘Took quite a knock last night. Not sure I’m in any better a state than she is.’
‘Have you known her long, monsieur?’ I asked him.
‘Since she was a child,’ he said, the smile widening on