Doctor Who_ Rags - Mick Lewis [58]
The Doctor leant across the counter and put one hand tenderly 140
on top of hers. She looked up at him quickly, then down again.
Shemade a move to pick the stamp up again, as if by resuming hernormal duties she could efface any unpleasant memories that were lurking like sharks beneath the waters of her mind. Instead she merely touched it, as if for reassurance.
‘The librarian of that day ordered it to be destroyed shortly afterwards - after my mother complained.’ She frowned at the Doctor. ‘I dare say there must have been two copies... ?’ she didn’t look convinced herself. ‘Either that or... or they couldn’t bring themselves to burn a book of such local interest.’ She shivered noticeably, and the Doctor saw behind the crusty spectacles - saw the scared little girl hiding in her eyes.
‘Yes,’ the Doctor said thoughtfully. ‘Tell me, would you happen to know where the book came from, and who was the author?’
The librarian frowned at him. Then shot a glance in Kane’s direction. The Doctor followed her gaze. Kane’s unshaven face was milk-white behind the large cover of the book.
‘Why, the author was the same as the illustrator. And should have been imprisoned for it, if you ask me. Or at the very least certified. Because he was mad, or so they said when I was little.
so very mad. Mad, and very, very bad.’
The Doctor raised his eyebrows encouragingly. ‘Really? And what exactly did he do?’
‘Besides create that obscenity, you mean? I only heard rumours... rumours that could never be proved. It might not be professional of me to wag my tongue so many years after the events.’
‘No... ‘ the Doctor said with mock complicity, ‘I suppose not.’
‘Dark things. That’s all I know. Rites amongst the stones.
Bloody deeds... I... I really couldn’t elaborate. But suffice to say a local publisher decided to take a gamble and publish the unwholesome thing, and the library decided to stock it. As to the author...’ she leant towards the Doctor, lowering her voice.
‘Do go on,’ he prompted.
‘Why, the author was no more than one of his lot’ And once 141
more she glanced furtively in Kane’s direction:One of those lazy sawyers. His grandfather, if you really want to know. Always were a bad lot, those Sawyers. A bad lot.’
The Doctor glanced at Kane.
He was staring right back at them, the book in his lap.
They had climbed to their feet, and now they were shuffling towards her in the dark.
Four musicians - four mummers - in the dark.... in the truck.
She could not see their faces, she could not hear them breathe.
But she could see the silhouettes of their tatters, could hear the scrape of their boots on the metal floor. And, as if the Ragman had popped another vision inside her head, she understood what they were.
As they came for her.
‘But sarge, wouldn’t it be far better to disperse the travellers, rather than allowing them to go where they want?’
The young corporal’s eyes were hard and angry, and Benton knew she was speaking for the majority of the squaddies. But there was also something else in her wide blue eyes. something a little like hate, and Benton didn’t like that at all. He shrugged at her.
‘Not for us to worry about now is it, Robinson? Besides, they’re out of harm’s way while they’re in there. We’ve got them contained rather nicely.’
‘Are you sure we’ve got them contained, sarge? Or is it that they’re just not ready to move on yet? I get the feeling they’re taking the piss because we’re not doing anything about them.’
Benton had no reply to that. ‘The Brigadier’s just following orders from above,’ he finally snapped.
The blonde corporal wasn’t satisfied by the answer. She glowered through the spiked gate at the cemetery which was now succumbing to twilight. Camp fires were blossoming amongst the tombs. ‘Doesn’t make it right, does it Sarge?’
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Benton grimaced helplessly. ‘Like