by Doctor Who
'I don't think there are assassins waiting round every corner,' the Doctor said.
'Assassins?' She frowned.
'He's just a boy,' Rose blurted out, suddenly upset and annoyed at the thought there might be people who wished him harm. Perhaps what had happened to Beth was somehow to do with Freddie. 'It's so unfair.'
'Unfair,' Anna agreed quietly. She bit her lip, just as Freddie had done a few minutes before, sitting in the same chair. Their expressions were almost identical, but years apart. 'Yes. So unfair.'
They sat in silence for a moment. Rose looked at the Doctor. The Doctor shrugged. Then Anna stood up and spoke.
'I shall ask Dickson to drive you to Wembley, if that is convenient.'
'Thanks,' the Doctor said.
'And Freddie may come with you in the car. But then Dickson wil bring him straight home again. So that nothing happens to him.' She nodded, the decision made, though from her expression even this was not an easy choice to make. 'I real y cannot al ow him to wander about outside on his own. But he wil enjoy the car journey. Thank you.'
'There's a kid in the block cal ed Josh,' Rose said while they waited. 'His mum never lets him play out or anything. It's sad.'
'What's he like?' the Doctor asked.
Rose shrugged. 'No one knows. Quiet. Lonely.'
'Quiet ones rebel.'
'You'd know,' she teased. But he didn't answer.
The car was huge and noisy and black. All the cars, not that there were many, seemed to be black.
'Black is the old silver,' the Doctor told Rose when she pointed this out.
Freddie was excited. There were no seat belts, which worried Rose. What made her even more anxious was the way Freddie bounced on the leather seat as he stared out of the window, giving a running commentary on each and every little thing – interesting or not. The Doctor saw her watching anxiously, and shook his head – the boy was enjoying himself, and it didn't seem as if that happened often.
After about ten minutes, Freddie settled down as the novelty wore off. Rose was sitting next to him on the bench seat across the back of the car. The Doctor was opposite them on a seat that folded down from behind the driver, like in a cab. A glass screen separated them from Dickson in the front.
'It's strange seeing London with so few cars and people,' Rose said.
The Doctor nodded. 'More cars'l come soon enough.'
'And lots more women than men,' she realised.
'It's 1924,' the Doctor said, as if this explained it. 'There're about two mil ion more women than men in Britain.'
Freddie nodded. 'Because of the war.'
'Of course,' Rose realised. 'That's why it's al so quiet.'
The Doctor leaned forward. 'That's why there are so few young men. The 1919 flu killed far more people than the Great War ever did.' He leaned back again, and closed his eyes. 'Whatever humanity inflicts on itself, nature can always go one better.' He opened his eyes again, but they were unfocused, as if staring at a different scene. Rose had to lean forwards herself to catch what he was saying:
'...col apsed in the street. School children died at their desks between sums.'
'We're here,' Freddie said, his excited voice contrasting with the Doctor's sudden mood. The boy leaned across and took Rose's hand. 'You wil tel me al about it, won't you?'
Rose smiled and squeezed his hand. 'Promise.'
It was massive: a city of classical buildings fashioned from grey concrete. A size and scale and sense of optimism that put the Millennium Dome to shame. Each and every country and dominion and colony of the British Empire was represented, some with their own vast concrete pavilions, some sharing with others.
Formal gardens and walkways meant that the mass of grey was never overpowering. Rose found it hard to credit that only eighty years before her time Britain stil had an empire, although the Doctor explained it was more like the European Union – a col ection of states and countries that in this case shared a common history rather than a common geography. But despite the fact that Britain no longer ruled many of them directly, there was a sense of cohesion and pride everywhere. In the enormous British government pavilion, a gigantic relief map of the world showed the extent of the empire. Even now, a quarter of the way through the twentieth century, that empire covered a quarter of the world.
It was both boring and fascinating in equal measure. Whenever they got tired of one thing, they simply moved on until something else caught their interest. They seemed to walk for miles. By late afternoon, as the light was fading and the crowds were thinning, Rose found it hard to distinguish between the different pavilions and exhibitions. She could remember grimacing at a collection of fox furs – silver, black, red and white – but could not recal whether they were from Canada or Newfoundland. Or Burma.
She remembered both of them laughing at a field full of ostriches, but were they from South Africa or Tristan da Cunha? It was behind the ful -size working replica of a diamond-washing plant, she knew that.
And it wasn't just the pavilions – each of them in the style of magnificent buildings in the country they represented. There was a South African train, where the Doctor and Rose were served sandwiches for lunch. There were flickering black-and-white films of local life in the various dominions and colonies.
Tribal people from West Africa living in an exact replica of their own vil age at home, overshadowed by the concrete pavilion from India – its style reminiscent of the Taj Mahal.
There were sideshows and minor exhibits everywhere. In the Indian pavilion, it seemed as if every prince in that country had a stand where his staff were at pains to show off their ruler's achievements and the attractions of the local region.
'So nothing from Russia then,' Rose observed as they final y reached what seemed like the last few buildings.
'Nah – not part of the empire.'
'Got their own.'
The Doctor nodded. 'Yep. It'l last a while yet, though it's not in the greatest shape.'
'The revolution,' Rose said, thinking back to the discussions at Sir George's that first evening.
'Mmmm.,
'Not a great way to run an empire, I s'pose. Shooting the king or whatever.'
'The Tsar. And his wife. And his kids. No, not great... Mind you,' the Doctor added, 'Charles I got his head chopped off.'
'That was ages ago.'
'Which makes it better?' The Doctor clicked his tongue. 'Only ten minutes away in the TARDIS. Ends and means, always tricky.' He was looking round, as if trying to decide which way to go next 'The women had diamonds sewn into their clothes. Bul ets went whizzing round the room as they bounced off. Dead in a cel ar,' he sighed, his breath misting the air. 'One of the most powerful families on the planet, and that's about the only thing people remember about them. That and haemophilia.' He seemed to have lost interest suddenly, and quickened his pace.
'Haemo-what?'
'Got it from Queen Victoria, something else people forget. it's a hereditary thing, stops the blood from clotting. The girls were fine, but poor little Alex had it. Nasty.'
Rose nodded, vague memories of a TV news item about exhuming the Tsar's family drifting back.
'Good job Charles I didn't have it then.'
The Doctor grinned back at her, and the past was the past again – something distant you could joke about, not a tragic memory. 'Like I said, it's the one thing people remember about the Romanovs. That and the fact they died.'
At the back of the vast exhibition area was an enormous amusements park for the children. Here the variety and divergence of the lands of the empire made way for a full-size model of the old woman who lived in a shoe. There certainly were so many children that no one could have known what to do. But it seemed to Rose she hadn't actually been too hard done by – with all manner of games and amusements including a miniature railway to entertain her guests.
Freddie, she thought sadly, would have adored it. The place was like an innocent and naive version of the theme parks Rose knew. Instea
d of rol er coasters and rides, there were see-saws and swings and rocking horses. And instead of bored parents shouting at their children or ignoring them, there was an army of uniformed nurses supervising the youngsters so that parents could wander freely through the empire of reality while their children explored the wonders of this imaginary world.
'That's progress for you,' she thought.
But the biggest shock was the final building.
'Know where you are yet?' the Doctor asked, amused at Rose's expression as she realised what she was looking at. Union jacks flew from the flagpoles on the two gleaming white towers. The whole magnificent edifice looked new and confident and as if it would stand for ever as a reminder of the temporary world the Doctor and Rose had just walked through.
'Wembley Stadium.'
'They call it the Empire Stadium,' the Doctor told her. 'Largest sports arena in the world. Bigger than the Colosseum.'
'I saw them pul ing down the towers,' Rose said. 'On the tel y.'
'It opened for the FA Cup final last year, 1923.'
She was standing in awe, looking up at the white concrete that seemed so strong and permanent.
Remembering the indignity of its destruction. 'Who won?'
The Doctor stared at her in something approaching disbelief. 'Bolton Wanderers,' he said. 'Who else?' In the same tone of voice, he added, 'It wasn't just random, you know. Whoever took the TARDIS
must have had a good reason. It's time we got this sorted.'
SIX
The building on the opposite side of the street was an imposing shadow in the gathering evening. Ronald Cheshunt sniffed and nodded as he watched the uniformed doorman walk slowly back and forth, gloved hands behind his back, feet stamping to keep warm.
'Never done a club before,' he confessed. 'You, Matty?'
Matty Black shook his head. He was a tal , lean man. A contrast to the rather shorter and more portly figure of Cheshunt 'Looks easy enough.'
Cheshunt rubbed at his misshapen nose with a cal used hand. 'Yeah. Easy. Tel us again what you're after.'
The woman remained in the darkest of shadows. The only good glimpse that Cheshunt had caught of her face had been a blank mask – literal y. A smooth, paper-white approximation of a face made al the more disconcerting by the way her real eyes stared darkly out of it. 'Anything relating to the Doctor and Rose Tyler. You will search their rooms, now I have told you where they are. You wil check their belongings, papers, clothes. I shall need a full description of everything.'
'Right. Yeah.'
'In addition, I want to know how and if they are registered as guests or members. What sureties if any they have offered. Who has vouched for them and under what circumstances. In short, whatever is recorded about them in the club's records. The register is in the front desk. The other records are in the safe, as I have told you. I shal also want to know of any security measures you encounter.'
'You what?' Cheshunt stared at the woman, his face almost as blank as hers.
A sigh from behind the mask. 'What precautions they have taken to deter intruders such as yourselves. Alarms, strong rooms, defences. Anything.'
'Oh, right.'
'There must be stuff more valuable than just papers and records,' Matty insisted. 'We'l come out of there laden,' he hissed excitedly to Cheshunt.
'You wil not,' the woman said sharply. Her eyes glistened in the pale shape of the mask. 'You wil confine yourselves to the matters I have specified. I would rather no one even knew you had been there.' She hesitated in the darkness, then went on, 'You may be wondering how I already know so much.'
'Your business.'
'True. But it may be of interest to you to know that an... associate of mine spoke to one of the staff at some length. I would have preferred to have her make further enquiries for me, but sadly she was not co-operative.'
'Yeah,' Matty said, not at al interested. 'Very sad.'
'My associate had to deal with her quite sternly.' She leaned forward and the glow from a nearby street lamp made her white face shine like a ghost. 'In fact, very sternly. As a result the unfortunate woman's services are no longer available to me. Or to anyone.' The face turned slowly from Cheshunt to Matty and back again. 'Do I make myself clear?'
Cheshunt could feel his heart thumping rhythmical y in his chest as he realised what she was tel ing them.
'Very clear, lady. Very clear.' He nudged Matty with his elbow. We won't be taking nothing the lady don't want from inside. Al right?'
Matty nodded, looking down at his feet as he shuffled nervously under the gaze of the faceless woman and the burly Cheshunt. If he saw the black cat stretched out in the shadows nearby, staring at them through startlingly green eyes, its ears pricked up attentively, he said nothing.
After they left the British Empire Exhibition, the Doctor and Rose took a cab back into the centre of London and went shopping. It was getting late, and the shops were beginning to close, but Rose stil managed to find some clothes that she would feel more comfortable in. A wool en suit and a less frumpy dress were her main purchases. Jeans – or indeed any women's trousers – and T-shirts were nowhere to be found.
'Camouflage jackets are hard to find too,' the Doctor said.
Rose wasn't sure if he really wanted one or if he was joking. She didn't ask.
By the time she got back to the imperial Club, Rose was exhausted. She and the Doctor ate dinner with Wyse, who was keen to hear al about their day. He nodded understandingly as they told him that Freddie had not been al owed to go to the exhibition. He seemed pleasantly surprised, though – as they had been – that Anna had let him come in the car. Rose pushed her food round the plate, too tired to eat much at al .
By the end of the meal, she could hardly keep her eyes open. The Doctor and Wyse were talking politics. Or something. Boring, whatever it was. She made her excuses and left them to it. The Doctor was obviously happy to continue his talk without Rose's help, though he was polite enough not to say so.
Back in her room, Rose struggled into a long nightdress that the Doctor had insisted she get. She wasn't convinced, and she decided to wear it more for novelty and authenticity than comfort. And because she was too tired even to take it off again as she col apsed into bed.
Of course, once she was in bed, Rose could not get to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she seemed to find herself walking through yet another concrete pavilion. Her feet felt as if they had forgotten how to stop walking, and she found that she was thinking about everything in terms of exhibits. She imagined the Doctor and Wyse playing chess, and they were in front of an audience, sitting in an exhibition area on display. Each of the chess pieces seemed to be at once in the game and in a glass cabinet ready to be admired for the craftsmanship it demonstrated.
She dozed, and woke and half slept and half woke again. Everything and nothing was part of her dreams. She was walking through the club, peering into the display cabinets that seemed to be everywhere. In one of them she was startled to find Aske staring up at her. He winked. Moving on, she found Repple waiting in the next cabinet, just as she realised she had expected. But this was a working exhibit, a demonstration. The side of his face had been stripped away to reveal the workings inside – the skull and the brain. One eye stood proud, as in a diagram on the classroom wal , to show its workings, complete – impossibly – with labels.
'Why doesn't he bleed? 'Freddie wanted to know. He was standing the other side of the cabinet, looking over at Rose.
'He isn't real,' she assured him. 'They're just made up for the show.'
There was a banging sound now. Like a knocking. She knew it was Aske, trying to get out of his cabinet. Knocking for help. Becoming more and more frantic. Yet she could not look away from the prone figure of Repple. 'Help him!' she shouted at Freddie.
But he shook his head. 'I might get hurt.'
Then suddenly the room went dark, and Rose realised she was awake at last. And the banging, thumping, agonised heartbeat of sound was stil there
above her.
Rose sat up in bed, suddenly alert as she struggled to shrug off the dream and cling to what was real. Sounds – scrapings, movement. Above her. From the ceiling, from the floor above. Then a skittering like claws, or perhaps just a suitcase being moved. Because she realised with a flush of relief that there was someone in the room above. That was al . The reclusive Mr Pooter had returned from his travels.
Even after the sounds stopped, Rose could not get back to sleep. She seemed to be more awake now than she had ever been. She was also hungry, and wished she had eaten rather more of her dinner. She lay there for a while in the near-darkness. Then she decided this was sil y, and she got up and put the light on.
After a few minutes wandering round the room aimlessly, she went through to the little adjoining lounge. She waited there for several minutes, sitting on each of the chairs in turn and finding none of them comfortable. Then she went over and knocked on the connecting door to the Doctor's room. There was no answer. When she put her ear to the door, she could hear nothing. She opened the door a crack.
'Doctor? Doctor – are you awake?'
Stil no answer. She held her breath, trying to listen for his breathing to tel if he was asleep. Nothing.
'Oh, this is stupid,' she said out loud. 'I can't sleep, and I don't believe you even do sleep.' She fumbled round on the wal inside the door, and found the bump of the light switch – so much more prominent than the flat white plastic light switches in her flat. It was as if someone had stuck half a cricket bal there.
The lights came on, harsh and unforgiving, to reveal a bed that was not only empty but unslept in.
Typical. He was probably stil playing chess. She went back to her own room to find some clothes.
'You know, sometimes I despair of the empire, I real y do.' Wyse kept his fingers on the rook as he considered his move. 'Yes, why not?' he decided.
'Oh?,
'This passion for self-determination and allowing colonies to secede.'
'Not in favour?' The Doctor considered his next move. He blew out a long breath; it real y was quite difficult.
