Doctor Who_ The Nightmare of Black Island - Mike Tucker [28]
On the other side of the courtyard was the house. Half a dozen tall, cylindrical metal bins were clustered together along the rear wall next to a winding fire escape. At some point Rose needed to take a look in those bins, but not with Ali around. God only knew what she was going to find inside.
Alongside the bins, almost at floor level, was a row of small, dirty windows. The cellar. Rose nodded. The two boys had said they’d been able to see into the cellar. That was where she would start.
‘Rose!’
Ali was watching her from the tunnel, eyes wide. Rose had hoped that common sense and more than a little fear would make the girl stay put in the safety of the shadows, but Ali seemed to be determined to join in the ‘adventure’.
Rose beckoned her across and Ali darted over to where Rose was crouched. Rose caught her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes.
‘I need you to be very quiet now. You see those windows across there?’ Rose pointed across the courtyard. ‘I’m gonna go and have a look. Once I’ve done that, I’m gonna look in the bins and then we’ll go back down the tunnel to find Billy and the others, OK?’
‘OK.’
‘Now I want you to stay hidden here.’
Ali opened her mouth to protest, but Rose raised a finger to her lips.
‘I mean it, Ali. It’s not a game. Stay here, all right?’
The little girl didn’t look happy but she nodded nonetheless. Satisfied, Rose peered out into the courtyard again. It was still deserted. 68
‘Well, now or never,’ she muttered to herself.
Slipping out of the lean-to, Rose hurried across the courtyard, keeping to the wall, using the piles of furniture as cover. There was no movement from the house, no light from any of the windows. There wasn’t even any birdsong. It was eerie.
A noise made her start and she ducked down behind a high-backed chair. A door opened and a white-coated figure emerged, carrying a bulging black refuse bag. The figure crossed to the bins and tossed the bag in, then hurried back inside the house.
As the door slammed shut Rose shot a look over at where Ali was hiding. She had tucked herself deep into the shadows of the lean-to. Rose waved at her to stay put.
One eye on the door, Rose darted across to the house, pressing up against the stone, making herself as small as possible. She ducked down, peering in through one of the narrow windows. The glass was filthy and she had to wipe at the dirt with her sleeve. She cupped her hands around her eyes, pressing her face against the glass. The room she could see was large and low-ceilinged, lit by a single light bulb. Dozens of cardboard boxes piled high with books and ledgers were stacked against one wall, rolls of carpet underlay against another. A wine rack full of dusty bottles and spider’s webs dominated a third wall and an old exercise bike was propped up in the far corner. It was like a million cellars in a million homes: boring, dull and ordinary. Rose felt a wave of disappointment. She’d hoped to be able to report back to the Doctor with proof that Morton was up to no good and, given what the boys had told her, she’d thought the cellar was her best bet.
She cursed under her breath. This was turning out to be a waste of time.
She was about to go to investigate the tall metal bins instead when something caught her eye in the shadows of the cellar. A bag tossed casually into a corner, half covered with an old tarpaulin. A long canvas bag, with fishing rods protruding from the open zip. Rose’s heart leapt into her mouth. Her dream. The fisherman. This was the proof that she’d