‘He threw two rocks!’ Cameron cried. ‘And the second one hit Ranjit on the head!’
‘Well… where’s this boy now?’ Sir Edgar asked.
‘He has gone, sahib,’ said Becharji smoothly.
‘Yes, well,’ said Sir Edgar, ‘no harm done then. I’m sure Becharji was only acting for the best.’
‘Just so, sahib,’ said Becharji, bowing slightly and pressing his hands together.
‘But Father—’ Cameron protested.
‘Let’s hear no more about it!’ Sir Edgar snapped. ‘Now go and spruce yourself up, boy. Dinner will be ready in two ticks.’
Cameron was about to protest further when the jangle of the front door bell resounded through the house.
‘What the devil?’ said Sir Edgar irritably. ‘Visitors at this hour?’
Becharji hurried to open the door. With one last agonised look at the spot where Ranjit had fallen, Cameron hurried after him.
He hung back sullenly as Becharji pulled the door open. Standing outside was a man he recognised, Major Daker, and a woman he did not.
Cameron stared at the woman. She was wearing a flowery dress that was covered in dust, and she had a tangle of bright red hair that fell about her shoulders. Most extraordinary of all, she was wearing a pair of army boots.
‘Is your master in?’ Major Daker said in his usual
brusque way.
Becharji bowed. ‘I will fetch him for you, sahib. Please enter.’
Major Daker and the woman stepped into the hall. The woman looked around.
‘Where’s this then?’ she asked.
Major Daker looked as if he didn’t like her much.
‘This,’ he said curtly, ‘is the home of Sir Edgar Campbell, the City Magistrate.’
‘Oh, brilliant,’ the woman said. ‘So I’m under arrest, am I? What for? Minding my own business?’
Cameron gaped. He had never heard a woman talk like this before. The woman saw him and her eyes narrowed.
‘What you gawping at, squirt?’ she snapped.
Cameron fled.
For a few moments, Ranjit couldn’t remember what had happened. All he knew was that he was lying on the ground and that his head hurt. He raised a hand to his temple and it came away wet. Blinking to clear his vision, he saw that his fingertips were red with blood.
As if the shock of seeing the blood had restored his memory, he suddenly recalled the Campbells’ servant, Becharji, throwing a rock at him. He supposed Becharji must have thrown a second rock. He hadn’t even seen it coming.
Ranjit decided to go to the camp and tell Miss Adelaide what had happened. Perhaps she would punish Becharji.
He climbed to his feet, and instantly felt sick and groggy.
The world swayed and dipped, and then it began to settle.
It was quite a walk to the camp, but he thought he would be all right if he took it slowly.
He managed to keep going for almost half an hour before he collapsed again. He was outside the city limits by this time, walking in the dark along a dusty road, not far from the banks of the Hooghly River. All at once the night-sounds around him seemed to close in, to rise to a booming crescendo inside his head. Ranjit staggered to a halt, and suddenly had the odd sensation that his energy was draining out of his body. Vaguely, he was aware of his legs crumpling beneath him, as if they were made of rotten wood. Then he was lying on the ground, and telling himself that he couldn’t sleep, because he would be bitten by snakes or eaten by crocodiles.
Then everything went black.
‘Right, better be off,’ said the Doctor, grabbing Gopal’s hand and shaking it again. ‘Things to do, people to find.’
He turned and began to stride away.
‘Wait!’ Gopal called after him.
The Doctor spun round. ‘I absolve you from your debt.’
‘What?’ said Gopal, confused.
‘For saving your life. Don’t people usually feel indebted to their saviours? As if they have to offer something in return? But I don’t want anything. Oh, unless you’ve got a chocolate HobNob. Really fancy a chocolate HobNob just now.’
Gopal just stared at him.
‘No HobNob?’ said the Doctor, sounding a bit
disappointed. ‘Ah well, never mind. Too much to hope for.
Tell you what, just have a magnificent life. Do good things. Make people happy. That’ll do me.’
He turned and began to walk away, faster this time.
Gopal ran and caught up with him.
‘You still here?’ said the Doctor, glancing at him.
‘Don’t you have stuff to do? Like finding a clean shirt, for instance?’
‘Who are you looking for?’ asked Gopal.
‘Friend of mine. She got carried away – literally, I mean, not emotionally.’
‘I could help you,’ Gopal said.
‘Who are you then? Head of the Missing Persons Bureau?’
‘I am a doctor,’ said Gopal proudly.
‘Yeah?’ said the Doctor. ‘Well, good for you, feller.
Making people better. Taking their pain away. That’s a great thing. But I still think I’ll be better on my own.’
‘I know Calcutta,’ said Gopal, ‘and I know that it is not safe for an English gentleman to walk alone at night.’
‘I’m not—’ the Doctor began, then shook his head.
‘Oh, never mind.’ He stopped so abruptly that Gopal was a few steps ahead of him before he realised. When Gopal turned back, the Doctor said, ‘All right, Gopal, starter for ten. You’ve got a young… well, youngish English woman on her own in Calcutta at night. Where’s the most likely place she’ll be?’
Gopal considered the question. ‘There are several possibilities,’ he concluded.
‘No time for several,’ said the Doctor. ‘Just give me
numero uno.’
Gopal looked flustered. ‘It depends into whose company she has fallen. If she is with your British soldiers, then she will have been taken into protective custody. But if she is with my fellow countrymen…
perhaps the camp?’
‘What camp’s this then?’
‘I was on my way there when I became caught up in the mob. It is a place where Muslims and Hindus go who do not wish to fight with one another, but who want simply to live in peace. Many of the people there have fled their homes with few possessions. I’m afraid we have little to offer them, but we do what we can to help the sick and wounded.’
The Doctor stared at Gopal without expression, stared at him so intently that Gopal began to look uncomfortable.
‘If Donna’s in protective custody,’ he said eventually, ‘she’ll be safe until the morning. So go on then. Show me this camp of yours.’
‘It will be my pleasure, Doctor,’ Gopal said.
‘You honestly think I’m wearing these out of choice?’ said Donna. ‘Do I look like a div?’
Everyone stared at her boots. Mary Campbell, who had made the remark about Donna’s unusual choice of footwear, looked as though she had been slapped. Her son, Ronny, on the other hand, covered his mouth as if trying to conceal a smile.
Donna told herself she was coming on a bit strong. But she was riled about the way Daker and this Sir Edgar
bloke were treating her, like she was some criminal. It was only natural that she was a bit stroppy – though maybe she was directing it at the wrong person.
‘Sorry,’ she said grudgingly, ‘I’m a bit stressed. It’s not every day you get caught up in a riot and arrested, is it?’
Mary Campbell dabbed her nose with a lace handkerchief. ‘Quite so,’ she said.
‘I lost my sandals,’ Donna explained, ‘so Major Daker lent me these.’
‘It was all I could find, I’m afraid,’ Daker said.
‘Yeah, I don’t think he’s a flip-flops kinda guy,’ Donna said.
Sir Edgar, who Donna thought resembled a bewildered walrus, said gruffly, ‘This is getting us nowhere. You still haven’t explained what y
ou’re doing here, young lady.’
‘He brought me,’ Donna said, flipping a thumb at Daker.
Sir Edgar went puce. ‘I mean, what are you doing in Calcutta?’
‘I’m here with a friend,’ Donna said. ‘We’re…
travelling.’
‘ Travelling?’
‘Yeah, we… we travel. About. From place to place.
We’re… er… hippies.’
‘You’re what? ’ spluttered Sir Edgar.
Oops, thought Donna, wrong period.
‘It’s… um… a new movement. It started in America.
Peace, love and understanding. We’re seeking spiritual…
thingy. Enlightenment. You’re gonna hear a lot more about us.’
In about twenty years, she thought.
Sir Edgar closed his eyes briefly. Donna wondered whether she ought to tell him to sit down before he had a heart attack.
‘Are you aware, young lady,’ he said, ‘of the political situation in this country?’
‘I am now,’ said Donna. ‘And I promise I’ll be careful.’
She looked around. ‘Right, are we done? I’ll get out of your hair then, shall I?’
She grabbed the arms of the wicker chair in which she was sitting and half-made a move to push herself up.
However Major Daker, who was all but standing to attention at her side, placed a restraining hand on her shoulder.
Donna turned her head angrily. ‘Don’t you manhandle me, mush. I’ll have you for assault.’
Ronny laughed. ‘Yes, stop bullying our guest, Daker.
You too, Father. She’s done nothing wrong as far as I can see.’
He caught Donna’s eye and winked. She smiled.
‘It’s for her own good,’ said Daker. ‘She can’t go wandering the streets at night. Lord knows what the coolies will do to her.’
‘ Coolies?’ said Donna. ‘What hole did you crawl out of? I’ll have you know that some of my best mates are from round here. My cousin Janice is married to a Sikh.’
‘In Calcutta?’ asked Ronny.
‘No, Basildon.’
‘Good Lord!’ exclaimed Mary Campbell.
‘That’s as may be,’ said Sir Edgar, ‘but the Major’s
right. It’s not safe out there. We need to find you somewhere to stay.’
‘She can stay here, can’t she, Father?’ said Ronny.
‘We’ve got plenty of room.’
‘Well, I…’ Sir Edgar blustered, but he got no further.
Their discussion was interrupted by a commotion from outside, the voices of several men raised in alarm.
‘What the devil’s going on now?’ Sir Edgar barked. He looked apoplectic at this further disruption to his evening.
‘Leave this to me, Sir Edgar,’ Daker said, striding across the room to the screen doors that led onto the porch.
Ronny placed his glass of pre-dinner sherry on the mantelpiece and followed the Major.
A moment later, Donna jumped to her feet.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Sir Edgar demanded.
‘Outside. You can stand there glugging sherry, but I want to know what’s going on.’
She clomped across the room in her army boots and went out through the screen doors.
The first thing she saw was Ronny and Major Daker standing with their backs to her. Something was happening in front of them, but they were blocking her view and she couldn’t tell what. She saw servants running about. One of them had a big stick in his hand. Ronny said, ‘What a beast. I’ve never seen anything like it.’
Major Daker unclipped the leather holster at his waist and drew out his service revolver.
Donna pushed her way between the two men. Ronny
glanced at her, surprised. ‘I really think you ought to go back inside, Miss Noble.’
‘No way,’ she said – and then she saw what everyone was looking at. ‘Oh my God.’
It was a crocodile. But it was unlike any crocodile Donna had seen before. It was huge for a start, at least eight metres from nose to tail. It was smeared in dark green slime, and its vast scaly bulk was covered in bony black growths and protuberances, which had twisted its body, making it look more like a gnarled and ancient tree branch than a living creature. It propelled itself with a sideways, almost crab-like motion, and as one of the servants darted forward and hit it with a stick, it swung its huge head round, opened its jaws wide and snapped at him, just missing him as he jumped back.
Donna shuddered at the sight of its vicious teeth, and a glimpse of more of the horrible growths inside its grey-pink gullet.
‘What’s wrong with it?’ she said, clutching Ronny’s arm.
‘I hardly think that’s our concern,’ barked Daker.
As if the crocodile had heard him, it rolled its oily yellow eye in their direction and suddenly swung round, its massive jaws opening.
Daker didn’t hesitate. He fired several shots straight into the creature’s gaping mouth. It shuddered as the bullets hit it, but it kept on coming. Donna and Ronny leaped back, but the Major stood his ground. He fired at the creature again and again. Each bullet slowed it down a little more, until finally it crashed down dead on the
wooden boards, its snout no more than a metre from Daker’s feet.
For a few moments, as the echoes of the gunshots faded into the night, there was a stunned silence.
Then Donna said, ‘That kind of thing normal for round here, is it?’
‘ I have never seen a man look so angry and so sad before,’ Gopal said.
The Doctor’s eyes flickered to regard him. For a long moment he didn’t speak. Then he said, ‘I’ve seen more suffering in my life than you can possibly imagine. But that doesn’t mean it ever gets any easier. Sometimes I can’t help thinking I’ve lived too long.’
‘But you are just a young man,’ Gopal said.
The Doctor didn’t reply.
They were walking through the camp, through crowds of exhausted, emaciated people. Many were sitting around fires, talking quietly or muttering in prayer or simply staring into the flames. Some were sleeping on the open ground, using nothing but their own hands as a pillow. A few were eating, taking their time over their small
portions of food.
The Doctor felt someone tugging at his jacket. A small boy was staring up at him with big brown eyes, hand outstretched.
The Doctor crouched down. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘What’s your name?’
If the boy was surprised to hear the Doctor speaking in his own language he didn’t show it. ‘Jivraj,’ he said shyly.
‘Right then, Jivraj,’ the Doctor said, reaching into his jacket pocket, ‘let’s see what we can find.’
He produced a satsuma and handed it to the boy. Jivraj grinned. Then he produced a pair of chattering wind-up teeth and showed Jivraj how they worked. Jivraj laughed delightfully, and ran off to show the gifts to his family.
‘There are hundreds of boys like Jivraj in this camp,’
said Gopal. ‘If only we had food for all of them.’
It took several minutes to reach the trio of medical tents that had been set up in the centre of the camp. When they arrived, Gopal asked a young Indian orderly where they could find Dr Morgan and was informed that he was in the isolation tent.
‘Isolation?’ said the Doctor.
‘A number of people have arrived at the camp this week with symptoms that are proving most mysterious.’
‘Mysterious in what way?’
When Gopal told him, the Doctor raised an eyebrow and tilted his chin back. ‘I think you’d better show me,’ he said.
Gopal led the Doctor to the tent at the end of the row, holding open the flap so that he could enter.
There was a woman in the tent, tending the sick, a well-dressed English woman in her early twenties, her chestnut hair tied in a bun. She turned to see who had entered, wafting at the flies above her head. Her eyes widened when she saw the Doctor.
‘Hell
o, Gopal,’ she said, though her gaze remained fixed on the Doctor, who was looking around, taking everything in. ‘Who’s your friend?’
‘This is… the Doctor,’ Gopal said.
‘Well, we can never have enough of those,’ said the woman. ‘Have you come to help us, Dr…?’
‘Just Doctor,’ the Doctor said, flashing her a smile.
‘Very mysterious,’ said the woman.
‘Like a lot of things round here.’ The Doctor nodded at the muslin partition. ‘I gather the “special” patients are through there? Mind if I take a look?’
‘Well, I… er… perhaps we ought to clear it with Edward first.’
‘Clear what with Edward?’ said a voice at the entrance of the tent.
The Doctor turned and saw a young man in a grubby doctor’s coat, who looked as if he had barely slept or eaten in days.
He sprang across, hand outstretched. ‘Dr Morgan!’ he exclaimed. ‘Pleasure to meet you! Brilliant work you’re doing! I was just saying to… er…’
‘Adelaide,’ said the young woman.
‘… to Adelaide here that I wouldn’t mind taking a quick squiz at the special patients. In fact, that’s why I’m here. Dr John Smith, Royal College of Surgeons, Rare and
Tropical Diseases Unit.’
With the hand that wasn’t vigorously shaking the bemused Dr Morgan’s, the Doctor dipped into the pocket of his jacket and produced his psychic paper, which he flashed to each of them in turn.
Gopal said, ‘You are a man of continual surprises, Dr Smith.’
‘Aren’t I just?’ said the Doctor. ‘Never hurts to keep people on their toes, that’s my motto.’
‘But… how did you find out about our patients?’
Edward asked. ‘I’ve only just…’
‘Information superhighway,’ said the Doctor quickly, and clapped his hands together. ‘Right, let’s get cracking.
Time and tide, and all that.’ He crossed to the muslin partition and reached out for it. Then abruptly he cried, ‘Ah!’ and spun back round, causing Edward, Adelaide and Gopal to jump back.
‘First things first. My friend Donna’s not here, is she?
Long red hair? Shouts a lot?’
Edward and Adelaide exchanged a glance. Both shook their heads.
‘Ah well, never mind,’ said the Doctor. ‘I’m sure she’ll turn up. Come on then. Allons-y.’
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