Doctor Who_ The Sleep of Reason - Martin Day [73]
But, with delicious irony, Joe’s betrayal of Liz sat heavy in Susannah’s stomach. Indeed, Susannah had tried to avoid Liz as much as possible – she couldn’t even bear to look into Liz’s eyes. The trouble was, if Susannah’s unease became any more overt, Liz might begin to suspect something – and her fellow nurses would only be too happy to point the finger.
Far from being fun – posh restaurant meals with an older, richer man, nights at his place when Liz was working – it had become a balancing act, a worry.
Perhaps she should quit, while she was ahead, and while no one knew. It would be impossible to keep a lid on this forever – and if the pure fun was balanced by thoughts such as responsibility it was surely time to go.
As Susannah stepped outside she was surprised to see Dr Oldfield coming towards her. It looked like he’d popped out to get something from his car and was now taking a short cut back into the building.
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They exchanged reserved smiles and Oldfield seemed to pass by, his mind on other things.
Then Susannah noticed that he was still in the doorway, staring at her with his little piggy eyes.
Bollocks. That meant he wanted to talk to her.
‘Would you care to join me, Dr Oldfield?’ Susannah asked, offering the packet of cigarettes towards the man.
He almost visibly recoiled but was not, unfortunately, entirely repulsed. ‘No.
Thank you.’
‘I know I should give up,’ said Susannah, struggling with her lighter (it had the Playboy logo on it; Joe had given it to her, as a joke, though she wasn’t quite sure on whom). ‘Have you seen the latest adverts? Gross. But, when the moment comes. . . I just don’t seem to be able to do it.’
‘I’m not unsympathetic,’ said Oldfield. ‘It’s an addiction, like any other.’
Susannah wasn’t entirely sure she liked being equated with thieving inner-city junkies or churchyard tramps who smelled of meths.
Oldfield stood in the doorway, watching Susannah smoke. She wished he would just come out with whatever it was that was bothering him, and then bugger off.
‘I was hoping to run into you,’ he announced suddenly. ‘Some interested parties have asked me to write a report on the Retreat. There are concerns that this place isn’t as well managed as it could be.’
Susannah looked at him. She couldn’t work out why he was telling her this.
‘In the process of putting this together. . . I’ve heard many things, especially where Dr Bartholomew is concerned. I get the impression that there’s some secret in her past that she wants to keep hidden.’
‘We all have secrets, Dr Oldfield.’
The man smirked. ‘Indeed we do. But this particular. . . undisclosed matter. . . is potentially vital. It calls into question the integrity of Dr Bartholomew and her suitability to be in charge of this establishment.’
‘Well, I’m sorry I can’t help you, Dr Oldfield.’ A dark shadow formed at the back of Susannah’s mind, the first inkling that she knew where this might be leading.
Oldfield’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you sure? This conversation, of course, is off the record – but it’s possible we might need to talk soon in a more official context.’
‘I don’t know the first thing about Liz!’ exclaimed Susannah.
‘I have heard that you’re on very good terms with Dr Bartholomew’s husband.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’
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‘Really? That is disappointing. An unguarded moment of pillow talk. . .
That might be just what I’m looking for.’
‘How dare you!’ Susannah was furious now, furious that such information now seemed to be public knowledge, furious about what that might mean for her work at the Retreat. She was, after all, reasonably well paid for what she did, one of many benefits of the Retreat’s quasi-private employment practices.
Susannah knew she’d never get another nursing job quite as cushy as this one; the anger that flowed through her veins now was triggered more by thoughts of survival than anything else.
‘I think you’re forgetting our relative positions here, Nurse Harvey.’ Oldfield