“Oh, Harry sees that I’m kept informed about everything that’s happening. I get regular reports, and I’m invited to make useful comments… which I do. My duty to the family hasn’t changed. But you have to get me out of here, Edwin! Harry isn’t up to the job. The family is losing this war! You need my expertise and experience!”
“Yes,” I said. “We do. But I’m back, and I’m running things again, Grandmother. Running them my way. Are you ready to work with me, now?”
“Of course. I’ve had a lot of time to think about… things. You and I are never going to agree on many things, but the needs of the family must come first. And right now, it needs both of us.” She looked back at the still form on the bed. “He won’t miss me. He doesn’t even respond to my voice anymore. Any nurse will do, until he wakes.” She looked back at me. “I haven’t forgiven you, for what you did to him. I never will. But duty comes first. I’ve always known that.”
“Then I think you and I should go down to the War Room,” I said. “So you can take charge there. You know how to run it far better than I ever could. And they could use some… direction.”
The Matriarch looked at me squarely. “I’ll run the War Room; you run the war. We can discuss… other things, after we’ve won the war.”
I grinned. “Looking forward to it, Grandmother. But let’s be clear with each other. You need me, now that Harry has… disappointed you. That’s the real reason you’re going along with all this. You haven’t forgiven me for removing you from power and changing the way the family does things. And I haven’t forgiven you for all those children sacrificed to the Heart down the years. We can work together, and we will, because the family and the world needs us to. But understand, Grandmother; you make one move to undermine my authority, or try and seize control again, and I’ll have you marched straight back here and locked in again. For the duration.”
She smiled at me, that old, familiar, cold smile. “You see, Edwin, you do understand how this family needs to be run. I’ll make a Drood out of you yet. I agree to all your conditions. For the duration.”
I shook my head slowly. “Even when I win an argument with you, it feels like I lost. One last question, before we go. It’s becoming increasingly clear that there has to be a long-standing traitor, set deep inside the family. Someone, possibly infected by the Loathly Ones, perhaps even the person responsible for bringing them back here in the first place. Do you have any idea who that might be? Any name come to mind?”
She stared at me for a long moment. I think she was actually shocked. “A long-term traitor? Unsuspected since World War II? Impossible!”
“Unfortunately not, Grandmother. Are you sure no one comes to mind?”
“No. It’s unthinkable… But then, so much has happened that I would once have considered unthinkable. I will consult the old family records. See if anything jogs a memory.”
“Okay. Let’s go. The War Room awaits.”
“No,” said Martha. And just like that, all her old stern command was back in her voice. “There is still something that must be done immediately, for the good of the family. You must order the expulsion of Harry, and the execution of his hellspawn lover. They cannot be allowed to contaminate the family with their presence any longer.”
“No,” I said, my voice just as cold and stern as hers. “Harry’s a good field agent, with a lot of experience. We still need him. I won’t declare him rogue just because … I mean, come on, Grandmother; we’ve had gay people in the family for ages. You must have noticed.”
“Of course I’ve noticed! I don’t care that he’s a homosexual! Your generation thinks it invented sex and all its possibilities … I don’t give a damn that Harry is gay; I care that he’s taken his half brother as a lover! Incest like that is strictly forbidden in the Droods, Edwin. It has to be, or we would have become dangerously inbred by now. The vitality and vigour of the Drood bloodline must be strictly maintained; that’s why marriages are always so carefully considered and, if need be, disallowed. And above all, to take as his lover a thing from the Pit! I can’t believe that you allowed a hellspawn into the Hall, Edwin!”
“Roger is James’s son,” I said carefully. “He’s your grandson too, just like Harry and me.”
“He is a demon, and never to be trusted,” Martha said flatly. “Kill him, Edwin. For the good of the family and the sake of the world.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
“That’s what I used to say to you, when you were a child, and I had no intention of doing what you wanted,” Martha said dryly.
“Maybe you’re right,” I said. “I am growing up, after all.”
We both stood up. The Matriarch stepped forward, and for a moment I thought she was going to shake my hand formally. Instead, she put her hands on my shoulders, squeezed them gently, and smiled at me.
“Make me proud, Eddie.”
“I’ll do my best, Grandmother.”
“I know you will.”
“Grandmother…”
“Yes, Eddie?”
“It was you who told the prime minister where and when to find me, when I went back to my old flat, wasn’t it?”
“Of course, dear. You see; you’re thinking like a Drood leader already.”
We summoned up a nurse to sit with Alistair, and then the Matriarch and I went down to the War Room. All along the way people stood and stared, and then broke into spontaneous applause. Some even cheered. No one had seen Martha in public for a year and a half, and now here she was walking by my side. Word went swiftly ahead of us, and by the time we’d descended to ground level, crowds were lining all the rooms and corridors to cheer our progress. The Matriarch ignored them all, her back stiff and her head held high, and they loved her for it. Some of the cheers and applause were for me, and I made a point of smiling and nodding, while being very careful not to let it go to my head.
When we finally strode into the War Room, an almost palpable wave of relief swept through the huge chamber. Men and women stood up at their consoles and workstations to cheer and clap us. A few actually whistled. Martha bowed once to the room, and then made a quick cutting gesture with one hand; and the applause stopped immediately. I don’t think I could have managed that on the best day I ever had. The Matriarch cracked out a series of brisk commands, her voice sharp and authoritative, and above all calm and businesslike; and soon people were back at work, bent over their various stations with new confidence and enthusiasm. Runners charged back and forth like mad things, gathering the latest information to bring the Matriarch up to date, while others made sure she was supplied with a fresh pot of tea and a new packet of Jaffa Cakes. Sometimes I think this family runs on tea and Jaffa Cakes.
I stood back and watched. It’s always a pleasure to observe a real professional at work.
The communications people soon had her in contact with all the world leaders: every government, country, and powerful individual who mattered. Display screens all around the War Room were filled with scowling faces, and translation programmes ran overtime as the Matriarch addressed them all with her usual cool authority. Many of the faces seemed relieved to see her back. Martha strode from screen to screen, speaking to everyone individually, and through a carefully calculated combination of calm reason, sweet talking, basic bullying, and the occasional reminder that she knew where all the bodies were buried, the Matriarch soon had all the most important people in the world falling over themselves to agree to work together on dealing with the Loathly Ones. They committed money, manpower, and military resources, and most importantly, they all agreed to keep the hell out of our way while we did what was necessary. Martha cut them off one by one, and then stretched slowly, luxuriously, like a cat. She seated herself with royal dignity at her command station and smiled briefly at me.