Doctor Who_ Father Time - Lance Parkin [57]
Dinah and Miranda met Bob and Alex there.
Alex was Dinah’s current boyfriend. They gave each other a chaste kiss, acutely conscious that they were being watched. Miranda knew far more than she needed to about what they got up to when they had some privacy. As it was, all they did here was share a can of Quattro and a bit of furtive hair-stroking.
Bob was Bob. Alex’s friend, brought along – as Miranda was – because girls weren’t meant to go out to meet boys on their own. As Dinah and Alex nuzzled together and started discreet snogging and whispering, Miranda opened up her book, A Tale of Two Cities, one of her O-level set texts. Bob had the latest Batman comic.
Bob smiled weakly at her. ‘You’ve been swimming,’ he told her.
‘I know.’
‘I can tell from your hair. It’s wet.’
‘Thanks.’ Miranda shifted her legs, just in case Bob could see up her skirt.
‘She fainted,’ Dinah said. ‘You OK now?’
‘I was then,’ Miranda said. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’
Alex and Dinah started sniggering.
Bob was embarrassed, too. He decided to change the subject and started looking around. ‘It’s spring,’ he said finally.
Miranda saw what had attracted his attention – a couple of white butterflies, circling round each other, completely oblivious to the human world, or indeed anything but each other. There was an ant clambering over her hand. There were far more insects in this park than people, she thought, trying to imagine the park as the vast jungle the ant must see it as. The whole world was different to the ant: it would see it as chemicals and vibration, not colours and sound. Ants didn’t worry about money, or falling in love, or how big their car was or how much more their house was worth this month. Their senses were entirely different, and of course everything operated on a different scale.
‘There’s a planet where the moths and the ants are at war,’ she said absently.
‘What?’ Bob asked.
‘She gets like this, Bob,’ Dinah assured him, taking a break from Alex’s attentions. ‘She’s weird.’
‘It’s something my dad told me, once,’ Miranda said, turning her hand over to make it easier for the ant. ‘When I was little, he used to tell me stories. About places where the anthills were the size of mountains, there were men made of Liquorice Allsorts and there was an empress who lived in a big jam jar.’
‘Science fiction?’ said Bob, his interest piqued.
‘I suppose.’
‘Cool. Is he a writer or something?’
‘No. He’s a business consultant.’
Bob was clearly a little disappointed. ‘What’s your mum do?’
Miranda took a deep breath. ‘My mum died. So did my real dad.’
‘Oh, wow. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...’
She saw his embarrassment. ‘In a car accident when I was ten. Don’t worry. I know people don’t really know what to say.’
Bob’s mouth flickered. ‘My mum died when I was six. It’s OK, I understand.’
Miranda smiled back at him.
* * *
The boy lay on Joel and Kirst’s bed, wearing a pair of Joel’s old pyjamas. He was eighteen, nineteen at most, and although he obviously worked out, he wasn’t Kirst’s type and he was far too young.
His armour lay spread out on the bedroom floor, and Kirst and Joel were staying away from it, just like Sallak had told them.
‘Who is he?’ Joel asked.
‘His name is Ferran. He is the younger brother of my employer, Prefect Zevron. As Zevron is dead, Ferran should have inherited his rank and title. We have not been in contact for some time.’
It wasn’t much of an explanation. Kirst tried again. ‘And... and why did he beam down into our living room?’
‘The device I built was a distress signal. He came to rescue me.’
‘This is a rescue?’
‘Sallak?’ the boy said weakly.
‘I’m here.’
The boy sat upright. ‘This is Earth?’
‘It is.’
‘The time journey... without a transmat at this end, it was difficult.’
‘We will need to build one,’ Sallak agreed. ‘Get a transmuter here, and more men. Why didn’t you send a saucer?’
Kirst looked over at Joel for some reassurance that this was insane. But he was lapping up every word, with that same zeal on his face he had when they rented