Doctor Who_ The Sleep of Reason - Martin Day [115]
The fire at the Retreat had featured on the local news, even making a few national papers until the usual mix of soap stars and political spin returned to the fore. None of the reports got anywhere near the truth, of course. To be fair, every time Laska talked with someone else who had been there, their stories didn’t quite seem to tally. And who would believe them anyway?
Laska remembered that Joe Bartholomew had triumphantly reconnected the fire alarms and sprinklers, then set about sorting out the phones. Both were, he said, simple enough repairs. Someone – he didn’t actually say James, but it was clear enough who he meant – had hacked through the wires with some cutters. His only real skill was in overriding the failsafes.
After that, everything happened in a rush. Laska had gathered with the 215
others on the lawns, watching as the firemen set about dousing the flames and checking each room in turn for occupants. Other than those poor unfortunates who had been crushed either by the panic or the falling beam, most of the staff and patients had escaped with barely a scratch.
Laska had snuggled into her silver foil blanket, drained and exhausted by all that had happened. She watched as Liz quizzed Dr Smith, clearly unable to entirely accept his version of events.
‘It doesn’t matter how I ended up in the casket,’ Smith had said. ‘What’s vital is that the Sholem-Luz were destroyed, back in 1903.’
‘Destroyed?’ said Liz.
‘Destroyed in a fire of their own invention,’ said Smith. ‘Eliminated before they could scatter any more seeds on the Time Winds.’
Liz shook her head. ‘I still don’t believe half the things you’re telling me.’
Just for a moment Smith seemed upset by Liz’s unwillingness to trust him.
‘You’ve seen many strange events over the past few hours,’ he said. ‘Do you have a better explanation?’
Liz had laughed at that, just for a moment much more like her old self. ‘Of course I don’t!’
‘There you go, then,’ said Smith triumphantly, as if that confirmed everything.
Joe had come over at that moment, whispering urgently to Liz. It was obvious what they were talking about, but it was clear that Liz wasn’t in the mood to talk about their future – or even if they had one.
As if respecting their privacy, Smith and his friends had disappeared soon afterwards. Laska hadn’t seen him since. She missed him terribly, but Dr Thomson seemed to be trying his best to assume the mantle of the Retreat’s resident eccentric. He’d taught himself to juggle, and the purchase of a uni-cycle was planned. Laska wasn’t sure if this was the sort of behaviour that Dr Smith entirely approved of, but perhaps Mike Thomson was just glad to be alive, and was revelling in that.
Laska could identify with that feeling.
Dr Oldfield’s reaction to the fire was altogether different. He had returned to work even more sullen than before, though at least – it was said – he had withdrawn his threat to expose Liz’s secrecy. Laska was happy to hear that: Liz was a good woman, whatever mistakes she may or may not have made in the past. And Laska’s father clearly had the utmost time and respect for her.
After a week or two at work, Oldfield had abruptly quit, though against all expectation he had no job waiting for him elsewhere. Dr Thomson had joked that perhaps he had seen something on the night of the fire that made him doubt his own sanity. He wouldn’t have been the only one.
Whatever the reason for his departure, no one was sad to see him go.
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‘That’s very good, you know.’
Laska turned, not entirely able to disguise her delight.
She’d hoped he’d come – especially today, of all days.
‘Dr Smith!’ she exclaimed. ‘Doctor!’
There he stood, as calm and unruffled as ever, the wind playing through his flowing hair. Fitz and Trix stood a way off. They grinned at Laska and waved, but clearly did not wish to intrude any further.
Laska was delighted at their tact. Impulsively she leaped to her feet and hugged Dr Smith. ‘I thought you’d forgotten about me!’ she said.
‘Of course not,’ said Smith, grinning at