Forever Autumn

by Mark Morris

  He levered himself out with no apparent effort, then grabbed Martha’s hand and hauled her out just as easily. Not for the first time she was surprised – and impressed – by his wiry strength.

  Together the two of them then pulled Etta out of the window. She was not a slim lady, and it was a narrow gap, but after a bit of oofing on everyone’s part they managed it.

  Standing in Etta’s backyard, mist curling around them, the Doctor suddenly looked a bit awkward.

  ‘Um… sorry for causing you all this bother,’ he said to Etta.

  She looked sternly at him for a moment, and then her face broke into a smile. ‘You know what? I haven’t had this much excitement in years.’

  The Doctor looked delighted. ‘Aw, bless.’

  ‘So what now?’ Martha asked.

  He puffed out his cheeks. ‘Well, I dunno about you, but I’m parched. Back to the hotel for a nice cuppa, I think.’

  ‘Jeez, will you get off my case!’ shouted Chris.

  He jumped up from the breakfast table, pushing his cereal bowl away, causing milk to slop onto his place mat.

  ‘Hey! Don’t talk to your mom like that,’ growled Tony Pirelli.

  ‘But she’s treating me like a kid,’ Chris protested.

  ‘Well, that’s probably because you’re acting like one,’ his dad said.

  The boys’ mother, Amanda, looked upset. ‘I only wanted you to have a proper breakfast,’ she said. ‘You know I don’t like you skipping meals, Chris.’

  ‘But I’ve told you,’ Chris said, ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘And why is that?’ his dad asked pointedly.

  Chris spread his hands. ‘I’m just not. Why does there have to be a reason?’

  Suddenly Tony Pirelli looked very serious. ‘It’s not drugs, is it, Chris?’

  Chris rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, gimme a break.’ Then he became aware that both his parents were looking at him, their faces grim and anxious. He looked back at them, aghast. ‘Man, I don’t believe this. No, it’s not drugs. Drugs are for losers.’

  ‘But you are a loser,’ muttered Rick, who was obediently eating his Cheerios and had been silent up to now.

  ‘Takes one to know one, runt-features,’ Chris said.

  ‘I am not having that kind of talk at the meal table,’ snapped Tony.

  ‘He started it,’ Chris protested. ‘Why don’t you tell him?’

  ‘I’m telling both of you,’ said their dad.

  ‘Sorry, Dad,’ said Rick demurely.

  Chris pulled a disgusted face. ‘I’m outta here.’

  ‘Not before cleaning up this mess you’re not,’ his dad said, indicating the spilled milk on the table.

  Chris tutted, grabbed a wad of kitchen paper and used it to mop up the milk, then dumped the wet paper in the trash. ‘Now can I go?’

  ‘That depends where you’re going to,’ his dad said.

  ‘Nowhere,’ said Chris, then seeing the thunderous expression forming on his dad’s face he sullenly conceded, ‘Brad’s.’

  ‘And will you and Brad be coming along to help us set up the Halloween Carnival?’ Tony asked pointedly.

  Chris shrugged. ‘Dunno.’

  ‘It would be nice if you did, Chris,’ his mom said. ‘I’m sure your dad and the rest of the Halloween Committee would be grateful for all the help they can get.’

  ‘Yeah, whatever,’ Chris said and slouched towards the door. Then he sighed and turned back. ‘Maybe we’ll come along later,’ he muttered.

  ‘Don’t bust a gut,’ his dad said.

  As he tromped down the street, Chris felt bad. He hadn’t liked running out on his parents, but he was still scared after what had happened in the night, and being scared had made him too angry to talk. He just needed to be on his own for a while to think about what he’d seen and what, if anything, he was going to do about it. He turned out of his street and was heading off down the road towards town, when a voice behind him shouted, ‘Hiya!’

  Chris turned. Jogging towards him through the mist was a skinny man wearing a tight suit and a long brown coat, an inane grin on his face.

  Oh great, Chris thought, this is all I need. Scowling he said, ‘Have I got a sign above my head or something?’

  The man stopped and scrutinised him so intently that Chris felt as if his thoughts were being read. Then the guy glanced above Chris’s head. ‘Er… no,’ he said. ‘Should you have?’

  Chris sighed. ‘Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested. What is this? Hassle Chris Day or something?’

  ‘There you go,’ said the man. ‘Knew I was right.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About you being him.’

  ‘Who?’

  Under his breath the man said, ‘Blimey, it’s true what they say about teenagers.’ Slowly he enunciated, ‘You. Chris. Pirelli. Yes?’

  Chris scowled. ‘So what if I am?’

  With a pleasant smile the man said, ‘Tell you what, Chrissy boy, let’s just skip all the teenage angsty stuff. We’ll take it as read that you’ve got issues, that no one understands you and that you’re confused about your sexuality.’

  ‘I’m not—’ Chris began, but the man shushed him.

  ‘Because otherwise this planet will be in flames by the time we finally finish this conversation, and if anyone tries to blame me for not saving it like I usually do, I’ll just point the finger and say, “It was his fault – Mr Awkward Pants here”.’

  Chris stared at the smiling man and noticed again how dark and weird his eyes were. Maybe he was just a loon, though Chris couldn’t help thinking there was more to him than that. He couldn’t help thinking, in fact, that the guy was not just smart, but that somehow he saw everything.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m the Doctor,’ the man said.

  ‘The Doctor?’ repeated Chris heavily.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said the man, as if he expected Chris to be impressed.

  ‘Ohhh-kay. So what’s that supposed to mean? Is it, like, some online geek-boy name or something?’

  The man blinked, swallowed. For a moment he looked uncertain how to respond. Then he said, ‘Anyway, moving swiftly on… Where’s the book, Chris?’

  ‘What book?’

  Suddenly the guy looked deadly serious. ‘I really haven’t got time for this.’

  ‘But… but I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Chris said weakly.

  The man stared at him a moment longer – and then the easy smile was back. ‘No, you don’t, do you? So what’s bothering you then?’

  Again Chris got the impression that the man could see into his head. ‘Nothing,’ he said quickly.

  ‘OK,’ said the man with a dismissive shrug and turned away. ‘See you later.’

  Chris stayed silent for maybe three seconds, watching the man – the Doctor – saunter along the sidewalk. And then he called, ‘What makes you think I’ve got stuff on my mind?’

  The Doctor stopped. Then he pivoted on his heels. His face was grim, but not unsympathetic. Quietly he said, ‘Oh, I’ve seen so much fear in my life, Chris. So many people with so many secrets that they can’t or won’t or daren’t share. And you know what the funny thing is? Most of the time those people don’t even know why they’re keeping their secrets. Maybe they think they won’t be believed, or even that people will laugh at them.’ He shrugged. ‘I dunno. What do you think?’

  Chris was silent for a moment, then he blurted, ‘I saw something!’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ said the Doctor casually.

  ‘Last night. I woke up and I looked out of my window, and… and…’

  ‘And I promise that whatever you tell me, I’ll believe you,’ the Doctor murmured, and Chris saw in his dark, unblinking eyes that the Doctor was speaking the truth.

  So he told his story – about the strange light, and the tree that wasn’t a tree, and about how the man who couldn’t possibly have been a man (no matter how much Chris had tried to convince himself otherwise) had been
swallowed by the earth.

  The Doctor’s eyes got starier and darker during the telling. And the more Chris talked, the more the Doctor looked as if he was trying to remember something important.

  ‘Tell me what this tall man looked like,’ he said, after Chris had described how the figure had sunk into the ground.

  ‘He was the thinnest guy I’ve ever seen,’ Chris said, ‘and he had these great big hands with fingers that were, I dunno, maybe a foot and a half long? And a huge head, like… like…’ It suddenly dawned on him what the thing’s head had reminded him of. ‘Like a Halloween pumpkin.’

  The Doctor raised his eyebrows as realisation dawned. ‘Hervoken,’ he said, and he said it in such a way that it made Chris shudder.

  Chris licked his lips. He could barely get his voice above a whispery rasp. ‘Pardon me?’

  ‘Hervoken,’ the Doctor repeated, then he half-spun round and slapped himself theatrically on the forehead. ‘Oh, I should have realised! Why didn’t I realise? What a prawn!’

  Bewildered, Chris said, ‘Hey, don’t beat yourself up about it, man. So what are these…’

  ‘Hervoken,’ the Doctor said for the third time. ‘They’re—’ He looked as if he was about to launch into a whirlwind explanation, then suddenly checked himself, as if he had belatedly realised the full extent of Chris’s confusion and fear, and had decided that maybe the boy wouldn’t be able to handle it. Abruptly he grinned and gave Chris a friendly slap on the upper arm. ‘Never you mind, feller. You just keep your head down and leave it to me. I’ll sort it.’

  ‘Will you?’ Chris said, clearly out of his depth.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ said the Doctor with a confident wink. ‘Do this sort of thing all the time, me.’

  Martha was not a happy bunny. After getting back to the hotel the night before, she had generously offered Etta her bed, half-hoping the Doctor would offer her his in return. It was not that she expected him to declare his undying love for her or anything, but a little old-fashioned chivalry at the end of a long day would not have gone amiss.

  Instead he had said goodnight seemingly oblivious to her situation, leaving her to make the best of a small sofa, on which she could only lie down if she brought her knees up to her chest. Even then, she was so tired that that might have been bearable, were it not for the fact that Etta’s snoring had kept her awake all night. If she hadn’t heard it herself, Martha would never have believed it possible that someone could snore even louder than her brother Leo after a few drinks. The noise Etta made was like the braying of a distressed donkey – and what was worse was that it never stopped. It went on and on and on…

  In the end Martha shut herself into the bathroom and tried to doze in the bath with a big fluffy towel half-wrapped round her head.

  When even that didn’t work, she got up, grabbed herself a long, hot shower and went off in search of the Doctor and coffee.

  But the Doctor’s room was locked and he didn’t answer her knocks. And when Martha asked Eloise Walsh about him, she was told that he’d headed out, fresh as a daisy, at first light.

  ‘That’s if you can even call this daylight,’ Eloise said mournfully, staring at the thick veil of green mist pressing against the glass-panelled doors of the hotel. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it, and I’ve lived in the Falls all my life. Gives me the creeps, I don’t mind telling you. Hope it passes in time for the Carnival.’

  Martha shrugged. ‘Won’t it just add to the atmosphere?’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Eloise doubtfully. ‘It’s a tad too much atmosphere if y’ask me. After what happened to poor Earl last night, I’m thinking of staying right here this evening – and I haven’t missed a Halloween Carnival since I was a little girl.’

  ‘How is Mr Clayton today?’ Martha asked.

  ‘That’s Dr Clayton,’ corrected Eloise.

  ‘Sorry. Dr Clayton.’

  ‘He’s as comfortable as they can make him, from what I hear. Having to feed him with tubes, though. Poor feller must be scared out of his wits.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Martha. ‘He must be.’

  ‘So you and this doctor of yours didn’t find anything last night?’ Eloise asked.

  ‘Not much,’ said Martha evasively, ‘but we’re working on it.’

  Eloise gave her a shrewd look and pointed at the ceiling. ‘So who’s your friend?’

  ‘Ah.’ Martha and the Doctor had sneaked Etta into the hotel to avoid convoluted explanations. ‘So you know about that then?’

  Eloise smiled thinly. ‘I may be old, Miss Jones, but I’m not deaf.’

  Martha looked suitably abashed. ‘Yeah, the snoring is a bit of a giveaway, isn’t it?’

  Eloise said nothing, merely raised an eyebrow. She was evidently waiting for an explanation.

  Martha sighed. ‘It’s Etta Helligan.’

  Now Eloise raised both eyebrows. ‘Etta? Well, in that case, would you care to tell me why you brought her back here? You and that doctor friend of yours kidnapping our old people?’

  Martha couldn’t tell whether Eloise was joking or not. ‘We met her when we were out last night,’ she said. ‘We walked her home, but then we… we heard someone outside her house. A prowler or something. We didn’t like the thought of leaving her on her own, so we… brought her back here.’ Fearing that Eloise would start picking holes in her rather feeble explanation, she asked quickly, ‘Have you any idea which way the Doctor went?’

  Eloise shrugged. ‘Can’t say I have. Guess he just went for a walk to clear his head. Be back soon, I dare say.’

  ‘Yes, I expect so,’ said Martha. ‘Well… see you.’

  ‘You going for a walk too?’

  Martha laughed lightly. ‘I need a bit of fresh air. Well…’ She glanced dubiously at the green mist beyond the doors ‘… Air, anyway. After last night I feel a bit… you know?’ She pointed meaningfully up at the ceiling.

  ‘I hear you,’ said Eloise. ‘You want me to give Etta a message if she shows her face?’

  ‘Just tell her… I’ll be back soon.’

  Martha exited the hotel at something of a loss. It would be pointless wandering around town looking for the Doctor, but she certainly couldn’t face sitting in her room, going stir crazy, waiting for him to show up. She looked around, and through the murk hanging over the central square she noticed a flashing neon sign. The words were blurry, but she could just make them out: LEO’S DINER.

  Leo. Same name as her brother. That had to be an omen. As if spotting the sign had prompted it, her stomach rumbled, and she realised she hadn’t eaten anything since the chocolate fudge sundae she’d scoffed in Harry Ho’s yesterday afternoon.

  Right, she decided, breakfast. After the torture of last night’s snore-fest she deserved the full works – bacon, sausage, eggs, beans, hash browns, toast, marmalade… and lots and lots of caffeine.

  She walked across the street and into the diner. It was warm and smelled of frying bacon and coffee. The mist outside and the condensation on the windows gave her the impression the building was wrapped in green cotton wool. There was music playing in the background: bland American rock by the sort of group who named themselves after where they came from – Boston, Chicago, something like that. The place wasn’t very full, possibly because it was early, or because the mist was making people reluctant to leave their homes. Like every other place in Blackwood Falls, the inside of the diner was decorated with the trappings of Halloween – paper ghosts, cardboard witches, glow-in-the-dark skeletons.

  Above the counter a row of spiky-furred cats made of black crepe paper reminded Martha of Etta’s murderous moggies. She wondered whether the Doctor had gone back to the old lady’s house, and decided that if he didn’t turn up within the next hour then that was where she would head for.

  It wasn’t much of a plan, but having one at all made her feel a little better.

  ‘Table for one?’ called the grizzled, sweating man cooking food behind the counter.

  ‘Please,’ said Martha.


  ‘Sit anywhere you like, sweetheart. We ain’t exactly busting at the seams this morning.’

  Martha plonked herself in a booth by the window, where she could look out into the street. Not that she could see much. The slowly swirling mist was like a reminder of how tired she was, how sluggishly her thoughts were moving about in her head.

  A grinning girl with bright blue eyes and ash-blonde hair appeared at her table and cried chirpily, ‘Hi, I’m your waitress this morning and my name’s Cindy.’

  ‘Yeah,’ muttered Martha under her breath, ‘it just had to be.’

  If Cindy heard Martha’s comment she didn’t let on. Eager as a cartoon chipmunk she asked, ‘What can I get for you this morning?’

  Martha gave her order and Cindy went away. Thinking of Leo reminded Martha that she was back on present-day Earth, which meant that she could try giving Tish a ring. She took her mobile out of her pocket and scrolled through her address book until she found her sister’s number. She was about to press the Call button when it suddenly occurred to her that for Tish this wouldn’t actually be the present day.

  Martha had got so used to rattling back and forth through the centuries with the Doctor that a few months – or even a year or two – before or after that spring day she had originally stepped aboard the TARDIS seemed neither here nor there to her. But calling Tish might change all that, might prove totally disastrous, in fact. What if, for instance, this was a few months into Martha’s future (and she was ashamed to say she was only assuming this was 2008; she hadn’t actually checked) and she called home only to find that something terrible had happened? Or what if, when she rang Tish, her future (or past) self was actually there with her sister in the room, and Tish was so freaked out by the experience that it led to… to what?

  The Doctor had once told Martha how the same person from different time lines should never come into contact with themselves because it would unravel the web of time or something. She had never really thought about that until now, but all at once she realised how tricky and complicated and dangerous the consequences of time travel could be. Not because of the monsters you might meet along the way, but because of what you yourself, with an act of thoughtlessness, might unwittingly set in motion.