‘Tell me, sir. Who didn’t make it?’
With a great effort, he said, ‘Miss Fields.’
Gentle Jenny Fields. Gentle and brave. She’d volunteered to stay and now she would never leave. I looked past him to Mrs Mack. She turned her head away.
‘She was caught in the crossfire outside the library.’
I took a moment to remember her, unusually pugnacious, telling everyone she’d never shot anyone before, but she wanted to stay.
I knew there was more.
‘Who else?’
‘Weller and Ritter. From the Security section. Ritter fell and Weller went back for him.’
Of course he did. The three of them, Ritter, Weller, and Evans had been together for as long as I could remember. And now, only Evans was left. How did he feel today?
‘Esterhazy from IT. She died outside Hawking. Caught in the blast.’
I hadn’t known her, but I grieved all the same.
‘Four Time Police officers also lost their lives. Eight dead, altogether.’
‘And what of the wounded, sir?’
He said with some difficulty, ‘Mr Markham was caught by a blaster and appears to be blind.’
‘Permanently?’
‘It is, as yet, too soon to say. Mr Sands was crushed by falling masonry. He has lost the lower part of his left leg, thus giving rise to an immortal exchange of words between him and Mr Roberts. Upon Mr Sands exclaiming that he appeared to have lost his foot, Mr Roberts attempted to reassure him with the words, “No you haven’t. It’s over here!”’
I choked, but with what emotion, even I couldn’t have told you.
‘And Mr Stone, sir?’ I saw again his faded medal ribbons.
‘He will recover. A broken arm and shoulder. He is already conscious. And it’s not just Mr Stone. All the kitchen staff … And Mrs Enderby, apparently, led a valiant effort to defend the upper stairs. She has a concussion and is, at the moment, quite unaware of what is happening around her.’
He saw me looking around the ward.
‘She is lodged in one of the treatment rooms. Dr Foster has utilised every facility. We have people sleeping on the floor, in treatment rooms, along the corridor … The main part of the building is quite uninhabitable at present.’
‘What on earth are we telling people about this?’
‘A World War II re-enactment, coupled with an unfortunate gas explosion.’
‘Do we even have gas out here in the country?’
‘The bottled variety is, I believe, sufficiently volatile to add realism to our story. Apparently, the word in the village is that those mad bastards at St Mary’s have finally managed to blow themselves sky-high.’
I could feel my eyelids droop.
‘What next, sir?’
‘What next, Max, is a punitive visit from our friends at SPOHB – the Society for the Protection of Historical Buildings. I fear they will find much to deplore. However, we have a week or so before that horror confronts us.’
I had more to ask, but I must have dropped off in front of him because I don’t remember him leaving. In fact, I slept most of the day. I opened my eyes to find the other doctor adjusting the machines and staring at me.
I said, ‘What? No chair and whip?’
He patted his pocket. ‘Pepper spray.’
‘You won’t need it. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s understandable. How do you feel?’
‘Don’t you know?’
‘I’m a doctor. I know everything.’
‘So how am I?’
‘Well, you’ve broken your hand, cracked some ribs, been involved in an explosion, and the lantern fell in on you. I was going to make a clever joke about the glass ceiling but I’m now so intimidated that I’ve forgotten it. Have you eaten anything?’
‘I’ve only been awake for two minutes, for God’s sake. When would I get the chance?’
‘Difficult and uncooperative patient,’ he said slowly, writing on the chart. ‘When did you last open your bowels?’
‘February. What happened to the Forces of Darkness? Are they still here?
He put the chart down. ‘No, they’ve all been removed. Dead, living, wounded, the lot.’
‘Where to?’
‘Where they belong.’
Did I want any more details? I decided not.
‘Dr Bairstow is on the sick list, so St Mary’s has a temporary caretaker director. He’d like a word, if you feel up to it. And if you promise to behave yourself.’
I said hopefully, ‘Surely I’m too ill to see anyone.’
He snorted.
He wore the convict orange of the Technical section. He looked desperately tired and there was more silver in his hair than I remembered, but his blue eyes were as bright as ever.
Something inside me soared.
He pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘Well, then.’
I waited, but that seemed to be it. About par for the course. Of course, the ward was packed full of people, all of whom were desperately pretending to be asleep.
I had a medical glove on my broken hand, and the other hand was on the far side of the bed with tubes and other medical paraphernalia, so not a lot of me was accessible. He briefly touched my forearm and then drew back.