Yesterday's Spy

Chapter 21

‘Don’t ask me for a medical reason,’ said the doctor. He finished dressing a cut on my arm. ‘Let’s just say that it wasn’t Monsieur Champion’s time to go.’

‘But how sick is he now?’

‘Most people would need a couple of months’ convalescence. But then most people would probably have died in the smash. Most people would need an intensive-care unit, instead of sitting up in bed asking for whisky. But the police can’t talk to him until next week. I told them that.’

‘I’m sure he stopped breathing,’ I said. ‘I thought he was dead.’

‘Will-power,’ said the doctor. ‘You see a lot of it in my job. Had he been in a depressed state, he might have died. As it is, he’s probably got all manner of plans that he simply won’t give up.’

‘You’re probably right,’ I said.

‘You saved his life,’ said the doctor. ‘I told him that. It was lucky that you were only slightly hurt. You saved him. Those damned dentures would have choked him: he wouldn’t have been the first, either. Airlines tell people to remove them if there’s the danger of a forced landing.’

‘We’ve known each other a long time,’ I said.

‘Don’t talk to him tonight,’ said the doctor. ‘Well, let’s hope he’s around to do the same thing for you some time.’

‘He already has,’ I said.

The doctor nodded. ‘There are tablets for the pain. He’ll go to sleep now, I’ve given him a powerful dose of sedative — big frame and very restless — I’ll keep him well sedated for the next few days. I don’t think we’ll have to move him into the clinic.’

‘And the boy?’

‘He needs a good night’s sleep, that’s all. Children have an extraordinary recuperative facility. I don’t want to give him my knock-out drops. I suggest that you give him some warmed wine with plenty of sugar in it. Nature’s remedy, the grape. Better than all the chemicals.’

‘Thank you, doctor.’

‘Don’t thank me. I am pleased to be of service. I like them, you see. The child has inherited his father’s charm, hasn’t he?’

‘Yes, he has.’

‘He made me promise you’d say goodnight to him. I told him his father’s asleep. I don’t think he’s anxious, but …’

‘I’ll go and see him now.’

I need not have tiptoed in.

‘Did you see Henry? He was covered in blood.’

‘You must go to sleep, Billy.’

‘Where’s Daddy?’

‘He’s got to have a good night’s sleep, the doctor said so.’

‘Is Henry dead?’

It was a trap to test my story about his father. ‘Yes, Billy. Poor Henry is dead, but your father is just shaken up, and you and me are just fine. So we must count our blessings.’

Billy corrected me. ‘We must thank God,’ he said.

‘That’s what I meant,’ I said.

‘Can I see Daddy?’

‘If you want to, you can. But I thought you’d take my word for it.’

‘Yes, I do,’ said Billy. ‘I do take your word for it.’ He wriggled down into his bed and put his face into his pillow. I waited for him to peep out at me. When he did, I pulled a face at him. Usually he laughed, but this time he was very serious. ‘Is Aunty Nini in prison?’

Pina had always been called Nini, ever since Billy had found her real name too difficult to pronounce. ‘Why, Billy?’

‘For shooting Henry.’

‘Who says she shot Henry?’

‘I saw her,’ said Billy. ‘She was driving the motorcycle. I saw her and she saw me.’

‘It looked like her, Billy. But Aunty Nini would not shoot us; we’re friends, aren’t we?’

Billy nodded, and swallowed. ‘It looked like her, though,’ he said.

‘I’ll bring you a glass of wine,’ I said. ‘Then we’ll put out the light, so that you can sleep. In the morning we’ll try talking to the fishes again.’