Doctor Who_ Last of the Gaderene - Mark Gatiss [34]
Still, Miss Plowman had been a tower of strength and the parade of floats that would drive through the village would be the finest in living memory. Max had even had a message from the Bliss woman at the aerodrome, promising a spectacular display of some kind. That would put the icing very nicely on the cake.
The door was suddenly pushed open, setting the little brass bell clanging sharply.
Max swung round, mouth open, ready to start complaining. Ted was framed in the doorway, his son held in his outstretched arms.
‘Oh my God!’ cried Max, his hands flying to his mouth.
Ted’s face was a mask of pained concern. ‘Quick! Help me.’
He staggered inside the post office and gently let Noah down into his brother’s arms. Max shunted the boy to a chair and pushed back his blood-matted blond hair.
‘What happened? Has he been in a fight?’ Max peered at the ugly wound on Noah’s head.
‘I told you, Ted Bishop. How many times did I tell you?
That boy’s a danger to himself.’
Ted came in from the back room, clutching a glass of water and bottle of brandy. ‘It’s nothing like that,’ he said, struggling to get his breath back. ‘At least I don’t think so.’
He splashed cold water on to Noah’s face and gently slapped at his cheeks. There was no response. The boy’s face was clammy and bloodless.
Max folded his arms. ‘It’s serious, Ted. I’ll call an ambulance.’
Ted nodded absently, taking the seat next to his son and cradling Noah’s head in his arms. He managed to raise a glass of brandy to the boy’s lips and, for the first time since he had found him, there was some response. Noah licked his lips and groaned gently.
Ted looked up at his brother who was tugging anxiously at the tips of his bow tie. ‘I found him in a ditch up by the aerodrome.’
Max tutted, reaching across the counter for the telephone.
‘Well, that’s it, then. Probably got himself clipped by one of those bloomin’ great lorries. I said something nasty would happen, didn’t I? Didn’t I say, Ted?’
Ted nodded, frowning. There were great beads of sweat standing out on Noah’s forehead. Max dialled a number and walked through into the back room, trailing the phone lead behind him.
Noah’s eyes flicked open and he stared wildly ahead, as though waking from a nightmare. He started to breath stertorously in and out, his hands gripping his father’s arms as though for dear life.
Ted began to shush him gently, stroking the boy’s hair out of his eyes. ‘It’s OK. It’s OK, Noah. It’s just your dad. I’m here.’
Noah shook his head, his eyes still fixed ahead, as though on a distant horizon.
‘No,’ he gasped. ‘No!’
His eyelids fluttered and his head sank back on to Ted’s chest. In a moment, he was unconscious again.
Max returned from the back of the shop, biting his lip.
‘Well?’ said Ted.
Max shook his head slowly. ‘You won’t believe this. I dialled 999.’
And?’
Max frowned. ‘There was a voice at the other end.’
Ted nodded impatiently. ‘Switchboard?’
Max shook his head. ‘No. It was a funny kind of voice.
They said... they said the number was unobtainable.’
The room was silent except for the occasional click and whir of the computer banks standing by the far wall. Elaborate shades had been put up to cover most of the huge, panoramic window which dominated the office. Strips of black night were vaguely discernible through the heavy material.
Behind the wooden crescent of the desk sat the imposing figure of Bliss, still and alert, like a fat cat ready to pounce.
She cradled the telephone in her hand, the receiver pressed close to her ear, listening to a faraway voice. She nodded and absently pushed the oily black fringe of hair out of her eyes.
Her nose twitched from side to side in a constant tic.
‘Yes.’ Her voice was calm and confident. ‘Yes. I understand.’
The voice at the other end of the phone spoke