by Phil Ford
ADVENTURES
From the makers of Doctor Who
BBC CHILDREN’S BOOKS Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R ORL, England
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Australia) Ltd, 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria, 3124, Australia
(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)
Canada, India, New Zealand, South Africa
Published by BBC Children’s Books, 2007
Text and design © Children’s Character Books, 2007
Sarah Jane Adventures © BBC 2007
BBC logo ™ & BBC 1996. Licensed by BBC Worldwide Limited All rights reserved.
ISBN 978-1-40590-399-8
Eye of
the Gorgon
Written by Phil Ford
Based on the script by Phil Ford
‘I saw amazing things, out there
in space. But there’s strangeness
to be found wherever you turn.
Life on Earth can be an
adventure, too.
You just have to know
where to look.’
SARAH JANE SMITH
Table of Contents
Face
Copyright
Title Page
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter One
The nun
It was the owl that woke her. Not a gentle hoot carried through her open window on the still air of a warm summer’s night, but the screech of a barn owl.
Edith Randall woke with a start.
It had been six months since she had finally given in to the worries and the arguments with her children and sold the family home to move to Lavender Lawns.
Lavender Lawns Rest Home for the Elderly.
She wasn’t elderly, she had told Mark and Jenny the first time they told her the name of the home. And even if she was just a little bit older than she used to be, she certainly didn’t need to rest. But, to be honest, even the first time they had brought the brochures along to show her, a little part of Edith had liked the look of the place. It was a very grand old house with wide, rolling lawns and stately trees. The rooms were nice and, while she wouldn’t be able to bring everything from the house that she had shared with her husband for almost fifty years, she would be able to keep the things that mattered. The things that reminded her of him, and of their shared joy in raising two such wonderful children.
Oh, she hadn’t given in straight away. A person’s independence means a lot to them. A person’s roots and memories mean more. But she secretly kept the Lavender Lawns brochure in her sideboard drawer, and occasionally she would look at it and tempt herself with the idea…
And six months ago she had moved in. It had been everything that her children and the brochure said it would be. She had her own personal space, her own things around her, she had made new friends, she had apple crumble with thick, warm custard every Thursday, and bingo and singalongs every Saturday.
Apparently, there was also the ghost of a nun. But she didn’t pay any mind to that. Some of her new friends had over-active imaginations. Sometimes, as age slowed up their bodies, people took some pretty wild flights of fancy. Bless them! Not everyone at Lavender Lawns still kept all their marbles in the tin. She didn’t worry about the talk of the ghostly nun that some of them had seen in their rooms.
But the barn owl screeched somewhere in the night, and Edith woke up. Someone else was in the room with her.
‘Hello? Who’s there?’
It could have been one of the care staff, she thought. Perhaps in her sleep she had caught the bright orange emergency cord that hung by her bed and pulled it.
‘Who is it?’
And out of the darkness moved a tall, cowled figure.
The nun!
Edith gasped for breath, her heart hammering as her hand searched frantically for the switch to her bedside light, all her doubts about the Lavender Lawns ghost evaporating in one bloodfreezing moment. Her thumb found the toggle of the light switch. Soft light spilled through the pink tasselled lampshade, across the bed and into the darkness of the room.
The nun had vanished.
Chapter Two
The promise
‘My nan and Mrs Randall go back forever. She used to live next door ’til her old feller died.’
Clyde Langer was sitting on the back seat of the powder blue Nissan Figaro as it swept along the narrow country lanes that would — so it said on the ten-year-old map resting on the drive’s lap — lead them to the Lavender Lawns rest home.
Sarah Jane Smith didn’t let things like an out-of-date road atlas worry her. She had travelled through time and space; she didn’t think she’d have any trouble getting from Ealing to Lavender Lawns with an old map book and a degree of educated guesswork. It didn’t matter that back home in her attic, Sarah Jane had an alien computer that was probably more powerful than top-secret government equipment. She just didn’t see the need of satellite navigation. Sarah Jane was a journalist, and when she got the scent of a story, she didn’t even need pointing in the right direction.
‘Nan says there’s no way Mrs Randall sees things, or makes things up,’ said Clyde. He was fourteen, lean, but big for his age, and big for the back seat of the little car.
‘And it’s not just her that’s been scared by this ghostly nun? Other residents have seen it, too?’ Sarah Jane was looking at Clyde in the rear-view mirror. She saw as much as heard him grunt a confirmation.
Beside her, another boy said, ‘I thought there was no such thing as a ghost.’
Sarah Jane glanced at him and smiled, ‘Maybe that’s what we’re about to find out.’
The other boy, Luke, was slighter than Clyde, with a thick mane of brown hair and dark eyes. He could have been Sarah Jane’s son. That’s what she called him and she had the adoption papers to prove it. But he wasn’t. He looked like he was fourteen, like Clyde. But he wasn’t that, either. The truth was that Luke hadn’t been born; he’d been developed as part of an alien plan to turn Earth’s population into food for a nasty tentacled species called the Bane. Luke’s part in their plan hadn’t worked out all that well, thanks largely to Sarah Jane and her young neighbour Maria Jackson. Together they had defeated the Bane and rescued naive but intelligent Luke — the son Sarah Jane had always longed for without realizing it.
Clyde hadn’t been around then. He had shown up later, for the Slitheen. His cold chip sandwiches had been vital in beating them.
Aliens had been part of Sarah Jane’s life for a long, long time. As she took the turn into the gates of Lavender Lawns she thought a ghost — if such a thing existed — would make a nice change.
When they arrived at Lavender Lawns, a care assistant showed them up to Edith Randall’s room. If she’d had a fright a couple of nights before, she didn’t look like she was letting it get her down, thought Sarah Jane. She suspected that Edith Randall had even had her hair done for the interview. Sarah Jane smiled and did the introductions. It didn’t take much persuasion to get all the information out of her.
‘Nora Connelly was the first to see the nun. She’d been to the loo — terrible troub
le with her waterworks, she has. Three or four times every night.’
Sarah Jane didn’t take the details down. Luke and Clyde both grinned. By now Clyde was running a bemused eye over Edith’s Toby jug collection. Luke was at the window, watching the old folk in the garden. Some of them were chattering, going for a stroll with Zimmer frames and walking sticks, others just sat there and soaked up the late summer sun. Some of them, he thought, looked strangely lifeless. He could see their eyes were open — he could tell they weren’t dead — and yet it was like something about them was.
‘Anyway,’ Edith Randall was saying, ‘she comes out of the bathroom, and there she was — the nun — by her chest of drawers.’
‘Fainted like a schoolgirl. No constitution, at all. Surprising, amount of times she’s been married.’
‘And has anyone come up with any idea why this nun haunts the place?’
‘Not that I’ve heard. I didn’t believe a word of it, ‘til I saw it myself. I’m more level-headed, you know.’
‘I see.’
She smoothed down her hair. ‘So will there be a photographer? You wouldn’t think it, but I was in all the papers once. Miss Ealing, 1951.’
Luke and Clyde caught each other’s eye — no way!
Luke looked back out of the window — and found one of the elderly women out there staring straight back at him. Something about that look made him uncomfortable. But he didn’t look away, and neither did she. He couldn’t have said how old she was — somehow, when you came into the world the way he did, it was tough trying to judge the age of other people. But her hair was silver, she was slender and straight-backed — although she used a stick — and he supposed that years ago she might have been beautiful. Then, quite suddenly she stopped looking at him. It wasn’t so much that she looked away, as that she seemed to forget about him. She began to walk away, as Luke watched, it looked as if she was talking to herself.
Sarah Jane wound up the interview with Edith Randall telling her she’d let her know about the photographer. Right now she had to go and talk to the Lavender Lawns manager.
‘Oh, her,’ said Edith. She clearly wasn’t a fan. ‘Yes. Mrs Gribbins. Don’t you like her?’
‘Oh, she runs this place all right, I suppose.’
‘It is a lovely place to live,’ said Sarah Jane.
‘I just think she’s a bit shifty, that’s all.’
‘Shifty? I’ll bear that in mind.’
Edith suddenly worried, ‘Don’t say I said so, will you?’
‘Don’t you worry. Not a word.’
Edith relaxed, and smiled. Her eyes fell on Clyde, ‘Now, I’ve got a couple of little jobs for you. Your grandma said you wouldn’t mind.’ Clyde’s jaw dropped and Luke slapped him on the shoulder, grinning as he made his escape with Sarah Jane.
Mrs Gribbins was, apparently, in the home’s separate recreational block and as Sarah Jane and Luke emerged from the house into the sunshine, Luke cast a look over the home’s residents again. Still walking, talking or just sitting there. Nothing seemed to move on very quickly at Lavender Lawns.
He looked from a couple of old gents playing a game of chess on a small picnic table to Sarah Jane, ‘When do people get old?’
She looked at him and smiled. It was a good question.
‘The lucky ones never seem to. Then there are others that act like they were born drawing a pension.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘It’s not so much about the lines on your face. It’s more a state of mind.’
As they walked, they passed a woman in a wheelchair with the glazed look that Luke had seen on other residents. Sarah Jane felt a stab of sorrow.
‘Sometimes, though,’ she said, ‘people don’t have a choice about how they get old. Sometimes the people they used to be, they’re just not there any more.’
Luke was frowning. Some things about life and death didn’t have clear explanations. Sarah Jane ran a hand through his hair. Fleetingly, she wondered if Luke would ever have to worry about things like old age and dementia. She wondered if he would still be around to look after her.
‘Look,’ she said, diverting herself from thoughts of getting old, ‘why don’t you take a wander around the grounds while I talk to the manager. Let me know if you spot any nuns walking through walls.’
Luke smiled, ‘See you back at the car.’
He watched as Sarah Jane made her way towards the recreation block, then turned and saw the old woman he’d seen earlier staring at him. She seemed to be talking to herself again, and he couldn’t resist getting closer to hear what she was saying.
‘The Colonel wouldn’t believe us, darling,’ she told some invisible companion. Her voice was clear, and strong. What he’d heard kids at school describe as posh.
Luke was fascinated. Who was the Colonel? ‘Who would believe us?’ she continued, walking steadily with the aid of her cane. ‘Better to keep mum. Yes, better that way.’
Somehow she missed her footing, stumbled, but Luke quickly reached out a steadying hand. ‘Are you all right?’
The woman straightened up quickly. ‘Yes, yes. Quite all right,’ she said and Luke got the clear impression that although she was old and clearly needed care (why else would she be here?) there was something about her that was fiercely independent.
Then she looked at him closely. ‘Are you one of the… ’ she was struggling hard to find the word… ‘one of the… Colonels chaps?’
Luke shook his head, ‘No.’
Then she smiled. It was a wonderful thing that lit up her face, and made her young and beautiful again.
‘I’m Bea Nelson-Stanley. I’m looking for my husband, the Professor. He said to meet him between the paws of the… oh, what’s it called? The blessed thing! The paws of the Sphinx.’
Luke didn’t understand, ‘That’s in Egypt. This is England.’
Then Luke saw something happen. He wasn’t sure what it was. Something about her face, or something in her eyes. But something changed. And it seemed as if she was seeing him clearly for the first time.
‘You’re the boy in the window,’ she said.
‘My name’s Luke. We were visiting Mrs Randall. She says this place is haunted by a nun. Have you seen her?’
Bea’s mouth tightened into a grim line, ‘I have. But she’s no ghost.’
Luke was going to ask her what the nun was, then — but Bea was staring at him, intent.
‘There’s something different about you, Luke.’
He felt himself take a step backwards.
Bea smiled reassuringly and took his hand, ‘Don’t be afraid. It’s all right. I’ve met… unusual… people before. Perhaps you can help me.’
‘How? How can I help you?’ Luke wanted to know.
But Bea was already using the cane to move on. Luke watched her. Despite the cane her steps were confident. But Luke wasn’t all that confident that the old lady — no matter how nice she seemed — wasn’t entirely mad.
Then she stopped and turned to look at him, ‘Are you coming or not?’
And Luke found he couldn’t resist. Clyde would probably say Bea was nutty as a plumber’s tool box (Clyde had said that once about him) but Clyde wasn’t there, and Luke had a feeling that just maybe it had something to do with the nun.
So Luke went with Bea and, as he did so, Sarah Jane watched Sylvia Gribbins stare down her almost-impossibly long nose at the business card she had just handed over.
‘A reporter?’ said Mrs Gribbins. For someone in a caring profession she sneered very easily.
‘I’m looking into the story of a ghostly nun haunting the rest home. I understand quite a few residents have seen it.’
Sarah Jane watched Mrs Gribbins pocket the business card and sneer again. They were in the recreation room. A couple of residents were involved in a game of table tennis that Sarah Jane would have sworn she was watching in slow motion.
‘Might I suggest you try Westminster for something rather more newsworthy Miss Smit
h?’
‘You don’t believe Lavender Lawns is haunted, then?’
Mrs Gribbins shook her head impatiently. Sarah Jane was signing up fast with Edith Randall on the subject of the Lavender Lawns manager.
‘One old dear has a nightmare, she tells her friend she’s seen a ghost, and what do you know? Next thing, they’re all seeing one. ‘It’s hysteria, Miss Smith. It’s as simple as that.’
Sarah Jane ran her eyes over the few residents in the recreation room. They looked happy enough, but who knew for sure? She looked back at Mrs Gribbins, and felt a little angry.
‘Perhaps,’ she said. ‘Or maybe it’s a cry for attention.’
Sarah Jane enjoyed the flash of anger in Mrs Gribbins’ eye.
‘Thank you for your time, Mrs Gribbins. I’ll find my own way out.’
Sarah Jane left the recreation room, biting down on a tide of anger inside her. Whether or not ghosts existed, how could a woman like Mrs Gribbins dismiss the very real worries of the people in her care like that? She found Clyde waiting by the car — and his mood wasn’t much better.
Mrs Randall had had him turning her mattress, moving Toby jugs around on the top shelf so she could see them better, hunting under her bed for a lost slipper.
‘I came here looking for spooks, not jobs,’ he complained. ‘Why is it old people always want you to do everything for them?’
Sarah Jane was already annoyed by Mrs Gribbins; she didn’t need Clyde’s whining. ‘We all get old, Clyde,’ she told him dismissively. ‘Even you.’
‘Not me. Way technology’s going, by the time I’m forty I can get my brain put in a robot and live for ever.’
Sarah Jane looked at him and shook her head in despair. Once, in what seemed like another lifetime, she had come across a race that had done just that, and thought they could take over the universe. They had been called Cybermen.
It was too nice a day to think about them.
‘Have you seen Luke?’ she asked.
But Clyde hadn’t. Luke was still with Bea. She had led him almost to the edge of the grounds, and a big old yew tree. There she had handed him her stick and told him they had to be quick — before anyone saw. When he asked her who might be watching she became nervous and frustrated as she fought and failed to find the right words…
