Doctor Who_ Ghost Light - Marc Platt [41]
Suddenly it too was gone. There was a final distant cry from the Reverend Ernest Matthews and then, moments later, a thrush began its morning song.
‘Miss? Miss?’
Sunlight streamed into Ace’s eyes as she woke. She blinked and tried to focus on the figure that was pulling a curtain back from the window.
‘Hallo?’ she said warily. She then realized that she was lying in bed and wearing a long nightdress.
The figure turned around; Ace saw a chubby woman with friendly rosy cheeks smiling down at her. She wore a mop cap and an apron, but it was not the cold, starched uniform of the maids at Gabriel Chase: hers was cheerful and homely.
Ace thought for a moment that she was out of the dreadful house until she recognized the furniture and doll’s house that she remembered from Gwendoline’s bedroom. She had not the remotest idea how she had got there and didn’t like to ask.
‘The Doctor said you’d be fair famished when you woke up,’ said the housekeeper, advancing with a tray. ‘So here’s scrambled eggs, hot buttered toast, kedgeree, kidneys, sausage, bacon, porridge and cream.’ She set the loaded tray on the eiderdown in front of Ace and stood back proudly.
‘Cholesterol city!’ exclaimed Ace, relieved that the food wasn’t all on one plate.
The housekeeper frowned. ‘Oh no, dear. Perivale village.’
She watched the pretty young lady tuck in enthusiastically and then readjusted a vase of rosebuds she had set on the dressing table.
‘Properly exhausted you were when I put you to bed,’
she fussed. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot. There’s a message: would you join the Doctor and the police-gentleman in the drawing room.’
‘Police?’ said Ace. Surely the Old Bill were the last people the Doctor would bother with — unless someone else had called them.
The housekeeper was nodding with approval. ‘It’s high time they were called if you ask me. I said as much to my husband, Mr Grose.’
Ace, who wished there was some brown sauce for the bacon, sniffed dismissively. ‘I think I might give that one a miss. I want to have a look round Perivale village before lunch. Is there a blacksmith on the green?’
‘Mercy no, dearie,’ smiled Mrs Grose. ‘There’s only seven houses and the church! And besides, you’ve missed lunch. It must be all of five o’clock by now.’
Ace dropped her fork. ‘What!’ she said.
‘Nearly evening,’ continued Mrs Grose. ‘So we must hurry. No one in their right head stays in this house after dark.’
‘Is that what the Doctor’s been saying?’ snapped Ace.
Mrs Grose pulled the tray clear as the girl leapt out of bed in a panic and started to hunt through the dresses in the wardrobe.
‘Where’s my clobber?’ Ace demanded. The housekeeper looked bewildered. ‘My gear... clothes!’ insisted Ace.
Mrs Grose smiled indulgently. ‘Those shabby old things? The Doctor had me lay out this for you.’ She produced a long, white, summer dress from the wardrobe: it was elegantly simple with black, embroidered borders on the skirt and bodice. Will it do, my dear?’ she asked.
Ace fanned out the dress and knew when she was beaten. ‘No bustle,’ she grinned. ‘OK Professor, you win.’
She held the dress up to herself in front of the mirror. It was a knockout.
Mrs Grose glowed. ‘That’s right. Much more fitting for a young lady.’
To Ace’s horror, she saw the housekeeper in the mirror advancing on her armed with a whalebone corset.
Beside her, the cut roses had come into full bloom.
The Doctor had been busy. He had set himself an agenda of tasks for the day and had already been well ahead of schedule, when he heard the key in the front door and found Mrs Grose, the day housekeeper, arriving in the hall.
He always had time for servants. Always ask the cleaners if you wanted information about a place, that was his motto.
Cleaners were the eyes and cars of any community; true to form, Mrs Grose had been a mine of information. She was charmed by the Doctor, whom she felt to be the first real gentleman to enter Gabriel Chase since she couldn’t remember when. She had immediately made