‘What’s going to happen now?’
‘Dunno. Some kind of hearing. If I’m lucky, they’ll just boot me out. If not, I could be doing some time.’
‘Surely not.’
‘She’s really not happy with me, Jane.’
‘Well,’ said Jane, weak and wobbly, but decisive. ‘If you go, then so do I.’
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘I do. I won’t stay without you and I suspect Luke won’t, either.’
He shook his head. ‘The end of Team Weird. We didn’t get far, did we?’
‘Well, you can’t say we didn’t have an impact. Just not the right one.’
Luke stirred.
Matthew pressed the call button.
The dark-haired doctor turned up and regarded his patients gloomily. ‘Out, young Farrell.’
Reluctantly, Matthew wandered away.
Luke croaked something Jane didn’t catch.
The doctor sighed. ‘Your hand was a mess. You lost your glove, didn’t you?’
‘I never noticed,’ said Luke in a tiny thread of a voice. ‘And then we couldn’t find it.’
‘Well, we’ve salvaged what we can. We’ve debrided to remove dead tissue. We’re waiting for new tissue to regenerate – which it will, but – I’m sorry, lad – you’ve lost two fingers. There was nothing we could do.’
There was a long silence. Luke stared stupidly at his bandaged hand. ‘So – I’ve lost two fingers?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Off my left hand.’
‘Yes. Your records show you’re right-handed.’
‘Does that make it all right?’
‘No.’
‘Couldn’t you just . . . sew them back on?’
‘No. We took them off to save your life.’
‘Well, I’m sorry I’m not more grateful.’
‘That’s all right. We’re none of us in this job for the gratitude.’
There was another long silence.
‘Parrish, there are people here with prosthetics.’
‘And they’re functioning?’
‘Of course.’
‘Within officially recognised Time Police parameters?’
He’s being sarcastic, thought Jane. He’s going to get himself into even more trouble.
The doctor, however, was very patient. ‘Of course. We wouldn’t keep them on otherwise. This is the Time Police – not a sodding garden party.’
‘Well, good for fire-trucking us.’
‘Parrish, this is difficult for you, I know. You’ve had no time to prepare yourself for this. For some people, amputation can be like a bereavement. The same shock and grief experienced when someone close to them dies. I think this is what you’re experiencing at the moment.’
‘Nah – not really,’ said Luke carelessly. ‘I’m fine. Although I’d be finer if you hadn’t managed to lose my fingers.’
The doctor was silent for a moment and then said, ‘Would it help if you could see your fingers? If you could see how bad the damage actually was?’
‘You’ve got them on you?’
‘Well, they’re not in my pocket, but, yes. Sometimes it helps if people can see there really was no way of saving them. Gives you a chance to ditch the resentment and anger and concentrate on self-pity and damaged body image.’
‘All right,’ said Luke. ‘Bring them on. I warn you now if I’m not convinced, you will be sewing them back on again.’
‘Deal,’ said the doctor.
She heard the clatter of a metal bowl.
There was a very, very long silence.
Finally, Luke said, ‘You do know that nothing pisses people off more than a doctor who’s always right, don’t you?’
‘Yeah,’ said the doctor, covering the bowl again. ‘There’s a lot of pissed-off people in this world. Happy to think you’re one of them.’
He stood up, put a hand on Luke’s shoulder for a moment and then departed.
Jane looked across at Luke. ‘Do you want to be alone?’
‘What are you going to do, Jane? Get up and go for a walk? You don’t look much better than me.’
‘It’s my fault, Luke. I couldn’t find your glove. And then I forgot what I was looking for. You lost your fingers because of me.’ She was crying now.
He shifted in his bed, looking anxiously at the door. ‘Jane, stop crying – you’ll rust your machines. And they’ll all turn up to find out why you’re sobbing your heart out and everyone will automatically blame me.’
‘But your fingers, Luke.’
‘I shall wear a glove. A sinister black glove. I shall be known as Seven-Fingered Luke.’
‘Eight,’ said Jane, unable to help herself. ‘Or six, if you exclude thumbs.’
‘I shall stalk the corridors exuding sinister menace,’ he said, not listening. ‘I might even get a Persian cat.’
She frowned. ‘We’re not allowed pets.’
He still wasn’t listening. ‘I shall hire a gorgeous blonde to cut up my meat for me.’
‘There’s no earthly reason why you can’t cut up your own meat.’
‘And perform other, more intimate tasks.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘And to type my reports for me.’
‘You can dictate your reports. Even death couldn’t stop you talking.’
He sighed. ‘You suck all the joy out of life, Jane. Have you ever considered a career in Health and Safety?’
‘I doubt they’d have me. I didn’t keep you very safe and you’re definitely not looking that healthy, so I’m probably not eligible. And did you know Matthew’s been suspended? We could all be out of a job.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake. I take my eye off the ball for one minute and this team falls to pieces. Literally.’
Jane steeled herself. ‘I said that if Matthew left, then I would too.’
‘Bloody hell, Jane. Impressive. Did you say that to Hay?’
‘Um, no – I said it to Matthew.’