Doctor Who - Downtime Part 37

'I don't think you need tell me how,' said Sarah. 'She dropped quite a few hints, unintentional or otherwise.'

'She must have been in her late teens when I met her.'

Sarah looked a little wistful.

'And she travelled with the Doctor?'

'So it would appear.'

She squeezed his arm. 'You know, I remember once going through the TARDIS wardrobe and I found this dress, long and white and old-fashioned, and he said it had belonged to Victoria. And I said, "Well, as long as Albert didn't wear it."'

'And you think it could have been her.'

'I don't know,' said Sarah. Nor does the retriever. She just vanished into thin air. They're still looking.'

He shook his head. It was the old story. ' Certain Certain people make a habit of that. It applies just as much to families.' people make a habit of that. It applies just as much to families.'

Sarah was almost giggling, although he found it hard to know why. 'You know, Companions Companions used to be something only dowager aunts had.' used to be something only dowager aunts had.'

'Who knows, Sarah?'

She nodded along the path. 'And talking of families...'

He saw the approaching figures and braced himself. He adjusted his sleeves and straightened his cap. This was as nerve-wracking and splendid as any battle he had faced.

Kate was leading a young man aged about five towards them. The youngster seemed to be holding back too.

'Dad, this is Gordy,' said Kate with the broadest smile she had ever given him. 'Gordy, this is Grandad. Say h.e.l.lo.'

The Brigadier, unsure of the right way to address so important a person, crouched slowly down and said, 'h.e.l.lo, Gordy. You're not shy, are you?'

Young Gordon James Lethbridge-Stewart angled his head timidly and whispered, 'I've got another friend too.' He was still clinging onto his mum.

'Have you?' smiled the Brigadier. 'What's his name?'

Gordy slipped his hand from his mother's. He looked along the ca.n.a.l bank and pointed. 'Danny. But only I can see him.'

In the dazzle of sunlight there might have been a figure a young man in a heavy coat, shoulders slightly hunched. He might have given a wave.

It might just have been the sunlight.

'Oho. You'd better tell me all about him,' the Brigadier confided. He stood up slightly creakily and let his grandson lead him away along the towpath.

Just another happy story that'll never get into print, thought Sarah. She deliberately did not notice as Kate dabbed a finger at her eye. The Brigadier's daughter looked as if the world's burdens had been lifted from her shoulders.

'You've made his day,' said Sarah.

'Which him?' grinned Kate.

There was a pause as they watched the Brigadier's and Gordy's progress.

'Do you look after him alone?' Sarah asked.

'Yes.'

'Sorry. Being nosey's my job.'

'It's all right. Jonathan, Gordy's dad, wanted us to get married. I didn't. It's silly.'

'No,' said Sarah. 'Not if you're independent.'

'It wasn't that. I just didn't want Gordy to lose the family name.'

Sarah, who had never been able to fathom her own family out, heard herself saying, 'Of course. I understand.' The Lethbridge-Stewart clan were plainly a force to be reckoned with. She held Kate's arm gently. 'How about you? How are you feeling?'

Kate started to rub her fingers. 'I'm not sure. I'm a private person. If it was Danny, really really Danny... well, I had to help him. It was only using the computer, that's all. But someone else in my head... I felt soiled, you know?' Danny... well, I had to help him. It was only using the computer, that's all. But someone else in my head... I felt soiled, you know?'

Sarah nodded with a deep sigh.

Kate seemed to rally a little. She was looking along the ca.n.a.l bank at her father and her son. 'This is more important.

I've wanted this so much for years.'

'I won't say a word. Don't worry.'

'Thanks, Sarah.'

'That's all right. Just another D-notice.' She could always tell her dog about it, just as she told him all her other secrets.

As long as no one stole his database. She tried to think of more pressing matters. 'I'm ravenous! Fancy sending out for a pizza?'

Kate grinned. 'Or a curry? But I think I'd rather have a pint.'

Compromise time, thought Sarah. She took Kate's arm and they headed for the boat. 'Make it a cup of tea and you're on!'

34.

Golden Afternoon Revisited.

ewis Carroll. Extraordinary chap, old Dodgson. Had an 'L answer for just about everything.'

Victoria smiled indulgently at the tall white-haired gentleman in the flamboyant cape. She was wearing sungla.s.ses and a light summery dress of a decent length. Her hair was loose down to her shoulders. She decided that the gentleman was rather overdressed for the hot June weather.

The playing of a string quartet, by turns spiky and lyrical like a chain of unfettered thoughts, wafted in from the Oxford garden outside. The exhibition of Mr Do-do-dodgson's photographs, many of them newly discovered, was attracting good business. Not that business mattered the costs had been covered by a hefty donation from an anonymous benefactor anonymous benefactor.

'And he was a brilliant mathematician,' the gentleman continued. 'Served rather good lemonade as well. And m.u.f.fins.'

Victoria had been miles away. Years away. Floating above the trees of an old Oxford garden, where a rather petulant little girl was having her photograph taken. The little girl's father fussed round the photographer, generally holding things up.

Enough to try the patience of an oyster.

It was one hundred and fifty years ago and nearly teatime.

The sunlight was slightly yellowed.

The past was always in sepia.

On the gallery wall opposite Victoria, amid the posed studies of children and Carroll's own drawings of dancing Gryphons and Mock Turtles, there was a photograph of a little girl on a stone seat under a tree. She was clutching a doll and looked like someone else. The photograph was labelled 'Sitter Unknown'.

'Don't cry, Victoria Waterfield,' said the gentleman in the cape.

She could not conceal a sudden look of fear. 'Harris,' she said. 'Victoria Harris.'

'Of course, m'dear. I won't give away your secret.' He had sat down beside her. His eyes twinkled with rea.s.suring kindness.

She tried a half-hearted smile. 'Someone said just that to me last week as well. An eccentric man with an incredible scarf. He said he was a Doctor.'

He looked a little taken aback. 'Eccentric?' He peered round the gallery to see who else was there.

'I think he was teasing. He said he would appear but three times. He told me to see if I could spot him.'

'Did he indeed? And have you?'

She glanced round the gallery as well. 'I don't think I could miss him.'

'Well, I'm the Doctor too.' He grinned and shook her by the hand. 'How do you do? Confusing, isn't it?'

Victoria didn't find it in the least bit confusing. 'The Doctor sent you, didn't he?'

Another look of bemus.e.m.e.nt. 'Well, yes. I suppose he did.

In a manner of speaking.'

'He was always very kind. Is he well?'

'Infuriatingly so.'

'I do wish he was here. And dear Jamie too.'

'I thought... He He thought someone should call by just to see how you were settling in.' thought someone should call by just to see how you were settling in.'

It seemed to be about twenty years too late for that sort of visit. 'Tell him I'm fine,' she said quietly.

'Good,' said the gentleman and studied her for a moment before returning his attention to the exhibition.

She wondered how much the Doctor knew. Or how much he had told this gentleman, this doctor.

She had slipped away as quietly as possible after what was probably now referred to as the 'New World Event'. It had been too much to take in. The hurt of delusion was too deep.

Instead, she returned to old haunts.

Mrs Cywynski's garden was filled with a mix of the blue poppies, gentians and figworts from the parcel that Charles Bryce had sent Victoria years ago.

Victoria had never seen him again, although she met his wife briefly at the opening of the Memorial Gallery. A cool, polite meeting. The 'Tibet Event' was never mentioned.

'The garden's just like the Himalayas, dear,' said Roxana.

'But murder to keep the cats off.'

There were fourteen cats at the moment. A baker's coven.

She seemed to have completely forgotten the other lodger in her husband's room.

'The police came looking for you. But I told them you had gone abroad and I never heard from you.' The old lady was as redoubtable as ever. 'You could always come back. I'll clear the coven from upstairs.'

Victoria hugged her and declined courteously. She accepted a jar of rhubarb chutney 'Ten years old, so just about ready, dear' and left promising to stay in touch.

She had also found her mother's grave.

She dreamed it first. Three-tiered, overgrown by wheels of weeds, in a place she had pa.s.sed a dozen times.

In the dream, Daniel Hinton was there, pushing aside the undergrowth to lay a small bunch of bluebells on top of the slab.

She visited Highgate and found the grave where she had seen it in the dream.

Sacred to the Memory of My Dear Wife EDITH ROSE WATERFIELD.

Mother of Victoria Maud Who Fell Asleep On The 23rd day of November 1863 Aged 37 years

Kind, Gentle, Loving And Beloved