Dr. Who - BBC New Series 28 (23 page)

The Doctor nodded. ‘Yeah. An older version of her daughter.’

‘Oi!’ Donna laughed and linked arms with the Doctor.

‘Come on, spaceman. You’ve stared down Sontarans, Pyroviles and the Fishmen of Kandalinga. I don’t really think my mum’s that scary.’

‘You don’t?’

‘Nah. Unless it’s Monday. Mondays, she gets one of her ’mares on. Is today Monday?’

‘Today is indeed Monday.’

Donna held him a bit tighter. ‘My turn to protect you then, eh?’

A few days later, and mankind had, as it always did, coped and moved on. MorganTech had officially crashed and burned, it’s CEO and executive staff declared bankrupt in absentia.

The M-TEKs had been recalled and destroyed and a warrant was sent out for the arrest of Dara Morgan, until the truth was established about his identity (or at least the fact that he
wasn’t
Dara Morgan), at which point the whole MorganTech affair came under the jurisdiction of UNIT and vanished from public view. The people guarding the craters had woken up, completely baffled as to why they were there. They were arrested, but would no doubt all be freed once UNIT got involved.

The Noble family were heading to the RPS – Wilf was finally getting his dinner and the Naming Honour. Netty was with them, bustling around with Sylvia, getting ready, trying on hats with alarmingly larger feathers and

laughing at silly little things along with Donna’s mum.

Wilf and the Doctor had sensibly escaped to the back garden, drinking tea and discussing in hushed tones the Doctor’s various adventures with ‘the outer space robot people’, with each tale usually ending in uproariously raucous laughter.

Donna wandered through the patio doors to hush them.

‘You’ll have Mum wondering what you’re talking about, and then the game’s up.’

‘Not gonna tell her the truth, then?’ The Doctor raised an eyebrow at both of them.

A quick look shot between grandfather and granddaughter, followed in unison by ‘Are you mad?’

‘She’d definitely kill you this time,’ Donna said.

‘After killing me for keeping secrets,’ Wilf agreed.

The Doctor shrugged and changed the subject. ‘So, tonight’s little shindig. What time are you heading off?’

‘
We
are heading off at seven,’ Donna said.

The Doctor opened his mouth to protest, to say the last thing he wanted was another RPS dinner, another chance to be pooh-poohed by Doctor Crossland or get into a long, dreary, conversation with Ariadne Holt about finger-painting or her terrifying lack of sartorial elegance.

‘Brilliant,’ he said unenthusiastically. ‘I may need to nip back to the TARDIS to, um, change my suit.’

Donna shook her head. ‘You are staying right here, Sonny Jim.’

‘Here?’

‘Here.’

‘No TARDIS? No suit?’

‘No TARDIS, no suit, no emergency calls from Princess Leia suggesting you’re her only hope.’ Donna swept up the tea mugs. ‘More tea?’

The Doctor nodded.

Sylvia emerged, phone to her ear. ‘Really?’ she was saying. ‘Well it must’ve been stolen in all that kerfuffle with the lights and everything… Oh, right. Well
that’s
a bit dodgy, hoping someone will steal your van for the insurance. Oh well, all right, I’ll see you later. Bye, love.’

She switched the phone off. ‘Mr Webb’s blue Transit got stolen – turns out he wanted it to go, left the keys in it and everything, so he could claim the insurance. Apparently it turned up, burned out, somewhere in the East End. I dunno, some people…’ She had something else in her hands and she dropped it in front of Wilf.

It was the pile of pamphlets for the nursing homes, torn in half. ‘I think Netty should move in here. With us.’ She touched Wilf’s cheek. ‘With you.’

Wilf stood up and hugged his daughter.

‘No,’ said Netty from behind them all, looking magnificent in her latest hat. ‘My mind is clearer now for the first time in ages. But I can’t move in here, Sylvia.’

‘Why not?’ asked Wilf.

‘Oh, you dear, sweet man,’ Netty winked at him. ‘You make me so happy, but I’m not a fool. It’d be good to stay with you while I’m compos mentis. But if…
when
I slide again, you two aren’t equipped to deal with me. The strain, the pressure, it’s not fair on you. On either of you.’

She scooped up the ripped pamphlets. ‘If it’s all right with you both, though, I could do with a lift to some of

these, see if we can’t find one we all like.’

Sylvia touched Netty’s arm. ‘That’s a huge decision,’

she said. ‘Are you sure, because I wasn’t just saying what I said to be nice. I think you should be here, part of the family.’

Netty looked at the Doctor. ‘What do you think, Doctor?’

The Doctor looked at Sylvia, then Donna, then Wilf.

Then finally back at Netty. ‘I think, Henrietta Goodhart, that you are a wise, sensible, strong lady who knows her own mind better than we all realised and will do what’s right.’ He swiped the tea mugs from Donna’s hands. ‘And I’m not family, and I really want to bow out of this conversation gracefully, so I’ll go and put the kettle on.’

He quickly walked back into the house, washed out the mugs and filled the kettle, looking out of the kitchen window at the group in the garden and smiled to himself.

‘Chicken,’ said a quiet voice in the doorway.

‘It’s your mum and granddad’s life, Donna,’ he said.

‘Not anything to do with me. Families.
So
not my thing.’

Donna joined him by the sink, looking out of the window. ‘She seems so… in control now. So…’

‘Normal?’

‘Well, I might not have used that word exactly, but yeah.’

‘It won’t last.’

Donna didn’t look at him. ‘Why not? Maybe storing all that Mandragora energy cleared her neural wotnots, sorted it all out.’

‘It’s at least second-stage Alzheimer’s, Donna. That’s

decay,’ he replied quietly. ‘It doesn’t get better, it mostly gets worse. There’s no miracle cure, I’m afraid, no magic solution for Netty. Her mind is a bit like a car windscreen.

In some respects, the Mandragora Helix was the carwash, cleaning it up for a while. But it won’t be long before all the dirt and insects and dust and scratches come back. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s so wrong.’

‘Yup, it is. But life is never as convenient as we’d like.

There’s a million ailments, illnesses and diseases in the universe. If I believed something as malign as Mandragora could erase just one of them, I’d let it. I’d have allowed it to remain, doing some good. But there’s never any miracle cures for things like that. Life’s not like that. But it shouldn’t stop people looking because one day, they will find an answer.’

‘And that’d mean you were wrong.’

The Doctor laughed. ‘Yup. It happens sometimes. And sometimes I like it. I wish I could find a way to help her, but I can’t.’

‘What about Granddad?’

‘He’s a grown man. He’s made a rational, adult decision to look after her for as long as he can. That makes Wilfred Mott a Very Good Man in my book.’

‘Mine too.’

‘Perhaps we should stay for a while, help Netty get settled in somewhere. You could spend some quality family time with your mum?’

Donna shook her head. ‘We’re fine at the moment.

Another week, we’d be under each other’s feet, fighting,

yelling, sniping.’

Through the window, out in the garden, they watched Sylvia and Netty going through the brochures.

‘Where’s that tea, then, eh?’ said Wilf from behind the Doctor and Donna.

‘Granddad,’ Donna said suddenly. ‘Maybe I should put you and Mum first. Perhaps I should stick around, help you out with Netty.’ She looked at the Doctor. ‘God knows, I’d miss you and all… that…’ She pointed towards the sky. ‘But maybe it’s time to grow up a bit.’

Wilf hugged Donna. ‘Sweetheart, what makes you happy?’

Without missing a beat, Donna looked at the Doctor.

‘And you think I’d be happy knowing I was responsible for you giving all that up? Think Netty would?’

‘But you and Mum, you need me…’

‘Maybe, but we’ve managed OK for a while now. I’d rather know you were out there with the Doctor, doing to other planets and people what you did for Earth the other day.’

‘And Netty?’

Wilf smiled sadly. ‘She’s ill, and eventually she’ll go.

So will I. And your Mum. And none of us will have seen and done all the marvellous and thrilling things you have.

All them memories you’ll have. Netty’s illness could take her in five years or next Thursday. She could also walk in front of the Number 18 to Kew Gardens. I won’t let her illness, or our sadness at you not being around, stop you living the life you’ve chosen. Out there. With him.’

The Doctor put an arm around Donna. ‘I’ll look after her.’

‘Too right you will, mate, or there’ll be trouble, remember?’ Wilf switched the kettle off as it began to boil. ‘Listen, I promise – me, your mum and Netty – we’ll still be here next time you visit. I’m not letting Netty go anywhere, someone’s gotta keep me on the straight and narrow.’ Wilf began making the tea. ‘You’re a smashing lady, Donna Noble,’ he said. ‘And I’m proud to know you and love you.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Now, go call a cab, I’m not risking your mum’s driving after she’s had a couple of sherries tonight.’

He passed a mug of tea to them both, and raised his in a toast.

‘To family. And bonds that can never be broken.’

ONE DAY … (Reprise)

It was raining up on the hill, the steady patter-patter-patter hitting the vast golfing umbrella like bullets on tin. Truth be told, it was raining everywhere, but up on the hill, here in the allotment, that was the only place Wilfred Mott really cared about it raining right now.

He stared up at the stars, up at his star, still there, no longer heralding the destruction of Earth, humanity or anybody.

Not even Netty.

‘How was she?’ he said, hearing footsteps trudging through the soggy allotment behind him.

Sylvia sat beside him, gripping his thermos, testing to see how warm the tea inside was. ‘I should’ve brought you up another one,’ she said. ‘We didn’t go to see her.

Donna’s out with Susie Mair, and I couldn’t face it.’

Wilf looked at his daughter. There was something…

She was holding an envelope out to him.

‘Bit late for the post, darlin’,’ he said.

Sylvia didn’t say anything, she just waggled the envelope at him.

Wilf took it. No stamp, hand delivered, addressed to MUM.

‘Lukas Carnes delivered it this afternoon. He said she told him to do it six weeks after he last saw Donna, no matter what.’

‘Did Donna see him?’

Sylvia shook her head. ‘She was upstairs on the net.

Didn’t even hear the bell. Lukas lives in Reading now. I think the Doctor must’ve sorted it for them. Lukas thinks she’s still…’ Sylvia pointed to the stars. ‘He thinks she’s still out there, with him. No reason to spoil his dreams, is there?’

Wilf gave his daughter a hug. ‘We’ll get through all this, love.’

‘We have to, don’t we? For Donna, I mean.’

‘And for the Doctor.’

‘Who looks out for us now, Dad?’ Sylvia suddenly said.

‘I mean, I never liked the man, but even I know when I’m wrong. He saved the world, he made Donna happy. He kept us alive more than once. But if she’s not with him, his link to this planet, what makes him come back here, to care about us?’

‘Because he’s good like that,’ Wilf said. ‘Because he’s the Doctor and when we need him, he’ll be there. It’s what he does.’

‘But what if he isn’t? I mean, I felt safe before. I didn’t know about Sontarans and Mandragora and Daleks. Not

knowing kept us all safe. But now we all know the universe is so much bigger than us. Than you, or me. Or even Donna.’

Wilf looked up at the stars again, just in case that marvellous old TARDIS flew past.

Nothing.

‘Well, there’ll always be someone.’

He opened the letter.

Sylvia stood up. ‘I’ll go get you another thermos, OK.

Back soon.’ And Sylvia reached down to kiss his cheek, but instead gave him a massive, and frankly too tight, hug.

‘I love you, Dad,’ she said quietly.

Then she was gone.

Donna wasn’t the only one the Doctor had changed, Wilf thought a little sadly and, at the same time, a little happily. Sylvia Noble was a more stable person, all told, these days. So what was in this letter that had made her so… touchy-feely tonight, then?

He reached into his bag and got out a little halogen torch he used to read his astrology books by when he was out at night.

He recognised the writing, of course.

Donna’s.

His lovely, clever, brave, beautiful Donna’s.

Dear Mum

You asked me what I do. What the Doctor and I do.

And I lied. I’m sorry. I told you he was a fixer, that we nipped around the country and fixed things. That I was his PA. Not true. Well, of course it isn’t and I’m not sure you believed me anyway, you’re my old mum, you’re sharper

than that. Remember what Nanna Mott always said? You can’t hide secrets, cos there’s no such thing. Someone always knows – otherwise who told you the secret in the first place? So true.

Well, a couple of years ago, I was drifting. Job to job, place to place – thank God I took that job at H.C.

Clements. Thank God I let you nag me into it (even if it wasn’t actually the job you wanted me to do) – not that I told you that then of course, oh no. That would’ve let you off the hook too easily.