Doctor Who_ The Dying Days - Lance Parkin [5]
7
When she stepped back onto the flagstones, Benny realised how dirty her feet had become. She put The Mirror down on the garden table, propping it underneath the breakfast tray to stop it blowing away. Then she stepped inside to take a quick shower. The house was vast, but there was only one bathroom, which had been the cause of friction between the Doctor's travelling companions on more than one occasion. She remembered the last time: Roz had stood at the bathroom door, demanding to know how Chris could possibly take an hour and a half in there every day. Benny and ... Jason had ... they had both been woken by the sound of raised voices. They lay curled around each other in the upstairs bedroom, able to listen only to Roz's side of the argument, trying to stop each other giggling, but both their bodies convulsed with laughter at every terse insult that drifted up the short flight of stairs. They'd been pressed so close together that in the end they hadn't been able to distinguish which of them was laughing at which remark. They'd had to part, exhausted, and for the rest of the day, every time they made eye contact they couldn't help sniggering. Benny found herself smiling, even now, despite al that had happened since.
Another source of tension was the minuscule amount of hot water the house would allow every day. It was possible to get more, Benny had discovered, although you had to slap the brass tank that sat on the landing a couple of times to get it. When you heard the glup deep below in the bowels of the house, you'd know that you'd done it. It was the sort of valuable-trivial information that you kept from your housemates, and she'd not told anyone else about the trick. The brass piping, like the electrical wiring, was a little haphazard. Knowing the house's owner, Benny could well imagine how the plumbing had been installed a bit at a time over the centuries, on the basis of need, from junk the Doctor had found in the garage.
She reached the landing with the bathroom on it. A quick check of the tank revealed that it was just about full.
Benny stepped into the bathroom, leaving the door open, because she could. Experience had taught her to run the shower for a minute or so before stepping into it, so she stood on the cold black tiles waiting for the rattling pipes to catch up with her. Hot water soon began gushing out. She slipped out of her robe and into the shower stall. After getting used to the temperature, she leant against the tiled wall, trying to prop herself upright while she soaped her foot. By the time she had the other one clean, Benny had decided to wash her hair.
She stood for a moment, facing out onto the landing, letting the water splash across her shoulder blades and run down her back. Without needing to look, she bent down and reached back until her hand located the tiny phial of herbal shampoo slotted into the shower rack. Benny unscrewed the top and massaged it into her scalp, working it up into a lather. Foamy bubbles ran down her neck and splattered to the floor of the shower unit.
The peace of the morning outside was disturbed by an unearthly wheezing, groaning sound that drifted through the half-open bathroom window.
'Isn't it always the way?' Benny observed, ducking her head under the water to get the worst of the suds off. You couldn't even rely on the Doctor to be unreliable.
She twisted the shower off, and scooped up her robe from the bathroom floor, pulling it around herself as she bounded down the stairs. Through the kitchen window it was possible to glimpse a solid blue shape outside on the patio, right by the garden table. Benny hurried out through the kitchen door, leaving a trail of wet footprints.
***
The TARDIS stood there as if it had never gone away. The light on the top was stil flashing, and the grounds of the house were echoing with the sound of its arrival. Benny stood, looking up at it for a couple of seconds, soapy water dripping from her fringe.