Dead of Winter - James Goss [26]
When I woke up, I was strapped to my wheelchair on the beach. It was night.
I was not alone. A little distance away from me were the empty deckchairs, flapping in the wind. The mist rolled in and around me. I could hear a voice on the sea air, like a song, chanting over and over again, not even a word, just a sound. The mist spread around me, the waves washed into the shore and out. It was freezing and I was very scared.
I tried moving, or getting up, or anything, but the more I struggled, the tighter the ropes holding me to the chair seemed to get. I remembered my lovely little old Dad trying to put up a deckchair on a family beach holiday. It had gone awfully wrong, and Mum said he’d been lucky not to lose a finger. It was that same feeling of helplessness.
Amy Pond. Sat on a beach, surrounded by fog. Come to think of it, fog that glowed, drifting in and out. And still that high-pitched singing noise echoing off the rocks, like the noise that opera singers make when they’re trying to break glass. It was so cold. I was so scared. And I desperately wanted the Doctor to come and rescue me. I thought about just how much I needed him right now.
A little way out to sea, in the green-tinged darkness, a shape started to form. The shape of a man, walking out of the waves towards me…
Dr Bloom’s Journal
6th December 1783
Dear, Dear, Dear, Dear Me.
Well, what a day. Still, all’s well that ends well!
In good news, very good news, Kosov informed me that he had taken care of Mr Pond. We’d also made sure that his wife was safely on the beach, which would mean that we would shortly have everything we needed from her. And then she would trouble us no more.
This just left Maria and Dr Smith.
Perdita had tied them both up in my study. She had done her usual wonderful job of the knots and now stood behind my chair, her hands resting lightly on my shoulders. ‘Tea, dear?’ she asked, ever solicitous.
The little girl opened her eyes, looked around and starting crying.
‘Now then, Maria, my dear,’ I counselled her, using my best Dealing-Firmly-With-Children voice. ‘Don’t worry. Don’t worry. We’ve brought you in for a spot more treatment. You remember the treatment, don’t you?’
The girl nodded her head, but carried on staring at me, sobbing and calling for her mother. My darling Perdita was at her side in an instant, wiping away the tears with a handkerchief and shushing her. ‘There’s nothing to be worried about, child, nothing at all,’ she said, soothing her expertly.
Soon Maria was just sniffing and staring at me. ‘What are you going to do to me?’ she asked miserably. Very direct, that child. Well, not for much longer.
‘Don’t you worry about a thing. It’ll be very quick and then it’ll all be better, I can assure you.’
She turned in her chair, twisting around so that she could see Dr Smith, still dead to the world.
‘Oh, he can’t help you,’ said my lovely wife firmly. The ill-mannered little brat snapped at her, biting her on the arm. My lovely Perdita darted back, slapping at the wretch with her other hand. I ran to Perdita, pleased to see that she hadn’t broken the skin. I glared at Maria.
‘We have tolerated you for long enough, girl. You know that, don’t you? Well, our indulgence comes to an end right now.’
I snapped my fingers and the French windows were flung open, the doors banging wide in the storm, wide enough to let what had been waiting outside flow in.
Maria started to scream.
‘Oh yes, you remember it well enough now, don’t you, my girl?’ I snapped at her as it poured towards her. ‘Believe me, it’s as angry with you as I am. You have been a very naughty girl. Disobeying orders, and being quite uncontrollable. Well, we are bringing you to heel.’
The creature stopped before her chair and reared up over her, making a noise that was quite disagreeable.
Maria made some tiny little child pleading noises, but I haughtily ignored them. Dear Perdita squeezed my shoulder. ‘You are doing the right thing, my dear,’ she assured