Of Lakes, Mysteries and the Odd Lunatic

Chapter XI: (title too long)

Chapter XI

In which a man is saved from a gravity-related death, and an obstacle is solved with a piece of metal

Lawrence knocked on door number 21, opening it a crack.

“Hello?” he looked over to the bed, but it had no occupant.

“Yes, yes, it’s fine, Lawrence. Just taking a little breather.”

Lawrence looked around the small room, but he couldn’t see anyone there.

“Where are you exactly?”

“Oh. I’m out the window.”

“What?”

“The window. I’m hanging out of it.”

Lawrence rushed to the window and looked out and down. There he saw an aged man in his dressing gown and pyjamas, hanging upside down two stories in the air. Around his ankles was tied a bed-sheet, which had been skilfully attached to the window frame to as to support him.

“What are you doing down there? Do you need any help?”

The old man looked up at Lawrence. “Oh, no. I’m fine. I needed some fresh air, that’s all.”

“That’s a funny way to go about it.”

“It might be to some people, I suppose. Actually, it’s been five minutes, you can haul me up now.”

The man, being quite old and frail, was not too heavy to be pulled up my Lawrence alone. Once the man was standing the right way up and on his feet on his bedroom floor, his face began returning from a pulsing red to his normal colour.

“That wasn’t that safe. I don’t want you doing it again. What if I wasn’t around to help you?”

“Oh, I know you always come to my room between 4:20 and 4:26, so I knew you’d be around in time to haul me up.”

“And if I was delayed?”

“The I would have to manage myself!”

Lawrence thought the man a little old to be doing that kind of movement. The man in question went and sat on his bed and rested his hands on his knees.

“So are you doing okay?” Lawrence asked.

“Yes, yes. I’m fine. The question is, what about you?”

Lawrence looked surprised. “Me?”

“Yes. You.” the man pointed at him.

“Well. I’m okay, I suppose.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“No? Why not?”

“All the troubles and problems you have to face, and this many people to look after, it must be quite a load.”

“Well, I guess some of the patients are quite demanding. Not you, of course.”

“Don’t be silly, Lawrence. I know how much of a burden I am, even though my condition is not as serious as other people’s.”

“You, know about what you have?”

“Yes. I didn’t always know, but I do now.”

“Well, that’s a great improvement! Congratulations!”

The old man laughed, then coughed a little. “You do some good work, Lawrence. But I know there is a problem overshadowing you as well as the Institute.”

“Yes?”

“Money. You’re rather lacking in it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that, exactly. You know, we’re managing okay.”

“You’re broke.”

“Ah...yes.”

“I’m not blind, Lawrence. I can see things happening around here. The food portions have been less. I see less of the staff. Every week I can see teams of contractors coming in to fix things, and I know they don’t come cheap.

“You are a doctor, Lawrence, and a very good one. But a doctor can only do so much without tools. He needs his scalpel, his bandages, his stethoscope. But you are not a doctor of the body. You are a doctor of the mind. You have no use for physical tools. You have you special ways of treating through rehabilitation and rest.

“But these things on this kind of scale do not ‘grow on trees’, as they say. They need funding. And that is what you lack. You cannot do your job properly if you do not have the resources to do it. After all, a violinist without a violin can only whistle.”

Lawrence was silent for several moments. He sighed. “You know, it’s been so lonely since...”

“Yes, yes, I know all about her.”

“And you’re right. I need money. The Health and Safety Inspector came round several days ago, and there’s nearly a quarter of a million needed in order to fix everything. And I simply don’t have that kind of money. Ever since I started this place up I’ve run a tight ship, never overspending, never wasting money. But I just don’t have the funds.”

“We’ll, I’ve been doing some exercise other than hanging out windows, and I’ve got a little gift for you.” The man opened a drawer in his bedside table and reached in. In his hand was something longer than it was wide, and made of brass. He passed it to Lawrence. “There are a small group of monastic men living in your attic, as I’m sure you know. They call themselves the Bellmakers. I came across them on one of my little walks, and they gave me this. I trust you know how to use it.”

Lawrence turned the object over and over in his hands. It was what now would be known as an Abloy key, and the teeth were at different angles to the handle. The handle had minimal decoration, with only a few decorative lines weaving their way across the triangular handle. He already had an idea where it might be useful.