Free Ellis Peters - George Felse 11 - Death To The Landlords by Ellis Peters Page A

casualty department, when these things are brought in – hit-and-run victims, gang killings, knifings in fights – all that… How do you set about keeping your cool? Or do you just get used to it in time?’
    ‘No, you do not get used to it,’ Priya said almost with asperity. ‘Or rather, perhaps you do and you don’t, because if you don’t – in one way – you can’t bear to go on being a nurse, and if you do – in the other way – you had much better stop, because you’re not fit to be a nurse. Your mind gets used to it, and then you can use your faculties to try and combat it. But your heart never gets used to it, and you never stop being hurt.’ She added deprecatingly, suddenly aware of her own warmth: ‘It is not for everyone, of course, why should it be?’
    ‘Not for me,’ said Patti with decision. She swung her feet to the floor, and sat on the edge of her bed. In the corner of the ceiling a tiny jade-green gecko clung upside-down, motionless but for the slow lift and fall of transparent eyelids, and the pulse in his throat, which vibrated almost too rapidly to be seen. Harmless, mysterious, jewel-like little things. The more I see of men, the more I like animals! But we’re all caught, aren’t we? You can’t resign, once you’re born.
    ‘He seems to have been guilty of some deaths himself,’ Priya said, attempting comfort that seemed to her quite irrelevant, but might make a difference for Patti. ‘It is not only Romesh, I have been asking. Everyone knows the story, and most people believe it was he who was responsible for that attack. And it was a very bad case – one family was burned in its hut. But the raiders got away, and no one can prove anything.’
    ‘No,’ Patti agreed, reviving, ‘I gathered he wasn’t a very nice man.’ She got up and pattered across barefoot to the shower-room, suddenly brisk and resolute, as if she had made up her mind about facing both today and yesterday, and had to take the plunge now, and violently, or lose the initiative altogether. ‘Do you suppose Inspector Raju’s still here? I’ve got to see him…’
    ‘Just a minute,’ Priya called back from the bedroom. “There’s someone at the door. ‘ And she went to open it, to find herself confronting a sleepy but still debonair Sergeant Gokhale. Even after a sleepless night he was not so tired that he could not take pleasure in the sight of a good-looking girl fresh and spruce from her morning toilet, and not so devoted to duty that he could not make use of his eyes and his smile to convey his pleasure.
    ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you too soon, Miss Madhavan. Inspector Raju would like to speak to you in his office – the room he was using last night. But at your convenience, there is no hurry.’
    ‘Thank you, it’s quite convenient now. I will come.’ And she called towards the shower-room: ‘The inspector wants to see me. I won’t be long. Do take down that sari, if it’s in your way.’
    ‘I already have. All right,’ said Patti’s voice, half-resigned and half-relieved, ‘after you!’
    She was dressing when Priya came back. She came in very softly and quietly, as was her way, and began to collect up her night things without a word, her hands competent and quick as ever; and it took Patti several minutes to realise that there was a different quality about this silence, a private tension, not at all out of hand – she had never seen any emotion get out of hand in Priya so far – but nevertheless troublous and dismaying. Then, looking up with carefully screened attention through the drift of her fair hair as she brushed it, she saw tears overflow slowly from the dark eyes. She dropped her brush and was across the room in an instant.
    ‘Priya, what is it, what’s the matter? What did he want with you?’ She flung an arm round the slender, straight shoulders, and then, in terror that her touch was too familiar and would be unwelcome even in these circumstances, snatched it away