Second Opinion (36 page)

‘He’s a fascist bastard,’ he gasped in an accent so cultured he could have been a character in a 1950s Ealing film, and he looked from George to Gus. ‘I thought he was trying to hurt you.’

‘He was,’ George shouted back — for there was still a great deal of din, though it was beginning to lessen now. ‘Thanks a whole lot.’

‘You didn’t have to do that,’ Gus grunted. ‘I’m a police officer and I had him in my hands, and —’

‘Police?’ the tall man said and shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry! I didn’t know that though, did I? I only know that this is the chap who’s been organizing these bloody fascists and causing a lot of the aggro round here and I wanted to get him — and help you at the same time, of course,’ he added hastily. He looked around. The fighting seemed to be contained, the police in control, people were running away, though some were being collected by the uniformed men and shoved into police vans which were arriving, and all around them were broken placards and banners on the ground. ‘I think I’ll hop it too, if you don’t mind. Take it from me, though, you’ve got the leader there.’

‘Hey,’ Gus shouted as the man began to slip away. ‘Don’t you bloody dare! You’re under arrest for —’

‘Some other time, thanks all the same,’ the man called back. ‘I have to get to work. You hold on to him! He’s trouble!’ And he was gone, legging it down the street and
dodging through the remnants of the crowd with the ease of long practice.

Gus cursed but held on to the slumped figure in his arms, a burden which had prevented him from grabbing the runaway. George reached out for the man’s other arm, helping Gus to deal with the weight of him.

‘Good luck to him,’ she said. ‘If he’s right and this is the ringleader, he’s done a great job. He doesn’t deserve to be collared for it. There, let’s take a look at him.’

The man was stirring now, moving his head and his arms in a groggy fashion and seeming better able to stand. Gus shouted over his shoulder at another policeman who came running as George pulled carefully on the fabric at the balaclava’s chin, pulling it up over the face to leave the woollen material sitting bundled incongruously on the top of the head.

And caught her breath in cold shock. The face that stared out at her, with swimming eyes and a trickle of blood on the forehead from the blow on the skull, was that of Philip Goss, the male nurse on the Paediatric Unit.

26
  
  

By the time they reached the A & E department, the peace of the morning that George had found so comforting earlier when she had shared coffee with Hattie and Adam Parotsky was shattered. The place was a maelstrom of stretchers, people with bloody heads and limbs, and distracted staff trying to impose some sort of order on to the chaos.

Gus, grim-lipped and silent, almost carried Philip Goss there and handed him over to one of the uniformed constables in the waiting area with strict instructions not to let him out of his sight, even if the medical staff tried to separate him from his charge, and told him he’d be within shouting call if he had any problems. And then turned to glare at George.

‘Now, Dr B., what am I to do about you? You lay yourself wide open to Gawd knows what in the shape of injury and then bugger me if you don’t go and do it all over again.’

‘Oh, Gus, do stop being such an old biddy,’ George said impatiently. ‘Listen, what —’

‘Old biddy!’ Gus was affronted. ‘Because I worry over you and want you to be safe, I’m an old biddy? That’s just about the most —’

‘Gus, shut up, will you? And listen. That guy — his name’s Philip Goss, I know him.’

‘That hooligan? You
know
him?’

‘I tried to explain outside there, but you wouldn’t stop! Now, will you shut up and
listen
so I can explain properly? Philip Goss is one of the male nurses on the Paediatric Unit. He’s a good guy — or at least I thought he was. Great with the kids and very supportive of Harry that day Dave Ritchard went for him. I can’t imagine that man who hit him was right — but he seemed so certain, didn’t he? And if he is, it just doesn’t make sense, though he did once say something …’ She frowned, trying to remember, but shook her head. ‘It’s gone. But he said something to me once that could have meant he was a bit devious. ‘I’ll try and remember. The thing is, he’s got a friend — I think he’s gay. There’s a new guy on the medical team in Paediatrics, Alan Prior. I’ve seen them together. I think — well, all I can think is that he’s around here as well — I mean, if he was involved in this demo too, it might be worth talking to him about Philip. Because you can’t just take that man’s word for it, can you? The man that hit him, I mean, and who said he was the leader of the racist lot.’

‘You’re damned right I can’t.’ Gus sounded very gloomy as he looked about at the crowded waiting room. ‘Evidence, that’s what I need. Not that it should be that difficult to sort out — not now we’ve got so firm a lead. I’ve always thought there was some organizational skill in operation somewhere on the pitch. Some of the racist incidents haven’t been — well, haphazard enough, know what I mean?’

‘I can imagine,’ she said. ‘Look, let me have a wander, hmm? I can borrow a white coat, look like some of the A & E staff. See if Prior’s here. I’ve met him so I know what he looks like. Maybe I can get something out of him.’

‘No!’ Gus began to protest, but at that moment the officer in charge of the uniformed police came bustling over to him in a fussy, somewhat self-important manner. ‘Shit!’ Gus said under his breath and composed his face into a semblance
of a welcoming expression. ‘You lookin’ for me, Bannen?’

‘I certainly am.’ Chief Inspector Edward Bannen peered closely at Gus. ‘I want to know why you were here this morning. We got a call from the hospital to cover the incident. I don’t see that CID have any place in a situation that involves public order in this sort of way and —’

‘Listen, it’s like this, Edward, me old pal.’ Gus put an arm over the man’s shoulders and with a flick of an expressive eyebrow at George led him away to the side of the waiting area. George watched them go and grinned. Poor Gus, she thought, much less in control than he thinks he is. And went in search of first a white coat and then Alan Prior.

She found him sitting with his head in his hands in a cubicle in the minor ops unit, waiting for someone to come and put a couple of stitches in a small split on his forehead. He lifted his head hopefully as George looked round the curtain, as she had with all the other cubicles, and looked at her with his eyes wide and pleading.

‘You’ll try and get a good cosmetic effect?’ he said. ‘It’s not that I’m vain, you know, but scars can be so —’

‘I’m not here to stitch you,’ she said, leaning over him and looking at the wound judiciously. ‘You could dress that with a butterfly plaster and you wouldn’t need stitches at all, you know. If someone said they would stitch it, then it’s because of wanting a good cosmetic result. You get slightly wider scars with butterfly dressings.’

‘I asked for a stitch.’ He put up one hand and touched the skin near the cut gingerly. ‘I know you, don’t I, from somewhere? Tell me, is it a very big cut? Have you a mirror I could borrow?’

‘Sorry, no,’ George said. ‘And yes you know me. I mean we’ve met. I’m George Barnabas, Pathology. I met you with Philip Goss in Paediatrics one afternoon.’

‘Er — yes,’ he said. He put his hands back on his lap and
ducked his chin down so that he had to look at her from beneath half-lowered lids. ‘Well — er — I think I remember.’

‘Doesn’t matter if you don’t. I remember you.’ She looked at him thoughtfully. Maybe the blunt way in would be best; even if it weren’t, she had little time for more. At any moment someone would come and treat the man and she’d lose her opportunity, and Gus was still fussing about. Once he got away from Bannen he’d be sure to come back, wanting to tuck her up somewhere. She might just as well go for broke.

‘Philip Goss — he’s a special person in your life?’ she said baldly.

Prior blinked but otherwise held her gaze. ‘Is he?’ he said.

‘Oh come on! No need to be coy with me. It’s legal, so why worry? He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?’

‘If he is, it’s no concern of yours.’

‘Was it his idea you should come down and get involved in this? Did he warn you you might get hurt?’

Prior flushed suddenly. ‘He did not! I don’t pretend to be anything but what I am, and that’s a devout coward. I’m not one for bashing and shoving. I won’t go on gay rights marches and I wouldn’t have come down here for this if he hadn’t said it was going to be peaceful. He told me he’d got the whole thing really tightly organized, there’d be no opposition to us — and wasn’t he wrong! He was furious when those communist types turned up.’

‘Communist?’ George murmured. ‘What an old-fashioned word.’

‘Well, you know what I mean,’ Prior said fretfully. ‘These so-called anti-racists. Stupid creatures — if they’d grown up in South Africa like I did, they’d know better. But Philip had promised me we’d be safe, and I thought wearing those damned woolly helmets’d make it really OK. No one’d recognize us, you see, and we’d be — well,
safe
. But they managed to cut me even through all that wool! Look at this!’

He lifted a black woollen balaclava from his lap and showed it to her. It was exactly like the one Goss had been wearing and her breathing speeded up in excitement at the sight of it. It wasn’t precisely proof that Goss had organized all the mayhem — including Harry’s death — but it was confirmation of his close involvement. ‘Some chap hit me with the handle of one of those bloody placards and look at me!’ Prior went on complainingly and again he touched his forehead near the cut. ‘Split my head open!’

‘It can happen,’ she said, not altogether sympathetically. ‘It doesn’t always need a knife.’

‘Honestly, I could kill that Philip! He had no right to bring me down for this. I’m a doctor, not a bloody politician. He may be all excited over it, but me, I don’t want to know.’

‘Politician, is he?’ George said as casually as she could and leaned back against the wall, her hands shoved deep in her white coat pockets to hide any excitement they might betray. ‘What sort?’

‘Oh, I don’t know!’ Prior said irritably. ‘He’s always going on about something. I can’t be sure what side he’s on, to tell you the truth. He’s very fond of playing what he calls both sides against the middle — plotting to get the things done that he wants done.’

‘Yes,’ George said softly. ‘Yes, of course! That was what he said. He told me that once.’ She could remember it so vividly now that it was almost as though Goss were standing there in front of her, repeating the words he’d used when she’d told him she thought he was a bit of a villain who liked to get his own way. ‘Doesn’t everyone? It’s not difficult, you know. A bit of a tweak here, a word in an ear there, and it’s amazing what you can achieve.’ She’d been joking, but she’d been more accurate than she could have expected.

‘Told you, did he? Then why are you quizzing me?’ Prior sounded more fretful than ever. ‘When will they come and do this damned stitching? I want to get out of here and sort
myself out. I feel a complete mess. It’s the last time I do a locum at this horrible place.’

‘They’re a bit tied up,’ George said. ‘A lot of cases out there. Including Philip.’

He tilted his head up sharply at that. ‘What?’

‘He got a cut head too, but he was knocked out for a while. Probably a minute or two.’

‘Good God!’ Prior looked horrified. ‘Don’t tell me he’s got a skull fracture!’

‘I’ve no idea. It’s possible, obviously. I imagine he’ll be X-rayed. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.’

She was genuinely concerned for a moment; however much she now suspected Goss of being the man who had murdered Harry, she was still a doctor, and still responded professionally to the pain and distress of the sick or the injured, even though in this case the injured man was Goss’s lover. But he shook his head at her, wincing a little at the discomfort as he did it.

‘Not upset, exactly. I mean not about Philip Goss. I’ve had as much of him as I can take. If he wants to stick his fool head out and get it walloped that’s his choice. If he hasn’t the wit to keep out of situations where he might get a skull fracture that’s his lookout.’ He shuddered. ‘I’ve always had a horror of brain damage. Seen too much of it. I worked in Groote Schuur and some of those kaffirs, after the police sent them to us — well, don’t ask! No, what makes me mad is that he lied to me! He told me it’d be safe, a bit of fun, no more, and expected me to — well, it’s enough to —’ He stopped, clearly lost for words, and George tried not to show her disgust. But she couldn’t completely succeed.

‘I thought you might be worried about him,’ she said as lightly as she could. ‘I had the impression you were close.’

‘Not now, we aren’t,’ Prior said with deep feeling. ‘And if he asks you, you can tell him so! Oh, at last!’ as a nurse came through the curtains with a suture tray. ‘I thought you were never going to get here!’

‘We’re doing all we can to deal with you all. The place is jammed,’ the nurse said. She looked at George. ‘Are you all right, Dr Barnabas? I thought you were injured too.’

‘I’m fine,’ George said quickly. ‘Just fine. Thanks, Dr Prior,’ and she escaped.