Doctor Who_ Nightshade - Mark Gatiss [66]
around the place. A blazing fire crackled in the hearth.
Ace thought of her Auntie Rose, always bemoaning the Jill Mason was walking between the chairs like a youth of today and saying how much nicer everything used miniskirted Florence Nightingale. Most of her charges had to be. That was what was wrong with the Doctor. He was dropped off to sleep although the Rayner sisters and Mr trapped in the past. Remembering happier times which Peel were mumbling quietly to themselves.
probably weren’t that much different to today.
Three or four of the monks had lingered too, leaning She looked about at the crumbling stones.
against the walls or staring into the fire.
How many lives had this place seen come and go? How Ace felt a little thrill of pleasure run through her. It would many people who thought themselves so important?
be good to be here with Robin, somewhere so festive and Ace smiled to herself. And how many young women had cosy. She walked towards Jill, her shoes making a satisfying sat here thinking exactly the same thing?
clop on the stone-flagged floor.
‘Everything OK?’
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DOCTOR WHO: NIGHTSHADE
DOCTOR WHO: NIGHTSHADE
Jill turned round. ‘Er, yes. Do I...?’
Jill and Ace began to join in as best they could. Mrs
‘Ace.’ She extended a hand. ‘I’m a friend of the Doctor’s.’
Holland looked around at her friends. Their expressions Jill smiled. ‘Of course.’
were strangely melancholy, betraying the wealth of emotion Mrs Holland jerked into wakefulness, blinking about stirred up by the old song. Mr Peel rubbed a hand across his herself in confusion. Jill laid a soothing hand on her brow.
eyes. He seemed to be crying.
‘It’s all right, Esmé.’
‘What’s the use of worrying? It never was worthwhile,
‘Wilfrid? Is that you?’ The old woman grasped Jill’s hand so...!’
and touched it to her wrinkled cheek.
Ace began to gravitate away from the group, feeling a
‘It’s Jill, Esmé.’
little uncomfortable. She’d always hated singsongs, right
‘Jill? Oh.’ Mrs Holland frowned. ‘Oh, yes. Of course. I was from school assemblies to New Year revelling. They just thinking.. .Wilfrid. He’s gone now, you know.’
smacked of people trying too hard to enjoy themselves.
Jill stroked Mrs Holland’s hair affectionately. ‘I know.’
‘Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and smile,
‘Nineteen-fifteen. I can remember the day. He was first in smile, smile!’
the queue at the recruiting office, you know. Oh yes. He Ace stepped through the door of the Great Hall and found used to parade up and down in front of that mirror with his herself once again in the chilly cloisters. Evening had drawn big boots on and all his buttons shining. “I’ll be back for about the monastery now. Where was Robin?
Christmas,” he said. But he wasn’t. I knew there was something wrong but... but you were supposed to get a Mr Dutton raised his hand, a wicked smile cracking his telegram. There was a bit of a mix-up. All I got was a face as he launched into a discordant rendition of ‘We’re brown-paper parcel. His uniform. His boots. And his little Gonna Hang Out the Washing on the Siegfried Line’. Jill pocket book.’
looked on benevolently. This was just the thing to get their She turned tear-misted eyes to Jill. ‘There was a bayonet spirits up.
hole through it. The pages were all stuck together, all ... stiff Later, she would reflect on the irony of that phrase.
with blood. I remember. I just stood on the step and cried.’
She looked across at Mrs Holland and her smile froze. The Mr Messingham shifted in his chair and cleared his throat.
old woman was sitting bolt upright, transfixed by Then he began to sing in a high, tuneless voice.
something she had spotted in the corner.
‘Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag...’
‘Esmé?’ called Jill.
‘And smile, smile...’ joined in Mr Dutton.
Mrs Holland peered into the candle-lit gloom, her mouth
‘Smile...’ finished