Doctor Who_ Deep Blue Part 14

A man wearing a surgeon's gown and cap, his mask resting on his chest like a small bib, was standing in the white-tiled room beside the trolley. He watched Charlotte's impa.s.sive face through the gla.s.s for a little while, then stepped forward and bent towards a microphone.

'Miss Maybury,' he said gently, 'can you confirm that this is the body of your brother, Christopher John Maybury?'

Charlotte gave no sign of having heard the police surgeon.

Mike reached out and touched her bare arm.

'Charlotte,' he said. 'Is it Chris?'

Apart from her lips, no part of her body moved. 'It doesn't look like him,' she said bleakly.

'So it's not Chris -' began Mike.

Her head snapped round and the expression on her face was awful to see. Part anger, part confusion, part horror, but all of it for the moment mostly repressed, crushed down by numbing shock. 'No,' she said, her voice rough and exhausted as if she was close to breaking, 'it is is him. It just... him. It just...

doesn't... look like him.'

Her face crumpled and she bowed her head. She looked to be weeping tearlessly and soundlessly. Mike reached out again and this time put his hand on her back. Feeling her bra strap beneath her pink top he withdrew it immediately, flus.h.i.+ng with embarra.s.sment.

Annoyed at himself, he glanced at the police surgeon, nodded and raised his eyebrows, silently asking the question: Is that all you need? Can we go now Is that all you need? Can we go now? The police surgeon nodded back and Mike said, 'Come on, Charlotte, let's get out of here.'

Charlotte blinked up at him, then looked blearily at her dead brother through the gla.s.s once again. 'What will they do with him?' she asked plaintively.

'Nothing,' said Mike, caught off guard by the question.

'Will they look after him?'

'Of course they will. Come on.'

Charlotte had to sign a couple of forms and then they were outside, blinking in the suns.h.i.+ne. As Mike drove her and her mother back to the boarding house, he had to fight down a constant urge to apologise for all the people they could see enjoying themselves. There were kids eating ice-creams; couples walking hand in hand on the promenade; shrieks of delight accompanying the blare of music from the fun-fair; groups of rowdy young men sitting outside pubs, drinking beer.

By the time they pulled up in front of Ambrosia Villa, Mike felt as if he was sweating not from the heat but the silence.

He cut the engine and looked at Charlotte, who had either fallen asleep or merely closed her eyes to blot everything out for a while. Glancing into his rear-view mirror, he saw Imogen sitting stiffly in her seat, staring into the distance.

'Mrs Maybury?' Mike said quietly. When there was no response he raised his voice a little. 'Mrs Maybury, we're here. Would you like me to come with you while you speak to your husband?'

Imogen's eyes flickered as if with fear. 'I can't,' she whispered.

Mike was considering how to respond when Charlotte murmured, 'I'll do it.'

Mike looked at her. She hadn't moved, but her eyes were open. 'Charlotte, you've done enough,' he said gently.

'I'll do it,' she said more fiercely. 'I'll do it now.'

Mike was naturally mild-mannered, but he couldn't help feeling a flash of irritation towards Imogen Maybury. He understood how utterly devastated she must feel, but all the same surely she should not continue to allow the full burden of responsibility to fall on the shoulders of her teenage daughter. He glanced again at Imogen in the rear-view mirror, but she failed or refused to meet his eye.

'Look, Charlotte, are you sure you want to go through with this?' he asked after a moment.

She nodded, her face set, giving nothing away. 'I'm sure.'

'All right,' Mike said. 'I'll come with you then - that's if you want me to, of course.'

The smile she gave him was stiff, but full of grat.i.tude. 'I would,' she said. 'Thanks.'

'Right,' he said. 'If you don't mind, I'd better just tell the Brigadier what's going on first or he'll be wondering where I am. Is that OK?'

Charlotte did her utmost to look brave, grown-up, mature.

'Of course,' she said.

It was only when the Brigadier switched off the RT that he realised he had hardly taken in a word that Mike Yates had said. He had conducted the conversation on autopilot, had presumably made all the correct responses - but to what information he had no idea. His mind felt like a landscape wreathed in fog, grey and vague and difficult to negotiate. He forced himself to concentrate hard, pressed his fingertips into his forehead and closed his eyes until eventually a phrase swam up through the murk. Just before putting the phone down, he remembered himself saying, 'All right, Yates, I'll get the Doctor on to it straight away.'

But on to what exactly? What was was it Yates had told him? it Yates had told him?

Something about... about... No, it was no good. He could recall the sound of Yates's voice, but his Captain might as well have been talking in double Dutch for all the sense it had made.

The Brigadier was appalled. He prided himself on his decisiveness, on being able to think quickly in tough situations. Healthy body, healthy mind and all that. Perhaps he was simply tired. Overwork. But he had never allowed it to affect him like this before. No, this one went on till he dropped. Hundred per cent commitment. Always been the case, always would be. There was something... something at the back of his mind. Oh, d.a.m.n it! What was it now? Think, man, think!

Something. Something the Doctor had said. Something about fish?

Absently the Brigadier rubbed at his shoulder, which had begun to itch and p.r.i.c.kle.

'Are you all right?' Tegan asked.

Andy blinked and puffed out a deep breath, shook his head quickly like a character in an old black and white comedy who has been bopped with a frying pan. 'Yeah, I'm fine,' he said.

'Just feeling a bit woozy all of a sudden.'

'Too much sun,' Tegan said decisively. 'Do you want to sit down?'

'No, honestly, I'll be all right in a minute.'

They were by the meat counter in Asda, shopping for the picnic they planned to eat up in the hills behind the town Just as Tegan had been asking him what he wanted in his sandwiches, Andy had staggered as if he'd had one too many, and had put his hand out to the gla.s.s counter to steady himself.

'You don't look too well,' said Tegan. 'You look a bit peaky.'

Suddenly he frowned and abruptly snapped, I said I'm fine, all right? Stop fussing.'

Tegan was too taken aback to get angry herself, besides which as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Andy was apologising for them.

'Sorry, that was uncalled for. I don't know what came over me.'

'That's all right,' Tegan said guardedly. Then, not wis.h.i.+ng to sour the lovely morning they had had, her voice became playful. 'Just don't do it again, all right? I'm enough of a hothead for both of us.'

He grinned, though Tegan couldn't help but detect a certain weariness in his expression. I hope he isn't getting I hope he isn't getting bored with me, bored with me, she thought before she could help it. 'Are you sure you still want to go on this picnic? We don't have to if you don't feel like it: she thought before she could help it. 'Are you sure you still want to go on this picnic? We don't have to if you don't feel like it: He looked genuinely alarmed at the thought of not going, which rea.s.sured her. 'No, of course I want to go,' he said.

'Don't you?'

' I I want to.' want to.'

'Well, then, let's get on with it.'

They bought some corned beef and ham at the meat counter and moved on to the bread aisle. Although this was less than ten years before the time she had last left 'her'

Earth with the Doctor, she was amazed at the lack of choice available and had to bite her lip to keep from saying so.

There was no vegetarian section, very few speciality or ethnic foods, no vegetables that couldn't be grown in the British Isles, no New World wines, and only a tiny amount of brown bread amongst the loaves of Nimble and Slimcea and Mother's Pride.

Tegan chose some crusty white and Andy grabbed a packet of jam tarts. They were at the checkout, a thin-faced girl with freckles and lank red hair grumpily running their purchases through, when Andy groaned and slumped forward as if he was about to be sick.

Everyone nearby stopped what they were doing and stared as he stumbled backwards, clutched at the edge of the checkout, missed, and thumped gracelessly down on to his backside. Some people t.i.ttered, others stared at him aggressively, as if they thought that by drawing attention to himself he was challenging them in some way. The checkout girl barely suppressed a sn.i.g.g.e.r as she raised herself to peer over the end of the checkout desk; it was clearly the most fun she'd had all day. Tegan would have bitten her head off if she hadn't been both discomfited by the all-pervasive atmosphere of hostility and concerned for Andy. She crouched down and placed a supporting hand on Andy's back.

'Are you all right?' she asked for the second time in the past ten minutes.

Andy looked at her, but seemed to be having trouble focusing. 'Feel so weird,' he said muzzily. 'Dizzy and sick.'

Behind the checkout a narrow aisle led to the exit, plastic chairs for pensioners and the footsore lined up along the wall. 'Come on,' said Tegan, 'let's get you on to one of these.'

With Andy helping as much as he could, she hauled him to his feet and dumped him on one of the chairs.

'Is your husband all right, madam?' said a voice from behind her. Tegan turned and saw a balding, fussy-looking man in a blue suit and flowery tie, his expression hovering somewhere between professional concern and disapproval.

'He's -' Tegan was about to say 'not my husband', but decided she couldn't be bothered to add fuel to the man's prissy little fire 'got some sort of virus. Sunstroke maybe.

Would you mind bringing him a gla.s.s of water?'

Mr Prudom - his name written on the rectangular badge affixed to his breast pocket above the words STORE MANAGER - - looked slightly put out by her request, but nodded. 'Certainly, madam.' He turned and clicked his fingers at the gawping checkout girl. 'Janice, bring this gentleman a drink of water, would you please?' looked slightly put out by her request, but nodded. 'Certainly, madam.' He turned and clicked his fingers at the gawping checkout girl. 'Janice, bring this gentleman a drink of water, would you please?'

Janice looked disgusted, but muttered, 'Yes, Mr Prudom,'

and wandered off on her errand.

'And would you mind calling us a cab?' Tegan asked.

Mr Prudom glanced around, but the other checkout girls were all busy. He looked momentarily trapped by his inability to delegate, then his shoulders slumped. 'Certainly, madam,'

he said again. 'I'll see to it myself.'

The water arrived and Tegan made Andy drink it. 'I feel such an idiot,' he said. 'Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.'

'You must have picked up a bug,' Tegan said. 'I'm going to take you back home to bed.'

'Sounds promising,' he said, managing a tired grin.

'Don't push your luck,' Tegan replied, but she was smiling too. 'I'm going to tuck you in, then I'm going to head back to my hotel. We'll go on our picnic another day.'

He sighed. 'Sorry about this.'

She rubbed his shoulder. 'Don't worry about it. It's not your fault.'

A few minutes later the cab arrived. 'Can you walk?' Tegan asked.

'I think so.' Andy stood up, then immediately had to clutch at her for support. 'Whoa, my head's spinning.'

'Just hold on to me,' Tegan said. 'We'll take it slowly.'

They were heading out of the door when Mr Prudom scuttled up behind them. 'Madam,' he said, 'your shopping.'

Tegan glanced back. Half of what they were going to buy for their picnic had been stuffed into a plastic bag, half was cl.u.s.tered at the bottom of the checkout conveyor belt.

With a wicked sense of glee which she did her best to conceal, Tegan said, 'You might as well put it all back. We won't be needing it now.'

Prudom's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. 'Yes, madam,' he said.