Relatively Strange (31 page)

If in the first few days following the Atkins incident, Mrs Millsop, Glory and the rest of the staff were extremely distressed by what had happened to Peter, Doctor Dreck was distraught, one might almost say demented with grief. What infernal bloody bad luck, what a stinking blow from fate’s unfeeling fist, to have stumbled across a talent such as Peter’s only to have it snatched away. It might of course have been pointed out, that when it came to luck, Peter’s wasn’t exactly running high either. Also worth mentioning, might have been the fact, that had the Doctor not been dishing out L/24 pills like Smarties, such a catastrophe might never have occurred in the first place. But his complete inability to see things from anything other than his own viewpoint, was indicative of the not so sane way his mind was working and of the increasingly erratic paths it might follow in the future. It was, as Glory said, enough to send a shiver and a half down your spine.

Of course nobody gave up on Peter right away and for several weeks different neurological experts from various parts of the country came to consult and confer. Peter was given brain scans, 24-hour intensive nursing care and ministered to by a rotating team of physiotherapists. It reminded her, said Glory, of Christopher Robin having wheezles and sneezles – you know, when all sorts of physicians on lots of conditions came hurrying round at a run. But lip after lip was pursed, head after head shaken, they could find no brain activity whatsoever – poor kid, the prognosis was bleak. Dr Dreck thanked them for their professional opinion, shaking his head mournfully too, although he’d far rather have banged it violently against the nearest wall in frustration. L/24 was never mentioned to or by anyone, which only goes to show, said Ruth, you can get away with murder if you do it right. A massive stroke was the verdict, unusual but certainly not unknown in one so young and it was, undoubtedly, only the heroic attempts to save him that had ensured he survived at all.

The awful thing, Mrs Millsop told Glory afterwards, was that when his mother was told, and it fell to Mrs Millsop to do the telling, she took it remarkably calmly,

“‘Orrible, really,” Mrs Millsop had recounted, forgetting careful diction and professional restraint in her distress. “Done up like a bleeding dog’s dinner she was when she arrived, drove down from London with some chap in a big car, all sobbing and shaking and crocodile tears and didn’t stay in the room with the boy more than a minute. Mind you, she soon perked up and put her hanky away when Miss Merry started talking about insurance pay-outs.” Mrs Millsop had sniffed in disdain, in all honesty she hadn’t liked the little blighter either, but you had to feel sorry didn’t you?

Peter’s incapacity, together with the surge of interest from the Men with the Money, was not good news for Glory – as far as the Doctor was concerned she was, for the moment, the only game in town. Still shaken from how close she’d come to disaster, nevertheless determined against all Ruth and Rachael’s strenuous objections, to stay on a bit longer at the Foundation, Glory knew she couldn’t possibly warn everyone. But perhaps she’d become as obsessed in her way as the Doctor had in his. She also had a plan.

The Peacocks dismissed it out of hand, said it was the most ridiculous thing they’d ever heard and far too risky, but she was determined and they were genuinely worried about her state of mind. After discussing it at length, they felt perhaps if she accomplished what she wanted, they stood a better chance of persuading her to leave and the sooner that happened the easier they’d all sleep at night. What the three of them however had overlooked in all this major decision-making was that when it came to the crunch, Dreck might not be so happy to wave bye bye to Glory, in all senses of the word!

What she had in mind to do, before she shook the dust of the Foundation from her heels – and even she had the grace to admit, it was a bit of a hare-brained long shot – was to substitute something harmless for the large supply of L/24 the Doctor was preparing to dole out to whichever talented person next had the misfortune to cross his path. It was of course, only a short-term measure, but perhaps consistent failure of the drug would convince him to give up, or better still convince the money men to turn off the tap.

The Peacocks, still with grave reservations, contacted their research scientist friend and, calling in all sorts of favours, asked could he duplicate the appearance of the sample pills Glory had originally smuggled out. Could he produce something that looked identical but contained nothing harmful. Friend scientist was less than thrilled, but squared his conscience with the fact it wasn’t the other way round – substituting dodgy for harmless. In due course he reported back with an air-tight container full of duplicates which were, even under the most anxious and intense scrutiny, pretty much indistinguishable from the real thing. These were duly passed to Glory on one of their tea outings.

As might have been expected, as soon as Mrs Millsop took her gimlet eye off the ball, the Doctor was in like Flynn, subjecting Glory to an ever more intensive programme. He was again convinced that improving her skills was merely a matter of time, patience and training. He’d also resolved if that didn’t work pretty damn quick, he might just try a more positive move. There was a procedure he’d read about in the New England Medical Journal. Pioneered at Baltmore’s Johns Hopkins, it was an experimental and high risk method of dealing with tumours and involved stimulating areas of the brain during surgery. What intrigued him was that some patients, post-operatively, had developed vastly enhanced memory and mathematical skills. The Doctor had immediately seen interesting applications – if some abilities could be thus stimulated, why not others? The fact that to do this he’d have to open up Glory’s head and perform a life-threatening, relatively untried operation – added to which, he wasn’t even a brain surgeon – didn’t seem to bother him unduly. It certainly gave Glory a turn though when she saw what he was thinking.

Chapter Thirty-Five

To speed Glory’s progress in the ability stakes, Miss Merry was delegated to spend extra time working with her. Thrust ever more frequently into that chilly presence, at the same time as trying to ignore the Doctor, who’d developed an unpleasant habit of mentally drawing incision lines on her skull, was, Glory found, something of a strain.

The Merry mind was a complex one, convoluted and folded in on itself. It was unusual and somewhat alarming that often one part of the mind didn’t seem to be all that aware of, or indeed much bothered by what was going on in other parts. There was though, one section interminably occupied, one might almost say pre-occupied, with the doings of the Doctor. What was he thinking, what was he saying? What was someone else saying to him? What might he be needing? What was he going to do next? This background cadence was such a constant, that the woman herself was hardly aware of it and it certainly didn’t stop her performing her job in a ferociously efficient manner.

It troubled Miss Merry somewhat that there was a large area of human communication that for some reason, she simply didn’t get. It had always been thus, even as a child, a sense of humour was ostensibly absent. She was, quite literally, humourless and that was no laughing matter. This lack had governed her childhood, making of her, if not a complete outcast then a fringe member of every group she’d ever been with, including her parents and two siblings. They were a normal enough family, older sister, younger brother. Father a civil servant both by profession and nature, mother involved in any voluntary organisation that didn’t involve something depressing. They had a quiet, not unhappy home life and were in truth no great comedians themselves, nevertheless they were able to appreciate a joke with a smile if not a belly laugh and equipped to do their share of joshing at a friendly gathering.

For the young Miss M however, the total inability to grasp anything other than the literal, coloured if not corrupted her development, certainly nurtured her deep suspicion of others. She was aware, always, of an undercurrent to most conversations to which other people responded automatically, whilst she simply didn’t know how. It was choice that directed her toward a scientific career, chance that assigned her to assist the Doctor when he first came to work in England. And only because he inspired devotion in her hitherto unmolested heart, had she become involved in this telepathy business, a branch of research which couldn’t have been further from ideal for someone of her temperament. For her to be working with yet another hidden current into which she stood no chance of tapping, was more than ironic, it was adding insult to injury, rubbing salt in the wound and twisting the knife. In truth, she nursed a deep repugnance for the entire concept, sublimating this almost completely in order to do her damndest to help the Doctor achieve his aims.

She was more than highly suspicious of Glory and her ilk, cherishing a conviction, and she wasn’t wrong was she, that there was far more to them than met the eye. She reasoned, if Glory was able to spot psi abilities from afar, she must be able to hear far more than she let on and the thought of that made her skin crawl. She was horrified at the thought of someone rifling through her mind, where there were areas into which even she didn’t go. She’d constructed for herself, quite cleverly, considering she was working in the dark, a rudimentary shielding of a chanted nursery rhyme which although not effective with someone like Glory, would have thrown off other milder talents.

But if Miss Merry’s faith in her own suspicion was strong, the doctor’s in the accuracy of his tests was stronger and he pointed out frequently, if Glory was able to do more than she admitted, it would certainly have come to light long before now. As far from intuitive as anyone could be, but not a stupid woman by a long chalk, Miss Merry remained unconvinced and her antipathy grew, in direct proportion to the hours they spent together.

“And it was around about then,” Glory aimed a nod in my direction, “That you came on the scene and that really put the cat among the pigeons!

Chapter Thirty-Six

“There was something about you that got Miss Merry’s whiskers twitching right from the start. It didn’t help that my timing was out that day. I knew what you were before you even got off the coach, but there were another couple of kids I wanted to check out. With you, there wasn’t need for checking, you stuck out like a handful of sore thumbs. But by the time I got back to you, you were already wading through those tests like a bull in a china shop and scoring stupidly high marks.” I was moved to register a protest in my own defence,

“How was I to know?”

“By the time I shut you up, word had already gone out and Dreck and Merry couldn’t believe their luck. But then, when you were taken in to see them I’d blocked you off and they were completely thrown.” She giggled, “It was rather funny really, Dr D was busy trying to send you all sorts of messages and images to which you normally couldn’t have helped respond, but he was hitting a brick wall. It had never happened before. In most cases those who were warned, were alerted well before the tests and were careful how they scored and those who didn’t want to be careful, responded in all the right ways once they were with the Doctor. He knew something was up, but couldn’t work out what and he didn’t have to be telepathic to see you were as baffled as he was. Then, when they hauled you off to the booths, you muddled things even more.” I sat forward, indignant,

“I didn’t.”

“I’m telling you, you did.”

“Girls,” Ruth frowned, on peace-making alert even when not strictly necessary, I presumed she must have a lot of practise. Glory shook her head, “You were so obviously scared to death in there and then you kept muttering, no matter how many times I told you not to talk – frankly you were a pain in the arse.” I was silent, thinking back, actually she wasn’t wrong.

“And then, when I was finally able to get you on your own, it took ages to get the necessary info across – all you did was ask questions.

“Well excuse me for being interested.”

“Did you know Miss M had her ear against the door, the whole time?” I hadn’t, and it gave me pause for thought and a chill.

“She didn’t hear much, just the occasional mutter and squeak, but enough to keep her suspicious.”

“That’s when she took me upstairs and shot those awful baby pictures at me?”

“Uh huh, you managed OK, but not well enough to put her off the scent.”

“And then the dice?”

“I’d forgotten about that – talk about cocky. My God, Stella, I don’t know what you thought you were doing.”

“Red herrings?”

“Well they certainly looked pretty damn fishy to Miss Merry. Couldn’t you just sit still and look stupid – that would have been the clever thing to do.”