Doctor Who_ Rip Tide - Louise Cooper [66]
'Steve's all right.' It was a statement, not a question.
Nina nodded. 'We talked ... A lot.'
'I'm glad.' She thought that, probably, he had picked up the additional implication in her words. She and Steve were closer now than they had ever been, and Nina had the new and slightly bewildering conviction that in the past few days both of them had done a lot of growing up.
'They're ... nice,' she said, feeling suddenly awkward. 'Ruth's people, I mean.
'Yes, they are. It was important to them to thank you and Steve personally.'
She nodded. 'Did you bring them?'
'In the TARDIS, yes.'
'Where have you ...' She almost said 'parked' then realised how ludicrous that sounded. The Doctor grinned. 'Oh, somewhere or other. Don't worry, it won't be found. Anyway, we shan't be staying long.'
She said, 'Oh,' and swallowed back the disappointment.
'They've removed the gateway,' he told her. 'If anyone digs through the fallen rock and opens the workings again, they'll find nothing.'
'Right.' Nina sensed that he was gazing at her but she stared at the sand again and wouldn't look up. She didn't know whether they would reopen the workings or not, and at the moment didn't care.
'As for the wreck of the flier,' he went on, 'there's no need to worry. It will have started to disintegrate by now, and it won't take long to disappear completely.'
'Sure.' She could still feel him watching her, and her lower lip quivered.
'So there'll soon be nothing left,' said the Doctor, very quietly.
That did it. Nina put the back of one hand to her mouth and made a choking sound, then before she could stop the impulse she had looked up and into his eyes. What she saw almost undid her completely. The Doctor was gazing at her with that bright, intent gaze she had come to know – and in the gaze was a wistful sadness that almost matched her own.
'Oh dear,' he said. 'I think you hate farewells as much as I do. We really are a pair, aren't we?'
The tension between them snapped as Nina choked again and then the choking became laughter as she put her arms around the Doctor's waist and hugged him with all the strength she could put into it.
'I must go,' he said at last. 'Ruth's people can't stay much longer; they only made the minimum of survival adjustments. Say goodbye to Steve for me, eh? And ... look after yourself.'
'I will.' She rubbed a hand quickly over her face. 'And you.'
'Depend on it. Goodbye, Nina.'
'Good ...' But she couldn't quite bring herself to complete the word; it seemed too final. Don't start crying again, you pathetic idiot! She held a hand up in salute as he started to walk away. Then, abruptly, he stopped and looked back.
'By the way, I owe you something.'
'What?' she called, nonplussed.
He grinned. 'Dinner. Our first attempt didn't work out as planned, remember?' The grin broadened. 'Jangos again? Next time? Don't forget!'
Nina watched him go, watched him rejoin his companions and kept watching as the three of them left the beach. Out on the sand, near the low tideline, a solitary figure stood staring out to sea. Steve. She started to walk in his direction, slowly and a little hesitantly. He had not turned round, was unaware of her approach, and she stopped a short way from him, at the tideline where the gentle edges of the waves encroached, slowed, faded and merged into the wet sand. The sea's noise was like a song, strange and wordless and as alien in its way as Ruth's impenetrable, other-worldly language. For perhaps a minute, perhaps two, Nina looked out at the sea as Steve was doing, her thoughts acknowledging its power, her eyes drinking in its beauty, her spirit alive to all that it meant to her: its ever-changing moods,