Dead of Winter - James Goss [35]
Mrs Bloom shook a firm negative. ‘Come along now, I really do insist.’
‘Ah, well, in that case, perhaps I should…’ I stood up and bowed to Olivia, carefully avoiding her glare.
As I set off for the beach, I could see the damn filly looking at me. She seemed disappointed.
Ah well, that’s women for you! I’m sure she’ll keep.
Your servant,
Henry Nevil
What Amy Remembered
Never take the Doctor for granted. Just when you think you know where life is going, you’re having breakfast with a Russian prince. Once the Doctor and Rory had stopped arguing, the Doctor insisted we go and hide in Prince Boris’s rooms.
Prince Boris was only too happy to see us. ‘Ach! I love refugees!’ he said. ‘My mother once took in a whole group of gypsies for months on one of her dacha. Said it was good luck for the hens. And you two gentlemen travel under false identities! How daring! More caviar?’
Yes, that’s right – we had caviar for breakfast. To be honest, it was a little bit like when someone sticks too much anchovy on a pizza. Although the Doctor was layering it with marmalade and swore it was heavenly.
Rory seemed relieved to be back to his normal self, perched on the bed, drinking tea, while the Doctor tried to make amends.
‘Sorry about messing with your head, Rory. It was a bit of an emergency.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Rory politely. ‘Everything’s back now…’
‘Well, almost,’ muttered the Doctor. ‘I don’t suppose you can remember…’
‘Yeah, there’s a recipe for Onion Chutney that I really think isn’t mine.’
‘Thank you!’ The Doctor hugged him warmly. ‘I have missed that!’
‘I’m fine thanks, by the way,’ Rory muttered. ‘All back to normal.’
He’d need a bit of tender loving care and a back rub later, I could just tell. Meanwhile… well, breakfast.
But even then, Rory wasn’t at ease. ‘Where’s your pet ogre?’
‘Kosov?’ Boris shrugged. ‘Out and about, my friends, probably looking for you, eh?’ And he laughed. I noticed there was no rattling echo when he laughed now. He seemed much better, the picture of health. Bit like George Clooney doing Rasputin, frankly. He was even wearing a tasselled velvet nightcap that I noticed the Doctor eyeing up. If Boris didn’t watch out, that’d go missing and we’d never hear the last of ‘Nightcaps are cool’.
While Boris made coffee as hot and thick as lava, the Doctor explained the situation to us all, scribbling the odd note on the window with a sharpie. Little Maria sat in the corner, licking stray caviar from her fingertips and staring at him with wide-eyed admiration. He does that to girls and never notices. Not once.
‘So, basically – turns out, we’re time travellers. If the universe has a problem and no one else can help, then it’s us. The A-Team. The Doctor and the brilliant Amy Pond.’ Rory coughed, quietly. ‘Oh yeah, and Amy’s husband, Roger.’
‘Rory.’
‘Whatever.’
Maria let out an admiring gasp.
Boris was nodding sagely. ‘So you come from the future?’ he asked.
The Doctor nodded. ‘Sometimes the future, sometimes the past, and sometimes just a little to the right. That’s us.’
‘And what’s wrong with this place to make you come here?’ Boris asked sternly.
‘I have been dying for someone to ask me that!’ the Doctor beamed at him, delighted, and that’s when the lecture began. One day, I swear he’ll do a PowerPoint. ‘Right then. Let’s just for a moment ignore the utterly mad aliens on the beach –’ Boris opened his mouth, but the Doctor sailed on, bless him. ‘I said ignore them! Not one word! Fact. We are in one of the most important years in history. 1782!’
‘1783,’ whispered Maria.
‘What I said! 1783. Very, very important year. Well, not that much happens, actually, but it’s just around the corner from a whole lot of interesting. Wars, revolutions and so on all over Europe – the kind of grim human thing you lot do so well.’
‘I take it you are here to prevent that?’ Boris looked grave. To be fair, he’d taken the whole ‘we’re from the future, hello’ thing remarkably well. He looked vaguely bored by it, but then that was Prince Boris, really.
‘Nah, let