Doctor Who_ Camera Obscura - Lloyd Rose [11]
A round table covered with an Oriental rug had been placed between the spectators and the cabinet, and behind this Constance Jane stood facing them. She was tall and a bit gawky, with a pretty face and a raw American accent. Her brown hair was apparently determined to slip out of the pins with which she’d secured it on top of her head. To Chiltern’s practiced eye, she looked unhealthy, possibly even consumptive, and was certainly depressed – her shoulders slumped, she rarely looked up, and her flat, American voice hardly rose above a mumble.
‘Now I don’t know how this happens,’ she was saying. ‘And I don’t know why. I just know it does happen and it’s a gift, and if you’re given something, why, you ought to give something yourself in return.’ She fingered a tambourine that lay on the table next to a gas lamp. ‘Now, I’m going to go into the cabinet and contact my control, Chief Ironwing. And when he manifests, then you should ask your questions. Odd things might happen, they sometimes do, but there’s no need to be alarmed.’
She entered the cabinet and seated herself on a little wooden chair. Mrs Hemming hurried to shut and fasten the cabinet door, then lowered the lamp flame till it burned blue and went out. They heard her return to her chair.
‘A hymn is often appropriate,’ she said, once she was seated, and began to sing in a clear voice, ‘ “And did those feet in ancient times...”’
The participants joined in with varying degrees of skill. Fitz, who didn’t know the hymn, abstained, and he didn’t think he heard Anji, though he could distinguish the Doctor’s pleasant light tenor and Chiltern’s baritone. A reedy soprano behind him must be Phylemeda. Everyone was just finishing the line about arrows of desire when, abruptly, the tambourine crashed down on the table.
Fitz jumped, and felt William and Aunt Helen do likewise. The singing stopped cold.
‘I do not like it,’ said a deep voice from within the cabinet.
In spite of himself, Fitz felt something like a chill creep through him. The voice was not only deep, but unnaturally harsh. He supposed Constance Jane could have produced it, but somehow it felt wrong.
‘We apologise, Chief Ironwing,’ said Mrs Hemming sincerely.
After a brief silence, the voice said, ‘Ask me.’
Earlier in the parlour, they had drawn lots, and William had come up first. Now he said quaveringly, ‘I want to talk to Mother.’
‘Not here,’ said Ironwing immediately. ‘Who is next?’
‘Wh-Well, wait. Wait. What do you mean, not there?’
‘He only means that she’s temporarily unavailable, William,’ Mrs Hemming whispered. ‘It’s all right.’
‘But I –’
‘Please,’ she whispered.
William subsided.
‘Who is next?’ Ironwing repeated.
Fitz was next, but after William’s reception he wasn’t inclined to speak up. He had a feeling Uncle Bob wasn’t going to fly.
‘Mr Kreiner...?’ Mrs Hemming prodded gently.
‘Erm...’ said Fitz.
‘You mustn’t be afraid,’ Mrs Hemming continued reassuringly. ‘Please, ask your question.’
‘Ask!’ barked Ironwing. Fitz jumped, as if a teacher had called on him unexpectedly, and blurted, ‘My uncle Bob!’
‘Bob’s your uncle!’ responded Ironwing and laughed heartily.
No one knew what to do with this, least of all Fitz. While they sat in confused silence, the tambourine suddenly shook merrily.
‘Look, you nitwit,’ said a completely different voice, ‘what are you trying to pull?’
‘Me?’ said Fitz faintly.
‘You’ve got no uncles.’ The voice was peculiarly high, and it was impossible to tell whether it were female or male. ‘Your parents are dead. You’re what in the next century they’ll call a loser, and you travel through time in a blue box with one not of this world.’
Mrs Ainsley made a bewildered noise.
‘Fishing!’ Fitz said desperately. ‘How’s the fishing over there?’
‘Please,’ said Mrs Hemming, ‘may we speak to Chief Ironwing again?’
‘Your solicitor has placed your funds in an investment that will fail in twenty days,’ said the strange voice, apparently to Mrs Hemming. ‘There will be a terrible war, by the way, but most of you will be dead by then.’
The tambourine smashed