Doctor Who_ The Nightmare of Black Island Part 6

'Good afternoon! Bronwyn, isn't it? I'm the Doctor. We met at the pub last night. Bob over at the harbour said that you might be the best person to talk to about hiring a boat!'

She gave a disdainful sniff, threw the door open and vanished back into the house. 'You'd better come in. I'm just making some Welsh cakes.'

The Doctor followed her, closing the door behind him. The inside of the house was, if anything, more of a mess than the outside. Books, ornaments and photographs covered every surface, while the floor was piled high with newspapers and magazines, and pictures hung on every wall. Among the chaos protruded furniture, the covers faded and torn. The pleasant smell of cooking filled the air from a small kitchenette.

Bronwyn waved at him from in front of the stove.

'Clear yourself a s.p.a.ce and sit down. Watch out for the duck.'

The Doctor stepped warily into the room. A large mallard eyed him from its position on the couch. Moving a box of shoes, the Doctor sat down carefully next to it.

Bronwyn bustled out of the kitchenette, a plate of Welsh cakes in her hand. She thrust the plate at the Doctor, taking one herself.

'I remember you now. Said that you were here to help.'

'That's right.'

She glowered at him. 'How?'

'Well, for starters I wanted to ask you about Nathaniel Morton. You don't seem to have much time for him.'

'He's messing with things best left alone.'

'You mean the creatures?'

'I know what I mean.' She took another mouthful of cake. 'You said Bob sent you over? So you'll be wanting to hire the boat?'

55.'That's right. Want to get out to the island.'

'Why do you want to head out there?'

'Erm. . . To see the seals?' The Doctor took a bite of his Welsh cake, ignoring the greedy eye of the duck.

Bronwyn nodded, as if that explained everything. The Doctor went on, 'I gather that the island is the best place to see them.'

'That's true. And you're in luck. I was planning on heading out there myself.'

She undid her ap.r.o.n and threw it into the corner, then fed the remains of her Welsh cake to the duck, which swallowed them greedily.

'You wait there, Dr whoever-you-are. I won't be a minute.'

She pushed her way through the tangle of boxes to another door on the far side of the room. Hoping that she wasn't collecting any shampoo, the Doctor picked up a stack of photos from the table alongside him and started flicking idly through them.

Almost all of them were in black and white, showing the village as it had been. From the look of things, not that much had changed over the last fifty years or so. The harbour was just the same, the seafront dominated by the imposing Victorian facade of the pub, the street leading up the hill still lined with the same cl.u.s.ter of small shop fronts, only the signage in the windows and the price tags visible on stalls giving the age of the photographs away. There were shots of the lighthouse in the bay, the paintwork clean and fresh, the lighthouse keepers posing proudly on the rocks at its base. There was even a photo of the rectory, its gardens neatly kept and the shrubbery that now grew wild trimmed and orderly.

As the Doctor looked through the photographs he realised that a lot of them featured Bronwyn as a young woman. She had been attractive in her youth, with long auburn hair cascading over her shoulders and a smile on her face in every picture.

One photograph showed her standing outside the beach house, a young man at her shoulder, a baby in her arms. The house was tidy and whitewashed, a line full of clean clothes hanging alongside it. Another showed the three of them on the beach, only this time the 56 baby had grown into a small boy in shorts, his knees covered in sand, a bucket and spade being waved enthusiastically at the photographer. The Doctor put the photographs down and stared around the room. Nearly all of the photos on the walls or in frames on the top of cupboards featured the boy. He must have been five or six years old at a guess.

Hauling himself out of the sagging sofa, the Doctor slipped on his gla.s.ses. A jumble of photographs of the boy in a smart school uniform sat propped up against a vase on one of the groaning shelves. He picked them up, peering at them one by one. The boy had the same bright eyes and slightly crooked smile as his mother.

'Where are you now, I wonder?' he murmured.

Plucking one of them from the pile, the Doctor slipped it into his jacket pocket.

At that moment Bronwyn bustled back into the room. She was now wearing a huge battered oilskin and had a canvas bag slung over her shoulder. The Doctor hurriedly tried to put the rest of the photographs back in their place, fumbling and dropping several on to the floor. Flas.h.i.+ng her a guilty grin, he gathered them up.

'Sorry. b.u.t.terfingers.'

Bronwyn s.n.a.t.c.hed the photographs from him, putting them back in their place. The Doctor watched as her fingers ran gently over the pictures.

'Good-looking boy.'

A flicker of a smile started to cross her face, taking years off her.

'Yes. . . '

The smile vanished as suddenly as it had arrived and she shot the Doctor a suspicious glance.

'We'd better get a move on if we're going to catch the tide,' she said.

'Absolutely. Don't want to keep those seals waiting.'

Bronwyn bustled out of the room, muttering to herself. The Doctor took off his spectacles and fingered the photograph in his pocket. Something dark had happened in Bronwyn's past, of that he had no doubt. Something to do with her son. It could not have been a coincidence that Rose had seen a child in her dream. It could also not 57 have been a coincidence that there was history between Bronwyn and Nathaniel Morton. The problem was that he was still no closer to finding out what.

He tapped his teeth thoughtfully with the arm of his gla.s.ses.

'Jimmy,' he murmured.

58.

[image]

Thereyouare!' Alipointedproudlyatalowpileofruinedbrickwork that emerged from under a sprawling holly bush.

She and the others had led Rose through the wood until they came to the high, imposing wall that bordered the back of the rectory grounds. Then they had followed the wall until they reached what had once been outbuildings serving the main house. Here the kids had scrambled enthusiastically underneath the foliage. Rose pushed her way forward through the tangle of branches to where Billy Palmer and Baz Morgan were clearing leaves from a sheet of rotten plywood. The ruined building had obviously been a coal house or storeroom of some kind. The remains of bunkers could be seen among the vegetation and ancient rusted rail tracks snaked off through the wood, vanis.h.i.+ng in the undergrowth, evidence of the industry that must have thrived in the area in the past. Grunting with effort, the two boys pulled back the plywood, exposing a dark hole at the base of the wall. Woodlice scuttled away from the light as the board was pulled back and Rose could smell the damp muskiness of decay. She peered into the tunnel. It was made of brick, about a metre wide, with a stream of murky, rust-stained orange water 59 running down a drain in its centre.

Ali hunkered down next to her and peered into the tunnel, wrinkling her nose.

'It smells a bit, but it's quite safe.'

'Yeah! Like you'd know,' snorted Billy. 'You've not been down there.'

'But you have?' Rose looked at him.

Billy nodded. 'Like I said, it goes under the wall, comes up at the back of the house, in a kind of courtyard next to the cellars.'

'How long is it?'

Billy shrugged. 'Dunno. Not far.' He paused. 'Do you want me to show you?'

Rose smiled at the nervousness in the boy's voice. He obviously didn't want to go down the tunnel again, but equally he didn't want to lose face with his friends. She shook her head.

'Nah. It's OK.'

'I'll go with you!' piped up Ali.

'No! I want you to stay here. All of you.' She looked around the little group. 'I need you to make sure no one comes in behind me. And if I don't come back out in about half an hour, go and find the Doctor back at the pub. All right?'

The kids nodded, relieved that Rose hadn't asked them to go with her.

Ali pouted and crossed her arms. 'It's not fair!'

Rose looked at her sternly. 'I mean it, Ali. I need you to keep an eye on things at this end.' She squeezed her arm. 'I'll be ten minutes, OK?'

Ali nodded.

With more bravado than she felt, Rose gave the watching children a rea.s.suring smile, took a deep breath and ducked into the tunnel. There was a moment of panic when she realised that she wouldn't be able to stand up straight, but the floor was so slippery with moss and slime that that wouldn't have been a good idea anyway. Instead she pressed her hands against the roof and walls to keep her balance and started to edge her way forward.

60.The tunnel was dark and with every step she took away from the entrance the blackness deepened. She strained to make out any shapes in the gloom ahead of her, but there was nothing. She glanced back over her shoulder. Five faces framed the tunnel entrance, watching her progress. Determined not to let them or the Doctor down, Rose headed deeper into the darkness.

The Doctor stood on the sh.o.r.e of Black Island, hands thrust deep into his coat pockets, staring up in admiration at the lighthouse that loomed over him.

The journey out had been decidedly choppy, as Bronwyn's little motorboat was tossed about like a leaf on the wild sea. It had taken them quite a while to get prepared for the trip. The outboard motor had been in a terrible state and the Doctor had had to practically strip it down and rebuild it before it would start. At least that had impressed Bronwyn, who promised to give him a tin of Welsh cakes to take away with him, and possibly some bara brith too. They had hauled the boat's trailer across the s.h.i.+ngle, finally manoeuvring it to a small concrete ramp at the water's edge. Bronwyn was considerably stronger than she looked, and soon the little boat was bobbing in the surf.

Unperturbed by the icy water, Bronwyn had slipped off her shoes, hitched up her skirt and clambered aboard the boat with apparent ease. The Doctor had been less successful and his trousers were soaked to the knees.

By the time they were under way the day was getting on and the wind had picked up considerably. The waves battered the little boat hard as it cleared the shelter of the harbour. Despite Bob Perry's concerns, Bronwyn had proved herself to be a fairly experienced sailor and soon the boat was chugging determinedly towards the island. The canvas bag had proved to be full of nothing more than provisions for the local wildlife and Bronwyn hurled handfuls of stale bread into the wind for the seagulls. Before long a huge white cloud of them was shadowing the boat, swooping down each time Bronwyn delved into the bag.

61.As they approached the island itself, landing had seemed an impossible task to the Doctor. The black rocks were viciously jagged and the waves pounded against them, sending great flumes of spray into the air. Bronwyn was obviously a regular visitor, though, and had steered skilfully round to a long shelf of rock that deflected the bulk of the waves. She had kept the boat hovering just off sh.o.r.e until a lull came in the swell, then gunned the motor and sent them speeding between the rocks to a small sheltered cove.

She was down on the rocks now, tossing fish to where half a dozen seals bobbed in the water. The Doctor had left her to it and headed for the base of the lighthouse.

Wind swept his hair back as he stared up at the tower. It was impressive: tall and tapered, made up of dozens of steel sections held together with hundreds of huge rusted bolts. Paint flaked untidily from the sides and high overhead a rusted walkway circled the lamp room like a collar.

Most of the gla.s.s in the lamp room had long since gone and the top now resembled a huge birdcage, an image that was reinforced thanks to the evidence left by hundreds of seabirds that streaked its sides. What intrigued the Doctor was that it was so obviously unused, with no sign whatever of anyone having been in it for years. The door at the base was bolted and padlocked, and years of corrosion had practically rusted it shut.

'So why was there a glow from the lamp room last night?' he muttered. Bronwyn wandered over to his side, wiping her hands on her oilskin. 'Thought you were interested in the seals, not the lighthouse.'

Her tone was accusing.

'Oh, I am, I am. Seals. Love 'em. Some of my best friends are seals. Great at parties. But I'm also intrigued by this. Isn't it beautiful?'

Bronwyn looked up at the tower and sniffed dismissively. 'S'pose so. In a way.'

'When was it abandoned?'

'Back in the 1970s. Elwyn Merritt was the last keeper. Got themselves a lights.h.i.+p out on the sandbanks now. Shut this one down, 62 didn't they? Always the way. Things change. People move on.'

'And some come back, don't they? Some like Nathaniel Morton.'

Bronwyn said nothing, but the Doctor could see her jaw clench.

'Something happened between you and Morton, didn't it?' The Doctor kept his voice low and gentle. 'Something a long time ago, when you were young. He went away, but you stayed.'

'Shouldn't have come back.' There was anger in Bronwyn's voice. Anger and fear. Told him not to come back!'

'Why?' The Doctor was urgent now. 'What happened?'

Bronwyn's anger erupted at the Doctor. 'What's it to you? What good is it going to do to dig up the past again? Best left buried! It's best left buried, all of it! They can't bring him back.' Tears blurred her eyes, then the anger faded for a moment and she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. They can't bring him back.'

Sniffing, she turned and hurried away from the Doctor. He called after her but the wind whipped the words away. He rubbed at his chin. He wasn't going to get anything else from Bronwyn at the moment, but everything here was connected somehow. He just had to find the common link.

He did a slow circuit of the lighthouse, looking for anything unusual, but he saw nothing. To the casual observer, it was nothing more sinister than an abandoned lighthouse on a deserted island. He pulled his sonic screwdriver from his pocket, determined to solve the issue of the glow in the lamp room if nothing else, when Bronwyn suddenly scrambled back into view, pointing down towards the sh.o.r.e.

She struggled to the Doctor's side, breathless and frightened. He caught her arm, steadying her. 'What is it? What have you found?'

'Down there. In Pillbox Hole.'

'Pillbox Hole?'

'A cave. By the sh.o.r.e. It wasn't there before. Been here hundreds of times, I have.'

'Show me!'

63.He caught hold of the old lady's hand and the two of them made their way carefully over the wet rocks. They reached the top of a narrow set of crude steps that had been hacked out and Bronwyn pointed down to a narrow crevice at the bottom.

'In there.'

'OK. Wait here a moment.'

The Doctor released her hand and scampered down the stairs. At the sh.o.r.eline they flattened out, leading through a sea-worn gash in the side of the island. He slipped through the gap carefully, emerging on to a narrow ledge in the side of a tall cave where the wind and waves echoed mournfully, eerily.

The Doctor stared into the cave and grinned. 'Hah! I knew it!'

Floating in the black water in front of him, rising and falling with the swell, was a s.p.a.cecraft.

Rose had crept through the tunnel for what seemed like an age and was on the verge of giving up and heading back to Ali and her friends when she felt cold air across her face.

She could still see nothing the light from the entrance had long since gone as the tunnel had curved slightly and Rose had edged her way forward by feel alone. But now the breeze told her that she was nearly through.

She gave a sigh of relief and tried to rub the crick out of her neck. Being unable to stand was starting to get painful and she wished she could be Ali's height for the next few minutes at least. She was about to continue when a noise from behind made her freeze. She held her breath, concentrating on listening, trying to convince herself that it was just her imagination. The noise came again. A soft sc.r.a.ping on the brickwork. There was something in the tunnel with her! Rose strained to see through the oppressive blackness, suddenly aware of what a stupid idea it had been to head into the tunnel without any form of light. She could hear something approaching from behind. And there!

Lights flickering. Green and red and blue lights, dancing across the 64 wet brick. Rose pressed herself against the wall, aware of how pointless it was.

'Rose?'

Ali's voice was thunderously loud in the confined s.p.a.ce. Rose nearly screamed.