Doctor Who_ The Nightmare of Black Island - Mike Tucker [6]
‘What is it?’
Rose had stopped on the path ahead of him, looking back in concern.
‘Nothing. C’mon. We’re nearly at the top.’
Rose shrugged and started upwards again, and after a few seconds the Doctor followed. There was something dangerous here, of that he was certain, and in retrospect wandering around wet cliff tops in the dark in pursuit of a vicious monster wasn’t the most sensible decision he had ever made. The village was the obvious place to go. Lights and people, and perhaps some answers.
He clambered the last few steps to the top of the cliff. Rose was waiting for him, the hood of her parka pulled tight against the wind. Fat drops of rain were starting to whip in from the sea again and a clap of thunder sounded, closer now as the storm circled around for a second time.
‘Now where?’ Rose shouted above the wind.
15
The Doctor spun on his heel. A clear track led away from the cliffs towards a patch of woodland that arced down towards the village in the bay. A coastal path. Probably heaving with walkers and families when the weather was good.
‘This way!’
They raced for the cover of the wood as the storm finally broke again and the wind swirled icy rain around them. They reached the tree line breathless, the Doctor’s hair plastered to his forehead. Rose giggled at him. ‘Why can’t you ever take us somewhere nice and warm?’
‘Hey!’ The Doctor looked indignant. ‘I took you to New Earth!
Apple grass, remember?’
‘Yeah! Not exactly a relaxing break, though, being taken over. . . ’
‘The sign of a good holiday!’ He flicked the water from his fringe.
‘Anyway, now I’ve brought you to a nice wood. A nice wet wood.’
‘A nice wet, dark wood.’
‘Yes.’ The Doctor peered into the gloom. ‘Actually it’s more tulgy than wet. Yes. Definitely a tulgy wood.’ He set off down the leafstrewn path. ‘Lovely word “tulgy”. Doesn’t get enough use. Very good for describing woods. . . And puddings. I’ve had some wonderfully tulgy puddings in my time.’
Rose hurried to catch him up. ‘Tulgy puddings? What sort of restaurants have you been eating in?’
‘You’ve never had a tulgy pudding? Oh, you haven’t lived.’
Rose hooked her arm through his. ‘OK, you can buy me a tulgy pudding some day.’
The Doctor smiled at her, aware that she needed her mind taking off what she had seen on the rocks.
‘Done.’ The two of them set off along the path. ‘Lewis Carroll. He was an odd one. Real name was Charles Lutwidge Dodgson. Completely denied having anything to do with the Alice books. Daft as a brush. You’d have liked him! Loved inventing words. Ever read Jabberwocky? Loads of good words in there. “Tulgy”, “whiffling”,
“galumphing”. And “burbled”. How come “burbled” gets to be in the Oxford English Dictionary but “tulgy” doesn’t? Hm?’
16
Before Rose could reply a low rumbling growl brought the two of them to a sudden halt.
That wasn’t a burble,’ she whispered.
‘No.’
The Doctor’s eyes darted from tree to tree. The wood was a jumble of long shadows and tangled undergrowth. The moon cast pale pools of light among the wet leaves as the clouds uncovered it for a moment, then the trees were plunged into darkness once again. The Doctor rummaged in his pocket and there was the harsh rasp of a match on sandpaper. Light flared, casting flickering shadows through the dripping wood.
Rose grasped the proffered match gratefully as the Doctor lit another.
‘Everlasting matches?’ she asked.
The Doctor nodded, eyes narrowing as he desperately searched for the source of the growl.
There was a crackle of twigs and leaves as something large and unseen slowly circled them.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a vorpal blade tucked away in that coat of yours?’
The Doctor gave her a brief smile. ‘Only a vorpal penknife, I’m afraid. And a blunt one at that.’
There was another throaty rumble and Rose clutched the Doctor’s arm.
‘Over there!’
The Doctor followed her gaze.