Doctor Who_ Return Of The Living Dad Part 5

He pushed his thumbnail into the grooves of the tuning dial and moved it until the noise turned into the strains of 'Safety Dance'.

He sat back on the bed, breathing out a cloud of white mist, letting his thumping heart slow back down. Civilization as he knew it was still there, or at least Radio One.

Joel reached under the bed and fished out a packet of cigarettes. His hands shook a little as he lit up the first smoke of the day.

It hadn't been the nightmare that had woken him up.

Some big noise, outside. He found his gla.s.ses, wandered over to the window and looked down into the street.

'Holy priceless collection of Etruscan snoods, Batman!'

He nearly burned his nose off trying to pull the T-shirt over his head while holding the communicator up to his ear.

'Tony!' he yelped, s.n.a.t.c.hing the cigarette out of his mouth.

'Yeah, it's me. I know know it's seven in the morning. Go take a look at what's standing outside the post office.' it's seven in the morning. Go take a look at what's standing outside the post office.'

He dragged on his jeans and went to the window.

The police box was sitting on the gra.s.s verge at an angle, the door facing towards the street. It was a dim, blue shape in the winter mist. The first few drops of morning rain spattered on Joel's window.

Tony's voice buzzed in his ear. 'Well, it wasn't there last night,' said Joel. 'I'm gonna go wake up the Admiral. You and Ms R had better get up here.' He snapped off the communicator and stuffed it into his back pocket.

The Doctor insisted that the others stay inside the TARDIS.

After the b.u.mpy ride through the wormhole, no one was willing to argue with him. Benny, however, was already outside.

'This could be a trap,' he said. 'It might be some sort of virtual reality, or the Land of Fiction. It might be a cleverly constructed replica of a sleepy, wet English village.'

Benny stood in the rain and looked up and down the main street - actually, the only street. There were a handful of houses, a cafe, a post office which sold groceries (or a grocery which sold stamps).

'It might be,' she said. 'But it's not.'

The Doctor looked at the question-mark handle of his umbrella. He flipped it over and opened it. He gathered Benny up, her freshly cut fringe already plastered to her forehead. 'I think we should explore cautiously.'

'I say we explore a couple of b.u.t.ter croissants and a cuppa,' said Benny.

'I'll tell you what,' grinned the Doctor, as they walked down the street. 'Why don't we go to the tavern and listen for rumours?'

'Do they have b.u.t.ter croissants in taverns?' said Benny.

She took a deep breath. Late-twentieth-century air, freshly Washed. The sudden plunge back into normality was helping her brain settle back into place. 'You didn't bring me here Just to calm me down,' she said suspiciously.

'Believe it or not, this is the source of the transponder signal.'

'The Tisiphone Tisiphone,' said Benny, 'is conspicuous by its absence. Unless it's in the lost property at the post office.'

The temporal tangent may have been slightly off,'

muttered the Doctor. He stopped outside the cafe, glancing around in irritation, as though he felt he was being watched.

THE PYRAMID, said a hand-painted sign over the door.

FOOD FOR MIND AND BODY. 'It's a bookshop upstairs,'

observed Benny.

'And a coffee shop downstairs,' said the Doctor. 'Shall we investigate?'

'Er, here they come,' said Tony.

Joel's voice said, 'Okay, we're staying where we are.'

'What do I do if they -'

'The Admiral will come downstairs in a minute. Just take it easy!'

'Right. Sorry.' Tony flipped the communicator shut and tucked it into his back pocket. He smoothed down his ap.r.o.n, as the Doctor and Benny came in from the rain.

The place was saturated with the smell of coffee, that roasting - acetone - steam smell. It was wood and leather and mirrors, old and worn and comfortable. A corkboard was covered in fliers. A narrow staircase lead upwards to the bookshop.

Behind the counter, a bearded man was washing up coffee pots in hot, soapy water, steam rising around him.

'Good morning,' he said, in a soft voice. 'Sorry, I've just got to finish these - I'll be with you in a moment.'

There were two or three dozen types of coffee listed on the blackboard. Everything from cappuccino to espresso granita to chocolate-covered coffee beans. A separate menu covered pastries and sandwiches.

Benny sat down at one of the little tables, suddenly feeling wobbly. It had been four hours since she'd first entered the TARDIS, less than an hour since she'd been breathing smoke and badly recycled air aboard the Tisiphone Tisiphone.

Banged about, boggled and nearly blown up. It was as though she'd never been away.

The Doctor sat down opposite her. She could tell by the way he was studiously ignoring her that he was very concerned.

He pulled a small tracking thingummy from his pocket'

pretended to fuss with it. It obstinately refused to beep. 'That transponder is here somewhere,' he said.

He pulled a map out of his pocket, struggled with it, flattened it out on the table. 'We're quite close to a military base,' he said, tapping the map with his fingers.

'Hey, maybe they're Hanger Eighteen-ing the ship. You said there might be some temporal deflection. How much?'

'It's difficult to - Benny, look at me.'

She frowned. 'I am looking at you.'

'All right,' he said. 'When I say "now", I want you to look to your left, and then straight back at me. Do you understand?'

'What is it?' she hissed, paralysed.

'Now,' said the Doctor.

Benny looked. Her father was standing behind the counter, talking to the bearded man.

'Grief,' she said.

'Take another look,' said the Doctor.

Benny did. He hadn't seen her yet. He was older. She couldn't tell how much. Fifteen years? Twenty-five?

They were late.

'How do we know he isn't a robot replica or a Sloathe or something?' she whispered. 'What do we do?'

'We have a caffe latte caffe latte and two b.u.t.tered croissants each,' and two b.u.t.tered croissants each,'

said the Doctor, 'as insurance against the shock.'

'Right,' said Benny faintly. She looked into the mirror next to her.

He'd seen her - he was staring right at her. She couldn't help it. She turned to look. Their eyes met.

'Grief,' said Isaac.

In the TARDIS, Roz looked at her watch for the third time.

'How much longer do you think we should give them?'

said Jason.

The Doctor knows what he's doing,' said Chris.

Jason drummed his fingers on the console, trying to avoid any obvious self-destruct switches. 'I wish we knew what he was up to.'

'The eternal lament,' said Roz. 'Let's hope the natives are friendly.'

'Do you think there are any more of them?'

Joel peeked over the top of the hedge. It was b.l.o.o.d.y freezing. Thank G.o.d, he thought, for thermal socks. 'Probably not,' he told the communicator. 'He usually travels with one pa.s.senger.

Almost always human and female.'

His boots squelched in the soggy gra.s.s as he tried to get a better view of the police box. It sat there, dark and quiet, like a bogeyman in the mist. Or like a badly photocopied picture in a UFO 'zine.

'Can you see what's going on in the shop?' Ms Randrianasolo wanted to know. 'Do you want me to come out there?'

'No and no,' said Joel. 'You'd better stay next to the phone. The Admiral will call us in his own good time.'

He tugged at the hood of his anorak, wondering if he could have a smoke without blowing his cover. 'Let's hope they're friendly,' he muttered.

Isaac stepped out from behind the counter. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a black cardigan. His face was neutral, everything held back.

An hour ago he'd been uniformed and twenty years younger.

Benny stood up, cautiously, aware of the Doctor's eyes.

Her father came closer, until he was within a few feet of her. Still far enough away to dodge back from an attack, she thought. He studied her face carefully. 'You're not Claire.'

'No,' she said, the lump in her throat rising. 'I'm Bernice.'

His mouth opened, a little. But he nodded.

She started to cry. She reached out and wrapped her arms around him. He stood there, awkwardly, while she sobbed, 'It's me, Daddy. It's me. It's Bernice.'

At last he untangled himself, looked at her. 'How old are you?'

'I'm... I'm about thirty-five.' She looked at the Doctor for confirmation, but he had nothing to say, quietly watching.