Doctor Who_ Interference_ Book Two - Lawrence Miles [132]
He probably said a lot more than that, but I.M. Foreman didn’t hear it. She was too busy pulling herself out of Magdelana Bishop’s body, letting the mind of the old woman flood through the synapses and nerve endings again.
She’d forgotten exactly how much effort it was, having to cling to one nervous system all the time.
* * *
‘– back again,’ said the Doctor.
I.M. Foreman blinked. They were standing down in the valley, between the bottom of the hill and the edge of the woodland. She got the feeling they were heading back towards the TARDIS, although she didn’t remember leaving the hilltop.
The Doctor peered into her eyes. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘You’re back, then?’
I.M. Foreman kept blinking, until she was used to the way the world looked through Magdelana’s eyes. A few moments earlier she’d been lodged inside the mind of one of the sheep, but she was already starting to forget how it felt to walk on four legs, and to have no concept of ‘guilt’ whatsoever.
‘How was Magdelana?’ she asked.
The Doctor smiled. ‘I think we’ve settled our differences.’
Somewhere in the back of her mind, I.M. Foreman could feel Magdelana’s memories of the last few minutes. The impressions that the Doctor’s words had made, the tension she’d felt when she’d had to talk with the Time Lord in his new body. I.M. Foreman tried not to focus on those memories, though. They weren’t any of her business.
However, there was one thing she was sure of.
‘You’re leaving,’ she said.
‘I’m afraid so,’ the Doctor told her. Then he started walking again, crossing the darkened valley in the direction of the woodland. I.M. Foreman tutted, and hobbled after him.
* * *
She stood and watched him as he reached the TARDIS, almost feeling the need to applaud when he started searching his pockets for the key. He looked more like a showman than I.M. Foreman had ever done, juggling the bric-a‐brac from his coat with such precision that you could almost believe he was keeping his eyes on every single air molecule. He finally found what he was looking for, and held it up for all the world to see, with a big shiny smile on his face.
‘Must go,’ he said. ‘It’d be rude if I stayed any longer.’
‘I don’t mind,’ said I.M. Foreman, hoping she didn’t sound desperate for the company.
‘Not rude to you. Rude to causality. The laws of time say I should be somewhere else. I’m actually halfway through an adventure at the moment, and taking two days’ time out might be considered to be…’
‘Pushing your luck.’
‘Quite.’
The next thing she knew, he was grasping both her hands in both of his. The Doctor’s skin felt depressingly soft and smooth next to hers, just as it had the night before. He still had that big babyish smile fixed to his face.
‘I’ll come back,’ he said. ‘I promise.’
‘Mmm,’ said I.M. Foreman.
He’d obviously been expecting her to say more, and there was another one of those awkward human silences. They were both putting on a show, she knew that. They were both much bigger, much more complex, than the bodies they wore. If anyone had been there to see it, it would have been like watching two glove puppets in a Punch and Judy show.
‘Oh yes,’ said the Doctor, when the silence got too much for him. ‘I nearly forgot. One more thing.’
‘Go on.’
‘How do you get that goose out of the bottle? Without breaking the glass?’
I.M. Foreman sighed at him. Theatrically. ‘By feeding it. How else?’
The Doctor looked shocked. He’d probably been expecting an answer that involved large amounts of technology and a great big screwdriver. He let go of her hands. ‘I’m sorry?’ he said.
‘You feed the goose, until it gets strong enough to break the bottle itself. Isn’t it obvious?’
The Doctor looked as though he didn’t know whether to nod his head or shake it. ‘I don’t understand. What’s the point of the riddle?’
‘It was always your problem,’ I.M. Foreman told him. ‘Always trying to save the universe the direct way. Bringing down governments. Getting involved. Breaking the bottle, basically. Me, on the