Doctor Who_ Nightshade - Mark Gatiss [30]
way from her lips to her chin.
The eyes were blank, sunk in their sockets and dulled to a A man with arthritic hands, all bunched and knotted like strange grey colour above a mouth wrenched back in a rusty keys, was manning the bar of The Shepherd’s Cross.
snapshot of sheer fright. Livid purple weals and scratches Trevithick didn’t know him but was enjoying the pint of crazed the pasty skin.
stout he’d poured. Upstairs, Lawrence, Robin and Jill were Ace cried out and stepped back, immediately feeling the ministering to Betty’s needs.
treacherous mud slip beneath her. Before she knew what Trevithick burped. It was getting on for seven o’clock and was happening, she was on top of it.
he would normally be settling down to watch television or Howling in fear and nausea and disgust, she struggled to read. He was halfway through Bleak House, always one of stand, to escape, but the thing seemed to erupt around her, his favourites, loving the way Dickens drew him into that belching out an unbelievable stink of corruption.
murky, fog-bound world.
The station light swept back again and Ace saw the body Tonight, though, a long-forgotten excitement, something expanding beneath her like a cast-off snakeskin, dark fluid like the thrill of live performance, was flowing through his draining away into the moor.
veins. There was the strange incident at the window, Mrs Yeadon’s funny turn and his TV interview too. It was all very puzzling. And he liked a puzzle.
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DOCTOR WHO: NIGHTSHADE
DOCTOR WHO: NIGHTSHADE
Lawrence Yeadon’s jukebox was playing a particularly Trevithick didn’t like the use of the expression ‘end up’
tacky version of ‘White Christmas’, all wispy soprano and but smiled back regardless. ‘Believe it or not, I’d planned to electric piano, and the pub was crowded with ruddy-faced, retire up here. Live with my daughter and son-in-law. But laughing punters.
they were killed in a car crash in Germany...’
Trevithick finished his pint and looked up as the frosted-
‘Oh, I am sorry.’ Lowcock’s heavy features fell glass door opened. George Lowcock shuffled in, sympathetically.
accompanied by a blast of cold wind and a little whirlpool
‘Anyway, I’d moved all my stuff and couldn’t really of brown leaves. He rubbed his hands together rather afford a place of my own. So the vultures got me.’
theatrically and gave the pub one of his beaming smiles,
‘Very pretty vultures if you ask me,’ said Lowcock with a nodding to all his old friends from the village. He spotted hearty laugh, ‘if that Miss Mason is anything to go by.’
Trevithick at once.
Trevithick laughed back. ‘Hmm. Nice girl. Doesn’t really
‘Hello, Professor!’ he boomed, striding over to belong with a load of old crocks though. She has ambition. I Trevithick’s table. The old man flinched visibly and can see it in her eyes.’
acknowledged the policeman with an embarrassed, They sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks. A lopsided smile.
cheery hubbub of voices crowded around them and one or
‘I gave your autograph to my wife. She was right pleased,’
two couples began to exchange kisses under the mistletoe Locock enthused. ‘Can I get you a pint?’
pinned above the bar. The red flocked wallpaper seemed to Trevithick perked up at this offer. ‘Oh, that’s very kind of glow and blur as Trevithick gazed at it. He smiled, rather you, Inspector.’
contentedly.
‘Sergeant,’ said Lowcock lightly. ‘Call me George.’
‘So,’ he said finally. ‘How’s business?’
‘Er, thank you, George. A pint of Guinness, if you’d be so Unexpectedly, Lowcock’s face was rather solemn.
kind.’
‘Funniest thing really. I like to have a nice clean book at Lowcock stood up and did an elaborate mime to the man Christmas. Goodwill to all men and that. There’s usually behind the bar. This was evidently