Dead of Winter - James Goss [36]
Rory took my hand. He knew what was coming.
‘You see… this place is expensive. You’ve got to be rich to come here. Which, sad to say, in this time means that you’re probably important. Maria’s mother has a lovely house in Paris. A really lovely house in Paris. Practically a palace, isn’t it, Maria?’
Maria nodded solemnly. She looked so scared. I held out my hand, and she came and perched on my lap.
It was just the four of us against him. Four lonely, scared humans staring at the dreadful alien. Who just wouldn’t shut up.
‘Even nasty old Mr Nevil is actually an MP. Hard to believe it of someone with such awful table manners, but there we are. I hate to say it, but if he lives ten more years, that’s ten more years before people stand a chance of electing someone nice.’ The Doctor stopped, his hands in his pockets, glaring out of the window down at the sea. ‘Then there’s silent Helena Elquitine – she’s doing advanced logarithmic tables a decade before the man who dreams up the computer is even born. She’s utterly amazing – imagine if she finished her work – Napoleon might have radar and remote-controlled missiles.’ He glared at Boris and Maria sternly. ‘Please forget I’ve even said the words Napoleon or radar immediately.’ Prince Boris tried to look nonchalantly bored, but I could tell he was deeply interested.
The Doctor carried on. ‘Every single patient here is part of the house of cards that makes up history. If it was just the odd one or two then I could look the other way… but no. Every one of you.’ He faltered, miserable. ‘Every single one of you.’
The Doctor sank down on the end of the bed, not looking at us. A wind started up outside, rattling against the window, pulling cold air through the room. The Doctor’s voice was so quiet I barely heard him over it. ‘I hate my life sometimes,’ he sighed.
Rory spoke. If I ever, ever forget why I love him, it’s for moments like this. When we’ve been overcharged in a restaurant or the Doctor’s sentenced a whole load of innocent people to death. No one else knows what to say, but Rory will just say something. He looked just as pained as the Doctor – not surprising since he’s just had the Doctor’s memories stamping around in his head. ‘So it’s got to be stopped – but what’s causing it?’
‘Oh, not Dr Bloom, poor silly booby.’ The Doctor spread caviar on a cracker, the knife scraping away at it over and over