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Words from
akonken
"Henry Marcus," Arthur explained. "He was a patient here at the very least from 1983 to 2005. He sent a letter to the family; it was postmarked from the village and stamped with the name of the asylum."
The severe looking staff nurse drew himself up behind his desk. "I am very sorry, sir, but there is not and never has been a patient of that name at this establishment. Nor," he added frostily, "has this been an 'asylum' since long before 1983. Now, I have duties and I really do not have time for this interrogation."
Arthur lifted his hands and gripped the back of his head in an effort to keep his temper in check. "Damnit...!" he snapped, his sudden exclamation echoing through the quiet foyer.
"Sir," the nurse hissed softly.
"Yes! Yes... I'm sorry," he sighed. "I'll go."
He turned and stalked back out into the parking lot of the rambling old manor which house the Beckslett Residential Care Home for the Irretrievably Baffled, which was more or less exactly how he was feeling regarding this particular part of his family history.
At the car he stopped. "Can I help you?" he asked.
"You're what; his kid?"
He turned to face the speaker, a lean woman with greying hair and a rumpled nurse's uniform.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You're his son? Nephew? The Professor, I mean?"
"Professor?" He glanced over her shoulder; three orderlies were running towards her across the lawn. "You're not a nurse, are you?"
"And Professor Marcus wasn't a patient," she replied. "You're a copper, right?" She grinned wildly as she disappeared under a dogpile of orderlies. As they dragged her away she called out: "Ask the right questions!"
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"Henry Marcus," Arthur explained. "He was a patient here at the very least from 1983 to 2005. He sent a letter to the family; it was postmarked from the village and stamped with the name of the asylum."
The severe looking staff nurse drew himself up behind his desk. "I am very sorry, sir, but there is not and never has been a patient of that name at this establishment. Nor," he added frostily, "has this been an 'asylum' since long before 1983. Now, I have duties and I really do not have time for this interrogation."
Arthur lifted his hands and gripped the back of his head in an effort to keep his temper in check. "Damnit...!" he snapped, his sudden exclamation echoing through the quiet foyer.
"Sir," the nurse hissed softly.
"Yes! Yes... I'm sorry," he sighed. "I'll go."
He turned and stalked back out into the parking lot of the rambling old manor which house the Beckslett Residential Care Home for the Irretrievably Baffled, which was more or less exactly how he was feeling regarding this particular part of his family history.
At the car he stopped. "Can I help you?" he asked.
"You're what; his kid?"
He turned to face the speaker, a lean woman with greying hair and a rumpled nurse's uniform.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You're his son? Nephew? The Professor, I mean?"
"Professor?" He glanced over her shoulder; three orderlies were running towards her across the lawn. "You're not a nurse, are you?"
"And Professor Marcus wasn't a patient," she replied. "You're a copper, right?" She grinned wildly as she disappeared under a dogpile of orderlies. As they dragged her away she called out: "Ask the right questions!"