Doctor Who_ Warlock - Andrew Cartmel [92]
They got back into the car and slipped onto the South Circular, heading for Kent. The road systems had changed a little over the years but neither of them had any trouble remembering the route to the house on Allen Road. The Doctor’s house.
Halfway there they stopped in Canterbury for lunch – more of a late breakfast for them. They had tea and scones with strawberry jam and Devonshire clotted cream.
Vincent watched Justine wolf the food down. ‘He’s going to be a butterball by the time he’s born.’
Justine shook her head. ‘He? It could be a she. Unless you’ve looked at the scan results without telling me.’
‘I’d never do that. It may well be a she. And if you keep scoffing those scones she’ll turn out to be a right little butterball, too.’
‘You just be nice to me.’ Justine spooned another dollop of cream onto a thick layer of jam, making a pleasing red and white roundel on her scone. ‘Otherwise I won’t bother getting my figure back after the baby. Then you’ll really know the meaning of butterball.’
‘Sorry, but I’ll have to leave you if you get fat.’
‘In that case we’ve got about two months.’ Justine eased back from the edge of the table, so it wouldn’t press against her belly. She looked at Vincent.
He could still get lost looking into her eyes. The world narrowed its focus down until all he could see were those two warm splashes of living colour.
‘I enjoyed this morning,’ she said. Her voice was low. She reached under the table and found his hand, curling her fingers around his. ‘I enjoyed sitting there by the river with you. Getting up early and going somewhere new. We never do things like that any more. It was fun.’
‘“Fun” isn’t the word I would have chosen.’
‘Come on, you gloomy bastard. Find me a bench and snog me.’
The bench they eventually found was on the corner of a cobbled intersection of ancient streets, in the shadow of the old cathedral. No sooner had they sat down than they were surrounded by a horde of bustling grey and brown pigeons, descending in a flurry of wings or striding towards them along the cobbles.
Justine stared at them, grinning with a giddy simple euphoria. She would always remember this moment.
In years to come she often reflected on it. In the scrapbook of her memory she saw a photo of herself taken at this instant. She would think of her face with its frozen expression, a girl in love, smiling as birds crashed around her in the shadow of Canterbury cathedral. A picture of someone who didn’t believe her world would ever fall apart.
‘Look at them.’
‘They think we’re going to feed them,’ said Justine. When she spoke those words it was about thirty seconds before the world fell apart. ‘The tourists must spoil them something rotten.’
Vincent leaned back with his eyes shut to enjoy the sunlight on his face. ‘Maybe we should just stay here.’
‘No, we have to get to the Doctor’s place. I wonder what he wanted to see us about. I’m dying to find out.’ Justine felt a pleasant thrill of excitement deep in her stomach. It was now fifteen seconds before the world fell apart.
‘Okay. Well, we’d better hit the road.’ Ten seconds.
‘Don’t sulk. Come back here. You haven’t given me my kiss yet.’ Five.
Vincent turned back to the bench and leaned over to kiss Justine. She looked up into his eyes and knew she could look into them forever.
And then the man with the black baseball cap came running towards the bench.
‘Wait!’ he screamed.
But it was too late.
* * *
Chapter 21
Tommy picked up the scissors. They were designed for right‐handed applications, of course, and it was awkward using them with his left. He eventually managed to trim the adhesive medical strip and peel it off the roll. Then he wrapped the strip around the piece of folded sterile gauze, fixing it so the pad was pressed tight on his wrist. He twisted his hand around, testing the improvised dressing. His entire right forearm