Doctor Who_ Grave Matter Part 15

'You have friends here?'

'Not before we came.' Peri smiled. 'We often seem to land up somewhere pretty much at random, you know.'

'Sounds like an interesting life.'

'That's not the half of it,' Peri said.

'So what do you do, exactly? You and the Doctor?' Janet asked.

'I get confused, mostly,' Peri told her. 'And the Doctor, well, he does the confusing.'

'I see.' She obviously didn't.

'What about you? You work for Mr Sheldon?'

'For Christopher?' She was playing with the gla.s.s, rolling it between the flats of her palms, looking at the water rather than Peri. 'In a way. We were...colleagues.'

'Oh?'

'We worked on the same research team.'

'But not any more?'

'Hmm?' Janet looked up, for a moment there was a flash of confusion on her face. 'Oh, well, we still have some work to do. You know.'

'You and Sheldon?'

'Ye-es.' She did not sound sure about that. 'But mostly I work with Logan Packwood.'

'So what does Christopher Sheldon do?' Peri asked. 'I mean, it's his house, isn't it? We've heard a lot about him here. From the villagers. They seem to respect him. They owe him a lot.'

Janet nodded and sipped her water. She was staring off into the distance. 'Yes,' she said quietly. 'He was a good man.'

'Was?'

'Sorry?' She blinked.

'You said was. As if -'

'I mean what he did for the islanders was good.' Janet said quickly. 'He is a good man.' She looked away, as if embarra.s.sed. 'One of the best.'

'Sorry,' Peri said gently, wondering what she had said to upset the woman. 'I didn't mean...'

'That's all right. I'm sorry if I...' She shrugged and moved her gla.s.s. 'I've known Christopher for years. We've been colleagues for a long time. And friends. Everyone in the department knows him. It's just odd talking to someone who doesn't, I suppose.'

Peri nodded. 'So what are you working on?' she asked brightly.

'We were working on developing a DNA computer,' Janet said. 'If that means anything to you?'

Peri shook her head. 'Nothing at all.'

'Well, we've progressed from that,' she said. 'It's cla.s.sified, of course.'

'Of course.'

'But we're going to change the world.' There was a wistful note in her voice.

Peri nodded. 'Right.' She laughed. 'I used to want to change the world.'

'But not any more?'

'Oh no,' said Peri. 'No, now we just save it.'

Janet drained her gla.s.s and stood up. 'Can I get you another coffee?' she asked.

Peri looked down at her mug. She had barely drunk any.

'I'm fine, thanks.'

'Well, it's been nice to meet you.' She picked up her bag.

'I brought some work to do. I hope you won't think I'm being rude.'

Peri smiled. 'Of course not. I enjoyed the chat.'

Janet smiled back. Then she moved to a nearby table and set her bag down on the seat and her empty gla.s.s on the table.

There were a few people in the pub now - the tables were beginning to fill up. Sandwiches and pies were emerging from the back room. Peri watched Janet go to the bar and return to her table with an unopened bottle of water. She caught the woman's eye as she sat down and smiled again.

Janet Spillsbury opened her bag and pulled out a sheaf of papers and a pencil. She did not smile back.

Peri's cold was definitely taking hold, she decided. When she had finished her coffee, she considered lunch. But she had eaten a late breakfast and really wasn't hungry. Probably losing her appet.i.te as well, she thought. Maybe a walk would clear her stuffy head. It looked sunny outside, though she knew it would be cold. But she was sick of sitting in the pub - she needed to get out and do something. Anything.

She made her way to the bar and left her mug on the counter. She caught sight of Mike Neville, sitting drinking alone at a table. He looked up as she pa.s.sed, and Peri looked quickly away, praying he had not noticed her.

Liz was busy pulling a pint, so Peri just waved and left.

She paused outside the pub, debating with herself which way to go. She decided in the end to head out of the village the other way from her previous expedition, past the school rather than by the church and the quay.

But as she turned to go, she saw Dave Madsen approaching from the other direction. He looked dishevelled.

His hair was a mess and the cuffs of his trousers were soaking wet as if he had waded ash.o.r.e from a boat that had not quite beached.

'h.e.l.lo,' Peri said as he arrived at the pub.

He stared at her with wide eyes. 'Is Liz here?' he demanded. His voice was strained, his forehead lined with concern.

'Behind the bar,' Peri said. 'Is anything -'

But he was gone, pushing his way inside the pub. Peri saw him stumbling towards the bar as the door swung shut behind him.

She shrugged, wondering what the problem was. Lovers'

tiff, maybe? Then she b.u.t.toned her coat against the cold and set off towards the school.

Liz saw people moving aside suddenly before she saw that Dave was pushing his way towards the bar. She was in the middle of pouring a pint and trying to remember a food order.

Behind her she could hear her father in the kitchen getting stroppy with the stove.

'Liz,' Dave was breathless and red-faced. 'I have to talk to you.'

She looked at him, then back at the foaming pint she was topping. Then she looked at the people crowded round the bar waiting to be served.

'I have to talk to you now,' he hissed, leaning across towards her, his sleeve in a puddle of spilled beer.

She reached across and raised his arm, then wiped underneath with a towel before letting him put it back. 'You can see I'm busy here,' she said. 'You'll have to wait a minute.'

'This can't wait.'

She handed the pint across the bar, held up a finger to the next person to tell them to hang on, and went through to the kitchen to give the latest food orders. 'It'll have to,' she told Dave as she went.

He was still there when she got back. As soon as she caught his eye he leaned across the bar again.

'Dave!' she warned him before he could say anything.

'Not now, all right?'

Ned Perkins was laughing as she poured him a pint. She knew why. She had seen him muttering to Harry Strope and both of them looking at Dave. And at her. She frowned at him fiercely as she gave him his drink.

Then she turned to Dave. 'Later,' she said. 'Just come back later when it's quiet. You know how we get at lunchtime, when the boats are in.'

Dave met her angry gaze. He seemed to be about to say something. Then he shook his head. 'It doesn't matter,' he called across the bar. 'There's nothing you can do now Nothing I can do either.'

'What are you talking about?' She swept several empty gla.s.ses off the bar beside him and pushed them roughly into the sink below the bar.

'It's too late. I'm sorry.' He turned away. 'So sorry.' He looked back, just for a moment as he left. Just long enough to mouth 'Goodbye, Liz' to her.

He was obviously in a bad way. Maybe she should not have confronted him about Bill Neville's arm. She smiled back at him half-heartedly. 'Goodbye, Dave,' she called after him. 'See you later.'

The conversations died at the sound of her voice, falling away to a dull background mutter.

'Yeah,' Dave said. 'Yeah, I'm sure you will.' Then he was gone and she was pulling another pint.

There was no chemist on the island, so Madsen did his own dispensing. A locked cabinet in his consulting room contained all the drugs he was likely to need to prescribe. If there was a need for something else, it was shipped out. It came with the mail boat if it wasn't urgent. If it was, then a helicopter would be arranged by the coastguard on the mainland.

He knew exactly what he wanted. He unlocked the cabinet and took out a large gla.s.s bottle of tablets.

Madsen's next stop was the kitchen. From one of the cupboards he took a gla.s.s tumbler. From another he retrieved a bottle of single malt whisky. It was almost half full. He poured himself a generous measure of the whisky, his hand shaking. Some of it spilled on to the table. He picked up the gla.s.s, looked at it, then put it down and sloshed in more whisky. He set the bottle down unstoppered on the table. He had no fridge, and so no ice. Not that he thought he would have wanted it anyway.

He took the drink and the bottle of pills upstairs. His wallet was in his back trouser pocket. He pulled it out, opened it and drew out a photograph. Then he threw the wallet on the cabinet by his bed. He sat down heavily on the bed and took a gulp of the whisky. It burned his throat as it went down. He stared at the black and white photo of Liz for several seconds before he propped it up against his wallet on the bedside cabinet.

They had spent a day on the mainland three weeks ago. A pleasant happy day. He had insisted on the photo, pushing her laughing into a booth in the back corner of Woolworth's. He put the whisky down beside it and opened the pill bottle. He shook out a pile of pills.

He sat there for half an hour, staring at the picture, crying silently. Every now and then he took a pill and pushed it into his mouth. Then he washed it down with a mouthful of whisky.

When the whisky was gone, he had gone to the kitchen and brought the bottle upstairs. He drank from that. When the pills were gone, he tipped some more out on to the cabinet.

And when his head was so muzzy and tired that he could no longer lift the bottle, could no longer feel the pills as he reached out for them, could no longer see Liz staring back accusingly at him, Dave Madsen leaned back and swung his legs up on to the bed.

He closed his eyes, and slipped away into a sleep from which he knew he would never awaken.

The air was clear and crisp, and Peri could see her breath as she walked. She had no idea where she was going - the village was now long behind her. But she was enjoying the peace and the sunshine. Occasionally she dabbed at her nose with a hanky. Occasionally she stopped to admire the view or to get her breath back. It was a lovely day.

She had circled round a bit after leaving the village, her plan as far as she had one being to see if she could come back round to the church. She reckoned she was heading in roughly the right direction as she was on a track between two fields. If this was Heather Hill Farm, then she knew that on one side its border was close to the quay. In the distance she could see a line of cows marching along another track, an ordered, regimented formation. Single file.

At the back of the line of cows, Peri could see a figure following behind, encouraging them on. Even at this distance she could see that it was Hilly Painswick. Peri waved and was pleased to see the figure wave back.

As the last of the cows entered the field, Mrs Painswick fastened the gate and started across the field towards Peri. She waved again.

'The house is this way,' Hilly said as she climbed over the fence. She pointed up the track. 'Only about a mile. Just the weather for a good brisk walk. And now that the cows are milked I have an hour to myself.' She set off up the track, allowing Peri to catch up with her before she said: 'Come and have some tea. Tell me what you and your colourful friend have been up to.'

'Oh, you know about him,' Peri laughed.

'Everyone knows about him,' Hilly said. 'He's been talking to Mrs Tattleshall, hasn't he?'

The farmhouse was large and square and built of stone. It was surrounded by an a.s.sortment of barns and outbuildings, also mainly built of rough, dark stone. The farmyard was awash with mud. Somewhere nearby a horse snorted and was answered by the sudden frantic barking of a dog. Peri sneezed loudly to add to the noise.

The front door was open, and Hilly led Peri inside. The hallway was surfaced with quarry tiles. The kitchen floor was flagged with slabs of pale stone. A large wooden table stood unevenly in the middle of the room. Various cooking utensils and farming implements hung round the walls and from the beams across the ceiling.

'Sorry it's a bit of a mess,' Hilly said. 'But this is a working house.'

'That's fine.' Peri seated herself at the table. 'I hope I'm not taking too much of your time.'

'No, of course not. I love a good natter. And we don't often get the chance to meet new people round here, as you can appreciate. People who have travelled.'

Peri laughed. 'Oh, I've travelled,' she admitted.

'Yes,' the older woman said. 'I know.'

'You do?' Peri's throat was suddenly dry. She could feel herself reddening. She needed to sniff and did not dare.