Doctor Who BBCN10 - The Nightmare of Black Island (4 page)

‘No, no, no. This is all wrong!’

‘What is it?’ Rose’s heart was in her mouth. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘This estate!’ The Doctor nodded at the houses. ‘It’s all wrong. Not in keeping with the rest of the village at all! Why do they let people build things like this? It’s not on, you know, modern estate like this in a conservation area. I’ve a good mind to write to the council.’

Rose was speechless. The monsters were emerging from the trees now, there was nowhere to hide and the Doctor was wittering on about sympathetic building styles!

‘Still,’ he went on, ‘it’s probably attracting new people to the area and everyone living round here’s obviously doing quite well. Couple of cars in each driveway, quite a few four-by-fours. . . Which is good,

’cause it allows me to do this!’

He raised his sonic screwdriver, winked at Rose and pressed his thumb against the button.

Every car alarm went off simultaneously. Rose clamped her hands over her ears, trying to drown out the cacophony. The noise was horrendous, but she thought she could just make out the howls of the creatures over the din.

22

Then, just as suddenly, it stopped.

Rose looked up. The Doctor was standing in the middle of the street, grinning happily. He tucked his sonic screwdriver back into his pocket and nodded over at her.

‘That worked, then.’

The monsters were gone. It was as if they had never existed. She and the Doctor were in what looked like an ordinary housing estate.

Unremarkable. Boring.

Lights started to come on and curtains were pulled back as people stared out into their driveways. A door opened and a man in his dressing gown peered out at them, his face uncertain, angry.

Rose cocked her head to one side, listening. From inside the house she could hear a child crying.

Rose looked over at the Doctor. ‘Listen.’

The Doctor had heard it too.

‘Yes.’

The man in the dressing gown took a tentative step towards them.

‘What are you doing out there?’ he shouted. ‘Don’t you realise how late it is?’

More lights were coming on all over the estate now, more curtains twitching. The Doctor started to make his way down the hill towards the harbour. He turned to Rose.

‘Come on. We’d better make ourselves scarce. Probably not a good idea to stay outside.’

Rose hurried to catch him up. ‘You think those things are still going to be around? I thought you’d got rid of them.’

‘The noise seemed to scare them off, but I’ve got no idea where they went. And I certainly don’t know where they came from.’

The faceless modern style of the estate gave way to a more rustic flavour, with small stone cottages, shops full of postcards and tourist paraphernalia, tearooms with posters advertising trips around the bay in their windows. Fishing boats and small yachts bobbed in the harbour, halyards clanking in the wind.

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The Doctor strode down to the harbour wall, hands thrust into the pockets of his coat, and stared out across the water.

‘That’s one bit of the puzzle, out there. Sure of it.’

Rose followed his gaze. ‘The lighthouse?’

‘Yeah. Maybe. Thought I caught a glimpse of a light out there when we were up on the cliff top, just before we went into the woods.’

‘And that’s what’s causing the creatures?’

‘Could be. Need to get out there and have a gander at some point.’

Rose peered over the wall at the churning water. ‘Bit cold for a dip.’

‘I was thinking a nice little boat trip.’

‘You can’t just nick someone’s boat!’

‘I wasn’t going to!’ The Doctor looked indignant. ‘I was going to use my boyish charm to persuade one of the locals to take me out there.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Rose stifled a smile. ‘And where were you hoping to tryout this “boyish charm” of yours. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s the middle of the night and the place is deserted.’

The Doctor turned and nodded at the large, imposing building that dominated the seafront.

‘The pub.’

‘Bit late for that, isn’t it?’

‘Lights are still on. Perhaps they’re having a lock-in. Come on.’

Beth Hardy was changing over the bottle of single malt, trying to ignore the noises that floated on the wind outside. The spirits had been going down fast since. . . since it all started. She’d have to get another order in with the wholesalers, make up another excuse about why her order had almost doubled in the last month. Not that they were com-plaining about it, of course. The Red Lion had become their favourite client of late.

The public bar was full as usual, but there was none of the usual chatter that you’d associate with a busy pub. Groups of people sat hunched over their pints and glasses, silent and grim-faced, occasionally looking up if some distant noise reached them from outside.

Upstairs she could hear the sobs of her daughter, Ali, and the deep rich tones of her husband, soothing her, calming her. It was the same 24

every evening as Ali’s bedtime approached, the false bravado that came as night started to fall, then the anger that there was nothing that her parents could do, and finally the tears as sleep slowly started to take a hold of her.

Beth could see the pain in the faces of a dozen men at the bar, knowing that they, like her, had reached a point where they just didn’t know what to do any more and had found other ways of shutting the heartache out.

From the other side of the bar, in the restaurant area, came the sound of raised voices: accusations and counter-accusations. She could hear Bob Perry, the harbour master, followed by the dulcet tones of Reverend Hall appealing for calm. Beth shook her head. Nothing good ever came of these village meetings. Old arguments reared their head time after time, the parents like herself desperately looking for answers and the vicar repeating that they should have faith. Beth’s own faith was at breaking point.

The door behind her opened and Mervyn, her husband, stepped back into the bar, giving her a weak smile.

‘She says she’s going to read for a while. That new
Invisible Detective
book Maureen gave her.’

Beth nodded. They both knew that it was just delaying the in-evitable. However much Ali fought against it, sleep always won the battle and the nightmares would start again.

‘How’s it going through there?’

Beth shrugged. ‘Just the usual. Bob and the vicar sniping at each other, one blaming the Devil, the other blaming anything and everything.’

‘I’ll go and see if I can calm things down a little.’

He squeezed her arm and crossed the room. Beth sighed and picked up the bottle of whisky from the bar. She was lifting it up to the waiting optic when the door swung open with a flurry of wind.

The bottle nearly slipped from her fingers, thumping against the side of the bar. In the doorway stood a tall, thin-faced man in a long brown coat and a young girl huddled into a parka.

Everyone in the pub turned to look at the Doctor and Rose, surprise 25

etched on their faces. Seemingly oblivious to the attention he was attracting, the Doctor strode across to the bar, a friendly smile on his face. Rose followed him nervously, aware of the stares. The babble of conversation from the restaurant had stopped too and the pub became frighteningly quiet.

‘Right, Rose. What are you having? They’ve got those little cheesy biscuits! I love them!’

Rose tugged at the sleeve of his coat. ‘Doctor, I really don’t think these people are happy to see us.’

Beth felt her heart jump. ‘Doctor? You’re a Doctor?’

‘Yes.’ The man gave her a puzzled look. ‘Why? Is there something wrong here?’

‘Yes. Please. . . ’

‘That’s enough, Beth!’ Mervyn’s voice boomed across the bar. He pushed his way through the tangle of tables. ‘Who are you? How did you get here?’

The Doctor turned to face him. ‘I’m the Doctor, this is Rose. We walked.’

‘Walked?’

There was a low murmur from the watching regulars.

‘Yes. Through the woods. Quite an interesting walk, wouldn’t you say, Rose? Lots of wildlife.’

Mervyn flinched. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘And we found a large pool of blood by the shore.’ The Doctor’s voice was hard now. ‘I don’t suppose you’d know anything about that either?’

Beth saw her husband’s fists clench.

‘I think that you’d better go.’

Beth clutched at her husband’s arm. ‘Mervyn! We can’t send them back out again. Not at night. You know we can’t! He says he’s a doctor. He might be able to help! What harm can it do?’

‘Mummy, what’s going on?’

The tired voice cut through the bar. Beth turned to see her daughter standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes, a colouring book tucked 26

under her arm. ‘I heard the door open. I thought you said no one could go outside.’

Beth scooped Ali up into her arms. ‘That’s right, baby. It’s dangerous outside.’

‘I’ve been drawing. Drawing the monsters.’

She held out her book. There was a crude pencil drawing of a tall grey monster with four arms and huge teeth. Beth heard the girl Rose gasp.

‘Doctor, that’s the thing we just saw in the woods.

The thing from my dream!’

The Doctor plucked the drawing book from Ali’s hand, studied it for a moment, then fixed Beth with a piercing stare. ‘What is going on here?’

Rose sat close to the roaring fire in the corner of the pub, sipping gratefully at a mug of hot chocolate. The Doctor was at the bar, talking animatedly with a gaggle of villagers. The arrival of the little girl, Ali, couldn’t have been better-timed. Rose was sure there would have been a fight if she hadn’t turned up when she did, and the Doctor didn’t look like he was the brawling type.

The Doctor’s psychic paper had helped as well, of course. Mervyn, the landlord, had asked to see some identification and the Doctor had been only too happy to oblige. Whatever it was that the villagers saw on the paper, their relief was obvious and their hostility quickly evaporated. Now they were only too eager to accept the Doctor’s offer of help.

Ali pushed another sheet of paper in front of Rose. The little girl seemed to have taken an instant liking to her and was now perched on a barstool on the opposite side of the table, colouring furiously in her book.

Rose picked up the drawing. Another monster, all fangs and horns and fur. Whatever was going on here was clearly terrifying the children.

A flurry of rain rattled the window and Ali looked up, fearful.

Rose patted her hand. ‘It’s just the wind.’

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Ali nodded and returned to her drawing, but she kept a wary eye on the curtains.

At the bar the Doctor was getting frustrated.

‘But surely you’ve tried to tell someone about what’s going on?’

‘Oh yes, sure.’ Bob Perry took a long gulp of his pint. ‘Monsters roaming the streets, that’s really going to sound good. Think that the Assembly in Cardiff has got a department that deals with that, do you?’

‘You might be surprised. . . ’

‘The phones go dead.’ Beth’s voice was timid. ‘As soon as they appear, nothing but static.’

The Doctor gave her a curious look, leaned across the bar and picked up the phone that stood next to the till. There was no dialling tone, just an undulating hiss.

He frowned. ‘Every time the creatures appear?’

Beth nodded.

‘OK, so you can’t phone. But you can prove these things exist, surely? Just get the authorities to come here after dark!’

‘And go roaming through the woods with a torch? You’ve seen what it’s like out there.’

‘If we stay indoors they don’t bother us.’ Beth wouldn’t meet his gaze. ‘And the days are safe.’

The Doctor looked at her. ‘Safe? We. . . saw a young man, a fisherman out on the cliff tops. And now there are just pools of blood.

What about him?’

The villagers shuffled uncomfortably, staring into their glasses.

‘Dead?’ Bob’s voice was shaky. ‘They’ve never killed anything before. . . ’

‘Well, they have now.’ The Doctor’s voice was firm. ‘Who was he?’

‘Tourist. Camping out on the headland, I thought.’

‘If he was out after dark. . . ’ Beth’s voice tailed off.

‘And none of you bothered to warn him?’

The villagers looked sheepishly away from the Doctor and for a while no one spoke. Then Mervyn shook his head and said, ‘You must 28

be wrong. He’s probably just gone home. Saw how the weather had changed and went home.’

There was a general mutter of agreement.

The Doctor was incredulous. ‘You can’t just ignore this as if it never happened!’

‘They’ve never killed anything. You’ve no proof. No proof at all!’

‘There was blood on the rocks!’

‘We’ve only got your word for that.’

The Doctor shook his head. For whatever reason, the villagers were refusing to accept the reality of the situation. This was more than just pig-headedness. There was genuine confusion in their faces. It was as if they were finding any excuse they could, anything to avoid confronting the problem head on.

‘His fault, isn’t it?’ A broad Welsh accent cut across the pub. ‘He came back! I told him not to come back!’

The villagers groaned and there were angry mutterings.

‘Shut up, Bronwyn!’ someone shouted. ‘No one asked you!’

‘No one ever does, but it doesn’t mean I’m wrong.’

A stout lady in her seventies pushed her way to the bar and stood there, tapping on the polished surface with a bony finger. Her silver hair still had streaks of auburn and her eyes were a brilliant grey.

‘All started as soon as Nathaniel came back.’

‘Give it up, Bronwyn.’

The pub erupted into a babble of raised voices. This was obviously an old argument.

‘Who’s Nathaniel?’ The Doctor had to shout above the hubbub.

‘Who is he?’

‘Nathaniel Morton, a retired industrialist,’ said Mervyn. ‘Took over the old rectory at the beginning of the year. Spent a fortune on the place, putting new windows in, new roof.’

‘Thinks he’s lord of the manor,’ Bronwyn sneered.

The Doctor shrugged. ‘And?’

‘He’s a local boy, or was, a long time ago.’

‘Local? Hah!’ Bronwyn snorted contemptuously. ‘Turned his back on us, he did. Betrayed us. Came back when he said he never would.’