Deep Secret (Magids 1) - Page 51

“We could get him drunk,” I suggested, pointing to the cocktail fridge. “There’s whisky and brandy and vodka in there.”

“Hm,” said Maree. “Rob, how do you behave when you’re drunk?”

Rob said, muffled in his arms and his hair, “No, no – I can’t. I cry.”

“That’s all right,” said Maree. “I just don’t want you violent. OK, Rupert.” She eyed Rob’s bulk, calculating its weight, which must have been twice mine, though he was, I suspected, rather small for a centaur. “Try two double whiskies for a start.” She then turned away, holding both bloodstained hands in the air, and commenced kicking at my bathroom door. “Nick! Nick! Come out of there! I need to get this blood off and then scrub up.”

As Will opened the fridge and passed me a cluster of little bottles, Nick emerged, gazed at Maree’s fingernails, each one spiked with blood, and clung to the doorway, moaning.

“Don’t be such a wimp!” Maree told him. “Come back in here and get those soapdishes loose for me. I’ll need them to sterilise things in.”

Rob sniffed at the opened bottle I offered him and shuddered. “I – I can’t.”

“Yes you can!” Maree commanded from the bathroom.

“The boss says you’ve got to,” Will told him. “Come on. Drink up.”

Between us we coaxed one and a half little bottles down him. Then Maree emerged, opened that leather case of hers and said, “Damn. I’ve got antibiotic powder but no antiseptic. Rupert—”

“I’m on my way,” I said.

I caught up with the chambermaid just as she was wheeling her service trolley away. “What do you want it for?” she understandably wanted to know.

“The Guest of Honour’s son has been a little ill,” I told her truthfully.

“He isn’t the only one!” she said. “I think half the rooms up here were drunk last night. That’s why you’re lucky to catch me. That, and Maureen leaving because of that ghost playing music in the staff car park.”

“Oh it’s not still doing it!” I groaned, and then bound to add prudently, “I saw everyone looking for it this morning.”

“Yes,” she said. “Still at it. I mean, if it was pop, you’d know it was a car radio. But it’s always classical stuff. All tinkly.”

“Then it has to be a ghost – I see what you mean,” I said sympathetically, wondering what I could do to Stan to stop him. “It is a bit much, I agree.”

I came back with an armload of various disinfectants to a room thick with the steam from four kettles and the smell of blood and horse. Will and Nick were humbly arranging implements and thread in soapdishes, cups, saucers and the lid of my silver shaving kit. There were now three empty little bottles in front of Rob. His face looked healthier because of the warmer brown flush to it. Maree stood among it all with a pair of scissors.

She accorded me an approving nod. “Good. Thanks.” Snip, went the scissors. Snip, snip. Pieces of long yellow fingernail flew across the steamy room. “Bring those disinfectants into the bathroom and I’ll show you how to scrub up properly. There must be all sorts of bugs in this world that Rob’s system isn’t used to and I’m not taking any chances.”

I saw that I had been volunteered for nurse-attendant. It was fair enough, considering the state Will and Nick were both still in, but I had got by so far only by carefully not looking at Rob’s left flank, and I was not at all sure I could manage.

“Come along!” barked Maree, disposing of her last fingernail. Snip!

“Yes’m,” I said.

She caught my eye and grinned at me. “Sorry.” In the bathroom, she confided in a whisper, “This is the first time I’ve done anything like this. I’m nervous.”

“You could have fooled me!” I said. She pushed her glasses up and gave me a proper smile at that. It made me as warm as the flush on Rob’s face. I began to feel that it was worth being volunteered, if it meant that Maree was starting to approve of me a little.

Shortly, we were all set to go, Maree in the one surgical mask she happened to have in her case, her hair tied back in my hand-towel and her newly manicured hands in rubber gloves; and me with one silk cravat over my lower face, a second round my head like a turban, and her other pair of rubber gloves.

As we went over to Rob to start, someone knocked on the door.

“Don’t anyone answer it,” I mumbled through the cravat.

But the door opened, in spite of being still locked. Zinka stuck her silky brown head round it. “Ah,” she said. “I thought it wasn’t just a costume. Hello, Will! Rupert, is this beginning to be an emergency, or what?”

“It’s more or less under control,” I said. “But I would be grateful if you could do something about the lift. It’s full of blood and I had to fix it on this floor until I could see it.”

“Can do,” Zinka said cheerfully. “I’ll do it at once – people are grumbling. What did you use to stick it here?”

Tags: Diana Wynne Jones Magids Fantasy
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