Doctor Who_ Just War - Lance Parkin [100]
Benny was trying to catch up. ‘Hang on, a couple of sentences ago did you say “Hartung”?’
‘Yes.’ Roz was clearly getting restless.
‘As in “HARTUNG, E.”?’ Benny had found her stolen skirt and blouse in a pile on the floor. She thought about wearing them, then decided not to. She picked up the Doctor’s umbrella and was too busy thinking about him to hear what Roz said next
‘Emil Hartung, racing driver turned military genius.
What’s your point?’
‘I need to see the Doctor,’ Benny said, grasping the umbrella handle resolutely.
‘Bernice, no offence, but if the Doctor was around, do you think that I’d be standing here talking to you?’
‘No, this is serious.’ Benny began hobbling towards the exit, using the umbrella for support.
‘You surprise me.’ Roz hurried over to Benny, draping a silk kimono over her patient’s shoulders, before opening the door.
Benny was still trying to piece together what was happening as she stepped into the corridor. ‘You reek of cigarettes, you know that? Roz, hang on a moment. If the Doctor’s not here, where is he?’
Forrester picked up a grey holdall that had been sitting just outside the door, and slung it over her shoulder. ‘I don’t know. I’ve not seen him since March the second. The last time I saw him, he told us to keep our eyes out for anything big, then he vanished and didn’t say where he was going.
Look, if you’re OK now, I really need to get going, the defence of the realm is at stake, and so on.’
They were in the corridor now. They were quite a way from Benny’s bedroom, but one of the wardrobe rooms was just two doors down. Benny tried to remember which way.
‘Us? Where is Chris?’
‘He’s gone, too. The army sent him on a suicide mission to northern France.’
‘I know the feeling.’ They had reached the door to the wardrobe room. Forrester pushed it open for her. Just inside was a wicker chair, and Benny took the opportunity to sit down. Roz was looking around — she almost certainly hadn’t been in here before, it wasn’t her sort of thing. Rows upon rows of clothes stretched out: maze-like racks of elegant dresses, exotic lingerie, daring ballgowns, frilly blouses, skirts, jackets and hats of every size, shape and colour.
Every form of female attire from the sensible to the downright saucy. Benny had often wondered when this collection had been acquired and why the Doctor had the inclination to collect women’s clothing from a thousand worlds. Forrester stood by the door, uninterested. Roz was clearly a woman who wasn’t in touch with her feminine side.
‘What are you looking for?’ Roz asked.
‘I thought perhaps something like Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca.’
‘What’s that mean in English?’
Benny didn’t attempt to explain, just to describe: ‘A tailored wool suit, dusty pink. A jacket with big square pockets and round buttons. The skirt has to be cut just beneath the knee. That’s going to be the tricky bit: I doubt you’ve noticed this, but most of the ones in the TARDIS
stores are far too short. A white cotton blouse with a’ — she indicated her collar bone — ‘floppy collar. A matching hat, with a broad brim. Silk stockings and cashmere scarf, both white.’
Roz nodded and set off. She would be a while, but didn’t question Benny’s orders, or even challenge her authority, despite all that fuss earlier about being in a hurry. Travelling with the Doctor, that sort of blind obedience would probably get her killed. Benny leant over and peeked inside Forrester’s holdall.
‘So that wasn’t Guernsey, it was the Isle of Wight?’ Chris said disbelievingly.
‘Yes,’ the Doctor said, shifting uncomfortably. Munin was shooting over Berkshire, now, at a little under the speed of sound.
‘I thought you knew the way!’
‘Well, obviously I didn’t,’ the Doctor said irritably.
‘Do we turn around and get Hartung?’
The Doctor folded his arms and refused to speak. Chris decided to change tack. ‘Doctor. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask: you said before that Hugin blew up.
The Doctor seemed happy to explain. ‘Yes. I heard a rumour that on March the first there had