Doctor Who_ The Nightmare of Black Island - Mike Tucker [11]
Rose picked up the drawing. Another monster, all fangs and horns and fur. Whatever was going on here was clearly terrifying the children. A flurry of rain rattled the window and Ali looked up, fearful. Rose patted her hand. ‘It’s just the wind.’
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Ali nodded and returned to her drawing, but she kept a wary eye on the curtains.
At the bar the Doctor was getting frustrated.
‘But surely you’ve tried to tell someone about what’s going on?’
‘Oh yes, sure.’ Bob Perry took a long gulp of his pint. ‘Monsters roaming the streets, that’s really going to sound good. Think that the Assembly in Cardiff has got a department that deals with that, do you?’
‘You might be surprised. . . ’
‘The phones go dead.’ Beth’s voice was timid. ‘As soon as they appear, nothing but static.’
The Doctor gave her a curious look, leaned across the bar and picked up the phone that stood next to the till. There was no dialling tone, just an undulating hiss.
He frowned. ‘Every time the creatures appear?’
Beth nodded.
‘OK, so you can’t phone. But you can prove these things exist, surely? Just get the authorities to come here after dark!’
‘And go roaming through the woods with a torch? You’ve seen what it’s like out there.’
‘If we stay indoors they don’t bother us.’ Beth wouldn’t meet his gaze. ‘And the days are safe.’
The Doctor looked at her. ‘Safe? We. . . saw a young man, a fisherman out on the cliff tops. And now there are just pools of blood. What about him?’
The villagers shuffled uncomfortably, staring into their glasses.
‘Dead?’ Bob’s voice was shaky. ‘They’ve never killed anything before. . . ’
‘Well, they have now.’ The Doctor’s voice was firm. ‘Who was he?’
‘Tourist. Camping out on the headland, I thought.’
‘If he was out after dark. . . ’ Beth’s voice tailed off.
‘And none of you bothered to warn him?’
The villagers looked sheepishly away from the Doctor and for a while no one spoke. Then Mervyn shook his head and said, ‘You must 28
be wrong. He’s probably just gone home. Saw how the weather had changed and went home.’
There was a general mutter of agreement.
The Doctor was incredulous. ‘You can’t just ignore this as if it never happened!’
‘They’ve never killed anything. You’ve no proof. No proof at all!’
‘There was blood on the rocks!’
‘We’ve only got your word for that.’
The Doctor shook his head. For whatever reason, the villagers were refusing to accept the reality of the situation. This was more than just pig-headedness. There was genuine confusion in their faces. It was as if they were finding any excuse they could, anything to avoid confronting the problem head on.
‘His fault, isn’t it?’ A broad Welsh accent cut across the pub. ‘He came back! I told him not to come back!’
The villagers groaned and there were angry mutterings.
‘Shut up, Bronwyn!’ someone shouted. ‘No one asked you!’
‘No one ever does, but it doesn’t mean I’m wrong.’
A stout lady in her seventies pushed her way to the bar and stood there, tapping on the polished surface with a bony finger. Her silver hair still had streaks of auburn and her eyes were a brilliant grey.
‘All started as soon as Nathaniel came back.’
‘Give it up, Bronwyn.’
The pub erupted into a babble of raised voices. This was obviously an old argument.
‘Who’s Nathaniel?’ The Doctor had to shout above the hubbub.
‘Who is he?’
‘Nathaniel Morton, a retired industrialist,’ said Mervyn. ‘Took over the old rectory at the beginning of the year. Spent a fortune on the place, putting new windows in, new roof.’
‘Thinks he’s lord of the manor,’ Bronwyn sneered. The Doctor shrugged. ‘And?’
‘He’s a local boy, or was, a long time ago.’
‘Local? Hah!’ Bronwyn snorted contemptuously. ‘Turned his back on us, he did. Betrayed us. Came back when he said he never would.’
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Mervyn turned on her. ‘You’ve been warned, Bronwyn Ceredig. We’re not interested in your feud with