The Dark Room by Minette Walters Page B

them?’ she said evenly. ‘It’d be a hit of sorts,
wouldn’t it?’
    ‘Not the sort I want and where’d I get a syringe from?’
    She glanced at him again. ‘Then walk out. Go into town. Or are we prisoners here?’
    ‘No,’ he muttered, rubbing his arms as if he were cold, ‘but someone would see. This place is crawling with security officers in case the proles get at the rich and
famous. Anyway, what would I use for money? They take it off you when you first come in.’
    Which presumably explained why she didn’t have her handbag. There were a few clothes in her wardrobe, but no handbag. She had assumed it’d been lost in the crash.
    ‘Well,’ she said with idle sarcasm, ‘if I was as desperate as you seem to be, then I’d go and mug some poor old woman for the money. I can’t see
what’s stopping you.’
    ‘You’re just like everybody else,’ he said angrily. ‘Go and knock down old ladies, beat the shit out of a bank manager, steal some kid’s piggy bank.
Jesus, I’m not a criminal. All I want is one bloody hit. You should listen to the Doc some time. What’s keeping you here, Matthew? You’re over twenty-one, you know what
you’re doing, so go walkabout, phone your supplier, get him to bring you something. I bloody rang my old man and told him, the Doc’s not trying to cure me, he’s trying to
encourage me, and this is what you’re paying for.’
    ‘What did your father say?’
    ‘He said: “No one’s stopping you, Matthew, so go ahead and do it.” I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with everyone. How about that walk then? Do
you fancy a walk?’
    ‘I can’t,’ she said rather curtly. ‘My legs aren’t strong enough yet.’
    ‘Yeah, I forgot. You tried to top yourself. OK, I’ll get a wheelchair, then.’
    ‘I suppose Dr Protheroe told you I was suicidal?’ she said bitterly.
    ‘Shit, no. Like I said, he doesn’t do a damn thing. Everyone knows about you. You’ve been in the papers. Millionaire’s daughter who tried to kill
herself.’
    ‘I didn’t try to kill myself.’
    ‘How would you know? The word is you can’t remember a thing.’
    She turned on him. ‘You bloody little shit,’ she said. ‘What the fuck would you know about anything?’
    He touched a surprisingly soft finger to the tears on her cheek. ‘I’ve been there,’ he said.

    She was still standing in front of the window twenty minutes later, propped against the chair, when Alan Protheroe came in. ‘I have a message for you from Matthew,’ he
told her. ‘It goes something like this: “Tell the bird in number twelve that I’ve found a wheelchair but it’s so filthy that I’m having to clean it. She probably
wouldn’t say no to some sodding lunch in the garden, so I’ve laid it on for her under the beech tree.”’ His amiable face broke into a grin. ‘Does that charming
invitation appeal at all, Jinx, or should I tell him I’ve ordered you back to bed? As before, he totally ignored the Do Not Disturb sign outside your door, so, in my view, he hasn’t
earned your company for lunch, and the chances are he’ll bore you solid with constant reiterations of his urge to shoot smack. However, it’s an entirely free choice.’
    She smiled rather cynically back at him. ‘I’m beginning to understand how you operate, Dr Protheroe.’
    ‘Are you?’
    ‘Yes. You work on the principle that people always do the opposite of what the figure in authority is telling them to do.’
    ‘Not necessarily,’ he said. ‘I’m interested in encouraging each individual to establish his own set of values, and it’s remarkably unimportant what
triggers that process off.’
    ‘Then you force us to make choices all the time.’
    ‘I don’t force anyone to do anything, Jinx.’
    She frowned. ‘Well, what am I supposed to do? Have lunch with Matthew or tell him to shove his head in a bucket. I mean, he’s a patient, too. I wouldn’t want to do
the wrong thing.’
    He shrugged. ‘It’s