Doctor Who_ Camera Obscura - Lloyd Rose [62]
‘Wax,’ said Hugo. ‘Vera’d never let us have a real one, after her own came stillborn. Good as Madame Tussaud’s in my opinion.’
‘Very effective, yes.’ said the Doctor a bit nervously. His gaze roamed over the other jars glinting in the lantern light, each with its own grotesque inhabitant, deformed aquarium creatures in their formaldehyde-filled tanks: a hand with a vestigial finger, a frog with six legs, a siamese lizard. In a corner, a two-headed stuffed calf leaned against the wall. ‘Why aren’t you exhibiting these?’
‘Well, they’re a bit stuffy in London. Squeamish. They want to see this sort of thing, all right, but they’re embarrassed that they want to. Someone always complains to management, or sometimes the law. So we only put these on show in the country and the small towns. Not that they draw much.’ Hugo sighed. ‘We could do with a really first-class exhibit. Now, where’s your mirror? Well, that’s peculiar.’ He scratched his head. ‘It’s not here.’
‘No?’ said the Doctor tensely. He scanned the caravan interior. Hugo was clearly right. Nothing as large as the mirror could be hidden in this small space. His eye was caught by a sign on an empty cage: Giant Rat Of Sumatra.
‘A nutria from Brazil,’ Hugo explained. ‘But it took against the climate and passed on. We’ll ask Vera about the mirror.’
‘Yes,’ said the Doctor politely, though he was unsure what Vera could do. He followed Hugo out the door. ‘I’d like to get another nutria,’ the giant confided, as they descended the stairs, ‘but they don’t come available that often. And they come dear.’
They walked back to the stove. Vera had rolled a second cigarette and was leaning forward to light it, holding her beard back from the fire, against her breasts.
‘That mirror of Micah’s,’ said Hugo, ‘what about it, then?’
She was puzzled for a second, then her face cleared. ‘Didn’t bring it tonight, did he? Didn’t come down here till he brought you.’ She nodded at the Doctor.
‘Ah,’ he said in relief. ‘Then it’s still in place in his exhibit.’
‘Until tomorrow night, anyway. Right now, we need to think about getting you safe away from here.’
‘Erm,’ said the Doctor, ‘actually, I think it would be better if I got back in the box.’
They both stared at him.
‘You’ve gone a bit off,’ said Hugo kindly, ‘from the laudanum.’
‘No, seriously. You see, I need to find the man Scale is interested in taking me to. Also, frankly, if I leave, he’ll know that you’re the ones who freed me.’
‘Scale wouldn’t try anything with us,’ said Hugo flatly.
‘Not directly, I’m sure. But he’s a nasty piece of work, just the type who’d do something sly to your most vulnerable member, or find a way to block your licence renewal.’
‘Well,’ said Vera, ‘you’ve got him down right enough. See here, though.’ She squinted at him. ‘There’s no guarantee this mystery bloke won’t do the both of you.’
‘Well, no, but I assume he’ll at least want to talk to me first.’
‘He won’t care about talking to Micah. So you might be taking him to his death. Not that I particularly care, mind you, but there you have it.’
‘Oh dear,’ said the Doctor. He wondered why he hadn’t thought of that. He didn’t like the answer. Sabbath’s accusation returned and stung him: he was taking things personally. More human every day. He felt a sudden weariness.
‘You don’t look good,’ said Hugo. ‘Sit down.’
The Doctor sat. ‘I can’t think of a way around it,’ he said after a moment. ‘Except to warn Scale. There’s nothing else I can do.’
‘If he’d succeeded in knocking you out, you wouldn’t even have to be worrying about this,’ said Hugo practically. ‘Here.’
He handed the Doctor a cup of tea. The Doctor drank some of it. The hot, tannic bite made him feel better. He warmed his cold hands against the cup. ‘I’d like to write a note to my friends,’ he said. ‘Could you get it to them?’
‘Better hurry,’ said Vera, squinting again, this