Doctor Who_ The Taint - Michael Collier [18]
The Doctor went over to her and crouched by her side. 'I'm delighted to meet you, Mrs Kreiner. Your son seems virtuous and trustworthy.' He nodded encouragingly as if hoping she would agree, but Mrs Kreiner just smiled, her heavily lined face reluctantly stretching itself over her old bones, her voice reedy and surprisingly low.
'He's a comfort to me, Doctor, a rare comfort. It's not been easy for him, growing up with only me to look after him. But youth, it must have his fling, mustn't it?'
The elderly had always irritated Maria. The way they'd launch into reminiscence at the drop of a hat. Still, the Doctor was nodding, expressing his interest. 'I suppose his surname -'
'I was young, Doctor, in love.' Mrs Kreiner's smile dropped a little; her watery eyes seemed more distant.
The Doctor squeezed her hand, and his eyes looked like hers. 'Love has little time for consequences, does it?' he said.
'Otto's nationality meant nothing to me. People warned me away, you know, but I wouldn't listen. People are always warning about something, aren't they?'
'Yes,' said Russell Waller.
Maria looked at him, her eyes narrowed. The old dear was harmless enough, although she'd deserved all she'd got being a Kraut-lover. The captain was looking at the floor: he didn't approve, and quite right too. But Russell... She looked in contempt at the lock of hair over his high forehead, styled into a rigid hook by Brylcreem. She could always tell when he was nervous; not through any real familiarity with the man, but through the way he always tugged on the hair as if anxious it would move, betray him, give away his secret. He was always so pathetically overeager, so desperate to insinuate himself into conversations, only to realise he had nothing to say once there. What had he ever experienced outside of institutions all his short life? The old dear rambled on about love, but what could Russell understand about that?
The Doctor spared him a look and a smile, more acknowledgement than the idiot was surely used to. But Mrs Kreiner was still going.
'Fitz should have known his dad for longer...'
There she went, waterworks again. She watched the Doctor offer Mrs Kreiner a handkerchief and squeeze her hand a little uncertainly. The old woman smiled in gratitude. Kindness. Maria's mother had always said it made the world go round. That was why she'd been so keen on having a nurse for a daughter, thinking of all the kindnesses her little girl could bestow upon the world.
Maria looked at Roley, hovering by the doorway. He looked unsettled and ugly in the thick light of the candles on the table.
She hated it when he looked ugly.
***
Sam tried not to grimace as she sipped a gin and tonic that was far stronger than she was. She didn't normally drink, but what the hell -it was a night off as well as a night out. Molly smiled knowingly at her from behind the bar, and Sam wondered how hot it had to get in here before the woman's caked-in-make-up face began to drip on to the polished mahogany of the bar that was clearly her pride and joy. She knew why she was receiving this exceptional treatment - she was Fitz's woman. Against all odds, that counted for something here.
The evening was going well. They'd played pool in a pub down Gardner Street (she'd found herself looking for the 50p slot on the table, then been informed it was three and ten pence ha'penny for each game - how did anyone survive pre-decimal?), been to a pretty reasonable Italian (she'd had a salad - not much in the way of veggie nosh round here) and then on to Molly's as promised, which had turned out to be a small club in the basement of a big brick building down Mercer Street. Sam made a mental note to visit this place in her own time, to see what had become of it. The brickwork was painted black, and was adorned with murals so bright they hurt the eyes -even after a couple of these lethal gins to numb the senses.
The floor was like a patio, all concrete paving apart from some wooden floorboards set directly into cement