Doctor Who and the Daleks

by David Whitaker

  ‘Rest quietly for a minute. You’ll be all right.’

  ‘Susan…’

  ‘Yes, I know. You started to tell me your name before—’

  She shook her head and I rescued the handkerchief and started to refold it.

  ‘No, Susan is on the road,’ she said, ‘she was in the car with me.’

  ‘I’ll go and have a look in a moment.’

  ‘No, now. Please!’

  I heard the urgency in her voice. I nodded.

  ‘All right. Is it straight ahead?’

  ‘I’ll come with you. I must. She’s hurt.’

  ‘What happened?’ The answer came to me almost as soon as I asked. ‘Car crash?’

  ‘Yes. Thank heavens you pulled up. You’d have driven right into it.’ She started to get out of the car.

  ‘You’ve hurt your shoulder, you know.’

  ‘It’s all right.’ I helped her out, pretending I hadn’t noticed the agony on her face as she moved her injured shoulder.

  ‘You’d better show me. But say if you don’t feel up to it.’

  We began to walk along the road and we had taken only a few steps before the fog swallowed up the headlights of my car and the fog pressed in around us.

  I said, ‘How badly hurt is she?’

  ‘I don’t know. There was a lot of blood on her face. It was a big lorry. An army one, I think.’

  We groped our way forward, inching our way, but still I nearly tripped over the shattered wing of the lorry that had been wrenched away from the main bodywork. I guided the girl around it and broken glass began to crunch under our feet. It was a strange, eerie sound in the silence of the night. The outline of the lorry appeared and we circled round it cautiously. It was lying on one side and sprawled half in and half out of one of the driving cabin windows was the upper half of an army corporal. I climbed up as far as I could on the twisted metal and it looked as if the man had been hurled sideways at the moment of impact, the glass of the window shattering but holding him from being thrown out into the roadway. I stared at him for a second or two and then stepped back on to the road.

  ‘Is he all right? Hurt badly, or what?’

  I looked at her, wondering what state she was in to hear what I had to say. The pause seemed to be sufficient for she turned her head and peered through the eddying mist at the body.

  ‘He’s dead.’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  The fog was beginning to line the back of my throat and, for the first time, I became aware of the strong smell of petrol. One of the lorry’s headlights still glared out into the night and I thought the less chance the petrol had the better. I felt a sudden anxiety that there would be a short circuit and the whole wreckage would explode in our faces. I climbed up again.

  ‘I’ll have to turn the lights off but don’t move for a moment. We’ll never find each other again.’

  It was an unpleasant business. I had to engineer the dead body back into the cabin before I could wrench open the door and then scramble over to reach the light switch. The smell of petrol was stronger than ever inside the cabin and it was becoming more and more difficult to breathe, but I managed to reach the switch at last and my world plunged into impenetrable blackness.

  Fear had always been a thing that I’d read about, a condition of the mind that was a total mystery to me because I’d never experienced it. I suppose every person has the odd moment of fright now and again, like the second between tripping and hitting the ground; but I had never felt fear so deeply before. It flooded through me, damping down my mind from logic or reasoned action and making the cold sweat stand out on my forehead.

  Someone, somewhere, struck a match. I heard it quite clearly, the long scrape of the sulphur head against the short strip of sandpaper, the brittle flare of ignition. I banged my head as I scrabbled to get out and away from the lorry and the petrol all around me, hearing a ripping of cloth as my coat caught in a piece of protruding metal. I felt the girl’s hand on my arm steadying me as I raced to get down.

  ‘Did you hear it?’ I said breathlessly. She stared at me. ‘Somebody’s here. Striking matches! The petrol…’

  I swallowed and tried to get control of myself.

  ‘You must have imagined it,’ she said quietly.

  ‘No, I didn’t. I heard it quite clearly. On the other side of the lorry.’

  We stood there shouting for a while, straining to hear some reply or movement. There was nothing but the cold, deadly silence.

  She said, ‘Perhaps it’s Susan.’

  She started to lead me away from the wreckage and up the road and I had a feeling I’d disappointed her in some way. I apologized for frightening her and she turned and looked at me steadily.

  ‘I should be the one to apologize for involving you in all this.’ As we groped our way forward, I thought about what she’d said and it seemed to me that there was something else in her words other than a reference to the crash.

  ‘I couldn’t very well sit in my car when you were fainting all over the bonnet, could I?’

  ‘I didn’t mean that.’

  I didn’t go on asking questions but I knew I’d been right. There was something else behind the accident itself. It was the appearance of her car through the wreaths of mist that put an end to conversation. Its nose was buried into a tree and the familiar sound of broken glass began to crunch under our shoes as we picked our way around it.

  ‘Can you possibly get the boot open? There’s a torch in there.’

  I turned the handle and wrestled with the bent metal for a few moments. Eventually it gave and I was able to force it upwards. I felt around and found the torch, hoping it was in working order. The light flashed on and I heard the girl give a little exclamation of relief. I picked it out carefully, not bothering to close the lid of the boot. Her car was a complete write-off anyway.

  ‘You’d better show me where she is.’

  ‘I managed to get her out of the car to the side of the road.’

  She led me round and then stopped so sharply that I almost cannoned into her.

  ‘Susan,’ she said quietly, and then louder, ‘Susan!’

  I flashed the torch about. Apart from the ever-present broken glass, there wasn’t a sign of anyone.

  ‘Perhaps it was her. The match-striker, I mean.’

  She shook her head. ‘She had a terrible cut on her forehead. Quite a lot of blood. It was on her face and her pullover. I’m sure she was unconscious.’

  ‘But no stranger’s going to just come along and move her,’ I argued. ‘Move her where, anyway? We’re in the middle of Barnes Common.’

  ‘She told me she lives here. Very near here.’ If she felt me looking at her curiously she gave no sign. ‘I was just pulling up when the lorry skidded across the road and hit us.’

  ‘But how could she live here? The nearest house must be over a mile. It must be.’

  ‘I know. We – argued about it. She hadn’t wanted me to drive her home at all but I simply wouldn’t let her travel alone in this weather. I insisted.’

  ‘And she told you to drive her to Barnes Common?’

  The girl nodded. I thought for a moment.

  ‘When I told you about hearing the match striking you said then you thought it might be Susan. Now you tell me that she was definitely unconscious and couldn’t have moved.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ and I heard the weariness in her voice. ‘It couldn’t have been the Doctor. I know this part of the Common. There isn’t a house near here.’

  ‘What doctor?’

  ‘Her grandfather’s a doctor.’

  I leaned against her car.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t let things out a bit at a time,’ I said as carefully as I could and suppressing the irritation I felt. I knew she must be somewhere near breaking point.

  ‘If her grandfather’s a doctor, then he must have moved her. It was probably he who struck the match too. The thing is, what we’re to do next. There’s no doubt that he’ll come
back here as soon as he’s settled Susan in bed and start looking for you.’

  She said, ‘There’s every doubt in the world.’

  After the silence while I digested what she’d said, I must have moved my hand in exasperation. The light from the torch picked up the shine of something other than glass about five yards away. I crossed and picked up a small brass ornament with a broken piece of black tape threaded through the hole at one end. I showed it to the girl.

  ‘It was Susan’s. She wore it round her neck.’ Her voice was flat and emotionless and I suddenly began to feel angry.

  ‘It’s no good standing about here talking!’ She looked at me sharply and I suppose I had spoken rather loudly. I shrugged.

  ‘You can’t blame me for losing my temper. You keep on hinting at things, as if this weren’t just a terrible road accident but something more. A girl who lives in the middle of a Common; too unconscious to move and disappears as soon as your back’s turned. This doctor, the grandfather. Why all the mystery?’

  ‘I can’t tell you much because I don’t know very much.’

  ‘But this is just a road accident, isn’t it? What else is there, for heaven’s sake!’

  ‘There’s her disappearance to worry about.’

  In the silence, I offered her a cigarette. She refused and I lit one for myself. In the glow of my lighter flame I saw the tears on her cheeks. The only logical thing I could think of was that she was suffering from shock but even as I toyed with that idea I realized it didn’t seem to fit. There was nothing nervous or hysterical about her at all, no signs of extreme panic. One or two curious things had happened and she had made a couple of strange comments. I decided the exchange of cigarette smoke for fog didn’t help and flicked the cigarette away. It gleamed briefly for a moment and disappeared, and as I turned to start asking the girl some questions my whole body suddenly froze into a complete stillness.

  The footsteps I heard were cautious ones. I could almost imagine the owner picking his way carefully and not just because of the poor visibility either. This sort of walking was deliberately quiet. I felt the girl’s fingers touch and then hold my arm. We both pressed ourselves back against the wreckage of the car and waited. I switched the torch off.

  The dim outline of a man became clearer. He was wearing a cloak and under his fur hat I could see his silver hair, surprisingly very long on the back of his neck and touching the collar of his cloak. His head was bent down, peering at the ground and in his hand he held a lighted match. He stopped suddenly, so near to us that I could have taken three steps and stood next to him. I saw him bend down on one knee and pick up something from the pavement. It was my cigarette.

  All my concentration was directed towards the match he was holding. The strength of its light never altered and the quality of it was far whiter than any match I’d ever seen before. The other thing that puzzled me was that it didn’t seem to be burning any lower.

  Slowly he turned his head and the girl’s hand gripped even harder on my arm. He saw me first and then he looked at the girl beside me.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  It was such an extraordinary question in the circumstances that I nearly burst out laughing. He got up and stepped over to us, holding the match higher in his hand. I felt it was up to me to say something.

  ‘A girl’s been hurt. We were looking for her.’ He nodded slowly.

  ‘A tragic business. The soldier in the lorry has been killed. You’ve been hurt, too, young lady, by the look of you. You should be in bed.’

  ‘Not until I’ve found Susan,’ she said quietly, and the old man gave her a sharp, almost startled look.

  I couldn’t stop myself any longer.

  ‘What is that match thing? It never seems to burn down.’

  ‘Just a little invention of mine,’ he said easily and turned his attention to my companion. ‘What did you say happened to the girl?’

  ‘She was hurt. I told you. I left her here on the pavement and went to get help. When we came back she’d gone.’

  ‘Made her own way home, perhaps?’

  ‘That isn’t very likely, is it?’ I said. He waved a hand in the air, a gesture of bewilderment.

  ‘The young are so thoughtless.’ I saw his eyes glinting with malicious amusement. ‘Perhaps one of her family found her and took her home.’

  I didn’t understand why he should be amused and, what was worse, his whole attitude was adding another layer of mystery to the business.

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to help us look for her,’ I said coldly. ‘Better still, take us to your house. We ought to ring for the police. All this wreckage on the road can cause another accident.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about the girl. I’m sure she’s in safe hands. As for a telephone, I’m afraid my little nest doesn’t possess such a thing.’

  I tried to muster up all my patience. ‘Then perhaps you could offer a hot drink and a chair for this lady. She’s been hurt too, as you said yourself.’

  He looked at her and clicked his tongue in sympathy. It was the most insincere sound I’ve ever heard in my life.

  ‘The trouble is, I’ve lost my key. That’s what I was looking for.’ He shot a look at me of such intense directness that I blinked. ‘You haven’t seen it, have you? Picked it up, perhaps? It’s brass. There may even be a piece of black tape attached to it.’

  I pulled it out of my pocket. ‘Yes, I picked this up.’ His hand stretched out for it but I closed my hand around it and looked at the girl.

  ‘But you said it belonged to Susan.’ She nodded. I turned my attention back to the old man again. ‘Apparently, she wore it around her neck. Now I’ll tell you what I think. You’ve found the girl, haven’t you? And now for some reason or other you want this. Never mind about anybody else being hurt or injured or anything.’

  ‘Are you trying to give me a lecture on human behaviour, young man?’ he said sharply. ‘I won’t tolerate anything of that kind. You possess something that belongs to somebody else. Please give it to me.’

  ‘Yes, it does belong to someone else. And that someone doesn’t happen to be you. Have you taken that young girl somewhere?’

  I spoke the last three words into the fog for the old man turned quickly and was swallowed up. I could hear his running footsteps. I glanced at the girl and saw the indecision in her eyes, but I wasn’t in the mood to leave it all to speculation. I took her hand firmly and she came with me without protest as we ran up the road after him. After a few seconds I couldn’t hear his footsteps any more and slowed down. I flashed the torch about me and made out the square shape of what seemed to be a hut set back from the road on the Common itself. I walked towards it and then both the girl and I stopped and stared at a police telephone box.

  ‘Now we’re all right,’ I muttered. The trouble was, I couldn’t get the door open. I banged my fist against the double doors in frustration.

  ‘But these things ought to open,’ I said angrily. ‘What are they here for but to help people in trouble.’

  She said, ‘What’s it doing on the Common?’

  I turned the light of the torch full on her face.

  ‘I don’t care about disappearing girls, strange old men or where the police choose to put their telephone boxes.’ I took a deep breath, struggling to control myself, and managed to speak more reasonably. ‘All I want is to finish with this business and get home.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry.’

  I shut up for a minute, ashamed of losing my temper with her. It wasn’t her fault after all. In the pause, I heard a twig crack and I wheeled round, shining the torch in an arc. The old man stepped forward.

  ‘I see you’ve found the police box, young man,’ he said cheerfully.

  I stared at him for a few seconds, collecting my thoughts.

  ‘And if I could open it, I’d have a squad car round here and let them get some sense out of you.’

  ‘Now, now, you mustn’t lose control of yourself, you know. Locked, is it? How extra
ordinary.’

  His whole attitude was so friendly that I doubted my own memory of our first meeting. He stepped over and looked at the girl beside me carefully.

  ‘This appalling weather isn’t helping you at all. And there’s blood on your jacket. Most distressing. You have a car, of course?’

  I nodded, completely speechless at his change of manner. He rubbed his chin reflectively.

  ‘What I suggest is this. You take the young lady back to your car. Try and make her comfortable. Then come back here with a crowbar or a jemmy or something and we’ll try and force open this door. Isn’t that the wisest thing to do?’

  ‘All right,’ I said reluctantly and turned to the girl. ‘If you agree?’ She nodded. The old man rubbed his hands together and beamed at us.

  ‘Capital! Order and method, young man, there’s nothing like it. Off you go now and don’t be long with that jemmy, will you?’

  I turned to go, helping the girl as she nearly stumbled over the uneven ground. I couldn’t get rid of my suspicions of him and the more I thought about it, this sudden geniality made it worse. I stopped and felt the girl’s eyes on me. She must have seen something in my face, a growing conviction that we were being fooled. She turned and looked back. I heard her catch her breath and I turned as well.

  The old man was holding up his lighted match, which still hadn’t burned any lower down the stem, and his other hand held a little sliver of metal which glittered. He put the metal into the lock and the door started to swing open. At the same moment he turned and looked at us. It was a look of malevolent cunning and triumph suddenly mixed with concern that he had been caught out. I ran back towards him and caught him by the shoulder. The doors continued to open slowly and a fierce, glowing radiance began to emanate from behind them. I leapt at the old man and we fell heavily to the ground. I could hear him snarling at me to let him go and not meddle in his affairs, but the words didn’t make too much impression on me because all I could think about was that whatever it might look like from the outside, I knew perfectly well that this was no ordinary police box on Barnes Common. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the girl go past me towards the opening doors.