Doctor Who_ Nightshade - Mark Gatiss [59]
Jill nodded. Medway got into the driving seat. Mrs Jill managed to steer her charges away from the sight of Holland sobbed quietly in the back.
the dead driver.
‘Can I call the police from the monastery?’ Medway asked
‘What happened?’ said Medway, opening the boot of his through the window.
car and producing a blanket.
‘I doubt it. All the phones are out of order.’ Jill stopped as Jill shook her head. ‘We were heading for York. They’re if struck by a thought. ‘Mr Medway?’
all going home for Christmas. Were going home.’ She
‘Yes?’
sighed. ‘Some of them said they felt queasy. I thought it
‘Did you feel anything? When you were coming here?’
must be travel sickness but then I felt it too. And the driver.’
Medway shook his head. ‘No. Nothing.’
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Jill waved him off and the car moved slowly on to the What was left now? He was as old and hollow as the rough track to the monastery which branched off the main monastery itself, running a cottage industry that saved road.
money, not souls.
She gave one last look at the dead driver and then set off He glanced through the latticed study window and saw in the same direction, herding the old people before her like the Doctor and Ace heading towards the entrance. His heart wayward sheep.
leapt. If anyone could help him with his crisis of faith it was the Doctor. He seemed so wise, so much older than he Abbot Winstanley was glad the morning had come. He appeared. Like a man standing on the bank of time, had lain awake half the night anticipating the return of that unconcerned by the furious flow of the years.
mournful wail, eventually succumbing to sleep in the early A few moments later, Ace and the Doctor were shown in.
hours.
‘How do you do,’ said Winstanley warmly as the Doctor Now, despite his exhaustion, he was up and about. He introduced Ace. ‘Your friend and I have been having some had already observed the usual patterns of prayer, spoken very interesting chats.’
at length to Brother Alec about letting that awful old tramp
‘I bet,’ said Ace, glancing round the room at the into the monastery again and outlined his plans for the bookshelves. ‘Quite a library you’ve got here, vicar.’
Christmas Day menu to old Minnie the cook.
‘Er. Abbot. Yes, yes, it’s a bit of a hobby of mine.’
He was supposed to be finding a relevant biblical passage The Doctor spread his hands on the desk before him. ‘I to read for his fellow monks but instead was sitting in his won’t beat about the bush, Abbot. There are some very study, staring at the previous night’s fire.
curious things happening here. I’d like to see some more of Terrible doubts gnawed away at his mind. How long had your history books, if I may?’
he been in this wretched place? Twenty years? From novice Winstanley clapped his hands together delightedly. ‘Of monk to Abbot. Twenty years of kneeling and praying and course, of course.’
abstaining in the service of his faith. He laughed a little to He pulled out an elegant mahogany stepladder from a himself. Faith in what? An increasingly godless generation niche in the wall and bustled up to the top shelf. ‘Particular locked on a course of self-destruction? A youth culture period?’
which worshipped sexual ambiguity and promiscuity? Or
‘Any,’ said the Doctor airily. ‘As far back as you can go.’
was it faith in the God who had created them all?
Within minutes, Winstanley was handing down volume Well, that was the problem, he thought to himself. He after volume - pamphlets, guide books and hefty histories.
didn’t really have faith at all. Not any more. He wanted to.
‘Ace. Get looking,’ the Doctor instructed, throwing half a Oh, how he wanted to. Faith like the burning sense of right dozen books over the desk.
and fulfilment he had once possessed, the faith which had
‘What for?’
sustained him through a turbulent youth.
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‘Anything unusual.’ The Doctor’s head disappeared into a The Doctor looked at her steadily. Ace nodded.