Doctor Who_ The Taint - Michael Collier [17]
Azoth nodded. He was so old, now. It seemed wrong that he had outlived both his sight and his memory. He shouldn't be able to smell someone different so strongly. It was the young woman, he was becoming certain.
And there was something else: she was linked somehow to the half-glimpsed things that had haunted him these last months, since his awakening.
'We must know more.'
'If it makes you happy,' Tarr said, 'then we shall.'
***
'Here's everyone, Doctor! Come and join our party!'
Lucy threw open the heavy doors to the dining room and Roley winced as they crashed into the walls.
'Thank you,' said the Doctor, peering inside and noticing the remains of several meals. 'Oh good, you've all finished. I wouldn't want to interrupt you.'
Sitting around the long, oak table were three men and a frail-looking old woman. Nurse Bulwell was watching over them from a chair in the corner, and was the only one to acknowledge his presence.
'I didn't realise you'd still be here,' she said, stiffly rising to her feet. 'We've got no food for you, I'm afraid.'
'Well, I'm really not all that hungry,' the Doctor said. 'I'll just sit and watch you and Dr Roley.' He glanced round the long table at the people seated there. 'If I may join you, that is?'
The cheek of the man. 'I'm only supervising. We don't eat with... we don't eat here '. Maria checked herself as Charles shifted uncomfortably.
Lucy spoke up, skipping over to her place at the table. 'Shall I introduce you, Doctor? This is Russell, Davydd, Muriel and Peter.' She pointed vaguely to a different person as she gabbled each name and smiled.
The Doctor smiled back. 'Delighted to meet you all.'
He seemed to be, too, thought Maria. He didn't flinch in the slightest as Peter Taylor looked him over, a surly scowl on his face. That a thug like that should be so indulged...
'You a friend of Roley's then?' Taylor asked.
'Dr Roley,' Maria said, unable to help herself.
'You could say I'm a sort of colleague of his, certainly... Peter?'
Lucy nodded approvingly. Taylor sniffed, losing interest already, and got up from his chair without another word. He was a big man, his paunch hanging over his belt, creased shirt barely holding it in. Ignoring Roley, he slouched out of the room.
'Don't mind Peter,' chimed Lucy, grinning broadly. 'He's like that with everyone he doesn't like, and he doesn't like anybody.'
She was a bad one, thought Maria. She wasn't really sick, or even misguided - she was just a little slut. Carrying on even here, or trying to.
She'd watched her flirting with Captain Watson each day. The poor soul was too much of a gentleman to dissuade her.
'How are you feeling now, Mr Watson?' the Doctor asked.
'Captain. 'Watson corrected him automatically.
'Forgive me, Captain. I attach a good deal of importance to titles myself. I'm the Doctor. Lucy told me you were feeling a little under the weather.'
Maria watched Watson as he went over to shake the Doctor's hand, though the captain's arm was shaking quite well enough of its own accord. Of them all, this was the man she had most sympathy and a measure of respect for.
He was polite, well presented - well, he was a hero, after all; she'd seen his medals. You could understand him going off the rails a bit, after all the Germans had put him through.
'It's passed now, thank you. Pleased to meet you, Doctor...?'
'Yes, that's right.'
Watson shrugged. 'Excuse the arm,' he said. 'War wound.'
'I'm sorry. I bear a few of those myself,' said the Doctor, quietly.
'It's all right, he can still use it,' said Lucy, and she laughed, squirming in her seat. 'In fact, I'll bet there could be times it has positive advantages!'
Watson cleared his throat, apparently embarrassed. The Doctor looked blankly at Lucy and, before Maria could utter a disgusted remark, Roley piped up at last. "The lady over there, Doctor, is young