wall of the foyer were filled with the walking wounded. A woman in kitchen uniform was saying, over and over, that she had eaten one. Paul Moss was trying to tell her that she was going to be all right, but she wasn’t listening. Some of the staff had just been unable to cope with the panic and were sitting with their heads between their knees. They were mostly men, but Jacquie wasn’t in the mood to joke about that, scoring off Davies as she normally would. She looked them over quickly and, although she knew almost all of them, none was Maxwell. Not that she would have expected to see him feeling sorry for himself like that. So, that must mean he was still with the others, the eight remaining ‘down’ in the words of the paramedic.
Another gurney was coming through. This one bore Helen Maitland, her leg strapped between two boards. ‘Oh, Jacquie,’ she called. ‘Thank goodness you’re here. It’s bedlam in there.’ She gestured behind her into the dining hall. ‘Someone poisoned the buffet.’
Jacquie was confused. ‘But …’ she pointed at the woman’s leg.
‘Oh, I know,’ Helen said. ‘One of the candidates fell over and pulled me down with her.’ She caught Jacquie’s look. ‘She’s a very big woman. I fell awkwardly and broke my leg. Tomfrom PE has gashed his head really badly, and a few others fainted. Diamond is in a really bad way. All the candidates are out of it. Bernard Ryan is ill as well, but not unconscious.’
Jacquie cleared her throat and tried to pitch her voice the low side of hysterical. ‘Max?’
‘In there, covered in sick, but don’t worry. It’s someone else’s. He and Sylvia are the heroes of the hour, Jacquie. But, why don’t you go through? He’ll be glad to see you.’ She twisted round as best she could and spoke to the gurney-pusher . ‘Off you go, my man, and don’t spare the horses. Aren’t you supposed to give people lots of brandy at times like these?’ The paramedic tried to look as if he had never heard that one before and bent his back to the task.
‘’Bye, Helen,’ Jacquie said. ‘We’ll be in to see you this evening, if that’s OK.’
‘Ooh, please. Don’t bring grapes, though. I prefer crisps.’ And then, a second thought, ‘Actually, don’t bring anything.’
‘OK. See you later.’ Davies was going through the swing doors ahead of her into the dining hall. All the kids had now been cleared out of the building and the detective’s shoes squeaked on the still-polished floor. Jacquie caught up with him as the doors began to swing closed. On the other side of them, calm was beginning to return. The paramedics from the third and fourth ambulances had spread out among the fallen andwere assessing them where they lay. Although no more were dead, everyone who had eaten whatever it was was either unconscious or close to it. Sylvia and Maxwell were kneeling together over the prone form of Bernard Ryan. He was groaning and every now and again leaning over and trying to be sick. Sylvia was patting him consolingly. Jacquie walked over to them, putting on her professional demeanour, though her heart was hammering in her ribs. ‘Max, Sylvia, thank goodness you’re all right.’
Maxwell looked up at the sound of her voice and clambered to his feet. ‘I won’t hug you, heart. I seem to be covered in sick. Just like the Light Brigade at Varna. Of course, that was cholera. Christ knows what this is.’
‘Max,’ she said. ‘I was so worried.’
‘I left a message,’ he said. ‘With the desk sergeant.’
‘You might as well have told the cat. Not our cat, of course,’ she said. ‘He always passes things on. I mean the station cat.’ Her lip trembled. ‘I was just so worried, when I got here. Ambulances. Dead bodies with your jacket on them.’ Regardless of vomit traces she hugged him tight.
‘Sssh,’ he said, rocking her and stroking her hair. ‘Sssh, I’m all right. Thanks to your egg and cress.’
She pulled away and became
Another gurney was coming through. This one bore Helen Maitland, her leg strapped between two boards. ‘Oh, Jacquie,’ she called. ‘Thank goodness you’re here. It’s bedlam in there.’ She gestured behind her into the dining hall. ‘Someone poisoned the buffet.’
Jacquie was confused. ‘But …’ she pointed at the woman’s leg.
‘Oh, I know,’ Helen said. ‘One of the candidates fell over and pulled me down with her.’ She caught Jacquie’s look. ‘She’s a very big woman. I fell awkwardly and broke my leg. Tomfrom PE has gashed his head really badly, and a few others fainted. Diamond is in a really bad way. All the candidates are out of it. Bernard Ryan is ill as well, but not unconscious.’
Jacquie cleared her throat and tried to pitch her voice the low side of hysterical. ‘Max?’
‘In there, covered in sick, but don’t worry. It’s someone else’s. He and Sylvia are the heroes of the hour, Jacquie. But, why don’t you go through? He’ll be glad to see you.’ She twisted round as best she could and spoke to the gurney-pusher . ‘Off you go, my man, and don’t spare the horses. Aren’t you supposed to give people lots of brandy at times like these?’ The paramedic tried to look as if he had never heard that one before and bent his back to the task.
‘’Bye, Helen,’ Jacquie said. ‘We’ll be in to see you this evening, if that’s OK.’
‘Ooh, please. Don’t bring grapes, though. I prefer crisps.’ And then, a second thought, ‘Actually, don’t bring anything.’
‘OK. See you later.’ Davies was going through the swing doors ahead of her into the dining hall. All the kids had now been cleared out of the building and the detective’s shoes squeaked on the still-polished floor. Jacquie caught up with him as the doors began to swing closed. On the other side of them, calm was beginning to return. The paramedics from the third and fourth ambulances had spread out among the fallen andwere assessing them where they lay. Although no more were dead, everyone who had eaten whatever it was was either unconscious or close to it. Sylvia and Maxwell were kneeling together over the prone form of Bernard Ryan. He was groaning and every now and again leaning over and trying to be sick. Sylvia was patting him consolingly. Jacquie walked over to them, putting on her professional demeanour, though her heart was hammering in her ribs. ‘Max, Sylvia, thank goodness you’re all right.’
Maxwell looked up at the sound of her voice and clambered to his feet. ‘I won’t hug you, heart. I seem to be covered in sick. Just like the Light Brigade at Varna. Of course, that was cholera. Christ knows what this is.’
‘Max,’ she said. ‘I was so worried.’
‘I left a message,’ he said. ‘With the desk sergeant.’
‘You might as well have told the cat. Not our cat, of course,’ she said. ‘He always passes things on. I mean the station cat.’ Her lip trembled. ‘I was just so worried, when I got here. Ambulances. Dead bodies with your jacket on them.’ Regardless of vomit traces she hugged him tight.
‘Sssh,’ he said, rocking her and stroking her hair. ‘Sssh, I’m all right. Thanks to your egg and cress.’
She pulled away and became
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