Doctor Who_ Atom Bomb Blues - Andrew Cartmel [73]
‘We’ll show them around in a minute,’ said Albert. ‘But right now come on through.’ He led the Doctor and Ace from the small hallway into the front parlour, a room full of antique French chairs and divans poised on their clawed feet on a thick white carpet. ‘Have a seat, please. Could you rustle up some coffee for the folks, sweetie?’
Elina winked at Ace. ‘See what I mean? Slave driver!’ she bustled out as the Doctor and Ace looked for somewhere to sit. The furniture was all so delicate and fragile-looking that Ace was reluctant to put her weight on any of it. She could just imagine the crunching sound of a priceless antique breaking. Albert had solved the problem by sitting on a footstool. But it was the only one in the room. So when the Doctor chose a low silver-grey love seat, Ace perched on it beside him. This way if it broke at least it would be half his fault.
‘Now, how exactly can we help you, sir?’ said Albert.
‘You said you’re the caretaker here?’
‘Me and my good lady, that’s right. We’ve looked after this place ever since it shut up shop.’
‘And when was that?’
Albert frowned. ‘Must be coming up for a year now.’
The Doctor looked disappointed. ‘This chapel has been closed for the last year?’
‘Yes sir. The folks that run it, the Storrows, took off for Mexico on what they call an extended vacation. Seems like this war doesn’t trouble some people.
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Doesn’t stop them having their fun and taking their leisure.’
‘I don’t suppose there’s any way of trying to trace any regular members of the, er, congregation who used to attend here frequently?’
Albert’s face lit up. ‘Now there I can help you.’ He rose from the footstool and went over to an ivory-coloured escritoire and opened a drawer, taking out a large photo album with a marbled orange paper cover. He gave it to the Doctor, who opened it on his lap and began leafing through it. ‘Lots of well-known folk used to come up here,’ said Albert, returning to his perch on the footstool. ‘You’d be surprised. Movie stars, singers, football players, jockeys, all kinds. The Storrows liked to keep photos of all the famous ones.’
‘Excellent, excellent,’ said the Doctor, leafing through the album. Ace leaned over as he stopped at a page. Gazing out at them from a stylish sepia photograph was the moody and beautiful face of Lady Silk.
‘Bingo,’ said Ace.
Albert hopped to his feet and hurried over to take a look. ‘Her!’ he said.
‘That Jap-a-Nazi traitor! Is she the one you’re after?’
‘Indeed.’ The Doctor nodded, studying the picture. It was inscribed in the same indigo ink and flowing female hand as the photo they’d seen in Ray’s apartment. It read, To a new day dawning.
‘Isn’t that something,’ exclaimed Albert excitedly. ‘I’m tickled to hear it. If I can help you put that wicked female under lock and key I’ll be only too delighted.’ His wife came back in, carrying a tray with a coffee pot, cups, a loaf of bread and several plates. Albert looked at her. ‘You’ll never guess who these folks are after, Elina. That Lady Silk character. You know. The traitor.
The singer. They’re going to lock her up and throw away the key. And we’re going to help!’
‘Now, pumpkin,’ said the big woman. She set the tray down on a low, frail-looking white table with ornate gilt trim. ‘Don’t get so het up. You know you have to mind your blood pressure.’
‘To Hades with my blood pressure. We’re going to help bring a traitor to justice.’
‘A commendable sentiment,’ said the Doctor. ‘But I’m afraid this photograph on its own isn’t much help. It merely confirms that Lady Silk once regularly attended this chapel.’
‘Oh, we’ve got a lot more than that,’ said Albert happily. He bounced up from his stool and went back to the escritoire. As his wife poured coffee and sliced bread, he tugged open another drawer and took out a zipped leather folder. The bulging folder was so large that he had to work