Doctor Who_ Nightshade - Mark Gatiss [11]
which Vijay warmed, although he often felt the rough edge of her tongue.
A good mile away from the station, on the old road which
‘Any sign of Shaun?’ asked Holly. Vijay shook his head.
led to St Hilda’s monastery, Billy Coote was beginning his
‘Well, we might as well turn off the alarm, until we’ve day. He always got up early, even in this weather, folding found out what’s going on. Shall I call the police?’
away the stinking blankets and newspapers which had kept Holly turned off the klaxon and a blessed, peaceful silence him warmish through the long night. He missed the old descended like a blanket of rose petals on to the room.
papers with their heavy broadsheets. The new ones might Cooper nodded absently.
be easier for people to read but they weren’t nearly as good
‘Er... yes, yes, you do that, Holly. We’re all up and about cover. It was a shame more famous people didn’t get shot, now, anyway. Vijay, come over here and log these readings, he thought maliciously. The supplement under which he’d would you? Incredible. I can’t make head nor tail of it.’
slept after Bobby Kennedy kicked the bucket was so thick Vijay slipped off his parka and picked up a sheaf of paper.
he’d hung on to it for weeks.
Dr Cooper turned and beamed at her team like a successful The soaked, peeling green planks of the old bus shelter football coach.
hadn’t been so uncomfortable after all, despite the draughts and the none-too-pleasant smell emanating from the corner.
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But as Billy himself had largely contributed to that, he Morning came slowly to Crook Marsham, the monastery, wasn’t about to complain.
the tracking station and, although no one knew it at the time, He rummaged through his straggly grey beard and ran a to the TARDIS, whose old blue paintwork glistened in the hand through the remaining hairs on his sunburnt head.
fine drizzle of new rain.
This was what he liked to call his ‘ablutions’.
It was going to be freezing cold again, he could tell, with more rain or maybe even snow on the way. He sniffed the crisp air disdainfully.
In the summertime, he would watch the sun clawing its way over the horizon. He loved the way it came up behind the monastery. Made him feel all spiritual.
Perhaps it was just his wax-clogged ears playing tricks with him but, just at that moment, Billy Coote swore he heard a strangulated, grating whine like rusty chains being dragged across gravel. It seemed to be coming from quite close to the shelter. After a few seconds, the noise died away with a crump like the explosion of a Great War shell, and Billy looked about in confusion. He crept around the side of the bus shelter and peered into the darkness. There was something tall and solid, with a light flashing on top, standing there.
Billy walked out of the shelter and up to the structure which was barely visible in the murky darkness. As he drew closer, however, he recognised the thing as a police telephone box. This came as a great surprise because he was sure it hadn’t been there the night before.
Intrigued, he looked the tall blue box up and down, gazed in at the frosted-glass windows and, after rubbing his grubby hand against the sleeve of his jacket, pressed his palm against one of the doors. He jerked back in shock. It was warm. And it was humming...
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back together again. These days he seemed happier playing scratchy old records on his gramophone than talking to her.
Ace had a thought. She’d never seen inside the Doctor’s room. He seemed guarded and defensive whenever the Chapter Two
subject was raised. Would it be full of mementos? Home?
Childhood? Family? Or did the Doctor have too many memories to keep track of? After all,