Doctor Who_ The Taint - Michael Collier [5]
'On peut apprendre d'un grand homme meme lorqu'il se tait ,' said the stranger, suddenly, before looking at him expectantly.
Fitz realised he was expected to reply. Or had that been gibberish? He opened his mouth mechanically a couple of times as he thought desperately how to regain control of the situation. Finally he straightened up, stubbed out the cigarette, smiled at the old ladies now queuing patiently behind this loony, and with accent and dignity only barely intact, glared at the man with the infuriatingly bright smile.
'All right.' Fitz held out his hand. 'Tuppence.'
***
Sam could see a large, imposing mansion some way off. She was clearly in its grounds, and wondered if she was trespassing. It was too warm a day to feel too worried, though. She'd be able to give anyone who was bothered enough flannel to get out of it and back to the Doctor. Piece of cake.
' "What do you do, when you need to use the loo, in an English country garden..."' She grinned broadly as she stopped singing. She felt so relaxed, safe, for the first time in weeks. Earth . It was comforting, now, the word, when it had been worrying her for months.
Then she saw a man running towards her, moaning and yelling. Her first thought was of some cartoon gamekeeper, furious at this intrusion on his property. Then she just felt scared. As he got closer she could see froth in his mouth. His pale shirt was wet through, his hair was unkempt and his eyes were wild and staring. Something was wrong. He looked like a nutter.
And he was showing no sign of slowing down.
'Here we go, then,' muttered Sam, turning on her heel and sprinting back towards the gap in the conifers.
***
'Thank you for your help,' said the oddly dressed man, sweetly, picking up his pathetic begonia.
Fitz forced a smile. "That is fine,' he said, although his put-on accent now sounded ridiculous even to his own ears. He was still red in the face. Still, at least the old dears queuing behind seemed more interested in their rubber plants.
'I do hope you enjoy your stay in this country,' the man added, clearly enjoying himself. 'Whereabouts in France are you from?'
Fitz winced inwardly. 'Toulouse,' he muttered.
'Oh, Toulouse!' remarked the old lady behind this nuisance. 'I went there last year on my holidays!'
'It's splendid there, isn't it?' said the stranger, nodding enthusiastically. 'I know it very well. Tell me, whereabouts in Toulouse are you from, Mr -'
Suddenly there were screams from somewhere behind them. Fitz spun round but the view was hidden by a huge display of rose bushes and climbers. Turning back to his tormentor, he saw the man was already sprinting off towards the sound of the disturbance, leaving the bewildered old woman clutching his begonia as well as her rubber plant.
Just as the stranger reached the display, a blonde, skinny legs and a green dress, piled through the roses at speed. Swerving at similar speed to avoid her, the stranger spun and fell backwards into some aspidistras. Behind the blonde came a snarling man, in a real state by the look of him, jumping over the startled figure at his feet. Had the girl nicked something off him, or
-
'Get out the way,' snapped Fitz at the old women, his French accent forgotten. 'Move it, come on!' He tried to shepherd the old dears away, waving his arms at them. The blonde had reached his desk, had swung herself round it, was facing him. She looked worn out - not bad-looking, though. There was a cry: the old woman had fallen over, while her mate was tottering off calling for the police. He looked back at the blonde. She was trying to say something but she was out of breath, pointing behind him, and of course , the mad fella was-Coming straight at him.
Fitz didn't even have time to cry out as he turned round. The man cannoned into him, crashing into the cash desk and carrying Fitz right over the top of it with him. He saw the man's eyes rolling, felt drool on his face as his attacker spasmed in a wild assault. Fitz was surprised