She looked at me angrily. ‘That wasn’t what I meant.’
‘But it was what I meant. Only thirteen. If you’d told them what they wanted to know they’d have shoved the whole unit against a wall, shot you all, and taken the pods anyway. That would have been the end of more than just St Mary’s. I know how you must have felt, seeing your people die one by one – I’ve seen that happen myself – but you did exactly the right thing, Chief. You did your duty. Grieve for your friends and colleagues by all means, but the blame for all this does not lie with you. I don’t blame you. No one out there blames you. Don’t you blame you, either.’
She lay back on the pillows, turned her head, and stared out of the dark window, blinking angrily. I thought it best to leave her. She wouldn’t want to cry in front of me. I got to my feet.
‘I’ll leave you to rest. If you like, I can come back later.’
She nodded, still not looking at me.
As I reached the door, she said, ‘There’s a data cube. Buried in the sand bucket behind my office door. Could you bring it to me, please?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome …’ I paused and waited.
She sighed again. ‘They call me … Pinkie.’ Her voice still wasn’t strong, but I could hear the challenge.
I kept my face straight and nodded solemnly. ‘Goodnight, Pinkie.’
Chapter Eight
I got an hour’s sleep and woke to my first day as Director of St Mary’s.
I breakfasted with Peterson and Guthrie, and then we went to the briefing. Standing in front of them that morning was worse than my presentation at Thirsk, when at least I’d had a supporting cast of dinosaurs and volcanoes and a conscious Chief Farrell. And car-crashing sex afterwards, but it was probably best not to think about that now.
I was accustomed to moderately hostile audiences – St Mary’s could be a tough gig. I’d even had people hanging on my every word (not as often as I would like, obviously), but I’d never before had to deal with apathy. They sat huddled together, taking up far fewer seats than I would have liked. However, at least they were here. Some had made it down from Sick Bay, which was good. I don’t know how their Director had handled his briefings but I stood in Dr Bairstow’s accustomed spot on the half-landing in the hall. They could see me, I could see them, and not too far away.
‘Good morning, everyone. For anyone who has just regained consciousness or hasn’t seen me yet, my name is Max, and I’ve been appointed Caretaker Director for the next few weeks. I’m afraid I don’t know many of you yet, so can you get yourselves a sticky label, write your first name on it, and stick it where I can see it. Please bear in mind that I’m not very tall.’
If I’d said that at my St Mary’s, the buggers would be wearing them at groin height. Everyone solemnly pasted labels on their left-hand breast pockets. This unit had absolutely no sense of humour.
‘I’d like to congratulate you all on your performance these last weeks. You have survived. You won back your unit and soon you will have your pods back, as well. This is a huge achievement and you should be very proud of yourselves. St Mary’s thanks you for your service.’
There was a slight murmur. Of what, I wasn’t sure.
‘I would now like to call for a two-minute silence to remember the friends and colleagues who aren’t here with us today.’
They stood, and for two minutes, you could have heard a mouse breathe. It is a sad fact of life that the only time St Mary’s is really silent is when something awful has happened.
I proceeded briskly. ‘Now then, to business. Our priority is to get our unit up and running so we can get our pods back. I’m going to run through the details now, and I’ll answer your questions at the end.’
I said this to forestall any awkward questions. I certainly wasn’t going to ask if anyone wanted to leave. I didn’t want to give anyone the slightest opportunity to bolt out of the door. I was going to proceed on the assumption they were all going to stay. I hoped that by the time I got to the end, they would all want to stay. Fingers crossed.
‘Right. First on the list is the most important department in the building.’ They all sat up in expectation. ‘Where’s the kitchen crew?’
There was a gasp and then, thank God, someone laughed. Three or four people stood up. ‘Firstly, thank you for breakfast.’
They smiled.
‘Are we OK for lunch?’
They looked at each other, but a leader usually emerges.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m Christine.’
‘OK, Christine. And this evening?’
She looked around. ‘We can do soup and sandwiches for lunch. This evening …’ she paused. ‘Toad in the Hole. Vegetable Lasagne. Apple Crumble.’