Doctor Who_ Ghost Light - Marc Platt [55]
Families and mums and mum’s fancy man. And she had let it go on. She should have stopped it properly. All the hatred and guilt in the world was concentrated in this place. She was trapped a hundred years from where she should be, where she should have saved her friend.
The scrabbling and whispering surged closer. All around her the insects mocked: the place was alive. A raven croaked and Ace threw out her arms to shield herself. An owl screeched. The beady eyes of the frozen birds accused her as she tried to run, but her legs were heavy as lead. This way and that she turned, beset by the screaming judgment of the lifeless birds. She sank to the floor weeping uncontrollably.
‘You’re all dead! I didn’t mean it! I couldn’t help it! I’m not guilty!’ As she buried her face in her hands, she heard the sirens of the fire engines approaching and saw the flashing blue beacons of the next century cutting through the smoke and blazing firelight.
It all went quiet. Behind her, Ace heard the rustle of material. She looked round and for a second saw Manisha standing over her.
‘Ace, my dear,’ said the apparition. ‘I want you to come away. Come away with me to Java!’ Raising her chloroform-drenched pad, Gwendoline launched herself upon Ace with murderous intent.
11
Trick of the Light
Inspector Mackenzie’s search for a way out of the house had proved fruitless. The outer doors were all sealed; every window on the ground floor was either barred or shuttered.
The telephone line was dead and the kitchen was empty.
Mrs Grose had departed long ago without leaving any dinner cooking. The inspector found some biscuits in the pantry and decided that he must find a way down from an upstairs window. That might prove tricky because his joints ached as if they had not been used for a week, but he was not staying in this houseful of lunatics for a moment longer than was necessary.
As he reached the hall, he saw Lady Margaret, still dressed as a housekeeper, overseeing the packing of a set of trunks by two of the maids. Evidently preparations were under way for a departure. As each item was displayed, she ticked it off in a notebook and consigned it to a trunk.
‘Item: one machete. To be dispatched with other sundries to the lodgings in Wigmore Street.
‘Item: three revolvers. As required.’
She noticed Mackenzie watching and fixed him with her stare.
‘Ah, Lady Margaret,’ he blustered, ‘I’ve been wanting to have a word with you.’
The housekeeper snapped her fingers and the two maids started to close in on the policeman.
‘Perhaps we can sort this business out over a pot of tea.’
He glanced from one to the other of the maids as they took hold of his arms.
‘Item,’ said Mrs Pritchard. ‘One police inspector. This specimen to be packed with other items for London.’ She ticked her notebook.
With a shout, Mackenzie flung his handful of biscuits into her face, wrenched himself free of the startled maids and ran up the stairs.
‘Doctor!’ he yelled.
Mrs Pritchard took the machete from the trunk and handed it to one of the maids.
‘Dispose of that item,’ she said.
She watched the maids set off after their quarry. One of her staff was dead, another missing. Whatever Mr Josiah’s plans for the inspector were, a housekeeper was entitled to exact revenge for the disturbance of her house. She closed the trunk lid and went to see about dinner.
It had not been difficult for the Doctor to find Control’s trail: he had only to follow the scattered rags and veils to realize that her evolutionary progress was advancing rapidly. Thankfully, it had not been a trail of husks: Control seemed to have out-evolved Josiah as far as metamorphosis was concerned. She was butterfly and chrysalis in one. The problem would lie in not frightening her away again. And now Ace had wandered off, which annoyed him.
Through the crack around the half-open door to Gwendoline’s bedroom, he saw that Control had found a new ally. Redvers Fenn-Cooper sat on the rumpled bed, holding some picture or other, which he was examining studiously. The Doctor wondered