Doctor Who_ Nightshade - Mark Gatiss [5]
‘And let me know when Wilfrid gets home,’ she said adjusted his blanket and huffed again.
finally, drifting back into sleep.
Jill brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and crossed the
‘Wilfrid?’ said Trevithick with a raised eyebrow.
room to check on Mrs Holland.
‘Her husband.’ Jill tucked the blanket around the old
‘Believe it or not, Edmund...’
woman’s knees. ‘Killed in the First World War, I think.’
‘Mister Trevithick to you, girl.’
‘Hmmph,’ Trevithick grunted. ‘Mad as a hatter. Well, if
‘Believe it or not, I have more important things to do than you’ll excuse me, I think it’s time I got this old body to bed.’
watch you on the TV.’
Jill nodded distractedly and then looked up.
Trevithick grunted. ‘Oh yes? Rather be with your bloody
‘Oh, I almost forgot. I got a phone call today. Someone anarchist friends, would you?’
from the BBC. They want to come up and interview you.’
‘What?’
‘Interview me? Whatever for?’
‘In Paris? Isn’t that the “in thing” for young people Jill pulled a face. ‘Apparently they’ve been flooded with today?’
letters since they started repeating your series. Seems you’re Jill felt a rush of blood to her face. She was silent for a famous all over again.’
while and then said simply, ‘No.’
Trevithick grunted. ‘Probably just amazed I haven’t Mrs Holland, who had slowly woken up, began to cackle dropped dead yet.’
wildly. Her toothless, sunken face reminded Trevithick of
‘Shall I tell them it’s all right then?’
one of those laughing sailor dolls at the seaside.
‘Hmm?’
‘Ooh, Mr Trevithick,’ she cried. ‘When are you on the telly?
‘Shall I tell them it’s OK to send someone up to see you?’
You keep telling us you’re going to be on the telly...’
16
17
DOCTOR WHO: NIGHTSHADE
DOCTOR WHO: NIGHTSHADE
Trevithick shrugged non-committally. ‘If you like,’ he said the driving rain which soaked her auburn hair, she spun and left the room.
around, jumped into the air, shouted for Jack to follow her.
Jill sighed. That man was so exasperating!
‘Follow me, Jack! Follow... Follow... Follow me!’
Once in the corridor, however, Edmund Trevithick’s sulky Jack could hear her light, musical laugh resounding in the expression changed. He laughed delightedly and his face air. It was a sound he knew well. There was no mistaking it.
broke out into a beaming, lopsided smile.
The laughter of a delicate, carefree girl he’d once known Famous! All over again!
and loved.
He shambled excitedly to bed.
‘Win!’ he called.
She turned and he could see little beads of rain shining on In the TV room, Jill was trying to ease old Mr Peel into a her lovely young face. She laughed and Jack’s head sitting position. She knew from bitter experience that if she crowded with memories.
couldn’t make him sit upright, his medicine would run like
‘Win!’
syrup down his leathery chin.
He pounded on, his old legs buckling under him. Once or She stopped suddenly and stiffened. There was an odd twice his boots sank completely into the marshy ground and rustling sound coming from outside, as if tree branches corpse-cold water stained the knees of his trousers.
were scraping against the window. But there were no trees
‘Win! You’ve come back!’
that close to the wall. The heavy velvet curtains seemed to She beckoned to him and the old man ran on, his heart in stare at Jill, daring her to open them.
his mouth and his face wreathed with smiles. It was Don’t be scared. You’re a grown woman. What do you impossible. Impossible!
have to fear?
Follow me, Jack. Follow me... Follow... Follow...
Jill swallowed nervously, feeling the back of her throat
‘Wait for me, Win. Wait for me!’
suddenly dry up. Then, grateful that there was no one Win vanished into a little copse of scrubby, stunted trees.
awake to see her, she hurried from the room.
Jack plunged on until he reached the withered foliage which Jack Prudhoe staggered on. He splashed through puddles sheltered an enclave in the rocks too small to be called a in the cobbled square, careered around the post office and cave but large enough for him to stand upright. He pushed