Doctor Who_ Warlock - Andrew Cartmel [90]
‘Come and sit with me a minute,’ she said from the bench.
He looked around. They were alone on the pavement except for a tattered beggar shambling slowly towards them. The street on either side was empty, lined with benches and spindly trees. The occasional car broke the morning silence, passing en route to the business centres in the City. Vincent reluctantly got out of the car and crossed the pavement. He sagged down on the bench beside Justine.
They sat in silence for a moment. Vincent watched the bare autumn branches of the trees moving in the river breeze. He gazed back the way they’d come, and saw the distant figure of the beggar. Vincent watched him for a long moment. He didn’t want this conversation to begin. He didn’t want to look Justine in the eye.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Tell me what’s going on, Vince.’
‘I woke up this morning with – I don’t know. Like a premonition. I knew that the ceiling was going to cave in.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘On my life. On our lives.’
‘Oh, come on.’ She took his hand. ‘I’m the one who’s supposed to be getting mood swings. I’ve got the excuse of flooding hormones.’
‘I just knew it was all going to fall apart.’
‘You had a bad dream.’
‘I certainly did. I dreamt you left me.’
She took his hand. ‘Never going to happen,’ she said.
‘I dreamt that you left me because he came back into our lives. And then I looked out the window and there he was. Sitting in the garden. Our garden. Waiting.’
‘Who?’ said Justine. Then, after a moment, ‘Oh, him.’
They sat in silence with the beggar weaving slowly towards them past the skeletal cherry trees. Justine watched him as if he might have the answers to all their questions. He was tall and ravaged‐looking, clutching a beer can, clearly still drunk from the previous night’s binge.
Justine squeezed Vincent’s hand again. ‘I understand why you wanted us to run.’
‘If he’s back it means trouble.’
‘I understand.’
‘It could mean the end of everything.’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘Do you think he just dropped in for a visit? That he wanted to join us for breakfast on the patio?’
‘Well if he did, he was out of luck,’ said Justine. ‘Look, love. We owe him everything.’
‘No we don’t.’
‘Oh come on, Vince. He saved your life. He saved mine. Not just that, either. Sometimes I feel he saved my soul.’
‘And now he’s come to collect his payment.’
‘No.’ Justine tugged fiercely at his hand, as though she was trying to jerk him awake. ‘Don’t say that. He’s not like that. We wouldn’t even be together if not for him. Life’s good, isn’t it?’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of. Losing it all.’
‘Don’t worry. We won’t. But if he’s come looking for our help we have to offer it to him. We owe everything to the Doctor.’
Vincent slumped on the bench. Justine put her arm around him. She pressed her warm face against his neck and bit his earlobe. ‘Don’t we?’ she whispered.
‘I can cross the river here,’ said Vincent. ‘We can go back along the Richmond road. If the traffic’s with us we’ll be home in ten minutes. He may still be waiting for us.’
‘If he isn’t we can find him.’ Justine put her arm around him and kissed him on the mouth. She still tasted sleepy.
‘Excuse me.’
Justine and Vincent looked up to see that the beggar had stopped and was standing in front of them. He was a gaunt, red‐haired scarecrow of a man. He smiled through brown and broken teeth.
‘I just saw the two of you sitting there and I thought, I wonder if those nice people could spare a few quid.’ He winked. ‘I promise to only buy beer with it. I won’t waste it on anything inessential like food or a cup of tea.’ His pouchy bloodshot eyes were friendly but somehow unfocused, as if he was staring at something vastly distant. Like the thousand yard stare of a soldier who had seen too much combat. ‘I wouldn’t lie to you,’ he said.
Vincent stood up and reached into his pocket. He had pocketed all