‘Just like old times again,’ slurred Markham from beneath his mass of flexi-bandages and tubes. Very little of him was visible, which Peterson said was a huge improvement, and had he considered making this his permanent look.
I thought he looked like a badly wrapped Egyptian mummy, and Guthrie, speaking in a painful whisper, likened him to one of those adverts for toilet paper, except the puppy did it better.
Peterson was pinning a sign above Guthrie’s bed.
Here lies One-eyed Guthrie, twinned with Cyclops, Nick Fury, Mad-Eye Moody, Rooster Cogburn, Odin and Horatio Nelson.
When he was satisfied it was level, he climbed down off the chair, put a very brief hand on Guthrie’s shoulder, and went off to sit with Markham.
Grey, confronted with the wreck that was Guthrie, sat wordless, silent tears pouring down her cheeks. If – when – Leon ever opened his eyes, I was going to be at least as bad. I felt so sorry for her, but any sympathy would just push her right over the edge. And maybe the rest of us, too. Guthrie looked at me through his bandages, appealing for help.
I nodded.
‘I know why you’re here,’ he said to her, carefully not noticing her tears. He had to turn his head to see me as well. ‘I’m less clear about you, but that just about sums up our working relationship.’
I beamed at him. ‘I’m visiting the sick.’
He nodded over to Leon, still asleep in his cubicle and still surrounded by medical machinery. ‘Don’t you have your own sick to visit?’
‘He’s not awake yet.’
‘He’s not stupid, is he? If I’d known that I would find you crouched at my bedside, then I wouldn’t have woken up either.’
‘Hey, I’m sick too, you know.’
‘That is pretty much the consensus. Both here and at Time Police HQ.’
‘Aren’t sick people supposed to be saintly and patient? That’s where the word comes from.’
‘I’ve worked with you for more years than I care to remember. On at least three separate occasions that I can remember, I have had to exercise the greatest self-control to refrain from shooting you. I have also not stabbed you, poisoned you, drowned you, or pushed you out of a window. And don’t think that last one wasn’t a struggle. I have, at all times, conducted myself with the greatest professional decorum. I’ve never even boxed your ears and I can’t begin to describe what a temptation that’s been. So yes, saintly exactly describes me.’
‘Actually, I meant the word patient.’
‘I work with historians. Patience is a given.’
‘Hey,’ said Grey, who had used the time to get herself under control and wipe her eyes. ‘I’m an historian too, you know.’
He took her hand. ‘One makes allowances for the woman one loves.’
She smiled mistily at him. He smiled back.
I told them I was departing in search of a sick bag and struggled to get up.
‘Need a hand?’ said Peterson.
‘I’m fine. I can do it.’
‘You should let others help,’ said Markham, veteran of more than his fair share of hospital treatment. ‘No man is an island.’
Peterson wheeled around to face him. ‘When did you read John Donne?’
‘Just now,’ he said, nodding at the small leatherbound book on his bedside table.
‘No,’ said Peterson, firmly. ‘That’s it. I’ve had enough. Where were you educated?’
‘School – same as everyone else.’
‘And then?’
‘More bloody school,’ Markham said feelingly. ‘I mean – it just went on and on.’
‘Which school?’
He shifted in his bed, radiating all the righteous discomfort of one who nearly died for the cause and is determined to cash in on that. ‘Oh, all sorts. Can’t remember the names of most of them. I think you should all go away now. I’m feeling rather weak, you know.’
‘Tell me the truth and I will,’ said Peterson commandingly. ‘Are you married or not?’
‘He’s married?’ said Grey in astonishment, twisting in her chair to look at him. ‘To whom?’
‘Hunter,’ I said.
‘You’re kidding. Although actually, now I come to think of it…’ She paused, considering.
‘If you say our children will be both smart and beautiful then I won’t be responsible for my actions,’ warned Markham.
‘You’re not responsible for your actions anyway,’ said Peterson scathingly. ‘Max, we’re going to get to the bottom of this. You hold him down and I’ll punch his head.’
Markham painfully pulled the bedclothes up to his chin. ‘Why is it so dark? Am I slipping away? Is that you, mother?’
‘What’s going on?’ demanded Hunter from the doorway. Dr Stone stood with her. I had a nasty feeling they’d been there for some time. Certainly long enough to hear Peterson threaten one of their patients with violence.
Markham reached out a trembling hand to her. ‘Save me.’
‘You’re never going to believe this, but Max was about to beat up a helpless patient,’ said Peterson, displaying the qualities that would take him to the very top of the management tree. Along with all the other monkeys.
‘I am frequently appalled at the horrifying levels of violence displayed at St Mary’s,’ said Dr Stone. ‘Everyone who isn’t a patient should leave now. That includes you, Maxwell.’
‘I’m a patient,’ I said, miffed at my loss of status.
‘You’re only a former patient,’ said Dr Stone to me. ‘You’ve been downgraded to convalescent. Go away and stop harassing the sick people.’
‘You can’t harass Markham – it’s not possible. We’re just trying to find out if he’s married to Hunter or not.’
Hunter wheeled on him. ‘You’re telling people we’re married?’
‘I really don’t feel at all well. I think I may have been overdoing things. I’m quite badly injured, you know.’
She was glaring at him, hands on hips.
‘Why are you telling people we’re married?’
‘Note,’ whispered Peterson to me. ‘She’s not denying it. A little courage and strength of purpose and we’ll finally get to the bottom of this, Max. Take your cue from me.’
She swung around to him. ‘Why are you still here?’
He quailed. ‘I – er – um – we…’
‘Don’t you want to be married to me?’ quavered Markham, piteously.
Heads swung back to Hunter. Who paused.
Markham was grinning at her over the bedclothes.
She glared back at him and he just grinned some more. Asking for trouble.
‘You can wipe that stupid smile off your face right now.’
‘Go on then, tell them we’re not married.’
She went to speak, paused and looked at him.
He returned her stare in what he probably thought was a beguiling manner.
Apart from Leon’s machines, the ward was very quiet.
She folded her arms. ‘I’m not saying anything about marriage, but I’ll tell you this for nothing – our child is going to be both smart and beautiful.’
‘Well, of course it will be,’ he said smugly, and then stopped.
I saw the exact moment realisation dawned. ‘Wait. What? What did you say?’
He tried to sit up, hurt himself and fell back on his pillows again with a cry of pain. I thought everyone would rush to help, but no one was looking at him. For some reason, everyone was staring over my shoulder. At the same time, one of Leon’s many machines began to beep. For a second, I didn’t get it. And then I did.
I turned slowly, half in hope, half in fear. It was Schr?dinger’s Cat all over again. I remember I moved very slowly. Everything was happening very slowly. I looked at Leon. Waiting for the realities to collide. To know … I was trembling all over. I remember someone putting their arms around me to hold me up. My legs were going. I couldn’t take it in. Because suddenly, I did know.
Leon had opened his eyes.
THE END