Doctor Who: Nightshade Part 18

The smile returned to her face. 'All right then. It's a date.'

With one hand still on the steering wheel, he fiddled with Robin grinned and shrugged. 'Yeah. I suppose it is.'

the dial and cursed as the reception broke up completely.

He kissed her quickly on the cheek and, waving goodbye He clicked the dial to 'off' and the car was silent except for to the rest, left the room.

the gentle hum of the heating.

'Ready?' said the Doctor.

The road ahead emerged on to the moor and he pulled up Cooper began to fumble under a bench. 'Hang on a tick, the car a moment to check his bearings. The windscreen Doctor. I'll need to get in touch with you if there's another wipers thrummed repeatedly as a fine drizzle swept across energy surge.' She popped up again. 'Here.'

the land.

She tossed a small black box across the room to the Doctor, Medway craned his neck and saw the old bus shelter with which he caught nimbly.

the road sign by it.

'Walkie-talkie,' she said. 'Not much of a range but that 'Crook Marsham. One mile.' He smiled to himself, might work in our favour. It may have survived the pressing down on the accelerator.

blowout. Anyway, if you hear from me, then we'll know.'

The road across the moor was narrow and black, rain 'Thank you.' The Doctor slipped the device into his glistening on its old surface. Black and white posts studded already bulging pockets. 'Au revoir.' He marched out. Ace with hexagonal reflectors appeared every few yards. They gave a general smile to the room and dashed after him.

were quite tall, in order to project, Medway a.s.sumed, above 'What a funny little man,' said Cooper.

the deep snow which doubtless struck the area.

160.

161.

He fumbled in the glove compartment and pulled a relation of other families' real ones, was imbued with the succession of keys, loose change and chocolate wrappers on special aura of the morning, glowingly lit by the light to his lap before finding a crumpled packet of Camels. He filtering through heavy, gold-coloured curtains.

clamped his lips around a cigarette and struck a match off At last, the tea would be ready and presented, with some the dashboard, drinking in the smoke hungrily.

gravitas, to his parents.

Shame he wouldn't be in London for Christmas. It was After deliberately stalling, Medway's mother would say always the best time to be there. Anyway, what did he have 'All right then' and they would line up at the top of the to go back to now? Since Julia left him he'd spent two stairs, squealing with excitement.

Christmases alone with the dog, falling asleep in front of 'Go!'

Alastair Sim on the box and a bottle of whiskey on the table.

And, in a flurry of loosening pyjamas, the two girls and It was a terrible time to be alone. And no one, he thought, boys would hurtle down the stairs, fling open the living-ever thinks it can happen to them. He certainly didn't, not room door and fall upon the mountain of parcels like after the Christmases he used to have.

vultures.

Relatives crowding the kitchen which steamed with Medway smiled to himself. He always meant to get back pudding smells. His father, breath reeking of booze, home for Christmas but somehow never got round to it.

becoming overly affectionate and shaking him by the hand Only one of his sisters still lived near to his parents and she as though he were grown up. Then out would come the beer would dutifully stay over on Christmas Eve, even obeying and attempts would be made to introduce Tim to the the old tea-making ritual. But he imagined it a lonely serious business of alcohol.

Christmas now, the echoes of then-frantic race to the When Christmas Day dawned, young Tim and his brother presents replaced by a grown-up shamble downstairs at ten and sisters would wake ridiculously early, creeping into or eleven o'clock. Slippers and hankies instead of toys and their parents' room and jumping on the bed. Then there magic.

were rituals to be observed. First, the Christmas morning Of course, when Julia came into his life, all the old joys cup of tea (an annual treat this; probably the only time the returned. He found himself staying up late on Christmas kids made their parents one). They would stand on the Eve, wrapping tiny presents in expensive paper. Buying a freezing kitchen lino in their pyjamas, hopping from foot to huge, fragrant tree as a deliberate antidote to the pallid one foot and willing the old kettle to boil. Pans of vegetables, of yesteryear.

sliced and put in water the night before, already crowded Then he and Julia would stroll along the banks of the the cooker.

Thames, hugging each other in affection as lights Tim would peek through the closed doors of the living s.h.i.+mmered on the water.

room where the piles of presents had magically appeared.

Once, they'd made love during the Queen's speech, Even the skinny, tinselly artificial tree, normally a poor giggling and grinning the whole time, ignoring the pine 162 163.

needles which insinuated themselves into their b.u.t.tocks.

Medway wrapped the blanket around Mrs Holland. There He'd never quite been able to take Her Majesty seriously were now about fifteen old people grouped around his car.

again.

'It was this awful sickliness,' Jill continued. 'Got worse the Medway glanced in his rearview mirror and caught sight further we went. They got hysterical. Then the driver just let of the monastery for the first time. Grim-looking place, he go of the wheel..." She looked over at the driver. 'Poor sod.'

thought to himself.

Medway regarded the s.h.i.+vering group before him. 'Well, The car crunched over broken gla.s.s and he slammed on you can't stay here. I can drive you down to the village in the brakes as a coach loomed into view. It had swung s.h.i.+fts.'

diagonally across the road, its smashed front end jammed 'No. I've got a better idea. The monastery's closer. They're into a dry-stone wall. Clouds of steam billowed from the all in shock. I'm sure the monks will help. You could take engine. Medway's blood ran cold as he saw the limp body the frailest in the car. I'll walk the rest. It's not far.'

of the driver hanging through the shattered windscreen.

'Right.'

He pulled the car on to the side of the road and jumped 'Thanks, er...?'

slightly as bewildered figures began to emerge from the 'Tim Medway.' He offered his hand. Jill reacted.

steam. They were old, staggering from the shelter of the bus 'From the BBC?'

like desperate ghouls.

He nodded. 'You're not...?'

He was relieved to see a young woman running towards 'Jill Mason. It's my Mr Trevithick you've come to see.'

him. She was attractive but in some distress, locks of her 'Is he...?'

lacquered hair falling into her eyes.

Jill shook her head. 'No. Stubborn old goat refuses to go 'Thank G.o.d,' Jill Mason gushed, putting a protective arm anywhere for Christmas. Probably very wise in the around Mrs Holland who was wailing softly in a fractured circ.u.mstances.'

voice.

Medway helped four old people into his car. 'Are you 'It's awful. Awful,' intoned Mr Messingham, his thick sure you can manage?'

round gla.s.ses hanging off his nose.

Jill nodded. Medway got into the driving seat. Mrs Jill managed to steer her charges away from the sight of Holland sobbed quietly in the back.

the dead driver.

'Can I call the police from the monastery?' Medway asked 'What happened?' said Medway, opening the boot of his through the window.

car and producing a blanket.

'I doubt it. All the phones are out of order.' Jill stopped as Jill shook her head. 'We were heading for York. They're if struck by a thought. 'Mr Medway?'

all going home for Christmas. Were going home.' She 'Yes?'

sighed. 'Some of them said they felt queasy. I thought it 'Did you feel anything? When you were coming here?'

must be travel sickness but then I felt it too. And the driver.'

Medway shook his head. 'No. Nothing.'

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165.

Jill waved him off and the car moved slowly on to the What was left now? He was as old and hollow as the rough track to the monastery which branched off the main monastery itself, running a cottage industry that saved road.

money, not souls.

She gave one last look at the dead driver and then set off He glanced through the latticed study window and saw in the same direction, herding the old people before her like the Doctor and Ace heading towards the entrance. His heart wayward sheep.

leapt. If anyone could help him with his crisis of faith it was the Doctor. He seemed so wise, so much older than he Abbot Winstanley was glad the morning had come. He appeared. Like a man standing on the bank of time, had lain awake half the night antic.i.p.ating the return of that unconcerned by the furious flow of the years.

mournful wail, eventually succ.u.mbing to sleep in the early A few moments later, Ace and the Doctor were shown in.

hours.

'How do you do,' said Winstanley warmly as the Doctor Now, despite his exhaustion, he was up and about. He introduced Ace. 'Your friend and I have been having some had already observed the usual patterns of prayer, spoken very interesting chats.'

at length to Brother Alec about letting that awful old tramp 'I bet,' said Ace, glancing round the room at the into the monastery again and outlined his plans for the bookshelves. 'Quite a library you've got here, vicar.'

Christmas Day menu to old Minnie the cook.

'Er. Abbot. Yes, yes, it's a bit of a hobby of mine.'

He was supposed to be finding a relevant biblical pa.s.sage The Doctor spread his hands on the desk before him. 'I to read for his fellow monks but instead was sitting in his won't beat about the bush, Abbot. There are some very study, staring at the previous night's fire.

curious things happening here. I'd like to see some more of Terrible doubts gnawed away at his mind. How long had your history books, if I may?'

he been in this wretched place? Twenty years? From novice Winstanley clapped his hands together delightedly. 'Of monk to Abbot. Twenty years of kneeling and praying and course, of course.'

abstaining in the service of his faith. He laughed a little to He pulled out an elegant mahogany stepladder from a himself. Faith in what? An increasingly G.o.dless generation niche in the wall and bustled up to the top shelf. 'Particular locked on a course of self-destruction? A youth culture period?'

which wors.h.i.+pped s.e.xual ambiguity and promiscuity? Or 'Any,' said the Doctor airily. 'As far back as you can go.'

was it faith in the G.o.d who had created them all?

Within minutes, Winstanley was handing down volume Well, that was the problem, he thought to himself. He after volume - pamphlets, guide books and hefty histories.

didn't really have faith at all. Not any more. He wanted to.

'Ace. Get looking,' the Doctor instructed, throwing half a Oh, how he wanted to. Faith like the burning sense of right dozen books over the desk.

and fulfilment he had once possessed, the faith which had 'What for?'

sustained him through a turbulent youth.

166.

167.

'Anything unusual.' The Doctor's head disappeared into a The Doctor looked at her steadily. Ace nodded. She knew pile of papers.

where.

Ace signed. This wasn't her idea of a fun morning. Sorting through historical junk was too like a school lesson. She'd seen history, real history, past and future; and academic subst.i.tutes were bound to pale beside that.

She glanced at her watch. 11:30. Still a good hour and a half before Robin would get there.

Ace let his image swim into her mind as she carelessly leafed through the doc.u.ments on her knee. She saw him on his bike, just as he had been when she'd first seen him. That smile had said everything...

'If you're not going to concentrate then you're no use to me.'

Ace looked up, stung. The Doctor was regarding her with inky eyes.

'Sorry.' She looked down at the papers and books, dense with old print. One book, far more modern than the rest, caught her eye at once.

'Doctor?'

He raised his eyes from the book in his hands.

'Is this any good?' she said.

The Doctor moved around the side of the desk and peered over her shoulder.