Doctor Who_ Relative Dementias - Mark Michalowski [69]
‘Thanks,’ Alexander said, and the two of them sat in silence as the couple walked away up the slope towards the crest of the island.
As soon as they were out of hearing, Alexander turned to Ace. ‘What the hell was all that? Sharks, dolphins? Sea horses?’
‘I know, I know. Total cobblers.’
‘I’ll say!’
‘Yeah, but the weird thing was their reaction, didn’t you think? They’ve lived on this island for God knows how long, they must know a bit about the sea. But they didn’t react at all.’
‘Maybe they were just humouring you.’
‘Yeah, yeah, course they were. Didn’t you see their expressions – not an ounce of surprise or humour between them. And that’s not the weirdest thing.’ Ace could suddenly picture the couple – and their dog – in a totally different setting.
‘You say they’ve been here since you arrived? And they’ve not been away at all?’
Alexander shook his head. ‘Not unless they’ve got a secret submarine hiding on the other side of the... hang on, you’re not telling me that they’ve come through that transmat thing as well, are you?’
‘I don’t know about that. But if they haven’t, someone ought to tell them that they’ve got identical twins in Muirbridge. With the same weird speech patterns, too. And an identical dog.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Back in Muirbridge, there was a tweedy couple, identical to them, in the village. We bumped into them once or twice. I thought those two looked vaguely familiar, but it was only when they spoke that it clicked where I’d seen them before. So how are they getting between here and there unless it’s with a transmat?’
Alexander grinned. ‘I can see where this one’s going. You want to take a walk over to their cottage, find the transmat and use it to get back.’
‘Bright lad! You’ll go a long way!’ She held out her mug, the remains of the whisky still sloshing about in it. ‘Another pint, please, barman!’
‘This is mad,’ panted Alexander half an hour later, as he crawled through the grass on his stomach, rocks digging into him. He couldn’t believe he’d let Ace talk him into this stupid expedition.
From here, lying face down at the crest of the hill, they could see the tweedies’ tatty-looking cottage, at the foot of the opposing slope. There was no sign of its occupants. Overhead, seagulls wheeled and dived and headed out to sea, screaming at them, their cries disturbingly like those of babies. He shuffled into place at Ace’s side and rolled over onto his back, staring up at the thin, scudding clouds, feeling the gentle warmth of the spring sun on his face.
‘If there is a transmat in that cottage, he said thoughtfully.
‘Can I come with you?’
‘What would Big Brother say?’
‘Sod him,’ Alexander laughed. ‘And anyway, I’m Big Brother.
He’s a year younger than me.’
‘You’re planning on leaving your little brother behind and making a break for freedom?’
‘Yeah,’ he said after what seemed like a decent enough pause. ‘Maybe I am.’
‘Boy are you going to be in for it when Mummy finds out!’
He turned to her, stung by her humour more than he would have expected. He opened his mouth to ask her how she’d managed to get away from her family when she suddenly pushed his head down into the coarse grass.
‘Ow!’
‘Ssh.. I can see them.’
He struggled out from under Ace’s grip and peered over the hillock behind which they’d concealed themselves. Squinting, he could see what Ace had seen: the two tweedies were leaving their cottage, walking down and away from them towards the sea, a few hundred yards from them. Circling around them, a fluffy satellite, was the little Scottie dog.
‘Right, Ace whispered. ‘We’re off.’
‘Shouldn’t we wait ‘til they’re further away – like round the other side of the island?’
‘You nance! Come on!’
The cottage looked rotted, decayed: holes gaped in the slated roof and weeds sprouted from the crumbling gutters and downpipes. The windows reminded Ace of the holographic shopfront in London – all dust and flies and cobwebs. Tatty blankets served as curtains, draped