Doctor Who_ The Sleep of Reason - Martin Day [89]
‘But it’s all so fantastical!’ said Liz.
‘Maybe,’ said Laska. ‘But there’s been a murder. There’s a dog out there, attacking people as they come and go. Black-and-white facts. Only the Doctor can offer any sort of explanation for what’s happened.’
‘You’ve started calling him the Doctor.’
‘I think I trust him. Anyway, sometimes it’s right to humour mad people, wouldn’t you say?’
Liz laughed. ‘I think there’ll be a padded cell for all of us when this is over.’
She paused, remembering her last encounter with Oldfield. Perhaps he was still in his office, plotting her downfall, planning his rise to power. ‘I’m sure Dr Oldfield would love to hear that I’ve just, to all intents and purposes, put the Retreat in the hands of a man who thinks he’s an alien.’
‘You’ve got more important things to worry about than Oldfield,’ said Laska.
‘I know,’ said Liz. ‘I suppose that’s part of the problem. I was distracted –
by Oldfield, by. . . other things. Perhaps I took my eye off the ball – perhaps I missed something.’
‘You mustn’t be too hard on yourself,’ insisted Laska. ‘The murder, what’s happened since then. . . It’s nobody’s fault.’
‘I feel like it is!’ said Liz.
‘Well, I’m just as guilty as you, then,’ said Laska. ‘I’ve been having these weird dreams. . . I’ve been seeing this dog thing. . . And I didn’t tell anyone.
I was distracted as well – distracted by the thought of getting out of here, at any cost. I couldn’t bear for Dr Thomson, or you, or anyone, to recommend that I stay here any longer.’
‘Ah well,’ said Liz. ‘It’s all in the past now.’
Laska was staring out of the window – doubtless searching for the dog, or the alien creatures who thrived on madness – and Liz was able to look at her 162
without interruption. Beneath the eyebrow rings, the outrageous hair, there lurked a simple, classical beauty. Cheekbones to die for, a broad forehead. . .
Every time Liz looked at Laska she remembered. . .
‘There’s something I ought to tell you,’ said Liz.
Laska turned, her eyes bright and clear. So familiar. . .
‘I’m really sorry,’ continued Liz. ‘I should have told you this months ago. I should have told you when you first came here.’
Laska’s lips were pulled tight, intrigued eyebrow half raised.
How the hell was Liz supposed to say something like this? In all her medical training she’d received no advice on how to break news to people; she’d learned more from bitter experience, and watching Casualty, than she ever had from any course or class.
Best come out with it. Hadn’t Dr Smith been going on about the importance of honesty for days?
‘Dr Oldfield has discovered that, before I came here, I was involved in what you might term a “mercy killing”,’ said Liz. ‘I was working as a GP back then.
My patient was very ill, and in quite a lot of pain. I gave him the means to ease that pain. I suppose you could also say that I gave him the means to end his life.’
‘You killed a patient?’
‘No, though that’s what I was accused of – assisting in a suicide. After many lengthy discussions with my patient I made sure that he was not in pain. But sometimes one is only truly free of pain when you. . . pass on.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’ asked Laska.
Liz compulsively grasped the younger woman’s hands, staring – almost pleadingly – into those eyes that she found so familiar.
‘It was your father,’ she said.
163
Eighteen
The World, the Flesh and the Devil
(O King of Chaos)
Extract from the Diary of the Reverend Mr William Macksey Friday 25th December 1903 (continued)
It must have been at about this time, when all hope seemed lost, that Mr Joseph Sands, summoned by the death of his uncle, drew up outside Mausolus House.
I can only imagine the sight that greeted him. By now the building was very much ablaze, the flames having travelled up through timbers and floorboards to the areas above us. In the chapel, however, I feared more for the collapse of the building than for death coming in the form of flames burning up my earthly body.
In the cells and chambers of