looked at her sharply. ‘That’d make a difference, of course, if you had. It’d be a right mess if we had to stop the funeral, of course, but if you say there is something new …’
‘No,’ she said a little unwillingly. ‘There’s nothing to add to what I’ve already told him. It’s just that I’m not comfortable …’
‘Oh, well.’ Harold was clearly relieved as he turned to go. ‘If that’s all, no problems. Better be off. Thanks for all this stuff so quickly, Dr Barnabas, it’s a great help.’ And he was gone, pounding back along the corridor and panting his way up the stairs to the way out like a self-satisfied hippo.
‘And you said nothin’ interesting had happened,’ Gus said reproachfully. ‘What’s all this then?’
‘Like I said, nothing,’ she muttered irritably, turning to go into her dressing room. ‘No affair of yours, that’s for sure. ‘Bye, Gus. See you around.’ And she went in and closed the door firmly behind her. Bad enough the coroner had in effect dismissed her; no way was she going to give Gus the chance to do the same.
But when she came out, freshly scented with quantities of shower gel and body cream and her hair still curling damply from its quick shampoo — because she couldn’t bear the possibility that despite her precautions her hair might still smell of anything it shouldn’t — and went back to her office, there he was, sitting on the edge of her desk and shamelessly reading his way through a pile of her papers.
She snatched them from him and went round to sit down. ‘Haven’t you got a job to go to?’ she snapped, glaring at him.
‘It’s really great,’ he said admiringly. ‘The way you learn.Another year or two around me and you’ll be talkin’ proper English, just like what I do. Yes, I
have
got a job to go to. I’ve gone to it. What’s this about a baby you wouldn’t sign a certificate for that the coroner’s shoved through as a natural death?’
‘It’s none of your —’ she began, but he stopped her firmly.
‘Listen, Dr B., I’m not going for that. You taught me good over the Oxford case, you taught me good and proper to pay attention to your notions. I said Oxford was a natural death and you said it wasn’t. I was wrong, you were right. Now you say this cot death’s suspicious and the coroner doesn’t —’
She shook her head. ‘It’s not the same, Gus, honestly. Last time was — well, that was then. This is — it was a baby in Maternity, found dead. The only thing that bothered me was that someone had stuck a note on the PM request form pointing out this was the third such death there in five months. I didn’t know about the other two on account of being off sick, and when I tried to find out who’d written the note, I drew a blank. No one seems to know. I haven’t asked everyone, though, and I dare say someone’ll tell me, and it’ll all turn out to be nothing. That was all, really.’
She stopped and thought a while, then continued a little unwillingly. ‘Except for the fact that this diagnosis of cot death is one I can’t handle. I mean, it’s not a diagnosis at all. It’s just a description of what happened, and it gives you no information on
why
it happened. And you know me, I can’t stand mysteries …’
‘You’re telling me,’ he said with some feeling. ‘Like I said, I remember last time. Look, doll, put it on the line. Is this a dicey one or not? If it is, I’ll have to look into it, though I hate these cases. You have to investigate the parents, and they suffer hell over it, poor devils.’
She looked at him sharply and then smiled. He was a good old soul, after all was said and done, she thought,using his own sort of language inside her head. He means kindly.
‘I don’t know,’ she said candidly. ‘I’m possibly just making dramas where none exist, but there it is — the business niggles at me.’
‘Then listen to your niggles,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘What can you do
‘No,’ she said a little unwillingly. ‘There’s nothing to add to what I’ve already told him. It’s just that I’m not comfortable …’
‘Oh, well.’ Harold was clearly relieved as he turned to go. ‘If that’s all, no problems. Better be off. Thanks for all this stuff so quickly, Dr Barnabas, it’s a great help.’ And he was gone, pounding back along the corridor and panting his way up the stairs to the way out like a self-satisfied hippo.
‘And you said nothin’ interesting had happened,’ Gus said reproachfully. ‘What’s all this then?’
‘Like I said, nothing,’ she muttered irritably, turning to go into her dressing room. ‘No affair of yours, that’s for sure. ‘Bye, Gus. See you around.’ And she went in and closed the door firmly behind her. Bad enough the coroner had in effect dismissed her; no way was she going to give Gus the chance to do the same.
But when she came out, freshly scented with quantities of shower gel and body cream and her hair still curling damply from its quick shampoo — because she couldn’t bear the possibility that despite her precautions her hair might still smell of anything it shouldn’t — and went back to her office, there he was, sitting on the edge of her desk and shamelessly reading his way through a pile of her papers.
She snatched them from him and went round to sit down. ‘Haven’t you got a job to go to?’ she snapped, glaring at him.
‘It’s really great,’ he said admiringly. ‘The way you learn.Another year or two around me and you’ll be talkin’ proper English, just like what I do. Yes, I
have
got a job to go to. I’ve gone to it. What’s this about a baby you wouldn’t sign a certificate for that the coroner’s shoved through as a natural death?’
‘It’s none of your —’ she began, but he stopped her firmly.
‘Listen, Dr B., I’m not going for that. You taught me good over the Oxford case, you taught me good and proper to pay attention to your notions. I said Oxford was a natural death and you said it wasn’t. I was wrong, you were right. Now you say this cot death’s suspicious and the coroner doesn’t —’
She shook her head. ‘It’s not the same, Gus, honestly. Last time was — well, that was then. This is — it was a baby in Maternity, found dead. The only thing that bothered me was that someone had stuck a note on the PM request form pointing out this was the third such death there in five months. I didn’t know about the other two on account of being off sick, and when I tried to find out who’d written the note, I drew a blank. No one seems to know. I haven’t asked everyone, though, and I dare say someone’ll tell me, and it’ll all turn out to be nothing. That was all, really.’
She stopped and thought a while, then continued a little unwillingly. ‘Except for the fact that this diagnosis of cot death is one I can’t handle. I mean, it’s not a diagnosis at all. It’s just a description of what happened, and it gives you no information on
why
it happened. And you know me, I can’t stand mysteries …’
‘You’re telling me,’ he said with some feeling. ‘Like I said, I remember last time. Look, doll, put it on the line. Is this a dicey one or not? If it is, I’ll have to look into it, though I hate these cases. You have to investigate the parents, and they suffer hell over it, poor devils.’
She looked at him sharply and then smiled. He was a good old soul, after all was said and done, she thought,using his own sort of language inside her head. He means kindly.
‘I don’t know,’ she said candidly. ‘I’m possibly just making dramas where none exist, but there it is — the business niggles at me.’
‘Then listen to your niggles,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘What can you do
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