Doctor Who_ Cats Cradle_ Witch Mark - Andrew Hunt [27]
Only Old Davy, oblivious to changes in the world around him, remained his loyal customer. It wasn't enough - soon the Black Swan would pirouette its last and settle to the ground with its wings folded over its head in a deathly embrace. Arthur was leaving.
Jack wondered what he should do. He'd called the vet and given him the details, or at least he'd given believable details, and now he really ought to go back up to David. But his limbs were aching with the fatigue induced by several hours walking in dampness. He was on the verge of going back into the pub and hunkering down in front of the fire when down the road from the east he saw a figure descending at some speed on an ancient bicycle. There could be no mistaking that this was the village policeman - a stocky individual bombing right out of a Hollywood London astride a battered Raleigh that had seen far better days.
As the policeman neared, Jack waved at him to stop, eliciting a high banshee wail of brakes against metal which brought the bike to a halt a few inches from Jack's feet.
'Hello there, boyo. What can I do for you, eh?'
‘You're a police officer?'
‘No, lad, I'm a ballet dancer. I just wear the uniform over me tights.'
‘Uh, yeah, well, I'd like to report an accident.’
‘Mmmm?'
‘Up in the hills,' Jack elaborated.
‘So what's happened?'
‘Me and a friend of mine were walking over to Gwydyr along the stream that runs up this valley.'
The policeman nodded. 'I know where you mean . . .‘
'We found this, um, well, sort of a horse-rider. His horse has fallen and broken its leg and he's been lying in the water so, you know, he may have pneumonia or something.'
'A horse-rider, you say? Just a horse-rider?'
'Well, yeah, sort of. The thing is . . .'
'Is it near to where the stream crosses the Gwydyr road?'
‘About a kilometre below it.'
'And your friend's up there, is he? What's his name?'
'David, David Gibson. I'm Jack Pilgrim.'
'Right, thanks for reporting it. I'll get up there and do something about it.'
Without another word, the policeman kicked off and began pedalling furiously away. Jack shouted after him, 'What should I do?' but got no response. He resigned himself to walking back up to David.
But first he turned back to the pub. He gave an uneasy smile to the old man sitting on the bench beside the door and then went back in.
'Hi, again.' Arthur looked up in surprise.
'Oh, hello, back so soon?'
'Could you cash some traveller's cheques for me?'
A worried frown crossed Arthur's face as he wondered whether the interests of customer relations extended to such an act. Nothing to lose really.
'How much?' he asked cautiously.
'Twenty?' Jack proposed.
Arthur gave an inward sigh of relief - that much could be coped with. 'Sure,' he said.
'Great!' Jack scrawled his signature on one of the cheques and handed it over. He saw, as Arthur took out the cash, how sparsely filled the till was.
'Fivers all right? There you go.'
'Thanks very much. Bye.'
Arthur watched him go disappointedly. The lad could at least have bought another drink while he was in.
Ace laid the knife and fork across the emptied plate and sat back contentedly, still savouring the lingering taste sensations. A warm glow perfused her body. She looked across at the Doctor's plate. It was still heaped high with the fourth helping that Janet had given him.
'That was brilliant,' she beamed. 'I could eat it again.'
Janet smiled and answered apologetically, ‘Ah well, I'm afraid the Doctor's scraped the pots bare.'
‘Absolutely delicious. I'd have to think back a couple of centuries to come up with better. Let me see.
Lucretia . . . Stephen . . . Ah yes, Elizabeth's coronation feast, was good.'
‘You were at the Queen's coronation dinner? Ace asked unbelievingly. She'd joined in the royal wedding street party and binged on green jelly and cream buns whilst bunting in patriotic