Doctor Who_ Nightshade - Mark Gatiss [22]
seemingly endless rota of table-mopping and washing up.
Sharon Tate? Ace’s memory pulled up sharp at the She’d exchanged a few words with Ace, mostly about the naggingly familiar name. It was tied up somewhere in a
‘shocking
weather’.
And
wasn’t
awful
about
kaleidoscope of images and half-recalled conversations.
Czechoslovakia? Ace had nodded with some gravity even Then she had it. Sharon Tate: the beautiful wife of Roman though she hadn’t a clue what Mrs Crithin was talking Polanski, gruesomely murdered at the behest of Charles about.
Manson and his ‘family’ of West Coast fanatics. Ace had Finally, the ever-smiling café owner had plonked her read about it in one of her mum’s grisly True Crime books.
newspaper on to the table and Ace seized upon it, ravenous The title was something like The Day the Dream Died.
for distraction.
Ace looked into Mrs Crithin’s eyes and felt suddenly It was strangely fascinating to see what was to her old uncomfortable with her knowledge of the future, like some news presented on brand-new, creamy paper. Odd, she ancient seer cursed with the gift of prophecy. She changed thought, that the reality of time travel with the Doctor really the subject with what she hoped was some nonchalance.
struck her only when she had a personal handle on it. Only
‘What’s your flying saucer thing up the road, then?’
a few hundred miles from where she now sat, her mum Mrs Crithin stopped mopping and put her hand on her would be doing some of those things about which she was ample hip as if settling into a familiar routine. ‘That’s our always reminiscing. Maybe planning which outfit she telescope, love. Famous in the right circles. We have all sorts would wear and which of her fancy-men she would favour.
trooping up there. It picks up radio messages from outer Perhaps, on the dance floor of some sweaty, swinging space so I keep a table reserved in case we ever get any little nightclub, meeting the man with whom she would soon green men.’
conceive little Dorothy. Little Dorothy felt herself shudder.
Ace grinned. ‘And who was that bloke who came in a bit
‘You all right, love?’ asked Mrs Crithin, leaning on her ago?’
mop.
‘The darkie?’
Ace nodded and smiled reassuringly. ‘Someone just Ace winced but sensed that Mrs Crithin’s institutionalised walked over my grave.’ She turned a few more pages of the racism wasn’t intended to offend. She nodded.
paper and paused at a picture which showed a small dark
‘That’s Mr Degun. Nice enough young man. Always got a man and a leggy woman dancing at some delirious word for you. He works up there at the telescope. Often Californian festival.
comes in for his breakfast.’
‘Lovely girl, isn’t she?’ said Mrs Crithin, looking over Ace let her get back to her chores, folded the paper, Ace’s shoulder.
thanked her for breakfast and paid with some uncertainty 64
65
DOCTOR WHO: NIGHTSHADE
DOCTOR WHO: NIGHTSHADE
out of the heavy, predecimal coins the Doctor had left on the This one was showing You Only Live Twice and there, table. She stepped outside and was soaked in moments, her under a chipped plate of glass, was a poster of Sean fringe hanging unpleasantly in her eyes as little drops of Connery, surrounded by Oriental women, and clutching a rain dribbled down her face.
space helmet in one hand and a gun in the other.
Most of the shops had crawled into life and Ace hurried When she’d mentioned going to the pictures she hadn’t over to shelter under their dirty brown awnings.
meant it literally. She’d seen the film half a dozen times on A florid-faced man in a bloodstained white coat emerged TV anyway. But it might while away the afternoon into the dreary daylight, looked at the sky, grimaced and pleasantly while she waited for the Doctor. And at least went back inside. There was a slightly sinister wooden sign there would be no adverts to interrupt it.
in the shape of a smiling pig hanging on chains above the She was about to check the programme times when she shop and