Doctor Who_ Ghost Light - Marc Platt [40]
Ernest opened his eyes, blinking and unperturbed by his new surroundings.
‘So here you are at last,’ he observed. ‘Haven’t I been kept waiting long enough?’
Josiah faced him across a small table. He was smiling faintly and dabbing at his mouth with a handkerchief. His skin was flaky and yellow like old paper, but his eyes, although watering heavily, looked out with the eager intent of a new and vigorous creature beneath the desiccated crust.
Sensing no immediate threat of interruption, Ernest continued, ‘I perceive that you are a sick man, sir.
Retribution, no doubt, for your blasphemy.’
‘It will pass,’ whispered Josiah.
‘And so will your unholy theories of evolution. It is a complete absurdity that the line of my ancestors can be traced back to a protoplasmic globule!’
Josiah’s smile grew broader. ‘Please do go on,’ he insisted and slid a silver dish of fruit across the table towards his guest.
‘Man has been the same, sir, since he stood in the Garden of Eden...’ Ernest eyed the fruit and selected a large banana which he proceeded to peel as he lectured, ‘...and he was never, ever a chattering, gibbering ape!’
He impulsively chomped into the banana and then looked up in annoyance. Josiah had begun to wheeze with uncontrollable and triumphant laughter.
‘What are you laughing at?’ remonstrated the dean, his mouth full. ‘The devil take you, why are you laughing!’
Gravely insulted, he glanced down at the hands holding the banana. They were not his hands — they were the wrinkled, black-nailed hands of a monkey all covered in fur.
Josiah’s laughter grew louder still as the primate, face aghast, began to dribble fruit down his reverent chin.
Shoes clattered on the wooden stairs and Gwendoline emerged into the observatory. Ernest drew up his legs in fright and squatted on the seat of the chair, resting his knuckles next to his shoes. Unable to believe this nightmare, he stared around and scratched at his sideburns. He was ashamed that he could not resist reaching for another banana.
‘Gwendoline,’ crooned Josiah, ‘come here, my dear child.’
She obeyed and knelt at her guardian’s side, so glad to find herself back at the heart of her family. ‘Are you unwell, Uncle?’ she enquired. Beneath his dried translucent skin, she could just make another form moving, like a snake about to slough its skin.
He stroked her check gently, making certain that Ernest could see her response to his affection.
‘Only sick at heart, my dear. But soon I shall restore the blighted British Empire to full vigour and glory.’ He pointed to the strange apparition that gaped at them from across the table.
‘You — you’re no better than animals!’ protested Ernest with difficulty through his growing teeth. He inadvertently let out a whoop like a startled gibbon and looked away, ashamed and thoroughly miserable.
‘The Reverend Ernest Matthews!’ proclaimed Josiah. ‘I thought he would amuse me. But he makes a tedious toy, don’t you think? He bores me just as much as he did before.’
Revelling in anticipation, Gwendoline extracted a dainty handkerchief from her sleeve and folded it into a pad. ‘Dear uncle,’ she said, and smiled knowingly into his eyes.
‘We’re so glad he has to go away,’ whispered Josiah in her ear. He took a small bottle of brown glass from his pocket and held it aloft.
‘And where is he going?’ she responded. This was one game she had not forgotten. She watched him uncork the bottle and tip the contents over her handkerchief.
‘To Java!’ he said.
Ernest Matthews saw Gwendoline, his ministering angel, rise up and move towards him. He stared uncomprehending as she moved in and thrust the pad over his simian face. As darkness overcame him, he heard Josiah eagerly croaking, ‘That’s the way to the zoo!’
Gabriel Chase was still recumbent in the fleeting shadows of night. From the dark edifice that stood against the roseate sky, only one light shone.