A Dead Man in Malta Read Online Free PDF Page B

two had died during the night, which made an attack more plausible. He consulted Melinda about the arrangements for night nursing.
    In the bigger wards there was a night nurse on duty all the time. She had a desk at one end of the ward, at which she sat when she was not being called to one of the beds. All the time?
    Well, not quite all the time. At certain points during the night when things were quiet they would slip out to the nurses’ office for a quick cup of something.
    Would these points be regular? That is, could the nurse be depended on to be absent at that time?
    Melinda thought not. There were so many little things that might come up. You just went when it seemed the best moment.
    Still, there was a point in the night when the nurse would be absent and an intruder might come in at that point?
    Melinda was doubtful. They would have to be watching for the nurse to depart and where would they be while they were doing that? Anybody hanging about would be questioned by the nurse.
    And how would they get in anyway? When Laura was off duty, Reception was manned by the porter on duty. But there were also, always, the nurses in A and E who worked in shifts and there was a certain amount of socializing if things weren’t too busy. And on the whole they weren’t busy. This was a naval hospital and the flow of patients, largely, was restricted. It wasn’t, said Melinda, like a big London hospital.
    And what about the porters?
    Berto and Umberto took it in turns to work nights. They didn’t mind working nights because there wasn’t usually much to do. They could have a nice chat with the nurses and the people on Reception, come in on the cups of tea, and have a good kip, which they couldn’t do at home because there were babies around and you were up half the night. Besides, said Melinda, they could call in assistance. Assistance?
    Laura’s boy and his cousin. And young Fred from round the corner. And other members of the families of hospital staff. Seymour soon realized that there was a great web of family connections around the hospital. Jobs were not that plentiful in Malta and once you were in somewhere you had to do the best you could for other members of your family. It was open to abuse but it was also a source of strength. As here. For if someone fell down on the job, Laura was on to the family in no time and then the whole family was on the offender’s back. It was remarkable, said Melinda, how conscientious people became in these circumstances. So, no, there was no slackness in the system at nights. Indeed, it was the other way. For if Berto or Umberto should show signs of falling off, they would immediately be put right by young Peter or Johnnie, and that would be reported back to the family, too.
    It reminded Seymour of the East End, where he normally worked. Step out of line, over a girl, say, and the next moment the sky would drop in on you.
    And Melinda herself, he asked curiously: did she belong to a family, too? She certainly did; but they were up in Gozo to the north of the island, which was a long way away, and absolutely fine by Melinda, who had come down to Valletta for precisely that reason.
    The impression Seymour was getting was that the human web of which the hospital was the centre spread a sort of protective film over the hospital. Everybody knew everybody—everyone was probably related to everyone—and the hospital was like not a Big Brother but a small brother whom everybody in the family had to watch over and see that it came to no harm. It was very effective. And yet somebody had breached the film.
    If they had.
    It was time, he thought, to home in on the most specific of the charges: that made by the sailors. He had arranged for them to be sent to the hospital and saw them one by one. The first was a Londoner named Cooper. He was the one who had volunteered the supplementary information about what he had seen one night in the hospital at Singapore. Seymour had hopes of him. He had