Doctor Who_ Atom Bomb Blues - Andrew Cartmel [30]
Ace touched the side of the ceramic pot. It was still warm. Rosalita smiled at her, dark eyes glinting with tiny dancing reflections of the gas flame. ‘You eat it pretty soon, huh? While it’s warm.’
‘You bet,’ said Ace. She lifted the lid of the casserole and inhaled a sweet, spicy, complex fragrance, rich with the smell of cooked beef and a hint of something unidentifiable. Rosalita playfully swatted at Ace’s hand with a wooden spoon and firmly placed the lid back on again. ‘Keep it nice and warm, huh?’ She turned and opened the wooden door of a cupboard set into the whitewashed wall. ‘I’ll get you a basket to carry it away in. You can bring me the basket and pot back tomorrow, huh? Or whenever. No hurry.’
‘We shall return everything promptly,’ said the Doctor.
‘Thank you for
preparing this feast for us.’
‘My pleasure.’
‘I’m sure we shall all enjoy it.’
Rosalita paused in her search for the basket. She emerged from the cupboard and looked at the Doctor. ‘All? You sharing the food with someone else?’
‘Indeed we are. Do you know Ray Morita? Cosmic Ray. I’m sure you must do. He certainly made quite an impression at the party last night.’
Rosalita straightened up so quickly that she banged her head on one of the shelves in the cupboard. ‘Careful,’ said the Doctor. Rosalita emerged from the cupboard, rubbing her head with one hand and clutching a large wicker basket with the other. It might have been the shock of the blow to her head but Ace noticed that Rosalita’s hand holding the basket was trembling.
‘Sure, I know old Ray,’ said Rosalita abstractedly. ‘He’s sure got an appetite, that boy. You wish him good health from me, huh?’ She went to the table and lifted the heavy casserole clumsily while trying to slide the basket under it.
The casserole trembled in her grip.
53
‘Here, let me help,’ said the Doctor, moving swiftly towards the table. But he was a fraction too late. The big ceramic pot slid out of Rosalita’s grasp, off the edge of the table, and crashed to the floor, hitting the unforgiving tiles and shattering with a sound like a bomb going off. Ceramic fragments and greasy gouts of chilli spattered across the kitchen. Ace looked on, appalled. There was a splash of chilli on the toe of her shoe. She inspected it with dismay.
This had been her dinner.
‘What a pity,’ said the Doctor.
Rosalita looked on the verge of tears. ‘Never mind. I have some left over from the party. This I cooked for you especially, but the leftovers are good too.
I pack some of that for you, huh?’
Kitty Oppenheimer appeared in the kitchen doorway, holding a magazine in her hand. Ace noticed that it was a copy of New Yorker with numerous ring stains from wet glasses on the cover. ‘What on earth was that noise?’
She peered at the Doctor, Ace and Rosalita. ‘It sounded like the gadget being detonated prematurely.’
‘Sorry Mrs Oppy. I drop something.’ Rosalita was already busy with a mop, swabbing the shards of casserole and dollops of chilli into a neat pile in the centre of the kitchen floor.
‘Why are you standing here in the dark?’ Kitty flipped a switch and the electric lights came on. Ace winced in the sudden brightness. Kitty smiled at her. ‘Hello Ace. Hello Doctor. What sort of clandestine activity is this?’
The Doctor smiled and doffed his hat.
‘Merely a clandestine chilli—
purchasing activity I’m afraid. Nothing very exciting.’
‘Oh, Rosalita’s chilli. Sometimes it seems she’s feeding half the