Doctor Who_ Deep Blue - Mark Morris [20]
„Oh yeah, or what will you do? Smack my bum?‟
‘She might not, but I will,‟ growled Tony.
Chris took a step back, but his stance was aggressive, defiant. „I‟d like to see you try.‟
„Right,‟ said Tony and lunged forward, face red, eyes bulging. Chris hopped sideways and threw a clumsy punch, which connected with his father‟s face more by luck than judgement.
Quite a crowd was gathering now. Charlotte rushed forward to position herself between Chris and Tony, her composure crumbling. „Stop it! Stop it!‟ she shouted. She tried to grab her dad‟s arm to pull him back, but he swung out to shrug her off and his hand struck the side of her face, sending her reeling. She stumbled off the kerb and her legs gave way beneath her, dumping her unceremoniously on the ground.
‘You bloody animal!’ Imogen screamed at Tony, but Tony ignored her, advancing on Chris.
„Come here, you little sod!‟ he roared, but Chris darted into the crowd of onlookers, which parted before him.
When he was a safe distance away, he shouted, „I hate the lot of you. I wish you‟d all just bloody drop dead.‟ Then he turned and loped away. A group of lads, who had been watching what was going on with grins all over their faces, cheered and clapped.
„And you lot can bloody shut up,‟ Tony roared, stomping towards them.
The lads ran off, laughing and making V-signs as they retreated.
Tony clumped to a halt. He was red and sweating, the side of his face already purple where Chris had hit him. His eyes bulged and there was froth at the comers of his mouth. For a moment he looked confused, as if he had no idea what to do next, then he swung towards the restaurant. „I‟m off for some fish and chips,‟ he muttered, „You two can do what you like.‟
Charlotte, still sitting in the gutter, aware that she was being stared at like some curious exhibit in a museum, allowed her head to sink into her trembling hands to hide the tears that were running down her face.
„Right,‟ said Tegan as soon as she had put the phone down,
„I‟m going out.‟
„To find the Doctor?‟
She gave Turlough a withering look. „You really think I‟m that desperate?‟
He shrugged. „Do you want me to come with you?‟
„No, thank you.‟
„Well... where are you going?‟
„For a walk. To get some fresh air.‟
Turlough raised his eyebrows dismissively. „Right... well, I‟ll see you later.‟
„Much later,‟ snapped Tegan and marched out.
For a while she stomped through the streets of the town, the exasperation inside her blinding her to her surroundings.
Eventually, she calmed down, and moving into the town centre, away from the seafront, spent a pleasant hour window-shopping. She grimaced at the seventies‟ fashions, wondering how she could ever have found such clothes trendy in her teenage years, and marvelled at how cheap everything was. Thinking of money made her remember how the Doctor had insisted on vetting the cash in the little shoulder bag she‟d packed - and which she was now carrying with her - to ensure she wasn‟t about to hand over coins that were yet to be minted. Her throat and stomach tightened again. The Doctor was her friend, she trusted him implicitly, but if he treated her more like an adult she wouldn‟t have cause to fly off the handle so often, would she?
She spotted a pub, The Captain Cook, and decided to pop in for a drink. She couldn‟t remember the last time she had sat quietly by herself on her own planet in (more or less) her own time while life drifted by around her. Since Amsterdam, her life had been a whirlwind of exotic locations and life-shattering - sometimes planet-shattering- events. „Strictly no aliens allowed,‟ she murmured to herself as she pushed open the pub door and entered.
Predictably, the landlord of The Captain Cook had opted to give his pub a nautical theme. The dark-wood walls were decorated with framed photographs of fishing trawlers and their crews, and with various sea-faring paraphernalia: a ship‟s wheel, a barometer, an anchor. Above the bar was a huge stuffed marlin in a glass case.
Tegan stood beneath the marlin as she ordered