Doctor Who_ Ghost Ship - Keith Topping [23]
She did not believe me, I knew, and, more worryingly, I did not believe myself either.
Some hours later, in the dead of another wild and terrible night of the soul, I once again wandered into the area close to Miss Lamb's cabin. The TARDIS had offered a temporary sanctuary from the constant whispers and cries of so-called ghosts lurking around each and every corner. But my mind would not allow me simply to stay there and try to shut out the horrors of the ship. Therefore, once the initial relief at being away from the oppressive atmosphere of the decks had gone, I found myself back on board the Queen Mary. Facing my fears. This time, as I left the TARDIS, I took my hat with me. Somehow the situation seemed to require it.
Apparitions occasionally appeared to me as I walked purposefully towards First Class. I did my best to ignore them and the almost meaningless words and phrases that they mouthed to me. I had something more important to worry about than these invaders from the borders of reality.
Something was wrong. Desperately wrong. I knew that, several moments before I rounded the corner that led to the corridor containing Miss Lamb's cabin and saw Simpkins and Jarvis, outside the door, furiously banging upon it and calling out to her.
I sprinted towards them and, as I did so, the whispering, chanting, cajoling voices of the manifestations around the ship became clearer. An instantaneous realisation as to what they had been trying to tell me for all these hours came to me. A repetitious statement of intent.
Too late.
'What's going on?' I asked.
Jarvis turned to me with fear in his eyes. 'Miss Lamb rang for a sandwich half an hour since, but she isn't answering her door.'
Water, water everywhere, yet not a drop to drink ...
I reached Simpkins and Jarvis and we, the three of us, looked at each other for a moment in a bemused, uncertain triangle. Not a word was spoken, or needed to be, for we all knew what had to be done next.
'We've been knocking and calling to her for ten minutes,' Jarvis said at last. 'No reply.'
'You have a pass key?' I asked, wondering why Simpkins and Jarvis were not already in the room doing what needed to be done.
'It's been locked from the inside and the key's still in the lock,' Simpkins told me, banging on the door once more. 'It won't budge. I've got a really bad feeling about this.'
Without waiting to hear what, exactly, his premonition was, I put my shoulder to the door. It didn't move an inch. I tried again and Simpkins joined me. We tumbled through as the door burst inwards in a cascade of wooden splinters.
'Miss Lamb?' I heard Jarvis ask behind me. Neither Simpkins nor I spoke. We could see.
Miss Lamb's pale white and naked body lay at the bottom of her bathtub, her still-open eyes glaring at me accusingly through the clear, motionless water. 'Why didn't you come sooner?' she seemed to be asking. 'You said it would be all right.'
'Oh sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph,' said Simpkins, crossing himself and stumbling backwards into Jarvis. Behind him Jarvis, trying to peer over his friend's shoulder, saw the body, and let out a brief and girlish scream of terror.
Instinctively, I removed my hat and clutched it in my trembling hands.
'She's drowned,' continued Simpkins – somewhat pointlessly, given the circumstantial evidence before him.
'Clearly,' I noted. For a moment, I genuinely could not decide what I should do next. Examine the body for signs of foul play when I knew, knew for certain, that there would be none?
No.
Not for her.
I had been confused at first, when I had seen the body. My initial reaction had been that the ghosts, or whatever the manifestations were, had got to her and killed her for merriment and japery. That was a possibility but, just as tragic,