Doctor Who_ Peacemaker - James Swallow [11]
The man glowered at her and snatched back the paper. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ he grated. ‘Clearly there was a mistake with the printing press I was not aware of.’ Grumbling, he stalked away.
Jenny sighed. ‘I apologise for his rudeness. He was brought up in the south, you understand? His family owned a plantation and many, uh. . . ’
‘Slaves?’ Martha said the word without weight.
The teacher frowned. ‘When President Lincoln outlawed that bar-baric custom with his emancipation proclamation, it did not sit well with some,’ she admitted. ‘One would think that as we approach the turn of the century, mankind would become more enlightened.’
Martha gave a rueful smile. ‘We can only hope.’
The other woman was quiet for a moment. ‘Martha, would you like to try something sweet? I know the very thing.’
26
Jenny guided her over to a stand near the general store and bought them both a piece of biscuit-like cake dipped in honey.
And sweet it was; Martha’s eyes widened when she took a bite.
‘That’s terrible!’
‘You don’t like it?’
‘No! I mean it’s terribly good! And probably very bad for me!’ They shared a laugh and polished off the treats in silence.
Martha licked the last of the honey from her thumb and eyed Jenny.
She wanted to keep the mood light, but the truth was, every time she looked around and saw the people clapping, singing, and being happy, she couldn’t help but be drawn back to the schoolmarm’s grim words about the smallpox outbreak. Something about it all seemed. . .
forced.
People did not get well from a virus like that overnight, not in a place and a time like this. Maybe if the TARDIS had arrived at some point in the far future, or on some alien planet, she could have ac-cepted it – but this was The Wild West, the 1880s. People had only just caught on to the idea of these invisible things called germs that made you sick. A super-cure for smallpox didn’t exist in 2008, so how could it exist here?
‘A penny for your thoughts,’ said the teacher.
‘I was going to say the same thing to you,’ admitted Martha. ‘Look, sorry to bang on about this, but what you said before, about the sickness. . . ’
She nodded. ‘It troubles me, and clearly my concerns have been noted by others.’ Jenny looked in the direction of the newspaperman’s office. ‘I hate to be thought of as some kind of Doubting Thomas, but while everyone applauds our good fortune I cannot help but be worried by it.’ She gestured around at the street party. ‘All of this. . .
It’s just a circus to keep the townsfolk from dwelling on the matter as I have. A few bawdy songs and some honey cake, and they forget their fears. They move on as if nothing has happened.’
‘But you can’t do that,’ said Martha.
Jenny shook her head. ‘Perhaps Hawkes was right. Perhaps I am just a gloomy soul, looking the gift horse in the mouth, finding fault 27
with our good luck.’
‘There’s no harm in asking questions,’ Martha retorted. ‘One thing I’ve learned travelling with the Doctor is that the moment you stop questioning things, that’s when trouble starts.’ She smiled faintly. ‘Life challenges us, doesn’t it? We should challenge it right back.’
The teacher nodded. ‘I agree. But there are plenty of people in Redwater who feel very differently. They’re afraid, you see? Super-stitious, I suppose you could call it. They’re good people, but they’re scared. They’re terrified that if they dwell on what happened, then somehow they’ll undo it all.’
‘They think the disease will return?’
Jenny nodded again. ‘And if it does, we will all fall victim to it.’
Martha was about to say in no uncertain terms exactly how ridiculous an idea that was, but before she could open her mouth a tall guy with a scraggly beard and a dirty brown jacket came racing up to them. He was panting hard, and he had that kind of wet-dog smell on him that people who work with animals always have.
‘Miss Jenny,’ he puffed, bobbing his head to the teacher, and then belatedly to Martha as well. ‘Miss Jenny! I’m glad I found you so quick-like.’
‘Joseph, what