Doctor Who_ Relative Dementias - Mark Michalowski [36]
She had no idea how long she’d been here – if ‘here’ meant anything at all. Some internal clock told her it was just a few hours but for all she knew it could have been days or weeks. But for now, she tried not to think about that: there was too much to see and experience here.
This was pure, pure heaven – particularly for a physicist like Joyce.
Chapter Five
Ace and the Doctor slipped quietly out through the darkened kitchen and stood at the back of Graystairs. The evening was cold and silent, and the Doctor could feel frost in the air. They had spent a fruitless fifteen minutes slipping through the shadows of Graystairs, listening to the comforting sounds from the television room, the laughter of the residents; they’d tiptoed along thickly carpeted corridors hearing gentle snores from early retirers; and they’d tried a couple of door handles, discovering only fitful slumber. But no Joyce and no Norma. And impending bedtime meant that they’d come increasingly close to being caught, so they’d decided to leave and try again later.
The Doctor watched Ace blowing thoughtful clouds of steam into the air, glowing in the pale moonlight. She caught him staring.
‘Well?’ she asked.
‘Very, thank you.’
‘You know what I mean. What now?’
‘I think a return visit is called for, but not until everyone’s gone to bed.’ He glanced at his new pocket watch. ‘Give them a few hours and then we’ll see. Meanwhile...’
‘Somewhere warm would be nice, Ace ventured, another frosty cloud escaping her lips. Suddenly, she turned her head at what sounded like the soft crunch of footsteps around the corner of the house. The Doctor followed her gaze. ‘I was going to tell you before, she hissed, pressing him back into the darkness of the kitchen wall. ‘I got a really weird feeling earlier –
like someone was watching me. In the village and then in the woods near Graystairs. Maybe I’ve got a stalker.’
‘Or an overactive imagination.’
In silence, they scanned the darkness, but no one – and nothing – came around the corner.
‘See?’ the Doctor said eventually. ‘Now come on – we’ve got a missing woman to find.’
As the two of them rounded the corner of the house and headed for the steps that led down to the car park, the Doctor glanced back at the darkness they’d left behind, and gave a tiny nod.
In his room, Harry sat on the bed and locked his fingers together, trying to stop himself from shaking. He closed his eyes but Mrs Wesley’s face screamed out at him from the darkness and he opened them in shock. It was how it had been – how it always would be. He looked at the backs of his hands, pictured them holding the pillow down over the woman’s face, clenching; he remembered his pulse racing as he pulled his head back, trying to avoid her thrashing arms. And as she deflated under him, like a battery-powered toy running down, he’d seen her knitting on the dressing table...
Like a man who’s been fed on bread and water for a lifetime, it was as if he was suddenly faced with a banquet. He had to feed. It was only right, after all. Mrs Wesley’s mind may have cleared, but she was other. She didn’t matter.
Harry flexed his fingers as, unbidden, a single word came to his lips.
Tulk.
The Doctor browsed the litter of yellowed cards blu-tacked to the window of the post office while Ace stomped her feet and rubbed her hands noisily and pointedly. Eventually, her patience exhausted, she dug him in the ribs.
‘No mention of Joyce then? Woman lost. Please call. Reward.
That kind of thing?’
He waved her flippancy away with a scowl and pointed to a number of the cards. ‘Rather a lot of dogs and cats gone missing recently, don’t you think?’
‘Maybe she’s set up a pet sanctuary.’
‘The devil’s in the details, Ace. You can learn a lot about a place by looking at its small ads.’
‘And what do a lot of missing dogs and cats tell you, then?
Apart from there are a lot of careless owners?’
‘Dogs and cats don’t go missing on this scale, Ace. Not in a place like this. They value their homes and food and warmth too much.’ He stopped and frowned, drumming