Doctor Who_ Wolfsbane - Jac Rayner [53]
The Doctor gestured for her to stay down the far end of the room, and she closed the door behind her. She seemed to have regained something of her old poise, but her hand shook as it grasped the doorknob.
The Doctor clapped his hands. „Excellent! We‟re all here.
Now, Emmeline, are you feeling any ill-effects over there?‟
She half shook her head. „I have some dizziness in my head. But the pain is not there.‟
„Well, we‟ll rule out Harry and myself to start with,‟ the Doctor called over. „Would you like a seat?‟
She gave a stiff little shake of the head.
„Right. I‟m going to walk towards you. Tell me if it hurts you. But it shouldn‟t do.‟
She visibly tensed as the Doctor stepped forward. But he walked all the way to her, and she remained standing. He laid comforting hands on her shoulders, and came back to the others. „You, now,‟ he said to Harry.
Harry felt almost nervous as he walked towards the woman. Her head was raised, her eyes flashed, she was determined to show no fear, although he could tell she felt it.
The pain before must have been great. He didn‟t want to cause that in anyone.
He felt just the tiniest bit apprehensive for himself, too. He was, after all, walking towards a werewolf. Oh, she might say she hadn‟t killed anyone, and the Doctor might believe her, but... She wanted to stay in the country, didn‟t she? Wanted it badly. Badly enough to kill for it? Perhaps she‟d been lucid in her wolf-shape the night before, like the Doctor said -
perhaps she‟d been lucid and decided to kill Lucinda Ryan out of human motives, not lupine ones, and the Doctor was wrong about the faked wounds. (Yes, Harry had thought they were faked, too, at the time, but now... could he really be that sure? Perhaps he‟d fooled himself into seeing what the Doctor wanted him to see.) George‟s fiancée dies. Who will he turn to for comfort? Who will worm their way into his affections, to take Lucinda‟s place and gain the right to remain in England?
Harry was prejudiced. He knew it, too, if he happened to think about it. Not against Germans, even though he‟d grown up with stories of the war, and had heard even more in the Navy. No, it wasn‟t that. But ingrained so deep that it was not merely a belief but a part of him, he knew that women were the fair sex, to be protected and placed on a pedestal. But some women had forsaken their places. The women who wore scarlet lipstick and drank too much and threw themselves at you. Not those who were just marvellously independent, modern women, no, not those. Not even the devastating femme fatales of fiction, Mata Haris and the like. No, just those who were - well, he had words for them, but couldn‟t quite bring himself to use them, even in his head.
If someone was designing Harry Sullivan‟s perfect woman, they would pick a charming young lady, a bit, but not too, helpless, who hung on to his every word. She would be pretty, a bit fluffy, but not silly; a sweet little woman.
But sometimes designers get it wrong.
Harry was half in love with Sarah Jane Smith, and he didn‟t even know it.
Or perhaps he did know it, but had pushed the idea so for to the back of his mind that it no longer registered. They had a close and special friendship, but ultimately he was like the faithful family friend, and even more ultimately than that, he knew she found him a bit irritating.
But she was his ideal. And she‟d spoilt him, because he judged everyone else against her without realising it. So how could he possibly think well of this woman, this woman who would whisper in your ear and run her fingers down your arm when she barely knew you?
He found it hard to think of Emmeline Neuberger as blameless. But, still, he didn‟t want to cause her pain, and he didn‟t want to see her suffer.
Harry did not cause her pain. He returned to the Doctor and Godric, darting away from Emmeline before she could touch him, before she could expect him to put hands on her shoulders like the Doctor had.
That left Godric.
He began to walk towards Emmeline. She made not a sound.
He got all the way there. Not a twinge from