Doctor Who_ Atom Bomb Blues - Andrew Cartmel [29]
During one of the intervals when they were safely alone, Ace said, ‘I didn’t think you liked interfering with history.’
‘I don’t.’
‘But you’re helping them to build the atomic bomb.’
‘Not really.’ The Doctor stared at the smudged blackboard, crowded with formulae chalked in his distinctive, eccentric handwriting. ‘All this is just a kind of smoke screen. I mean, it’s all very well as far as it goes, but I don’t actually add anything to the project here. I’ll simply offer them solutions they were coming to anyway, just a little before they would have made the discoveries for themselves. And sometimes a little bit after.’
‘So you won’t look too perfect,’ said Ace.
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‘Yes. For the same reason I will sometimes deliberately put mistakes in my equations.’
‘Not in any of the calculations I did for you, I hope,’ said Ace. ‘I have my reputation to think about.’
They worked a long, arduous day, not finishing until well after the sun had set and the other classrooms were dark and empty. ‘That ought to do it,’ said the Doctor, clapping his hands to remove the chalk dust. ‘It’s always sensible to make a good impression on one’s first day at a new job.’ The darkened hallway of the schoolhouse was echoing and spooky as they walked out. The cool dark desert night was fragrant with the smell of woodsmoke and blossom, and the sky was studded with the precise, bright, infinitely intricate gleam of the stars. Ace’s stomach rumbled.
‘Sorry to spoil a beautiful moment,’ she said.
The Doctor chuckled. ‘Not to worry. I knew you would be hungry after your mental excursions. The brain burns an astonishing number of calories. So I’ve arranged a late meal for us.’
‘But isn’t the dining room at the Lodge closed?’
‘Certainly. So I contracted with the Oppenheimers’ cook, Rosalita, to provide some of her famous chilli.’
‘Wicked. I loved that chilli.’
‘Yes, you did seem to enjoy it at the party. Now if you don’t mind a walk on this beautiful night we shall go to the Oppenheimers’ and collect our supper.
I believe it is just a pleasant stroll away, down the road locally known as Bathtub Row.’
‘A stroll along Bathtub Row in the moonlight? You certainly know how to treat a girl.’ In fact, the curve of road leading to the Oppenheimers’ house was quietly beautiful in the moonlight, handsome rows of houses with trees and lawns. ‘It’s lovely here. Why do they give it that stupid name?’
‘Because the new buildings hastily erected for the project only provide showers. If one wants the luxury of lolling in a bathtub, one needs access to these fine dwellings along here.’
When they reached the house they found the lights in the front room on and the curtains open, affording a view of Kitty Oppenheimer sitting on the sofa with her feet tucked under her, reading a magazine. She seemed so absorbed and content, like a cat curled up happily there, that Ace felt reluctant to disturb her. But in the event the Doctor didn’t knock at the front door.
Instead he skirted the flowerbeds and went around to the back of the house.
The windows here were dark and there was no sign of life. But when the Doctor tapped discreetly on the kitchen door, a light instantly came on and the door opened a crack. A dark eye glinted in the crack and then the door swung fully open.
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The small Mexican woman the Doctor addressed as Rosalita smiled at them, her teeth pearly and perfect in the darkness. ‘Come in,’ she whispered. ‘We don’t want to disturb Mrs Oppy.’
‘No, we certainly don’t want to do that,’ said the Doctor, stepping over the threshold.