Doctor Who_ The Awakening - Eric Pringle [19]
Struck by a sudden thought, Will gave the Doctor an apprehensive look. ‘Is battle done?’ he asked. His voice shaking; he sat back and waited for the answer, terrified of what it might be.
‘Yes,’ the Doctor answered gently, reassuring him and wiping away his dread. ‘Yes, Will. Battle’s done.’
But the calming effect of his words was shattered by the door being thrown open wide with a bang that echoed the length and breadth of the church. Whimpering with fright, Will dived behind a pew as Tegan and Turlough came tumbling up the nave.
They were so out of breath with running that when they reached the Doctor they could hardly speak. The Doctor, delighted to see them both safe and well, looked, at Will Chandler out of the corner of his eye and said cryptically,
‘You’re just in time.’
Misunderstanding him, Tegan cried out in frustration,
‘Just in time? We almost didn’t make it!’
‘We have to get out of here!’ Turlough’s chest was heaving for breath, and his voice betrayed the stress he was suffering.
Recalling the incident in the barn made Tegan shudder: how could she put that into words? ‘There’s something very strange going on,’ she said simply.
The Doctor, however, seemed to understand without the need for words. ‘Yes, I know,’ he said sympathetically.
At that moment, out of the corner of his eye Turlough saw Will peeping at them over the top of a pew. ‘Who is that?’ he asked, in a tone which betrayed extreme distaste at the sight of that grubby urchin face.
Tegan looked, saw Will’s clothes and drew in her breath sharply, but refrained from comment. The Doctor merely smiled at Will. ‘Will Chandler?’ he asked, for confirmation. Will nodded, without taking his eyes off Tegan and Turlough.
‘Where did he come from?’ Tegan asked.
‘Ah, well.’ the Doctor said laconically. He smiled and shrugged. ‘That’s something we’re going to have to talk about ...’
In the seventeenth-century parlour of Ben Wolsey’s farmhouse, Sir George Hutchinson, country squire and, while the War Game lasted, Cavalier General Extraordinary, stood in front of the fire and casually played with the spongy, black, metallically-shining ball. He kept kneading it in his fingers and examining it with neverending fascination.
From her position beside the window, Jane watched him with growing anger. She was about to have another go at his complacent arrogance when raised voices and heavy footsteps in the next room announced the arrival of Ben Wolsey and Joseph Willow.
As soon as the door opened and they marched in, Sir George turned to them eagerly. ‘Where is she?’ he demanded.
Wolsey raised his visor.
‘We can’t find her,’ he
admitted. ‘We’ll need more men.’
Sir George was furious. With reddening face and narrowed eyes, his manner was suddenly extremely threatening, even towards the big farmer. He snapped, ‘I want Tegan, not excuses, Wolsey.’
Ben Wolsey, taken aback, frowned with surprise at his tone. Jane was incensed. ‘Don’t listen to him, Ben,’ she cried.
Sir George turned to her now. His eyes blazed and it was Jane’s turn to be shocked by the vehemence of his manner and the anger behind his words. ‘Miss Hampden! You’re beginning to bore me with your constant bleating!’ His attitude was contemptuous in the extreme. He stood there in his finery and glared at her, his hand ceaselessly working at the silver-sheered substance; for a moment Jane thought he was going to throw it at her.
The Sergeant intervened to support his General. ‘She doesn’t understand,’ Willow leered. ‘We must have our Queen of the May.’
Queen of the May! Jane winced. Andrew Verney had told her once how Little Hodcomhe used to treat its May Queen. The story came back to her, and the picture his words had conjured up in her imagination returned with it.
It had made