Doctor Who_ Father Time Part 2

PULL TO OPEN.

This was just what she needed! It was a dream come true.

Mrs Castle pulled the handle, as the sign told her to, but the panel didn't budge. She could see that it was meant to. This was meant to be a little door, and behind it there would be a telephone and she'd pick it up and a policeman would come and sort everything out. He'd get Arnold to a hospital and take her home and arrange for the car to be towed to her house and everything would be all right.

But the little hatch didn't open, it was jammed shut. She tried pulling and pushing at the big door, trying to get inside, but that didn't budge either.

She put her head against the door and began crying again.

Mrs Castle didn't cry very often. Mrs Castle was brave, resourceful and intelligent: she knew that the problems in life weren't solved by men on white horses, or being swept away by the wind, or with a quick phone call. She knew she would have to solve her problems for herself. But knowing that isn't the same as having the solution. Knowing there was a way out, somewhere, only made her failure to find it more frustrating, and so sometimes, when no one else was looking, when it all got too much, she cried.

It was cold, and crying wouldn't change that. Mrs Castle pulled herself up and wiped her eyes. There was almost certainly a telephone in the house that was why she had come down here. Now she looked, she couldn't see a telephone line leading down into the farmhouse. But they were bound to have one, living so far out here. She would knock on the door and ask to use the phone.

She walked up to the front door of the farmhouse and knocked on it. It was eight on a Sat.u.r.day night, so she knew they may be out. She began thinking about what she would say: first, she would have to apologise for disturbing the house owners, most probably. But surely they would let her use their telephone? It was an emergency, after all.

There was no answer. The snow, was falling faster now, it was even beginning to drift up against the side of the police box. Despite her scarf and gloves, Mrs Castle was starting to get a little cold. More importantly, she knew Arnold could be seriously injured, and that she had to get help to him.

She tried the door handle, and was surprised when the door opened she had expected it to be locked. The door was solid oak, and very heavy, but it opened silently and rea.s.suringly. With a nervous look around, Mrs Castle stepped inside, out of the wind and the snow.

The hallway was dark. Some people have a telephone in the hall, but Mrs Castle was disappointed to discover that the owners of this house didn't. She stepped, ever so carefully, further along the long hallway. She felt very guilty, walking around someone else's house. Whatever the circ.u.mstances, it didn't feel right.

'h.e.l.lo?' she called out, but there was no reply.

The carpet was thick, and quite old by the look of it. But the tables and picture frames were good quality. Mrs Castle wondered if she should take her boots off she'd wiped her feet outside, but there would still be slush on them. She told herself off for being so silly she was breaking and entering, after all. The owners wouldn't mind the dirty footprints they'd mind the person who made them.

The front door closed behind her, the latch clicking.

Mrs Castle was worried that the owners of the house would find her. Out in the country, people had shotguns. She was an intruder, and the people here could be old, or scared of burglars. If they were in the habit of leaving their door unlocked in the night, then she wouldn't be surprised if there had been burglars here in the past.

'h.e.l.lo?' she called again.

There was a long, carpeted staircase leading upstairs, and the hallway led through to a gloomy kitchen. There was one other door, down here, and as Mrs Castle approached she realised there was a light on.

She knocked on the door.

'Excuse me,' she said, as politely as she could manage.

No one answered. Mrs Castle was beginning to think the owners were out. When she went out she sometimes left a light on to fool burglars. Of course, if the people who lived here were that worried about burglars, she would have advised them to lock their front door.

She went into the room. The remains of a log fire were glowing in the fireplace at one end, and candlesticks were dotted about, casting warmth and shadowy light around the room.

The room was cluttered with old furniture, heavy-framed paintings of people and places, chunks of machinery and bits of scientific apparatus. There was an old microscope, and a very modern-looking telescope.

Next to a huge armchair in the middle of the room was a pile of books all sorts of books: leather-bound hardbacks, cheap paperbacks, big textbooks, even a couple of Blue Peter Blue Peter annuals. All of them had bookmarks, and on top of the pile was a travel chess set, quite an old, battered one. There was a game in progress, and Mrs Castle (who was something of an expert) guessed that it had been under way for some time. Despite herself, Mrs Castle bent over to get a better look at the game. annuals. All of them had bookmarks, and on top of the pile was a travel chess set, quite an old, battered one. There was a game in progress, and Mrs Castle (who was something of an expert) guessed that it had been under way for some time. Despite herself, Mrs Castle bent over to get a better look at the game.

It was then that she saw there was a man, fast asleep in the armchair.

He didn't look like a farmer he looked like a poet. Mrs Castle knew, of course, that farmers didn't always look like farmers, and so some of them might look like poets. She knew a few poets from a local writing group, and they were scruffy enough to be farmers. But she knew what she meant.

He was not an old man, but not really a young man, either he looked older than she was, but she was only twenty-six. His long face was oval, with an aristocratic nose and a full mouth. He had a high forehead, framed with long light-brown hair. He looked warm and peaceful, and his skin was milky pale. He wore a long, dark, velvet coat that spilled over the arms of his chair. He looked like a New Romantic, which was the fashion according to all the magazines, although living in Greyfrith Mrs Castle had never seen one in the flesh before, and it was like meeting a man from another world.

The man's eyes snapped open. Blue eyes, with traces of crows' feet around them.

'I-I'm sorry,' she found herself saying. 'The door was open. I've been in a car accident. My name's Deborah Castle.'

'I'm the Doctor,' he said, clearly a little bemused.

It wasn't a name at all, not a proper one, but for some reason Mrs Castle didn't think that, she just accepted it.

'I ran someone over. A UFO spotter.'

The Doctor frowned. 'Why?'

'Not deliberately,' she added hurriedly. 'He ran out in front of me. He's in my car at the moment. He's hurt his leg and can't walk.'

The Doctor showed her to the phone, hidden behind a pile of yellowing scientific journals in one corner of the room. Once she'd called an ambulance, the Doctor insisted on going back to her car with her. She didn't want to impose, and they didn't speak as they made their way back up the hill.

They arrived just before the ambulance did. Arnold was conscious, and lucid, and he and the Doctor exchanged a few words while Mrs Castle flagged the ambulance down. Arnold joked with the ambulancemen as they carried him into the back of their vehicle. Arnold seemed much more relaxed now, and didn't seem to bear Mrs Castle any ill will. The driver told Mrs Castle that they would need to check thoroughly, but that Arnold had escaped with a broken leg and some mild bruising. He took her details and reminded her that she would need to contact the police to report an accident.

He offered her a lift back into town, but she told him she was safe to drive, not too shaken although the Cortina might not be up to it. The ambulance drove off, but without putting on its siren or even putting the blue lights on, which disappointed Mrs Castle a little.

The Doctor was already checking under the bonnet for signs of damage.

'Are you sure you can see?' Mrs Castle asked. 'Don't you need a torch?'

'Don't worry about that.' The Doctor said, peering into the depths of the engine. Mrs Castle could hardly see at all: just some dark shapes, connected together with a labyrinth of cables and pipes.

He fiddled around for a moment before putting the bonnet down, and then bent over the car, studying the panelwork.

'There's a slight dent on the bonnet,' he told her, 'but other than that, the car's fine, now. Were you having problems before the accident?'

Mrs Castle nodded. She had never owned a car of her own, and her husband had kept her away from the engine he'd shown her how to open the bonnet and how to fill the screenwash bottle, but that was all. It felt odd seeing someone else closing up the Cortina's bonnet particularly another man.

'Nothing major,' the Doctor announced. 'The radiator didn't like the cold weather. If it had been given a winter service, it would have been fine.'

Mrs Castle's spirits lifted. Not just because the problem with her car wasn't serious although it is always good to hear news like that but because it meant it wasn't her fault. More than that, it was Barry's he'd talked about getting the car ready for the onset of the cold weather, but he'd never got around to it.

'Give it a go,' the Doctor prompted.

Mrs Castle got back into the car and turned the ignition key. It started immediately, and even she could tell the engine sounded perfectly healthy.

She wound down the window. 'Thank you so much,' she said. She took a deep breath. 'Time to get home.'

'You look shaken,' the Doctor told her. 'I'll make you some tea, let you calm down a bit.'

He unlocked the gate and pointed her towards his driveway, which was difficult to see under the snow, and they drove the short distance down to his house. The Doctor took her back inside, sat her down in his chair and then disappeared to make her a cup of tea.

Sitting here, in warmth and comfort, Mrs Castle couldn't argue with the Doctor's logic. Although it seemed a long time since the accident, her watch rea.s.sured her it was barely half an hour, and now the car was working again she probably wouldn't be any later home than she had told her husband. She was already more relaxed than she'd been all day.

The Doctor came in with a tray of tea things. He found a sofa under some boxes and cleared a s.p.a.ce. As Mrs Castle watched him sit down, he yawned.

She felt guilty. 'I'm sorry to have woken you up.'

'I don't need much sleep,' he said wistfully. 'In fact, usually I can pretty well do without it.' Men always liked to boast how little sleep they needed. His voice was soft with an accent that was difficult to pin down.

'You seemed fast asleep when I came in,' Mrs Castle replied gently.

'I was dreaming,' he said, trying to remember. 'I was in a house, and it was my house but it wasn't. It went on for ever, and I kept finding new rooms. There were hundreds of bedrooms, a swimming pool, an art gallery and a library, even a greenhouse the size of Kew Gardens. I'm sure it means something.'

'It's a common dream,' Mrs Castle rea.s.sured him.

'It is?' He seemed disappointed.

'I've had the same dream. I'm sure you can find a book that will tell you what it means. When I have the dream it's an enormous empty school cla.s.sroom after cla.s.sroom, corridor after corridor. But that's not a surprise.'

The man c.o.c.ked his head to one side, confused.

'I'm a teacher,' she explained. 'Primary school.'

He nodded, as if he approved.

'Who are you playing chess with?' she asked. There was no one else in the house, she was sure of that. But some people conducted postal games, sending each move at the end of a letter.

'Oh, just against myself.' He seemed embarra.s.sed by the admission.

'I do that,' Mrs Castle said brightly. 'I've played it since I was a little girl. My husband doesn't, neither do any of our friends.' For some reason, Mrs Castle was annoyed with herself for mentioning her husband. 'I run the chess club at school now, but they're only ten and eleven they're still learning. Are you any good?'

'There's only one way to find out.' The Doctor was already setting up the pieces for a new game, starting to unpick the moves he'd made.

'No,' Mrs Castle said. 'I'm already late, and I'm sure I need to report the accident to the police.' She stood up, took a step back, almost standing on some apparatus.

The Doctor looked a little disappointed. To Mrs Castle, he looked a little like one of her pupils might when they were told to pack up their toys and get ready for school. She glanced back at what she'd almost stepped on. It consisted of a couple of car batteries lashed together with black tape, a TV aerial and a couple of old radios nestling in an old suitcase.

'Can you get Radio Two on that?' she asked.

'No, no. It's just something I'm working on. It generates soundwaves. Ultrasonics. When I get it working, it could be used to unfasten screws, maybe even open locks.'

Mrs Castle looked at the device, the size of a suitcase. 'Wouldn't it be easier just to use a screwdriver or a key?'

The Doctor looked deflated. 'Well, it's only a prototype,' he told her sulkily. 'The final version will be a lot smaller, I'm sure.'

'Do you live here alone?' she asked him, trying to lighten the mood.

The Doctor nodded.

'It must get lonely.'

'It's beautiful here,' he said softly. 'Peaceful.'

Mrs Castle had to agree.

'I've never seen you in town.' She was sure she would remember him.

'I go there from time to time,' he a.s.sured her. 'To pick up supplies: food, books, that sort of thing.'

'You've got a car?'

He nodded. 'A Trabant.'

'A what?'

The Doctor just laughed.

'And that police box out there? Is that yours? No, silly question it belongs to the police.'

'It's mine,' the man said. When he saw her puzzled look he continued: 'It's a long story... at least I think it is. I found a book about police boxes once, in a library, but there weren't any clues in it.'

'I tried using the phone, but there isn't one.'

The Doctor frowned. 'Yes, I know. Odd, isn't it? I don't suppose you know why?'

Mrs Castle shook her head.

The Doctor looked disappointed again.

'Knights and castles,' she chuckled.

'Pardon?'

'My name's Castle, the man I ran over was Mr Knight. And you and I are both chess players. It's only a coincidence, but it's like something off That's Life That's Life.'

The Doctor was turning the white king over and over in his hand, watching it intently.

'The game's afoot,' he said. Then he looked up. 'At least, I think it is.' He studied the board.

Mrs Castle looked down at the board, at the remnants of the Doctor's game. A white queen, a few p.a.w.ns, a couple of bishops, a couple of castles. Ranged against them were the black knights and castles, and the king. No p.a.w.ns, at least few to speak of.

'What's that?' she asked. There was a large piece she didn't recognise, one that seemed to come from another set.

The Doctor picked it up, moved it, captured a white knight with it. 'I'm not sure,' he concluded.

He placed the white king firmly in the centre of the board.

'I'd better get going,' Mrs Castle said. 'Look, why don't you come to chess club on Tuesday night four o'clock at the school? There's a team coming from Vale Mill. We'll play that game.'

The Doctor grinned. 'That would be good. I'll see you there.'