Doctor Who_ Father Time Part 29

'Can I have a word, Dinah?' she asked.

Dinah detached herself from Ferran. 'Sure,' she said.

Ferran looked around. He realised he was not going to get his opportunity to strike, at least not here. 'I have to go,' he said.

Dinah looked disappointed.

Ferran excused himself again and stood up.

In the time it had taken the Doctor and Debbie to cross the wasteland, curtains had twitched, word had spread, and the streets had started to fill up. Men and women, children fetched from their beds, Asians and skinheads, police and dealers, all standing shoulder to shoulder and looking out at the tower of roses, breathing in the perfume that was filling the city air. No one apart from a few kids had crossed the threshold yet, stepped on to the broken ground, reclaimed the wasteland, but they would.

The Trabant sat, untouched, in the street where the Doctor had parked it. Debbie was amazed that it was still going, and told the Doctor as much.

'It costs quite a lot to keep on the road,' the Doctor admitted, 'but I'm quite attached to the old girl.'

Debbie took a last look back at the roses, growing where there had been only the dark Tower.

The Doctor was already in the driver's seat of the car, reconnecting the earphone.

The almost musical autodial was followed by the ringing tone.

'Come on,' the Doctor said.

The phone continued to ring. After a moment, an answering machine kicked in, and Debbie heard the Doctor's voice. But only for a moment. The Doctor hung up and immediately redialled.

With the other hand, he was starting the ignition.

As the phone rang again, he was parping the car horn, trying to negotiate the crowds.

'This isn't like Miranda,' he said.

'It'll be hours before we get to your house,' Debbie said quietly. 'We should call the police, get them looking.'

The Doctor hung up the phone. He hesitated. 'If she's not at home, where is she?'

Alex had gone home.

Dinah claimed she didn't have a row with him, but Miranda knew she'd been planning to spend the night with him. She had found that shocking, in a rather abstract way. Thinking about it, though, it was only because it wasn't the sort of thing she would ever do.

Dinah claimed Alex was ill, and 'too drunk, anyway'.

So there were just the three of them. Bob was hanging around, trying to get back into Miranda's good books. She was suddenly very self-conscious around him. Miranda had told Dinah what had happened, and Dinah agreed to have a chat with Bob. After that, they agreed to clear up in the morning, and went their separate ways. Dinah was in her parents' room, Bob in her little brother's. Miranda got Dinah's bed.

Miranda didn't need much sleep, indeed she could do without it.

Bob and Dinah both seemed exhausted. Minutes after they'd gone to bed, the house was silent.

Miranda lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Dinah's room was odd. There were posters all over the walls. Posters of Tom Cruise and a-ha, all the pop stars and film stars Dinah had a crush on. Dinah had a record player, and a stack of alb.u.ms and tapes. At the foot of the bed was a menagerie of toy animals. She wondered where Dinah kept her chemistry set or her encyclopedias.

All so unreal.

Perhaps the alcohol had affected her a little, after all. She felt a little giddy.

She'd just had her first kiss, she reminded herself.

And then all this thinking thinking had spoiled it. Her endless a.n.a.lysis, her constant need to sit back and mentally write up what had just happened to her. Treating the world as though it was an experiment and she was the neutral observer. had spoiled it. Her endless a.n.a.lysis, her constant need to sit back and mentally write up what had just happened to her. Treating the world as though it was an experiment and she was the neutral observer.

She was doing it now.

Miranda wondered what the solution was. By definition, a display of spontaneity now wouldn't be a true display of spontaneity, but a calculated act.

And she was doing it again.

She liked Bob, she had liked having a boyfriend. It was... virgin territory for her, but she didn't feel nervous. She trusted him.

Miranda made her decision: to go to Bob, slip into bed beside him and see what happened. No plans beyond that. She asked herself where she would draw the line, doubting that Bob would, and surprised herself by not knowing the answer. That clinched it as the right course of action.

She checked herself in the dressing-table mirror, took a deep breath, and then sneaked out on to the landing, tiptoeing so that she didn't wake anyone up or let anyone know what she was doing.

Bob was in Dinah's brother's room. Miranda knew which door that was. She decided not to knock. She'd sneak in, get into bed beside him.

The door was a little ajar. She went in, closing it behind her.

The room was cluttered, full of toys belonging to Dinah's little brother.

The bed was empty. It had been slept in, but now it was empty.

Miranda was baffled, but only for a moment. She stepped back on to the landing. The next door along was Dinah's parents' room. The door was closed, so she opened it, ever so carefully, just in case, as she hoped against hope, she was wrong.

She was right: there were two people on the bed.

It was dark, but Miranda could see in the dark.

Dinah was straddling Bob, wearing nothing but a gold necklace. Bob had his skinny legs together, his arms around Dinah's neck and his eyes closed.

Dinah turned her head and saw Miranda. Her face was expressionless, dead, as though it didn't know where to start.

And the only thing Miranda could bring herself to think was, I bought her that necklace.

Bob was perfectly placed to tell there was something wrong with Dinah. He turned to see what she was looking at. He was wide-eyed, startled to be caught out.

'Rand...' Dinah began.

Miranda was already on the landing. She could hear Dinah following, the bedsprings creaking guiltily, Dinah's whispered command telling Bob to stay where he was.

Miranda was back in Dinah's room, pulling her clothes on. The house and all its contents seemed a long way away.

Dinah came in, turned on the light. She'd pulled on a dressing gown, but looked bedraggled. There were tears in her eyes.

'Rand...' she said again. She didn't seem to sense the rage rage Miranda felt. Right now, she could have taken Dinah and broken her in half. Miranda realised she wasn't exaggerating. She really did want to kill her. Miranda felt. Right now, she could have taken Dinah and broken her in half. Miranda realised she wasn't exaggerating. She really did want to kill her.

Miranda pushed past Dinah, but had to steady herself on the handrail before she could go downstairs.

Dinah was calling after her. Miranda ignored her.

She opened the front door Dinah hadn't even locked it; how irresponsible could she be? and walked out into the night.

It was cold.

Ferran had found the perfect place to conceal himself, across the road from Dinah's house. One by one, all the guests began drifting out and away into the night. He'd been watching them all night, counting them, memorising their faces.

Twenty-eight guests, not counting himself or Dinah. Now, twenty-six had gone. Only Dinah, Miranda and Bob remained in there.

Ferran had managed to get a good look around the house, inside and out. He watched the house lights as they went through a predictable sequence the lights downstairs going off, the lights in the two upstairs bedrooms visible from the front going on briefly. Now all three were in bed.

Bob wasn't a threat. Even if he shared the Last One's bed, Ferran knew he could get to her and kill her. He would kill her as she slept, he decided. No doubt she would wake up at some point during the process; she'd know why she had to die.

Ferran dug his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket. His brother's knife was there.

And the door opened, and the Last One just stepped out, alone, into the night with him.

Dinah was at the door, shouting something after her, but the Last One wasn't listening. She walked out on to the pavement, started looking across the road.

Dinah went back inside, closed the door.

The Last One was alone.

She started to cross the road. She was heading straight towards him.

She could see in the dark. All her kind could see in the dark.

Was she coming for him? She looked tense, ready to lash out. Had she seen him? Was this the final confrontation he had dreamed of?

She was ten metres away, but hadn't seen him.

He felt distanced from it all as if it was happening to someone else, and he was just watching.

The reason for that was simple he was acting automatically: he'd practised for this moment until, having drawn the blade, bringing it down was as easy as catching a ball or opening a door.

She turned and saw him. 'Ferdy?' she said. And she broke into a smile.

A car drove up, its horn parping.

The Doctor.

The Last One turned to see her father. 'Dad?' she said, baffled.

He'd escaped Sallak. He'd managed to escape.

The Last One had her back to him. Ferran stayed down, out of the Doctor's sight.

'Get in the car!' the Doctor shouted.

She hurried towards her father, out of his reach.

Ferran felt the knife in his hand, but all the certainties of the moment had dissipated.

The Last One waved goodbye to him as she got into the back of the Doctor's car.

And to his disgust, all Ferran found himself doing was waving back.

Chapter Eighteen.

Escape to Destiny Debbie wasn't surprised that the Doctor was already up and about, fully dressed, when she came downstairs, or that he'd found himself a new coat.

'Morning,' she said, watching him as he busied himself with a coffee maker.

He smiled over at her. 'You slept well?'

She nodded. Debbie had spent the day here yesterday and felt safe here. The house was vast, but she didn't feel intimidated by it, or that she could ever get lost in it. The feeling of security wasn't just a fancy of hers: there was also an elaborate CCTV system. The Doctor glanced from time to time at the tiny monitor mounted on the wall by the toaster and kettle. At the moment, it was showing him the front gates.

'You like the house?' the Doctor asked. 'Interiors keep asking me to do a photoshoot.' keep asking me to do a photoshoot.'

'You've moved up in the world since I first met you,' she told him. 'Remember that farmhouse?' They'd arrived here having driven through leafy, prosperous suburbs. Flat countryside, with money almost growing from the trees the pavements and driveways were lined with new BMWs and Mercedes Benzes.

'I need to look after Miranda,' the Doctor said. 'My priorities have changed. I need to make sure she has a good start in life, that she isn't denied any opportunities.'

'But where did you get all that money?' Debbie asked.

'Oh, it's absurdly easy if you know how. I'll explain later.'

'It's nothing like Greyfrith,' Debbie noted. 'Does Miranda even remember who I am?'

'Oh, yes,' the Doctor said.

'She didn't seem very chatty yesterday.'