Dead of Winter - James Goss [54]
It’s the same when we’re travelling around the universe, actually. Don’t get me wrong – it’s amazing, it genuinely is. But there are times – just times, when you think, ‘I would quite like a say, if that’s OK.’ Nothing grand. Just a choice of planet or something. Rather than finding yourself in a nightclub on Space Florida, holding the coats and yet another lukewarm orange juice, watching the Doctor and Amy dance.
They’ve gone now. I’m abandoned. They’re not coming for me. They’ve probably forgotten about me already. Got in the TARDIS (what’s that? Whispered a voice)… Yeah, got in the TARDIS and gone. Gone off through time and space (time and space?). Leaving me behind on a beach, talking with a version of my wife. And she is actually listening to me.
‘Right then,’ I said. ‘I don’t suppose you’d mind telling me what the plan is, would you?’
‘Silly,’ she said, tapping me lightly on the nose. ‘The Sea and I are going to make you all better.’ She tipped her head on one side and smiled. ‘You do want that, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I said. Because I am scared. So scared of dying here that I am letting this happen. ‘But why – why are you doing this to me?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s what we do, lover boy. We are very good at it.’
‘But…?’ I prod.
‘Clever thing,’ she laughed. ‘Well, we can only do it by reading your mind fully. We haven’t been able to do that yet. It takes time. Even this version of me is just skimmed from your surface memories.’
‘My brain?’ I said. ‘But why would you want to read my brain? I’m nothing special.’
Amy paused, and ruffled my hair. ‘Of course you’re not, durr.’ She blew a raspberry. It’s oddly chilling. ‘The mind we really want to read is the Doctor’s. But we haven’t been able to get into it, yet. So you’ll just have to do.’
Story of my life, I think, as the mist wraps itself around me.
A Letter from Maria
St Christophe
7th December 1783
Dear Mother,
It is no longer like a fairy tale. I am scared and lonely and I wish that you would come for me. It’s been a terrible day. But the Doctor sent me to see Prince Boris. I hoped that maybe he would say something nice, or give me a candy, or play a card game with me. Instead, he looked ever so sad. He was out of bed for once, standing at the window, not saying anything, so I went and I tugged at his sleeve.
He smiled down at me, but it was ever such a tiny smile. He lifted me up and hugged me, his great big beard scratching at my cheek until I laughed.
‘It tickles! It TICKLES!’ I protested.
He put me down and patted me gently on the head. ‘You’re going to have to be ever so brave, little Maria,’ he said. ‘We all are.’
‘Does that mean that you will play cards with me?’ I asked.
He gave a weary nod, and we went to the card table. He shuffled expertly, talking of the many games of chance that he had played and won. He promised to teach me the fine game of poker. It sounded most interesting. I knew there were other things I must do, but I do like games.
There was a sharp rap at the door, and Kosov walked in. When I saw him I shrieked and dived under the bed. Kosov was after me at once, his giant arms stretching under the bed frame. ‘Come here, come here you little wretch!’ he bellowed, but I was far too quick for him, wriggling out and darting into a corner. Kosov clambered to his feet and lumbered over to me. I cried out.
‘Oh, what is the meaning of this?’ Prince Boris managed to sound bored at the same time as commanding.
‘Oh monsieur!’ I protested. ‘He will kill me, truly he will KILL me!’
Kosov made a rumbling noise, an ugly smile on his face. ‘The child does not understand. She needs treatment.’
‘I do not!’ I protested hotly. ‘I am fine. Oh, Prince Boris, you know you must not trust your servant. You know he is working with Dr Bloom. You know it!’
Prince Boris sadly tied and retied his fine red dressing gown, leaned back against the wall and looked between