Doctor Who_ Beyond the Sun - Matthew Jones [71]
Bernice closed the doors behind her and rested against them for a moment. The sound of the party was immediately dulled. Only the heavy bass beat of the music still vibrated through the floor.
The room was large, tall and long – clearly designed to impress a visitor. The young red-haired woman was perched on the edge of a desk, speaking earnestly into a handset. She looked tiny in the huge, austere room.
There were framed pictures on the wall and objects under glass. The room smelt like a museum. It was the first room Bernice had been in on Ursu that felt cluttered. Most of the buildings that she had been in in the city and in the village contained basic items of battered furniture.
Crappy art slapped on the walls with loads of enthusiasm but little skill.
When the woman caught sight of Bernice she quickly finished her conversation and replaced the receiver. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked. Her voice was soft and a little girlish.
Bernice stared at her for a moment, unsure how she should best approach this conversation.
Butterfly feelings fluttered in her stomach. Had this woman been Jason’s lover? Was she still? Bernice was furious at herself for feeling so bloody jealous.
The young woman walked slowly towards Bernice, who was blocking the only exit to the room.
Bernice took a deep breath. ‘Can you help me? I’m not sure. I hope so.’
This was the closest Bernice had been to the woman. Her curly auburn hair was cut into a short bob. Her features were small and childlike. Button nose, thin lips. The photograph hadn’t done her justice: she was strikingly beautiful but delicate, almost fragile, like a china doll. Bernice noticed that the young woman’s eyes were the same mercury grey as she had seen in Scott’s family. Not unlike the Sunless.
The woman stopped in front of her. She seemed to find something amusing. ‘I think you’ll find that the stage is downstairs.’
‘I’m sorry?’ Bernice was suddenly acutely aware that she was in bad drag and wearing a comedy wig. This wasn’t the outfit she would have chosen to confront the woman in. She felt like wiping away her garish make-up, and had to force herself not to. ‘Oh I see,’ she began. ‘No, I know where the stage is. I followed you up here to speak with you.’
‘Oh?’ The woman frowned, but the amused expression remained on her face. ‘I can’t imagine what we might have to talk about, but go on. You have my full attention. For the moment.’
Bernice came straight to the point. ‘I’m looking for Jason Kane. I believe you know him.’
The woman’s composure collapsed. Her jaw dropped open. ‘How could you . . . Jason Kane?
How could you possibly know Jason?’
‘He is . . . I mean he was my husband.’
The woman leant forward, trying to see past all Bernice’s make-up. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she whispered, shaking her petite head. ‘You’re Bernice Summerfield, aren’t you?’
Benny managed to hide her surprise at being recognized. ‘I see my reputation precedes me,’
she said, maintaining a cool façade while desperately wondering what Jason might have told this woman.
‘How did you get to Ursu?’
‘With great difficulty.’
‘I’m not surprised to hear that.’ The woman turned and walked back into the centre of the room. Her confident manner had evaporated. She was chewing on a nail. ‘This is very embarrassing.’
Bernice decided to be very adult about this. ‘You don’t have to be embarrassed. I think he’s in trouble. Do you know where he is?’
The woman seemed to respond to Bernice’s matter-of-fact approach. She shook her head. ‘No.
No, I don’t. I haven’t the faintest idea.’ She was looking at Bernice, an expression of intense interest upon her face. ‘You’ve travelled all the way to Ursu to find him? I’d heard about the obsessive love that