Doctor Who_ The Nightmare of Black Island - Mike Tucker [25]
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The tunnel was dark and with every step she took away from the entrance the blackness deepened. She strained to make out any shapes in the gloom ahead of her, but there was nothing. She glanced back over her shoulder. Five faces framed the tunnel entrance, watching her progress. Determined not to let them or the Doctor down, Rose headed deeper into the darkness.
The Doctor stood on the shore of Black Island, hands thrust deep into his coat pockets, staring up in admiration at the lighthouse that loomed over him.
The journey out had been decidedly choppy, as Bronwyn’s little motorboat was tossed about like a leaf on the wild sea. It had taken them quite a while to get prepared for the trip. The outboard motor had been in a terrible state and the Doctor had had to practically strip it down and rebuild it before it would start. At least that had impressed Bronwyn, who promised to give him a tin of Welsh cakes to take away with him, and possibly some bara brith too. They had hauled the boat’s trailer across the shingle, finally manoeuvring it to a small concrete ramp at the water’s edge. Bronwyn was considerably stronger than she looked, and soon the little boat was bobbing in the surf.
Unperturbed by the icy water, Bronwyn had slipped off her shoes, hitched up her skirt and clambered aboard the boat with apparent ease. The Doctor had been less successful and his trousers were soaked to the knees.
By the time they were under way the day was getting on and the wind had picked up considerably. The waves battered the little boat hard as it cleared the shelter of the harbour. Despite Bob Perry’s concerns, Bronwyn had proved herself to be a fairly experienced sailor and soon the boat was chugging determinedly towards the island. The canvas bag had proved to be full of nothing more than provisions for the local wildlife and Bronwyn hurled handfuls of stale bread into the wind for the seagulls. Before long a huge white cloud of them was shadowing the boat, swooping down each time Bronwyn delved into the bag.
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As they approached the island itself, landing had seemed an impossible task to the Doctor. The black rocks were viciously jagged and the waves pounded against them, sending great flumes of spray into the air. Bronwyn was obviously a regular visitor, though, and had steered skilfully round to a long shelf of rock that deflected the bulk of the waves. She had kept the boat hovering just off shore until a lull came in the swell, then gunned the motor and sent them speeding between the rocks to a small sheltered cove.
She was down on the rocks now, tossing fish to where half a dozen seals bobbed in the water. The Doctor had left her to it and headed for the base of the lighthouse.
Wind swept his hair back as he stared up at the tower. It was impressive: tall and tapered, made up of dozens of steel sections held together with hundreds of huge rusted bolts. Paint flaked untidily from the sides and high overhead a rusted walkway circled the lamp room like a collar.
Most of the glass in the lamp room had long since gone and the top now resembled a huge birdcage, an image that was reinforced thanks to the evidence left by hundreds of seabirds that streaked its sides. What intrigued the Doctor was that it was so obviously unused, with no sign whatever of anyone having been in it for years. The door at the base was bolted and padlocked, and years of corrosion had practically rusted it shut.
‘So why was there a glow from the lamp room last night?’ he muttered. Bronwyn wandered over to his side, wiping her hands on her oilskin. ‘Thought you were interested in the seals, not the lighthouse.’
Her tone was accusing.
‘Oh, I am, I am. Seals. Love ’em. Some of my best friends are seals. Great at parties. But I’m also intrigued by this. Isn’t it beautiful?’
Bronwyn looked up at the tower and sniffed dismissively. ‘S’pose so. In a way.’
‘When was it abandoned?