Doctor Who_ The Nightmare of Black Island - Mike Tucker [17]
‘Sit down please, Dr. . . Jones, Miss Evans, and tell me what I can do for you.’ Morton regarded them balefully.
The Doctor slid into one of the old leather chairs, seemingly quite at home.
‘We’re interested in the work you’re doing here, Mr Morton. And the effect it might be having on the local community.’
‘This is a rest home for the elderly, Doctor, nothing more.’
‘An unusual place for a retirement home, surely? A bit out of the way?’
‘The clients in my care are wealthy. They have a desire for solitude, somewhere they can spend the twilight years of their life without prying eyes and unwelcome questions.’ The threat in his voice was obvious. ‘As for any effect on the community, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.’
‘One of the locals seems to think that whatever you’re doing here is affecting the well-being of their children. You don’t exactly seem to have gone out of your way to fit in. I can’t really see you and Miss Peyne joining in the local darts night down at the Red Lion.’
41
‘This community is averse to change, Doctor, to anything new. And forgive me, but if I wish to keep myself to myself that is hardly any concern of yours.’
‘And the noise of ravenous creatures roaming the hills doesn’t disturb the rest of your clients at all?’ Rose chipped in. Morton gave a blustering laugh. ‘Creatures? Really, young lady. . . ’
‘And the death of a young man on the shore, that’s no worry to you either?’ The Doctor’s voice was harsh now.
Morton’s smile faded.
‘If there had been such a death, then it would be a matter for the police and not for a doctor.’
The two men glared at each other across the desk for a moment, then the Doctor broke into a broad smile.
‘Quite right!’ He rose from his seat. ‘Well, thank you for your time, Mr Morton. Most helpful. I hope that we haven’t disturbed you too much with our unwelcome questions. Miss Evans. . . ’
The Doctor hauled Rose from her seat and thrust her towards the door. Morton struggled to extricate his wheelchair from behind the desk. The Doctor waved a hand at him.
‘Please don’t bother showing us out. I’m sure we can find our own way.’ He bundled Rose out of the door into the hallway. ‘This is right, isn’t it?’ he called back over his shoulder.
They hurried along the dark passage, heading past the staircase and down another corridor. In the distance they could hear the ringing of a bell – a relic of the time when the house was full of servants, no doubt – and Morton’s voice calling for Miss Peyne.
‘Did you see which door those two in the masks went into?’ asked the Doctor.
‘This one, I think.’ Rose pointed at an ornate oak door.
‘That’s what I thought too.’
There was a flare of blue light and a high-pitched whine as the Doctor pressed his sonic screwdriver to the lock. The door swung open and they slipped through into the room beyond.
∗ ∗ ∗
42
Rose stared in horror at the room before her. It was long and highceilinged. Tall windows lined one wall and an elaborate chandelier hung from an elegant ceiling rose. It had obviously been a dining room of some kind for the rectory’s previous owners, but Nathaniel Morton had found another use for it.
The tall windows were shuttered and dark, the chandelier disused and covered in cobwebs. Beds lined the walls, bathed in pools of soft light from concealed sources. Stacks of gleaming medical machinery hummed and bleeped quietly, while transparent tubes and arm-thick cables snaked their way across the scuffed and faded parquet floor and along the peeling skirting.
But it was the figures in the beds that made Rose stop and stare.