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By Root 771 0

and occasional hints of whispered conversation. The bar was at the end, one windowed wall overlooking the street. A few men lounged in the corner, smoking; at another table, half smothered by the drooping leaves of an enormous Monstera deliciosa, two men read extracts from that morning's Times and Telegraph to each other. And under a peasant scene by Brueghel the Elder sat a casually attired man in his forties, staring down into the road. He turned the moment the Doctor approached.

'One of the club dullards said you wished to speak with me.'

Viscount Rose indicated the ice bucket towards his feet. And your champagne has arrived'

The Doctor was slightly taken aback. 'I do hope I'm not intruding'

It's a free country,' said Rose. 'So they tell me'

The Doctor sat facing the man. 'I wanted to ask you about the recent festival on your estate'

Rose snorted. 'It should have been today. Saturday makes sense. But I was prevented from holding a weekend festival on my own land.'

'With respect, it's not actually your land yet'

'I forgot you knew my father.'

'How is he?'

'Not well. He sits there, waiting to die. You can almost see the dust settling on him. Rose nudged the ice bucket with his foot. 'Better enjoy yourself, while you still can. Wealth isn't particularly helping my father at the moment'

'I'm very sorry to hear that' The Doctor nodded to one of the grey-suited valets, who came over to uncork the champagne. 'I'm told some revellers saw a meteorite shower

-'

'Revellers?' snapped Rose, suddenly irritated. 'Is that all they are to you? Children frolicking in the fields? Pat them on the head - there, there, you'll grow out of it?'

I meant no offence,' said the Doctor hurriedly. 'I'm only really interested in the lights in the sky.'

I can tell that. You have no idea what's happening, do you?' The Doctor's unblinking eyes caught Rose's. 'My dear fellow,' he said levelly, 'I know that very many things are happening at present. Some good, some dangerous. I believe that the meteor shower might be significant.'

Rose suddenly looked away. 'I don't know anything about a meteorite shower. I'd blame the heat and the drugs'

The Doctor rubbed his chin. 'A moment ago you criticised me for doing down the young people - now you're claiming that this light show was all in their minds'

'Who's to say?' Rose picked up his glass, holding the stem between surprisingly delicate fingers. 'What's real anyway?'

'Come, come, man, this is no time for cheap philosophy'

'I'll tell you who knows all about cheap philosophy.' said Rose, animated and tense again. 'The fools in Westminster.

Governments throughout the Earth. A few years ago the world's youth were on the verge of something marvellous, something really new and beautiful. But the governments have snatched that away from them, sold them false dreams of utopia and plastic nightmares of deadly aliens. I don't buy their lies for a moment, and neither do the people I associate with'

'Then why come here?' The Doctor's hand encompassed the whole club in an elegant gesture.

'The older the ties, the more difficult they are to break,'

sighed Rose.

'This club was founded on honour and decency, tempered by a belief in progress and change. The founders weren't any more interested in revolution or quick fixes than you are.'

'So?'

The Doctor stared at Rose. 'I think you're hiding something.'

'And I think you're a management stooge. The established order that you unthinkingly serve will soon be a thing of the past. It's just a question of time'

'I sympathise with the anger of young people,' said the Doctor. But order must be maintained.'

Rose jumped to his feet, stabbing a finger in the Doctor's direction. 'You sound just like a Nazi!'

'No, old chap, I -'

'I'm tired of apologists for the establishment, Doctor.'

Rose began walking across the room. 'Maybe I'll see you around,' he called over his shoulder, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

The Doctor glared at the floor, angry at the way the conversation had gone. He drained his glass, and wondered if there was still a way of appealing