Doctor Who_ Nightshade - Mark Gatiss [12]
Not for the first time, she speculated on how the Doctor coped with his frenetic, nomadic existence. On one of the rare occasions when she and her mum hadn’t been at each The Doctor, Ace decided, was in need of a change. Not of other’s throats, they’d talked about what it must be like to clothes, nor of face (she was beginning to understand live forever.
something of his regenerative powers) but of environment.
‘Couldn’t bear it, Dory,’ her mum had said. ‘All those Of late, he had grown irritable and sulky, fond of pacing the friends, all those people you’d love. You’d have to watch console room and the corridors of the TARDIS with hands them all get old and die. And you’d just go on and on. Start thrust deep in pockets, mumbling and sighing. From time to all over again.’
time his bushy eyebrows would twitch and his heavily lined Ace shuddered at the thought. She switched off her tape forehead would crease into a thoughtful frown as if deck and gazed absently about the room. She was a striking inspiration had seized him.
young woman with clear, soft skin and a heart-shaped, Ace had begun to retreat to her own little room, playing ‘I almost Edwardian face. Her thick brown hair flowed down wanna be adored’ very loudly in the hope of stirring her the back of her T-shirt.
strange companion into some sort of activity, however There were footsteps in the corridor outside. Ace jumped hostile. In all their adventures together she’d never known off the bed and threw open the door. ‘Doctor?’
him so moody and sullen.
Ace glimpsed movement out of the corner of her eye and set off after it.
Having nothing to do, Ace’s mind turned to the drab, She came upon the Doctor in a little room off one of the roundel-indented walls of her own room. She’d never been main arterial corridors. He was lounging on a high, padded one for feathering nests, even back on Earth, and the hectic chair, staring into space. Cold, pale grey light from some pace of her life with the Doctor precluded any thoughts of hidden source reflected off his elfin face.
making a real home in the TARDIS. But they hadn’t been
‘Doctor?’ said Ace in a quiet voice.
anywhere exciting since the Doctor had pulled his old ship 36
37
DOCTOR WHO: NIGHTSHADE
DOCTOR WHO: NIGHTSHADE
He was wearing a long, muslin nightshirt and a shot-silk seemingly unending stock of bundled papers, scrolls and blue dressing gown, but his legs and feet were bare.
ancient, leather-bound tomes, all tied up with waxed string,
‘Running a bath, Professor?’ said Ace cheerily.
piled against doors or sprawling like paper waterfalls down The Doctor ran a hand through his tousled hair but gave the library’s spiral staircases.
no indication of having noticed Ace’s presence in the room.
‘Books,’ said the Doctor casually.
She began to feel awkward and looked around the grey Reaching a junction point where four roundeled corridors room which was full of dust and yellowing papers. The branched off, the Doctor paused to get his bearings.
Doctor sat amidst it all like some somnolent Buddha.
‘We’ve been this way before,’ sighed Ace.
‘Well, if you’re going to ignore me ...’ she began.
‘What?’ The Doctor’s tone was irritable.
The Doctor looked up at her and fixed her with a
‘We’ve been this way already. I’m sure of it. We’re lost.’
penetrating stare.
The Doctor bristled. ‘Lost? Me! I know this ship like the
‘What do you say to a bit of exploring?’
back of... the back of...’ He gazed distractedly up and down Ace was relieved. ‘Anything’s better than just hanging the corridor, ‘... beyond.’
around inside the TARDIS.’
Ace rolled her eyes and plunged her hands into her Levis.
‘Good, good. I think... I think I can promise you
‘Maybe we should’ve left a trail like that Greek bloke with something a little recherché.’
the minah bird.’
‘Re... what?’
‘Minotaur,’ said the Doctor, sucking his finger. ‘Anyway, But the Doctor was on his feet and off down the corridor we’re not lost, I’ve