Part 2 (2/2)

Sloper suddenly remembered an Asian kid he'd got to know at school. The boy had turned up one term, exotic and alien, and calm, despite the bullying. With his faraway look he made Sloper feel mundane and trivial. So did this girl.

'Are you all right?' asked the Doctor.

'Fine,' said Sloper. 'Just glad to be away from Hexen Bridge.'

'Ah,' said the Doctor. 'Why am I not surprised to hear you say that?'

Ace glanced at a pa.s.sing road sign. 'That village seems very isolated,' she announced. 'Miles from anywhere.'

'I've often wondered about that,' said the Doctor.

'Don't wonder too hard,' said Sloper. 'I'll happily drop you off at the library in town but, if you want my advice, you'll have a much nicer holiday if you stay there. Hexen's good for nothing.'

And with that, and despite the sun rising into the azure sky, Sloper lapsed into brooding silence.

A magazine can tell the observant many things about the person who is reading it. This particular magazine was a music-and- fas.h.i.+on monthly, one of hundreds that cluttered the newsstands and kiosks of Britain. Its garish, brightly coloured cover was in stark contrast to the drab, grey formalism of the Daily Telegraph Daily Telegraph that lay on the plastic-topped table. Nails painted bright red grasped the pages of the magazine tightly. that lay on the plastic-topped table. Nails painted bright red grasped the pages of the magazine tightly.

The summer sun nervously pulled itself above the brow of a solitary hill, blinding the train pa.s.sengers with its unexpected brilliance. The girl cursed under her breath, swayed slightly as the carriages clattered through a series of tightly positioned points, and lifted a pair of vampish plastic sungla.s.ses from her handbag. She had put the bag on the aisle seat next to her to discourage anyone from sitting there.

Personal s.p.a.ce is very important to the average train user, and it was particularly, obsessively, important to Nicola Denman.

She glanced back at the magazine, but she had lost the thread of the article on the Star Jumpers' comeback tour.

She picked up the bottle of mineral water, but the taste was bland and insipid. Then the sun lost itself in the clouds again, and Nicola removed her gla.s.ses, and s.h.i.+vered.

Anyone in the train compartment with an active imagination, and too much time on their hands, might have paused to wonder at the way in which the girl and her bearded companion seldom made eye contact. They talked to each other in s.n.a.t.c.hed bursts of clumsy embarra.s.sment.

'I still don't know why you made me come,' said Nicola, stopping abruptly as if the danger of initiating a proper conversation was too horrible to contemplate. Her voice was soft and singsong, cut through on occasions with a strong, nasal Scouse inflection.

'You're not staying in the Pool on your own,' said the man flatly. 'If I've told you once I've told you a million times...' He paused, aware that he was raising his voice. Again.

'But, Dad...'

Her voice faded away as the train entered a tunnel and the compartment was, momentarily, plunged into darkness. By the time the train emerged a silence had settled between them, Nicola's father turned his attention to the Telegraph's Telegraph's article on the new Home Secretary's latest crackdown on youth crime. article on the new Home Secretary's latest crackdown on youth crime.

'I'm twenty, for goodness' sake,' exclaimed Nicola suddenly.

'I can look after myself.'

'Then act your age and stop sulking.'

Nicola Denman recoiled as if struck. Her father glanced up and saw that her eyes were swollen and red, as if on the verge of tears.

'I'm sorry,' he said.

'It's OK,' replied Nicola. 'I just hate travelling.'

'Remember that holiday on the Isle of Man?' asked Denman. 'You must have been about eight.' He stared at the countryside that pa.s.sed, a blur through the carriage window.

'You were so bored. Your mother and I were at our wits'

end...'

Denman gave Nicola's hand a pat of rea.s.surance, but she withdrew it quickly. You made me behave by threatening me with Jack i' the Green.' She paused for a moment, but the giddying momentum of her words carried her on. 'You said that Jack took all the bad little girls to Hexen Bridge to do terrible things to them.'

Denman's face was like thunder. 'You mark me well, Nicola Denman,' he said. 'The last thing I need right now is mockery.'

'I was just saying -' she replied, but was cut short.

'Well, don't,' don't,' he snapped. 'This reunion is important.' He stared out of the window again. 'We've been trapped by the past for too long.' he snapped. 'This reunion is important.' He stared out of the window again. 'We've been trapped by the past for too long.'

The library was a modern slab of a building, coloured concrete offset by large windows and an overfussy entrance.

It stood, awkwardly, halfway between its former location in the centre of the town and the new estate that was eating into the green land to the east. As a consequence, only the truly dedicated sought it out, a line of miserable-looking old people pa.s.sing through to read the newspapers.

'Why are we here, Professor?' asked Ace.

'Well, I like books, and...' The Doctor affected bafflement at Ace's question.

'You know what I mean.'

'Why,' the Doctor shrugged, 'does there have to be a reason for everything?'

'Where you're concerned there is,' said Ace. She ran a few paces in front of the Doctor, and turned to face him, both hands out in front of her. 'Whoa,' she said, stopping him in his tracks. 'C'mon. Spill the beans.'

'Here...' The Doctor held out his hand. In it was a crumpled, yellowing piece of card. The writing on it had almost faded , but the top line was still visible: HEXEN BRIDGE SCHOOL REUNION - 14TH JUNE.

'You went to school here?' asked Ace, incredulous.

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