Doctor Who_ Deep Blue - Mark Morris [53]
He grinned, though Tegan couldn’t help but detect a certain weariness in his expression. I hope he isn’t getting bored with me, she thought before she could help it. ‘Are you sure you still want to go on this picnic? We don’t have to if you don’t feel like it:
He looked genuinely alarmed at the thought of not going, which reassured her. ‘No, of course I want to go,’ he said.
‘Don’t you?’
‘ I want to.’
‘Well, then, let’s get on with it.’
They bought some corned beef and ham at the meat counter and moved on to the bread aisle. Although this was less than ten years before the time she had last left ‘her’
Earth with the Doctor, she was amazed at the lack of choice available and had to bite her lip to keep from saying so.
There was no vegetarian section, very few speciality or ethnic foods, no vegetables that couldn’t be grown in the British Isles, no New World wines, and only a tiny amount of brown bread amongst the loaves of Nimble and Slimcea and Mother’s Pride.
Tegan chose some crusty white and Andy grabbed a packet of jam tarts. They were at the checkout, a thin-faced girl with freckles and lank red hair grumpily running their purchases through, when Andy groaned and slumped forward as if he was about to be sick.
Everyone nearby stopped what they were doing and stared as he stumbled backwards, clutched at the edge of the checkout, missed, and thumped gracelessly down on to his backside. Some people tittered, others stared at him aggressively, as if they thought that by drawing attention to himself he was challenging them in some way. The checkout girl barely suppressed a snigger as she raised herself to peer over the end of the checkout desk; it was clearly the most fun she’d had all day. Tegan would have bitten her head off if she hadn’t been both discomfited by the all-pervasive atmosphere of hostility and concerned for Andy. She crouched down and placed a supporting hand on Andy’s back.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked for the second time in the past ten minutes.
Andy looked at her, but seemed to be having trouble focusing. ‘Feel so weird,’ he said muzzily. ‘Dizzy and sick.’
Behind the checkout a narrow aisle led to the exit, plastic chairs for pensioners and the footsore lined up along the wall. ‘Come on,’ said Tegan, ‘let’s get you on to one of these.’
With Andy helping as much as he could, she hauled him to his feet and dumped him on one of the chairs.
‘Is your husband all right, madam?’ said a voice from behind her. Tegan turned and saw a balding, fussy-looking man in a blue suit and flowery tie, his expression hovering somewhere between professional concern and disapproval.
‘He’s -’ Tegan was about to say ‘not my husband’, but decided she couldn’t be bothered to add fuel to the man’s prissy little fire – ‘got some sort of virus. Sunstroke maybe.
Would you mind bringing him a glass of water?’
Mr Prudom - his name written on the rectangular badge affixed to his breast pocket above the words STORE
MANAGER - looked slightly put out by her request, but nodded. ‘Certainly, madam.’ He turned and clicked his fingers at the gawping checkout girl. ‘Janice, bring this gentleman a drink of water, would you please?’
Janice looked disgusted, but muttered, ‘Yes, Mr Prudom,’
and wandered off on her errand.
‘And would you mind calling us a cab?’ Tegan asked.
Mr Prudom glanced around, but the other checkout girls were all busy. He looked momentarily trapped by his inability to delegate, then his shoulders slumped. ‘Certainly, madam,’
he said again. ‘I’ll see to it myself.’
The water arrived and Tegan made Andy drink it. ‘I feel such an idiot,’ he said. ‘Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.’
‘You must have picked up a bug,’ Tegan said. ‘I’m going to take you back home to bed.’
‘Sounds promising,’ he said, managing a tired grin.
‘Don’t push your luck,’ Tegan replied, but she was smiling too. ‘I’m going to tuck you in, then I’m going to head back to my hotel. We’ll go on our picnic another day.’
He sighed.