The Ghosts of N-Space - Barry Letts [29]
The question was, having finished it, did he feel queasy? Or might he if he did have another?
It wasn’t as if the first one had made him feel any better.
Sarah and the Doctor had come back in time for dinner the night before, as promised, but by that time he was as fed up as he’d ever known himself to be. His bottom was sore from sitting on the stone ledge – but he’d been afraid to move far in case they woke up and needed help or something; and the Brigadier hadn’t come back for simply aeons, though he could hear him having some sort of argument with the little old gnome chap, his uncle.
Then, when things did start again, nobody even noticed him. Full of their adventures, yabbering away like a couple of bally chipmunks, they hardly spoke to him. True Sarah had asked the Doctor if he could come with them in the 102
TARDIS – but really! The last time he’d ended up nearly being eaten by that Gargan beast. As if he would! But when he’d said he didn’t want to go, Sarah sort of turned her back on him.
After the sailors had tied the ropes to the thingies on the quay, there were various comings and goings, but nothing much of interest happening. At this rate he might just as well have another ice-cream and settle matters experimentally. But then he became aware of the Brigadier coming down the hill, with a thunderous expression.
Just in case, Jeremy drew back into the shelter of the potted palm by his table. Over many years, he’d perfected the technique of keeping out of trouble by staying out of sight.
The Brigadier hailed one of the crew members who was carrying something back to the boat. Jeremy couldn’t hear what they said to each other, but afterwards, the Brigadier looked even more angry.
‘Lethbridge-Stewart!’
The Brigadier walked over to meet the Doctor, who’d followed him down the hill, and they ended up only a matter of yards from Jeremy’s hide. He peeped through the leaves and wondered whether he ought to join them. A bit late now, perhaps.
103
‘Your uncle told me you’d come down here. What’s up?’
‘Vilmio again. The blighter’s had the nerve to come and set up camp on our blasted doorstep, that’s what’s up. Uncle saw him coming through that telescope of his.’
The Doctor looked as though this news had as much import as reports of light showers to be expected after lunch.
‘Mm. Yes, well. If you stick it out, there’s nothing much he can do, is there? Just go on saying no.’
‘You haven’t met him, Doctor.’
‘No,’ the Doctor said. ‘And I’m afraid I’m going to have to forgo that pleasure. Sarah and I are ready to leave, and there are one or two things I’d like to clear up before we set off.’
Their voices faded as they walked away up the hill.
Jeremy was about to follow at a discreet distance (if he said goodbye to Sarah perhaps she’d stop being so beastly to him) when he became aware of two more people coming from behind the trattoria and speaking in undertones.
‘It has to look like an accident, okay?’
Jeremy froze.
‘Si, signore. The one with the moustache?’
The large man frowned. ‘Are you dumb or something?
The one he called the Doctor; the one with white hair. And 104
make sure you get it right. If he’s still there on the twenty-first… Don’t come back until you’ve fixed him good. He’s in my way.’
The one who was dressed up like a monk nodded and started to move towards the road to the castle.
‘Not yet, idiot! You want them to see you?’
He turned and moved towards the yacht. After a moment of indecision, the little man pattered after.
‘Sarah! Wait!’
She turned in the doorway of the TARDIS.
‘For Heaven’s sake, Jeremy! What’s going on? Have you changed your mind?’
But Jeremy, who had run all the way from the harbour, stumbling and staggering as he neared the top of the steep hill, running on wan and watery legs through the long corridors to the courtyard,