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thisbluespiritThe other 'missing scenes' for Lonely House happened after the events of that story and before those of Stardust and therefore could hardly be included, although this one I considered tagging on, but I couldn't think of any way of doing it that wouldn't be weird. But they fed into Nat's conversations with Evelyn nevertheless.
***
January 1986
“You should see a Doctor,” said Tilly, looking up from her textbook and notes when Nat coughed yet again. She glared at him. “You sound dreadful and I keep on telling you -.”
He carefully put a collection of equipment back into the cupboard. “And I keep telling you that I’ve seen several doctors, as you know full well, and this is only to be expected after what happened. I’m sorry if it’s driving you crazy. Go and study somewhere else.”
“Yes, but -,” she cut herself short and gave him another dark look instead.
Nat kicked the cupboard door shut. “I’m lucky, remember?” The arguing set him off again and he had to stop and lean against the workbench till he’d finished.
“Well, you still should see someone!”
He wondered what had got into her. “If you’re worrying, I’m flattered, but there’s no need.”
“Is something wrong?” asked the Colonel from the doorway. “Did you find anything, Dr Webber?”
He grinned and coughed again. He could see Tilly’s expression at that. It was a nuisance; he couldn’t have agreed with her more on the subject, but why she was being quite so strange about the whole thing was beyond him. “No. As we suspected, it wasn’t anything in the least bit unearthly. In fact, it didn’t really take much analysis in the end -.”
“Ah,” said the Colonel, a wary look crossing his face. “What, then?”
Tilly interrupted. “Will you stop talking so much, when all it does is make you cough, cough, cough? And when you go down the corridor too fast, you have to sit down at the other end and you’re being silly.”
“I don’t mind which one of you tells me,” said the Colonel, turning towards Tilly, a hand up to ward off Nat’s response. “What was it?”
She said, “I’m sorry, sir. It was only jam, from the factory. There’d been problems with something – they explained when we went down there about it – and well, it was a lot of jam, that’s all, which anybody should have been able to see without making a silly fuss and calling for us. Even I could tell. It was raspberry.”
“Seedless,” added Nat, unable to stop himself.
Tilly paused and then said, “Sir, please tell him to go back to the doctor’s, or stay home for a bit longer He’s not at all right yet and it’s not sensible.”
“I see,” said the Colonel. “In that case, may I have a word, Dr Webber?”
*
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s got into her,” said Nat, as they reached the Colonel’s office.
He pulled out his chair and gestured for his scientific advisor to take the other. “You don’t? Your unfortunate experience at the end of last year has left you now with a cough, shortness of breath – and you don’t see why that would alarm Miss Holmes?”
“Well, no,” said Nat. “She knows what happened, and she knows I’m getting better, so I don’t.” He could see the quizzical look on his face and sighed. “I’m missing something obvious, I can tell.”
The Colonel smiled. “Some things aren’t logical, fear in particular. I’m sure Miss Holmes knows that you’re right, but still -.”
“I’m sure I’m being stupid,” said Nat, “but I don’t understand. I’m not a historian, after all.”
He raised an eyebrow. “No, well – even when I was young, it was something spoken about in whispers, but then I did have a number of Victorian great-aunts, and aunts for that matter.”
“Did you?” asked Nat, unable to help feeling amused at the idea, but he made sure he kept it to himself. “I still don’t see what this has to do with Tilly.”
He smiled. “My apologies, Dr Webber; I’m not meaning to be mysterious. I’m talking about TB – consumption, as I imagine Miss Holmes might call it. It wasn’t known as the white man’s plague for nothing. Given Miss Holmes’s circumstances, it would be an odd thing if she hadn’t known at least one person who died of it. And I’m sure she can see for herself that the symptoms aren’t the same, but nevertheless, the similarities are there.”
Now he did feel stupid, but it was the sort of thing he associated with old-fashioned and sentimental books or films, not real life.
“There wasn’t a cure,” said the Colonel, “and it was a gradual but certain affair – a matter of watching someone fade away, and usually a young person at that. For poorer families, they couldn’t even manage rest and fresh air to delay the business, let alone a sanatorium. It’s hard to imagine now, but not for Miss Holmes.”
He got to his feet. “Yes. I hadn’t thought.”
“Well, I leave the rest to you, but I suspect that’s what’s at the root of this trouble. I haven’t asked her, mind and I could be wrong.”
Nat nodded. “Idiot,” he said, under his breath and gave another cough, a short one this time.
“I’m sorry?” said the Colonel.
He coloured. “Me, I meant. I’ll get out of your way and you can call me again if there are any more attacks – marmalade, honey, even Marmite – I’m sure we’re up to it.”
“Yes, thank you,” returned his CO, who didn’t appear to appreciate his humour.
*
Nat walked back along the corridor to the lab, feeling that he must be completely thick. He really hadn’t seen that, and it was hardly obscure. He knew there were misunderstandings sometimes and he was always looking out for things that Tilly might have trouble with, but it was a sobering thought to recognise that maybe he knew as little as she did at times about the years that should have separated them and on occasions, still did.
He’d known there were complications of all kinds, but maybe he hadn’t cared to try and find out what some of them might be. Now he would have to.
***
***
January 1986
“You should see a Doctor,” said Tilly, looking up from her textbook and notes when Nat coughed yet again. She glared at him. “You sound dreadful and I keep on telling you -.”
He carefully put a collection of equipment back into the cupboard. “And I keep telling you that I’ve seen several doctors, as you know full well, and this is only to be expected after what happened. I’m sorry if it’s driving you crazy. Go and study somewhere else.”
“Yes, but -,” she cut herself short and gave him another dark look instead.
Nat kicked the cupboard door shut. “I’m lucky, remember?” The arguing set him off again and he had to stop and lean against the workbench till he’d finished.
“Well, you still should see someone!”
He wondered what had got into her. “If you’re worrying, I’m flattered, but there’s no need.”
“Is something wrong?” asked the Colonel from the doorway. “Did you find anything, Dr Webber?”
He grinned and coughed again. He could see Tilly’s expression at that. It was a nuisance; he couldn’t have agreed with her more on the subject, but why she was being quite so strange about the whole thing was beyond him. “No. As we suspected, it wasn’t anything in the least bit unearthly. In fact, it didn’t really take much analysis in the end -.”
“Ah,” said the Colonel, a wary look crossing his face. “What, then?”
Tilly interrupted. “Will you stop talking so much, when all it does is make you cough, cough, cough? And when you go down the corridor too fast, you have to sit down at the other end and you’re being silly.”
“I don’t mind which one of you tells me,” said the Colonel, turning towards Tilly, a hand up to ward off Nat’s response. “What was it?”
She said, “I’m sorry, sir. It was only jam, from the factory. There’d been problems with something – they explained when we went down there about it – and well, it was a lot of jam, that’s all, which anybody should have been able to see without making a silly fuss and calling for us. Even I could tell. It was raspberry.”
“Seedless,” added Nat, unable to stop himself.
Tilly paused and then said, “Sir, please tell him to go back to the doctor’s, or stay home for a bit longer He’s not at all right yet and it’s not sensible.”
“I see,” said the Colonel. “In that case, may I have a word, Dr Webber?”
*
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s got into her,” said Nat, as they reached the Colonel’s office.
He pulled out his chair and gestured for his scientific advisor to take the other. “You don’t? Your unfortunate experience at the end of last year has left you now with a cough, shortness of breath – and you don’t see why that would alarm Miss Holmes?”
“Well, no,” said Nat. “She knows what happened, and she knows I’m getting better, so I don’t.” He could see the quizzical look on his face and sighed. “I’m missing something obvious, I can tell.”
The Colonel smiled. “Some things aren’t logical, fear in particular. I’m sure Miss Holmes knows that you’re right, but still -.”
“I’m sure I’m being stupid,” said Nat, “but I don’t understand. I’m not a historian, after all.”
He raised an eyebrow. “No, well – even when I was young, it was something spoken about in whispers, but then I did have a number of Victorian great-aunts, and aunts for that matter.”
“Did you?” asked Nat, unable to help feeling amused at the idea, but he made sure he kept it to himself. “I still don’t see what this has to do with Tilly.”
He smiled. “My apologies, Dr Webber; I’m not meaning to be mysterious. I’m talking about TB – consumption, as I imagine Miss Holmes might call it. It wasn’t known as the white man’s plague for nothing. Given Miss Holmes’s circumstances, it would be an odd thing if she hadn’t known at least one person who died of it. And I’m sure she can see for herself that the symptoms aren’t the same, but nevertheless, the similarities are there.”
Now he did feel stupid, but it was the sort of thing he associated with old-fashioned and sentimental books or films, not real life.
“There wasn’t a cure,” said the Colonel, “and it was a gradual but certain affair – a matter of watching someone fade away, and usually a young person at that. For poorer families, they couldn’t even manage rest and fresh air to delay the business, let alone a sanatorium. It’s hard to imagine now, but not for Miss Holmes.”
He got to his feet. “Yes. I hadn’t thought.”
“Well, I leave the rest to you, but I suspect that’s what’s at the root of this trouble. I haven’t asked her, mind and I could be wrong.”
Nat nodded. “Idiot,” he said, under his breath and gave another cough, a short one this time.
“I’m sorry?” said the Colonel.
He coloured. “Me, I meant. I’ll get out of your way and you can call me again if there are any more attacks – marmalade, honey, even Marmite – I’m sure we’re up to it.”
“Yes, thank you,” returned his CO, who didn’t appear to appreciate his humour.
*
Nat walked back along the corridor to the lab, feeling that he must be completely thick. He really hadn’t seen that, and it was hardly obscure. He knew there were misunderstandings sometimes and he was always looking out for things that Tilly might have trouble with, but it was a sobering thought to recognise that maybe he knew as little as she did at times about the years that should have separated them and on occasions, still did.
He’d known there were complications of all kinds, but maybe he hadn’t cared to try and find out what some of them might be. Now he would have to.
***
