Part 9 (2/2)
Simon looked as the other two turned and looked at the strange little man. He shrugged at them. 'Doctor, I'm Simon Griffiths. From Castle Hill, New South Wales. Remember?
Who're Barbara and Susan?'
The Doctor still did not look up. 'Sorry, Steven, m'boy.
My mind was wandering.'
'Simon. Not Steven.'
Carfrae reached out to the Doctor and he turned sharply.
Involuntarily she stepped back.
'Oh, do be careful Dorothea. . . sorry, Dodo!' He stared at her. 'No, it's not Dodo, is it? Hair's wrong, too long. Vicki?
No . . . Carfrae! Got it at last. Carfrae Morgan. Simon Griffiths and Peter Moore. I'm in c.u.mbria. I remember now.' He put the book down and smiled at the others rea.s.suringly, as if putting inappropriate names on people was an everyday occurrence. 'It was the book's fault. Or rather the RTC - made my mind wander back to my previous self. He used to get very confused, poor fellow.
Couldn't remember people's names even when they were there, let alone when they'd gone for a walk. Now, are Ben and Polly back yet? I want to get them inside the Ex-Area before we switch on.'
Simon decided it would be best to ignore the Doctor's ramblings but before he could say anything Carfrae suddenly gasped.
'Doctor, who repaired your coat?'
The little man frowned. 'What?'
'Your coat. The hole in the pocket and that stain on the lapel. They've gone. Been repaired or cleaned. But I saw the tear a few moments ago. That little red book you took from the library was poking through.'
82.Peter groaned. 'Typical. We're hunting ghosts and mad Teutonic mugs with guns and you're worried about a spot of needlepoint.'
'No!' The Doctor jumped up and yanked the red book from the repaired pocket. 'No. Carfrae's right to be alarmed.'
He waved the pocket book at them. 'This was the only other one I could find with RTCs on it. And it's altered my coat, time-warped it. That's why I was being strange. Both books in close proximity. No wonder we got rid of them.'
'Rid of who?'
'What. Got rid of what. Books coated in RTC. The libraries on . . . at home used to have a few. Our leaders decided they were too dangerous and banned them. Oh, my giddy aunt, this is bad news. I must keep these books apart.'
With almost comic reverence, the Doctor gingerly picked up the large book and carried it to the door, next to Peter but still within the area outlined by Carfrae's acoustic dampers.
Then he crossed back and placed the pocket book diagonally opposite it, near where he was sitting. 'Let's hope that opposites don't attract or we could find ourselves caught in a time storm of sorts.'
'Yeah. Let's hope not, eh,' said Peter warily. Unseen by the Doctor he made a twirling motion with his finger next to his head and Simon grinned.
'And no, Peter, I'm not mad.' The Doctor turned and grinned. 'Just alien.'
'Alien?'
'Yes, Carfrae, alien. Like your Ms Thorsuun. Not from the same planet of course, but nevertheless we're both not from around here.'
'Like not English?'
'Like not human.'
Simon swallowed hard. This was ludicrous. This man was telling them he was from another planet. And Ms Thorsuun.
What was more ludicrous was that he believed everything the Doctor was saying. 'Ghosts?'
'No. Ghosts as such don't exist. Not ghosts as spirits of the dead. Ghosts are a far more scientific reality - after 83 images if you like. Like tea stains on wallpaper that won't disappear no matter how hard you scrub. Your ghosts are etched into walls, floors, everything as sound and picture bytes. The correct resonance or electricity in the atmosphere can bring them back. That's why you don't get ghosts in brand-new buildings. Unless they're from the future and that's a quite different sort of ghost. And I'm not a ghost.'
All Simon could think to say was, 'Oh.'
'What about the woman I saw?' asked Peter pointing to his bandaged arm. 'That seemed real enough. And she saw me.'
'No, she saw something,' corrected the Doctor. 'Roughly where you were standing but back in Victorian times. And it must have been quite alarming because old Mrs Wilding wasn't a woman easily frightened.'
'Who?' chorused the three students.
The Doctor pointed at the pocket book. 'I flicked through Mrs Wilding's diary there. She was the housekeeper and nurse to a Richmond Dent who owned this house. I suspect she was also far more in charge than Dent would have liked.' He stopped and stared at the three teenagers who were staring at him. Or were they?
He stood up but they did not blink or flicker. The Doctor walked towards them but they were frozen, staring at where he had been. Suddenly he felt his leg tingle and found he was having difficulty breathing. 'Treacle,' he muttered. 'It's like treacle.' He managed to step back and the tingle went.
The book. Mrs Wilding's diary. The Doctor scooped it up and dropped it back in his pocket and walked forward, carefully going between the students. This time nothing stopped him. He reached out for the door but his hand went straight through it.
'Or maybe I am a ghost after all.'
The wind from the sea blew into their faces and Polly s.h.i.+vered. She grasped Ben's arm tighter. 'Why did we come back this way? It would have been quicker up the path, past the Gatehouse.'
84.'Yeah, but I wanted to check the TARDIS was OK, and it's down by the railway line on the beach, remember?' Polly nodded and pointed. 'Hey, who's that?'
Ben followed her line of vision. A man in a brown duffel coat was digging a hole - or filling one up - on the clifftop.
'h.e.l.lo!' called Ben.
The wind s.n.a.t.c.hed his voice away but the man heard something because he looked around him before seeing the two time-travellers. He looked back down at his hole and patted the hurriedly replaced soil before Ben and Polly got any nearer.
'My name's Coates. Charlie Coates. I work for your Ms Thorsuun,' he replied to Ben's introduction.
'As in Smithers and Coates. I heard Kerbe mention you,'
said Polly.
'Sounds like a revolver to me,' laughed Ben but Charlie Coates did not smile back.
'If you'll excuse me, I got work to do.' He swung his shovel over his shoulder, tipped his cap's peak to Polly and walked away.
'Strange man,' said Polly. 'I wonder what he was doing.'
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