Sally, for her part, was annoyed that the deposit had been disposed of before they could consider its viability for reuse. "That could've been good eating," she said, more than once. "What a waste!"
It had, unfortunately, had the exact intended consequence of reducing their flow of people to both the clinic's health services and to the educational ones offered abovestairs.
Mae could not blame people for not wanting to risk inciting the ire of anyone unhinged enough to dismember random animals and leave their bits strewn about on the street, but she resented letting the vandals have this small victory, even so.
Mr. Reed, for his part, had started arriving and leaving later, rather than matching the hours of her shifts. He spent a great deal of time with the builders who were installing the staircases, the ever-increasing young boys who were joining the cause of protecting the clinic, and a new contingent of adult men who were, as of this week anniversary of the pig incident, going to inhabit the interior of the clinic overnight.
That last group of helpers had been hired by Vix Aster, who was currently sitting next to Mae's grandfather with a ledger of names, walking him through the rotation of patrolmen. Bizarrely, her ledger and quill were perched on a small makeshift desk alongside one other item: a silver thimble, which perched primly on the corner of the desk as though it was overseeing operations.
When Mae approached her directly, pointed at it, and asked why it was there, Vix rolled her eyes and said only, "It is there because I have to pay for the patrols," which explained very little. In fact, it only raised more questions.
"Do not worry," Vix added. "Someone else will have it before the week is out, I'm certain. I'm considering Rosalind. Did you know her brother owns a private investigation agency? And further, did you know my brother's business partner is marriedto a barrister? I feel we are not optimizing our contacts here, Casper."
"We're not?" Dr. Casper replied, blinking, making Vix turn to him and drop a kiss on the bald part of his head, which was surrounded by fluffy white hair.
"My dear man," she said. "I'd never call you simply Casper. When I'm being impertinent, know that it is directed at Mae."
Once she'd swished off, Mae’s grandfather blinked up at her, red as a beet as he rubbed his hand over the spot she'd kissed, and whispered, "Don't tell your grandmother."
As the evening began to wind down, Mr. Reed returned to walk the two patrolmen for the evening through their duties for the night.
Mae did her best not to eavesdrop as she attended to her last handful of patients, but ultimately, this was her domain, was it not? Surely she was entitled to hear how these overnight security measures were going to be undertaken.
He sounded so certain, directing and instructing and gesturing at them, that golden-pink mane of hair swinging over his shoulders.
He hadn't looked at her today, had he? Not where she'd seen, anyway.
He still hadn't really spoken to her, either. Not really.
That, at least, was typical. She had never been sure what it was, specifically, about her that offended him so. Her vocation? Her appearance? Her gender?
It was not that she would change any of these things about herself to please him, even if she had the power to, but perhaps there would be some comfort in knowingwhyhe treated her like this.
She sighed.
Her patient sighed too, gazing at him. "What den of angels did you stealhimfrom?" the woman asked, batting her lashes.
It was annoying enough to make Mae stop wondering the same.
She finished wrapping the burn on the patient's arm and sent her on her way, frowning and rubbing her fingers over her eyes.
"Hello?" came a very posh voice. "I'm looking for a Miss Casper?"
She shook her head, dropping her hands away, and turned around to look at the door, uncertain anyone who sounded that fancy should be on her doorstep today, much less looking for her by name.
She paused, her eyes widening a little in surprise at the tall, dark-skinned gentleman standing in the entryway, looking around the clinic with a look of abject delight, his hand stroking over a silky black beard. He was finely dressed in shiny black boots and a crisp white cravat and had a glossy leather medical bag in his hand.
"Dr. Govindacharya?" she asked, trying not to let disbelief tinge her voice.
She had been expecting a funny little man, she realized. Someone ostensibly foreign, perhaps in odd, patterned robes, maybe a turban? Certainly she had thought he would bespeaking in a strange accent. She wasn't anticipating ... well, this.
This man might have brown skin, but he sounded like he'd gotten his first knee scrape during a scrap at Eton.
"Miss Casper?" he returned, breaking into a wide, white-toothed grin.
Dear God, she thought, blinking as he strode forward, hand outstretched to be shaken. That burn victim would've never left if she'd stuck around for this second man from the aforementioned den of angels.
"What an absolute pleasure it is to finally meet you in person!" the doctor exclaimed, taking Mae's much smaller hand in both of his and giving it a warm squeeze and a shake. "Look at this place! What an achievement!"
