Corridors of the Night Read Online Free PDF Page B

really badly.
    ‘Why do you want to be a doctor?’ Monk repeated.
    Scuff had the answer, he was just afraid that it sounded silly.
    ‘Don’t you know?’
    ‘Yes! ’Course I do!’
    ‘Then tell me. I won’t be the only person who asks you.’
    No, but he was the one who mattered most. Now he had to tell him.
    ‘’Cos I like what Hester does, and Crow. They see real bad pain that people can’t help themselves, and they get right in there and try to fix it. It’s difficult, and sometimes they can’t do it, but at the least they stop people being so scared, and feeling alone, and like nobody cares. They treat everyone the same, whoever they are. It . . . it kind of makes us all the same, ’cos take yer clothes off, get washed clean, like, and we all look the same.’
    Monk was silent. They were back walking slowly now. He looked very thoughtful.
    Scuff felt as if he had to go on. He couldn’t bear neither of them saying anything.
    ‘I know it’s very difficult, an’ yer gotter study a whole lot, an’ work very very hard. But yer gotter do that for most things. It’s kind of beautiful . . . how it all fits together, and you got somebody live, with hands and feet, an’ feelings inside.’
    ‘It is wonderful,’ Monk agreed. ‘And I think that’s a very good reason, in fact the best. Do you want to tell Hester yourself?’
    Scuff did not want to tell Hester how he felt. He cared too much, and he felt very foolish even to imagine he could do what she did, or anything like it. But he wanted to so much he would not give up.
    ‘Do you want me to tell her?’
    Scuff nodded. ‘Yeah . . .’
    Monk put out his hand and touched him briefly on the shoulder. ‘Then I will,’ he promised.
    It was over, at least for now. Scuff felt as if he could cry with relief. But that would make him a baby, and he was far too big for that.
    Monk waited until the following morning before he told Hester about his conversation with Scuff. She came home from night duty early, and by the sound of her footsteps he could tell that she was unusually tired. He had tried arguing with her before, pointing out that there was no need for her to work such hours. She had answered with a bleak smile that the need was not for herself, it was for the patients. It was temporary. Jenny Solway would probably return soon and that would be the end of it.
    Now as he sat up in bed he could hear her moving slowly. He slipped on a jacket over his nightshirt and went downstairs to meet her.
    She was standing in the middle of the kitchen. Only the smallest of the gas lamps was lit, leaving the far walls, with their shelves of pots and pans, in shadow. He had left the light for her deliberately.
    She turned and saw him, kettle in her hand. Contrition filled her face. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make a noise.’ She smiled at him. ‘It isn’t six yet. You can go back to sleep . . .’
    He took the kettle from her and put it on the hob, then bent to open the grate and rake the fire, but it was already beginning to burn up well.
    ‘I did that,’ she said quietly. ‘It must be what woke you.’
    ‘Hungry?’ he asked.
    She looked pale and there were bruised-looking shadows around her eyes. He guessed she had lost another patient that night. It would be the second one in two days. He knew the work was as important as anything a person could do, he just wished it were resting on someone else.
    ‘Not really,’ she said, trying to be both gentle and truthful at the same time.
    He did not argue but went straight to the pantry. He returned with a small wedge of fruitcake. He cut it into two slices, and then as the kettle boiled he made the tea, with cups for both of them. He did not ask how her night had been. Instinctively he already knew, just as she knew when he had had a day filled with tragedy and a feeling of helplessness. He hated adding to it with Scuff’s fears, but he had promised that he would tell her, and there would be no other time. He