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‘Fine – we’re in a spaceship and we got here through a transmat. That OK for you?’

The girl helped the elderly, white-haired woman into a sitting position, and Joyce realized that the look of terror and confusion on her face must have mirrored her own.

‘Look,’ said Joyce, ‘I don’t know who you are, or what this is all about, but I asked a civil question and I think –’

‘Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Help get Jessie – it is Jessie, isn’t it? -

sorted whilst I wake Connie up.’

Joyce bristled at the girl’s tone: as well as sarcastic and rude, she was also bossy. And Joyce wasn’t used to being ordered around by someone as young as this. Reluctantly, she slid to her feet and went over to help the elderly woman who was squinting, trying to cover her eyes and ears simultaneously.

‘Who are you?’ the woman moaned as Joyce tried, feebly, to comfort her.

‘I’m Joyce. Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of here. Your name’s Jessie, isn’t it?’ She glanced over at the girl who nodded.

‘Well everything’s going to be fine, Jessie.’

‘Where’s Ernest? I want Ernest! What have you done with him?’

‘Who’s Ernest?’

‘What have you done with him? He was here –’ Jessie looked around the room, her eyes wide with fear. Under her hand, Joyce could feel her shaking.

‘You’re the girl from Graystairs, aren’t you? Is he here? Is Ernest here?’ Joyce looked round the supine bodies, but Jessie wasn’t interested in them. She started rocking, silent tears streaming down her face. For a clear, cold moment, Joyce imagined that she saw her own mother there, terrified, lost. Only then did she realise that Jessie, and probably most of the other people in the chamber, was a patient at Graystairs. Was Mum here? She looked around again, but was relieved to find that she wasn’t. But amongst the faces, she was disturbed to see a couple of the staff that had been in Graystairs on her previous visit –

including the woman she thought of as ‘Matron’. The girl was unplugging another elderly woman – whose reaction, thankfully, seemed less extreme than Jessie’s. (And, Joyce noted with an awkward embarrassment, even less extreme than her own had seemed.) At least to her. As the third, well-built, brown-haired woman sat up, Jessie saw her and her crying stopped as she went over to comfort her

‘What is this horrid place?’ Jessie asked, cradling her friend’s head. Joyce looked to the girl for an answer.

‘It’s... I’m not sure. My name’s Ace, by the way, and this is Joyce. Come on, we have to get you and Connie out of here before someone comes.’ Ace ushered Jessie and Connie to their feet. ‘How do you know my name?’ asked Joyce.

‘I’m a friend of the Doctor. Now come on. I can’t imagine this place doesn’t have some sort of alarm. We have to get out.’

Joyce frowned. ‘Doctor? Doctor Menzies?’

‘No,’ Ace said with strained patience. ‘ The Doctor. Now come on!’ Supporting Connie, Ace and Jessie began splashing their way through the puddles of water towards the arch of the doorway.

She paused only to pick up her rucksack and throw Joyce an irritated look, before the three of them shuffled out into the corridor.

‘What about all those poor people?’ wailed Connie, stopping in the doorway and looking back.

‘Let’s just get you out first,’ Ace said as calmly as she could.

‘Then I’ll come back for the rest. OK?’

Connie nodded uncertainly, looking back to Jessie in the corridor for reassurance, before following her.

With a sinking, sickening feeling grasping at her stomach, Joyce cast a last look around the chamber of horrors and set off after the others.

As the Doctor padded down the corridor, he could hear the tatters of dreams, muttered grumbles, the occasional sob. All neatly boxed up in those little rooms, locked away out of sight.

He scanned the plaques on the doors: The Iris Room, The Rose Room, The Violet Room. One door, however, bore no name. He paused at it and saw that it was slightly ajar, a thin, cool breeze blowing through the gap. Opening it he saw a small