Part 3 (1/2)

'Not exactly.'

'Then...'

'It's a long story.'

'I'm listening.'

'Let's go inside, and I'll tell you.'

Some stories have no ending, but they all have a beginning.

And in this case, the beginning came when the Doctor, then in his third incarnation, was exploring the area around the Wilts.h.i.+re village of Devil's End, after his defeat of the Daemon, Azal. The Doctor never quite knew what it was that made him take Bessie up the unmarked side road, the same road that, four regenerations later, he and Ace walked along before the intervention of the local milkman. But the Doctor had, and what he found made him curious.

'Perhaps it was the lack of birdsong,' he explained to Ace, reaching to right a toddler who had just collapsed, face down, in front of him. The child's mother emerged from the romantic fiction section and withdrew the boy without a word of thanks. An expression of fear had tightened the woman's soft, pleasant face, and Ace couldn't tell if she was afraid of them or of their conversation.

'There's certainly a strange, oppressive atmosphere over that village,' continued the Doctor at length. 'You'll see what I mean when we get there.'

'So that's where we're going?' quizzed Ace.

'That's where the battle will be fought,' continued the Doctor, using the same image as earlier. 'I always meant to return to Hexen Bridge and investigate further, but time never seemed to allow. In fact, it wasn't until my exile on this planet had come to an end that the place came to mind again. I was in the area once more. Another spot of bother, just a few miles down the road.'

'What happened?'

The Doctor paused. 'I've always thought I'd make a good teacher. The responsibility of disseminating information to young, inquiring minds...'

Ace was used to these tricks. 'Professor, you're changing the subject.'

'Am I?' said the Doctor absent-mindedly. 'That probably explains why Ian and Barbara and I got on so well, doesn't it?

Anyway, to cut a long story short, I managed to get a place on the board of governors at the Hexen Bridge school. I've kept an eye on the place ever since.'

'And this?' asked Ace, gently tapping the invitation card.

'Oh yes, I've had that for decades. Of course, in Earth terms I would have picked it up two weeks ago from a dead-letter office in London. I'd almost forgotten about it. I mean, when I got it I had a different face. You know how it is.'

'And when is now now, incidentally?'

'The early years of the next millennium.'

'It's not changed much from my time,' said Ace.

'No,' smiled the Doctor. 'And that's why I like it.' He got to his feet, and made his way towards the stairs that led up into the reference department. 'To business.' He glanced back over his shoulder at Ace, grinning apologetically. 'It's not very exciting, but it will help to oil the wheels later on.'

'Really?'

'Oh yes.'

The Doctor spent the next couple of hours photocopying dozens of maps, photographs and pages from books of local history.

Ace found a recent newspaper and turned to the sports section. 'Aw,' she wailed. 'Look where Charlton are now. GM Vauxhall Conference...'

'It could be worse,' replied the Doctor. 'Have a look at a.r.s.enal.'

The Doctor and Ace struck up a conversation with Mark, a young librarian who had been keen to show the eminent visiting professor of history as much as he could. While Ace busied herself looking through a huge bundle of papers and feeding two-pound coins into the photocopier, the Doctor - having glanced around nervously in case of being overheard - asked Mark about Hexen Bridge.

'If you'd asked my old dad about Hexen you'd have got a right mouthful in return,' the young man replied.

'Is that so?'

'Yeah. All the old 'uns reckon it's a bad place. You bad place. You know what West Country traditions are like? They're stories to frighten the children, aren't they?' know what West Country traditions are like? They're stories to frighten the children, aren't they?'

'You don't believe in them, then?' asked the Doctor.

'Oh, no. Well...' Mark paused. 'I'll tell you something for nothing: very few people ever go anywhere near the place after dark. It's stupid, but for a long time there were stories of people going missing and the like. I suppose most folk think it's better to be safe than sorry.' He paused as he found another reference for the Doctor, which he slid across the desk towards him. 'There's a lot of local rivalry with the Hexen lads, mind you. We always called them ”thick Hexies”, and told the same sort of jokes about them as other people do with the Irish.'

The Doctor picked up a map of the area and circled Hexen Bridge with his finger.

'Nothing within ten miles?'

'Never has been.'

'Never?'

'No,' said Mark, seeming to realise for the first time how strange this was. 'Well, they like to keep themselves to themselves, if you know what I mean.'

The Doctor nodded. 'And you're sure there's no aerial photographs?'

'Positive. Just maps.'

Ace overheard this last comment. 'Significant?' she asked the Doctor.

'Possibly,' he replied, before turning back to Mark. 'Thank you very much for your help. Ace, come on.' He scurried towards the door. 'Places to go, people to see, things to do.'

'Terrific,' said Ace sullenly. 'No chance of anything to eat, I suppose?'

'As soon as we get to Hexen Bridge,' he said.

An old man, walking into the library, stopped and called after the Doctor and Ace. 'I heard that,' he said. 'You don't want to be going there, boy.'

'I beg your pardon?' said the Doctor. He wasn't easily surprised by anything, but he hadn't been called a boy for almost a thousand years.