FORTY-ONE
‘What are you doing?’
The boy let his bare fingertips linger at the keyhole a moment, then flicked his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the little smudge of blood from the otherwise gleaming brass. It would be better if someone had actually left a key in the room. Easier to explain. But Doctor Green was a conscientious man, and he would object. If he felt the need, he would interfere.
‘What are you doing?’ Mrs Harker asked again. ‘I didn’t mean this second,’ she clarified. ‘I’d like a chance to speak to my son.’
It was astounding how steady her voice remained, though it was weak and laboured. She must have had a lot of time to think about death. To plan her own. She may have known that un-death still lurked inside her somewhere, that it had not been wholly excised by Dr
