Part 5 (2/2)

'Hmm? Oh, it's odd. As Steven said, they've changed the name. Recently, too.'

'Under new owners.h.i.+p?'

The Doctor shrugged. Maybe. It used to be the Jack Something-or-other. Unusual name. You were saying?'

'I was being sarcastic, Professor. A village straight out of Dracula Has Risen from the Grave, locals with a Hitler-fetish, and I'll bet bet I don't get served in here!' I don't get served in here!'

The Doctor chuckled. 'Patterns, Ace. Connections. There is a theory that everything in the universe is connected, and that nothing can change without affecting everything else.

Haven't you ever read Hsi Yu Chi?' Hsi Yu Chi?'

'I must have bunked off the day we did that in English,'

said Ace, laconically. 'I'll tell you what, though: if the guy behind the bar says, ”Don't get many strangers round these parts”, I'm off!'

The interior of the Green Man provided a welcome relief from the sticky heat of the village. With a number of curtains drawn across the windows, the only illumination was provided by the golden bars of light that slipped through gaps in the fabric and by a television above the bar. Copper pots on hooks hung from the exposed beams of the ceiling, and corn dollies and horseshoes needed in shadowy alcoves. Ace scanned the patrons for signs of trouble, but they all seemed content enough, supping cider and waiting for the cricket coverage to resume. A vague hush had fallen over the place, but that didn't bother Ace. Something similar had happened when she had walked into a pub in Willesden with Manisha to find she was the only white person there.

Ace turned to the Doctor, and was irritated to note that he was staring with innocent fascination at the TV screen.

'Oi, Professor, snap out of it!'

'Look, Ace!' said the Doctor with a smile.

'What is that?' that?' asked a horrified Ace. asked a horrified Ace.

'These little creatures are very loving,' said the Doctor.

'They have a wonderful quality of life.'

'Come off it, Professor,' said Ace, disgusted that the Doctor was going all soppy on her again. 'It looks like Play School Play School, with a bigger budget.'

The Doctor nodded, sadly. 'Ah, but if only we could repel alien invaders with the offer of a big hug and some tubbytoast...'

'You're still just an old hippie!'

The Doctor finally tore himself away from the television, and turned his attention to the rather stern-faced man behind the bar. He was, ostensibly, taking no interest in his new arrivals, having been casually reading a copy of the Daily Daily Star, Star, but Ace knew that he had been watching every move. but Ace knew that he had been watching every move.

'Good day,' said the Doctor, tipping his hat. 'I believe we have two rooms booked under the name of Smith.'

'That would be Mr and Mrs Smith, would it?' asked the man, his eyes barely leaving the newspaper.

'Doctor and Ms Smith,' corrected the Doctor with a charming smile.

Reluctantly, the publican left his stool at the bar and walked the short distance to a small reception area. After opening a leather-bound journal he seemed to take an eternity reading a yellow Post-it note. Ace fidgeted nervously.

'You're late,' he announced at last.

'My apologies,' said the Doctor conciliatorily.

'I can't do you any food now. Kitchen's closed.'

'That's quite all right. We've already eaten. At the local Chinese restaurant. You know it, I a.s.sume?'

Ace noticed the man stiffen. He had an imposing stature and Ace didn't like the look in his eyes at all. As the man returned his attention to the hotel register Ace whispered to the Doctor. 'Candidate number one for the nasty paint job?'

'Eh?' said the landlord, his head swinging upward.

'My niece was just admiring your magnificent collection of b.u.t.terflies,' said the Doctor, walking towards the nearest of several cases containing specimens. A row of gla.s.s-topped cabinets ran along one wall of the pub, up to the bar. 'This must represent a lifetime's work,' he continued.

'It must,' snarled the landlord bluntly.

'I used to be a bit of a lepidopterist myself,' noted the Doctor. 'May I?'

'Help yourself.'

The Doctor turned the key and opened the case. His fingers brushed against the closest creatures. He s.n.a.t.c.hed his hand back sharply with a brief exclamation of surprise.

He turned and smiled beguilingly at the publican. 'Mr Matson, isn't it? Yes, if you'd like to show us to our rooms, please.'

Matson grunted and moved towards the stairs, without any indication that the Doctor and Ace should follow.

'What's up?' asked Ace, again in a whisper.

The Doctor glanced at her quickly. 'They were freezing cold,'

he replied.

'Arrgh!' Ace leapt out of the shower, dripping wet, and swore violently under her breath. Typical of a place like this: just when you're enjoying yourself, the hot water runs out. Ace s.h.i.+vered as her bare shoulders were caught by a blast of cold air from the extractor fan, and she hurriedly wrapped a towel around herself. Time to ask a few more pertinent questions, she thought, and she marched unceremoniously through the connecting door to the Doctor's room. She found him lying on the bed, his hat over his eyes, apparently sleeping.

'This is a right dump,' she said moodily.

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