Doctor Who_ Grave Matter Part 3

Madsen stood up. 'Lost a couple to a bout of flu last month,' he said. 'Look, I'd better have a word with the families, if you'll excuse me.'

'Of course,' the Doctor told him. But Madsen was already heading back towards the bar.

'What do you think, Doctor?' Peri asked quietly as soon as Madsen was out of earshot. 'Are we in Victorian times?'

'So it would seem,' the Doctor said, staring intently at what was left of his pint of beer. 'The furniture here is all hand-made and reasonably new. The people's clothes and the general architecture, the lack of traffic or pollution, the state of the fishing boats...' He paused to take another swig of ale. 'All suggests late Victorian,' he said. He sighed. 'But then there's the odd little niggle.'

Peri's hand froze, her water close to her mouth. 'Niggle?'

She did not like the way he had said that.

'Mmm. Niggle. Like the way Madsen said "I guess" rather than "I suppose" or "I reckon". Not so very Victorian.'

'Oh.' Peri set her gla.s.s down and looked round furtively.

Was there some temporal conspiracy here, people travelling back to Victorian times? 'That could just be his manner,' she suggested. 'What else?'

'Nothing much,' the Doctor said. He frowned and pouted as he thought about it. 'The hand pumps for the beer are maybe a bit sophisticated, but not too unusual.'

'So, we take it at face value?'

The Doctor shook his head. 'Where's the fun in that?' he complained. 'No, no, no. We keep our eyes and ears open for the unusual.' He sipped at his beer. 'The anachronistic.' He smacked his lips and held the remains of his pint up to the light from the nearest window. 'The odd.' He nodded to himself, and drained his gla.s.s in a single swallow. 'The weird,' he concluded. Then he belched. 'Sorry.'

Peri shook her head and looked at the ceiling. It was grimy and discoloured by smoke and age. 'So we're just going to sit here?' she asked.

'Certainly not.' The Doctor's voice seemed to come from further away than she had expected. She looked across and saw that he had gone. 'I'm going to get another drink,' the Doctor said from just behind her, making Peri flinch with surprise. 'And you,' he whispered close to her ear, 'can just sit here.'

'Thanks.'

'Or,' he suggested as he turned away, 'you could circulate a bit. Converse. Get acquainted. Listen out for...' he shrugged.

'The unusual, the anachronistic, the odd, the weird,' Peri finished for him. 'And the belches. I know.'

The Doctor was half-way to the bar by the time she finished. She looked at what was left of her gla.s.s of water. 'I could do with another drink too,' she thought. 'But something a bit stronger.'

Baddesley had watched the funeral procession from the shadows between two of the houses in the main street. He preferred to keep out of sight of most of the villagers, and he was certain they would rather he was out of sight as well. He watched the accident with the coffin, wondered at the appearance of the two strangers, and waited while the burial took place.

When it was quiet, once the villagers had gone back to their homes and the mourners had adjourned to the pub to drown their memories and regrets, he stepped out on to the cobbled street. He enjoyed walking. It was a liberating exercise. Often he walked just for the exhilaration of it, following the farm tracks or wandering along the stretches of beach and cliff. But today he had a purpose in mind.

Baddesley carried a walking stick. Although he was getting on in years, he did not need it. But the feel of it in his hand, the tap of it on the cobbles, was a pleasant rea.s.surance.

He wielded the stick like a sword as he entered the churchyard. He paused at the gate and looked back into the village. Then, satisfied that n.o.body was watching, he made his way round to where the short service had taken place.

He stood for a few minutes staring down at the newly dug earth. The end of his stick made small circles on the edge of the grave as he considered. Then in a sudden anger of decision he drove the stick deep into the soil. He leaned heavily on the gnarled wood of the handle for a second, then pulled the stick out of the soft earth before turning and striding back towards the main gate.

By the time Peri reached the bar, the Doctor was already in conversation with Robert Trefoil, the landlord.

'Dorsill?' the Doctor was saying. It was evident that the name was new to him.

As she approached, Peri saw that the intent young man - Mike Neville - was standing nearby, watching her. He pretended not to, but his gla.s.s was angled as he drank so that his piercing blue eyes tracked her progress. She ignored him.

'What's Dorsill?' Peri asked. Behind her she felt rather than saw Mike Neville take a step towards her.

'This is,' the Doctor said. 'Apparently.'

'These islands,' Trefoil said. 'The whole chain is called Dorsill. Too many of them to have names each, not on maps, any road.'

'And this is the largest of the islands?'

'Only two that are any size. This one - what we call Dorsill. And Sheldon's Folly.'

'What an interesting name,' the Doctor said. But his words were lost beneath the loud, slightly nasal voice of Mike Neville.

'What sort of sailor doesn't know the name of the island he's landed on?' he demanded suddenly, shouldering his way past several other people so that he stood at the bar beside the Doctor and Peri. He spoke to the Doctor, but he was staring at Peri.

'Now, now, Mike.' Trefoil said surprisingly gently.

The Doctor smiled amiably. 'Even the most experienced sailor can sometimes make mistakes,' he said reasonably.

'Misjudge the currents, lose the stars on a misty night. Get lost in the fog.'

Mike Neville's eyes widened, the stare seeming to become even deeper. 'What are you saying?' he asked, his voice dangerously low.

The Doctor blinked in surprise. 'Nothing, I don't think.

Just that -'

'Are you saying it was my brother's fault they were lost?'

Neville demanded. 'Is that it?' He was shouting now. Heads were turning.

Trefoil's face was reddening more than usual. 'Michael,'

he warned.

'Not at all,' the Doctor said quietly. 'I didn't know your brother. But I'm sure he was a fisherman of rare ability.'

'Oh are you?' Neville shouted, leaning towards the Doctor. 'Well, he doesn't need your sarcasm. Any more do I.'

He put his drink down on the bar and took a step backwards.

His fists were clenching at his sides and his intentions obvious. 'You come here with your fancy woman and make out my brother wasn't fit to be out in the boat. Blame him for the accident!' He was raising a fist now.

The Doctor was watching it with surprise rather than anxiety. 'Touched a nerve, have we?' he asked quietly. 'My apologies.'

At that the young man gave a snarl of rage and lunged at the Doctor, his fist starting to crash down. But it stopped before it had got far, held tight in Robert Trefoil's own huge hand. The landlord pulled Neville back and pushed him aside.

For a moment Neville paused, his face crimson with fury.

Then Trefoil leaned over the counter and said quietly. 'Now, you don't want me to have to come out from behind here, do you, young Michael?'

Neville blinked. He looked at Trefoil, then at Peri. She tried not to take a step backwards, but she looked away. When she looked back, Neville was pushing his way through the other mourners. They stood aside to let him through. At the door he turned abruptly and looked back. Again, it was Peri he was staring at, she felt his eyes almost burning into her, an almost physical sensation as he looked her up and down. Then he turned and walked out of the pub.

For a moment there was silence. Slowly, the conversation started again, muted and quiet at first but soon building back to the previous level.

'Sorry about that.' Trefoil said. He was still staring after Neville.

'No, no,' the Doctor told him. 'Let me apologise. I obviously upset the poor young man. It wasn't my intention, I a.s.sure you.'

'Lost his brother,' Trefoil said, but whether it was meant as an excuse or merely as information, was impossible to tell from his tone. 'Let me get you another drink.'

'You're too kind,' the Doctor said.

'I doubt it,' Trefoil muttered as he started to pull at the pump. Peri had decided to try the beer. Trefoil gave her a half pint of the brown liquid in a small gla.s.s tankard. He was deep in conversation with the Doctor about the chain of islands and their geography. Peri would like to have known about the wildlife and the plants that grew here. But she was still shaken by the incident with Mike Neville, and decided to leave them to it. She made her way back towards the table. A little sit down, to get her breath back, then she would see what she could find out.

She paused before she sat down and took a sip of the beer.

She didn't like it. It wasn't thin and fizzy like Budweiser or Coors. It was syrupy thick. It was bitter. While it was not actually warm, it certainly wasn't cold. She stood for a moment, wondering how much of the stuff she had to drink to be polite. And while she stood, a hand tugged at her sleeve.

It was a man at the next table. There were three young men seated round, and a couple of women no older than Peri.

They were looking at her, expecting some sort of answer.

'I'm sorry?' Peri stammered.

'I said, you're welcome to join us. Jed here was telling us a story.' The man's voice was accented like Trefoil's, but not as strong or deep.

'Thank you,' Peri said, sitting down on the chair the man indicated, even before she had thought about it. She put her drink on the table and smiled round at the others. 'I'm Peri,'

she said. They nodded as if they knew.

They were all smiling, apparently pleased to meet her, Peri saw. All except the one the man had called Jed. He looked anxious, slightly nervous. 'It's not a story,' he hissed across the table. 'It happened, I swear it.'

'What happened?' one of the women asked. 'You've still not told us.'

Jed shuffled his feet under the table. He picked up his pint, looked at it, then set it down again. 'I'm thinking maybe you won't want to hear it,' he said huffily.

'I'd like to hear it,' Peri said. 'Whatever it is.'

The women smiled at her appreciatively.

Jed glared at her. Then his expression softened. 'All right,'

he said. 'But I did warn you. It isn't a story.'

'Get on with it, Jed,' the first man said. 'What're you on about?'

'Twas the other morning, at the farm.' Jed began.

'Jed works for Mrs Painswick, up at Heather Hill Farm,'

the man said to Peri.

'Do you want to hear or not?' Jed demanded. When there was silence, he went on. 'It was chicken day,' he said.

'Collecting the eggs?' Peri asked.

'Lopping their heads off,' the third of the men said, with obvious glee. He watched Peri closely for a reaction. She tried not to give one.

'Who's telling this story, Ian?' Jed asked.

'You said it wasn't -' the first man began. Then he broke off. 'All right, Jed. Just get on with it.'

'Chance'd be nice.' Jed mumbled. He had a drink, then continued with his tale. 'First chicken it was. Daft b.u.g.g.e.r. Sat there nice as pie, waiting. Dunno what it thought I was going to do, me with an axe and all.' He had another drink while he looked for the women's reactions. They looked more bored than anything. 'Anyway, I got it on the block, strung out like.

It knew then, of course. Struggled and fought, clawed and squealed.'

'And you did it?' Ian asked eagerly. 'You lopped its head off?'

Jed sighed. 'Course I did. Whack.' He mimed the axe slicing down, the edge of his hand hitting the table and making the drinks jump. 'Head on the block. Chicken fell to the floor.'

'So?' the first man asked.

'So, the d.a.m.ned thing got up again. Not the head, but the body. Leaped to its feet and went careering round the yard.

Fast as you like.' He stopped for another drink, and Peri could see that there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead now. The memory was upsetting him more than he was wanting to let on.

'So?' the first man asked again. 'That happens with chickens, you know that, Jed. Just trying to scare the ladies, are you?'

'It's a nervous reaction.' Peri said helpfully. 'It's well known.'

'Course it is.' Jed said. His voice was shaking slightly now. So too was his hand as he raised his pint, Peri saw.