Doctor Who_ Father Time - Lance Parkin [83]
‘Quite right,’ the Doctor said. ‘I’m over a hundred years old, and I’ve got no idea yet, either.’
‘He’s not really over a hundred years old,’ Miranda said quickly. ‘He’s –’
‘Thirty-six,’ the Doctor said.
‘Forty-one,’ Miranda finished.
Bob forced himself to laugh. ‘Nice one.’
‘Miranda hasn’t had a boyfriend before,’ the Doctor declared. Bob could feel her skin burn red. ‘How many girlfriends have you had?’
‘A few,’ Bob admitted. ‘Two,’ he conceded, finally.
The Doctor looked over at him.
‘Two isn’t that many,’ Bob said awkwardly. It was an embarrassingly low total, he’d always thought. ‘And we only kissed, yeah?’ Not strictly true, but near enough.
‘He stays in touch with them, don’t you, Bob?’ Miranda said, with a voice that would freeze nitrogen.
‘That’s good,’ said the Doctor.
They had, mercifully, arrived at the school.
The Doctor parked just outside the gate, blocking it. ‘Here we are,’ he said joyfully. ‘Enjoy yourself at school. But not too much!’
Miranda was already out of the car.
Bob was about to skulk away.
‘No, stay there Bob,’ she said sweetly.
He rooted himself to the spot. This was his chance to set things straight.
The Trabant whizzed away, the Doctor waving as he went.
Once the car had turned the corner, Bob leapt into action. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.
Miranda crossed her arms.
Bob was very conscious that he was getting an audience: a group of giggling third-years, a couple of wryly amused sixth-formers.
‘I... I made a mistake. I really like you, and I was drunk, and just give me another chance, and I know I don’t deserve it.’
Miranda smiled.
Then she swung around, putting her whole weight behind a punch to his face.
At an earlier age, Bob would probably have imagined a large ‘Ka-pow!’ over his head. Now it was a pale-blue caption, describing how he felt one knuckle crunch into his nose, then the others rolling into it. He’ heard something crack between his eyes, and felt a rush of warm liquid.
The shock alone would have been enough to bowl him off his feet, but the force of the impact did it anyway. Bob’s hands were too busy instinctively grabbing up at his nose to cushion his fall. So hitting the tarmac drive hurt far more than it should have done.
He looked up at Miranda, certain that she’d broken his nose. She was looking down at him, and her expression made it very clear that if he tried to stand up again she’d put him back on the floor, and this time he wouldn’t be getting up.
In later years, when Bob came to recall the moment, he would tell people that he’d put a brave face on it, even managed to get a great quip in. ‘I said, “I’ll take that as a no”,’ he would claim, and his mates would laugh, and he’d feel the pang of regret that would never quite go away.
The dozen or so people who were there heard only a slight yelp.
* * *
Sallak stepped from the train, looking exhausted.
Ferran was waiting for him in the car park. The Deputy had barely escaped the Tower, and everything there was lost. A dozen men, a lot of equipment that could have been useful.
Sallak was limping a little, he looked almost shell-shocked.
Ferran’s bracelet had enough charge left for one recall signal. The only other object from his own time he had now was his brother’s knife. Those were not his only resources, of course – he had the car he’d bought, clothes, a bag of money, some tools and a handgun.
But he’d run out of luxuries, now – the death of the Last One was a necessity, the only thing that could save this mission from the Ignominy of total defeat.
The Deputy got into the car.
‘I’m sorry, My Lord,’ he said. ‘We should have killed the Doctor when we had the chance.’
The loss of the Tower was Sallak’s fault, of course. As was keeping the Doctor alive so that Sallak could tell him his daughter was dead. No wonder the Doctor had survived so long with enemies so vainglorious.
‘We still have that chance,’ Ferran said. ‘The death of the Last One is still our destiny. I’ve searched the Archive, and beyond this year there was absolutely no record of her.’
‘The Archive