Doctor Who_ Atom Bomb Blues - Andrew Cartmel [31]
‘Ah, now, Mrs Oppy,’ said Rosalita with a tight smile. She set the mop aside and used a fragment of the broken pot to scrape the heap of chilli and other shattered crockery into a dustpan. ‘You’re ribbing me, huh?’
‘I’m going to start asking you for a cut of the takings,’ said Kitty. ‘Oppy doesn’t provide me with enough pin money.’
‘She’s ribbing me,’ said Rosalita contentedly, emptying the dustpan into a large metal garbage can that stood just inside the door. She shut the can, gave the floor a final mopping, then bustled to the sink and carefully washed the dustpan, the mop and her hands. While she did this, Kitty turned and looked at the Doctor and Ace.
‘Why in heaven’s name didn’t you come in and say hello.’
‘We didn’t want to disturb you,’ said Ace.
‘You looked like you were still recovering from the party,’ said the Doctor.
‘Well, come on through now. Oppy’s out working and Peter is asleep.’ Peter was the Oppenheimers’ four-year-old and he seemed to Ace to have an 54
admirable capacity for slumber. He’d even managed to sleep through the cacophony of the previous night’s party. ‘I’m all alone out here except for Rosalita,’ said Kitty, mock wistfully.
Rosalita dried her hands and turned to the stove. She reached for a large black metal saucepan and dragged it on to the gas flame that still flickered and hissed on the range. ‘Now I warm up some of last night’s chilli for you.
It’ll be just as tasty, you see.’
‘Come and visit with me while it’s warming up,’ said Kitty. ‘Rosalita, fix us some coffee.’
‘Yes, Mrs Oppy.’
The Doctor and Ace spent half an hour in the sitting room chatting with Kitty and then left with their chilli, safe in a new ceramic casserole snugly secured in a basket. Ace carried it, swinging the braided handle in her fingers as they walked down Bathtub Row. ‘Mind you don’t drop it,’ said the Doctor.
‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to lose my supper again. As it were. Doctor. . . ’
‘Yes?’
‘Last night Kitty kept going on about a woman called Tattle or something.’
‘Tatlock. Jean Tatlock.’
‘She really seems to hate her guts.’
‘Hmm. Yes, well Jean Tatlock was a rival for Oppy’s affections when they first met.’
Ace strolled along beside the Doctor in the dark. There were trees overhead and the moonlight came through the leaves in gently swaying patches as the branches moved in the breeze. ‘An ex-girlfriend. Yeah, I sussed that. But she said something about this Tatlock woman – I think she said bitch, actually –
being one of the reasons that Major Butcher is snooping around.’
‘That’s correct. You see, Jean Tatlock, Oppy’s old flame, was deeply involved in radical politics and under her influence Oppy drifted into similar circles.
Since his marriage to Kitty, however, he has foresworn any such associations.
Fortunately for the US government.’
‘Why fortunately?’
‘Because they don’t want their atomic weapons being made by a man who is politically suspect. Which in the current climate translates as communist.’
‘You mean they think Oppenheimer might be a spy for the Russians?’
‘Ridiculous as it seems, yes. Although Major Butcher would be better off devoting some of his time to snooping around some of the other personnel on the Hill. Our friend, Klaus Fuchs, the Wagner buff, for example.’ But Ace was hardly listening. She hefted the basket, feeling the warmth coming off the container and smelling the chilli inside.
‘Where are we going to eat? In your room?’
55
‘No. I’m afraid in this period people would look askance at your presence in my room, to say the least.’
‘Then where are we going to eat?’
Cosmic Ray Morita looked up from the large earthenware pot they had set on one of the small tables in his front room. ‘This is very groovy of you cats,’ he said, holding his face in the aromatic steam that rose as he tilted the lid. ‘Sure smells good.’
‘You’re sure you haven’t eaten already?’ said the Doctor politely.
‘Oh I’ve eaten already,’ said Ray. ‘But so what, daddy-o, so what?’ He patted the comfortable