relocation and we can call this...'

Ace stared dumbly at the Doctor's back. She took off the He paused and began to stare into s.p.a.ce again.

tunic in embarra.s.sed silence and laid it down carefully by 'Home?' volunteered Ace.

the mirror.

40.41.'Sorry,' she said in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

The Doctor was all smiles now. What the h.e.l.l was the The Doctor's back remained obstinately turned towards matter with him?

her.

A picture began to form on the scanner but it was vague 'If you don't want me to muck about, Professor...'

and hazy.

'Doctor! I'm the Doctor! How many times do I have to tell 'Reception's not so hot but then she hasn't been used in you, you stupid girl?'

ages. Just getting used to it, I expect.'

Ace recoiled as if she'd been struck. The Doctor hovered It was obviously dark outside but Ace could make out a by the console a moment, his face flushed with emotion, bleak, blasted landscape of moor and heather.

then he stalked from the room, his dressing gown trailing 'Uggh.'

behind him.

'Quite,' said the Doctor. 'Cold, wet and dark but at least Ace could feel a rising, numb pain in her throat and hands.

you're home.'

Familiar symptoms for the onset of tears. Familiar Ace looked at him. 'Home?'

symptoms which she'd convinced herself she'd outgrown.

'Earth at any rate. Twentieth century. North of England.

No! she said to herself, angrily. No tears. Don't give him Plus a continuous precipitation of condensed oxygen and the satisfaction of seeing you cry. If he wants to treat you hydrogen compound.'

like this, that's his business.

'Meaning?'

She sat down on the stone-flagged floor and gently 'Meaning it's chucking it down. Fetch another brolly, fingered the drab grey tunic. The embroidered badge stood would you?'

out in red and gold: COAL HILL SCHOOL.

A few moments later they stepped outside into the That was the place where they'd had that run in with the darkness. In front of the TARDIS stood the rickety structure Daleks. So why was the Doctor so upset about that? And of the old bus shelter, recently home to Billy Coote, who what was he doing with one of the uniforms anyway?

was now pelting like a madman towards Crook Marsham.

In an amazingly short s.p.a.ce of time, the Doctor returned, Over towards the east, the old monastery was etched now dressed in a chocolate-brown belted coat, russet against the threatening sky and the tracking station loomed waistcoat and checked trousers. Ace, feeling suddenly chilly, like a behemothal saucer out of the purple heather.

had struggled into the donkey jacket.

The Doctor put up his umbrella, plonked his hat 'Very fetching!' said the Doctor enthusiastically, as if gracelessly on to his head and walked a little way forward nothing at all had happened. He spotted the brown duffel to where a faded wooden road sign protruded like a coat on the floor and put it on. Ace glanced at the far wall as lightning-struck tree from the sodden ground.

a roundel glowed into colourful life.

'Crook Marsham: one mile.' He turned to Ace and smiled.

'Scanner?' she said, shakily.

'How about breakfast?'

'Yes. Neat, isn't it?'

42.

43.

The great black prow of the ship lurches sickeningly.

Was it raining back there? He'd have liked to have seen There are already men in the water. Water like tar. Black, the Minster in the rain again.

dreadful, fathomless.

Something tugging at his leg. A sharp, clear cold pain like A flare smashes into the sky and for a moment everything frozen needles. Blood pooling to the surface. And then the is clear. Stark. Vividly white.

panic rising and his gorge rising as he sees the triangular fin Men in the sea. Life-boats. Empty life-jackets. The bulk of break the water and circle. Circle.

the ship slips under the waves. A ma.s.s of frothing foam as Alfred Beadle. Screaming. Screaming for someone. The the sea covers her gun turrets. Then the awful, chilling shark pulling blindly at him. Going down. Going under.

moan as the protesting metal buckles and snaps. Panels Arms slipping under the life-belt. Pulling. Screaming for burst. Black water floods her engines.

Betty. Salt water in his mouth. But soon it'll be over. Please And then there is screaming. Men in white sweaters.

Christ make it soon. Water in his eyes. Stinging. His hair Freezing. Saturated. Screaming as the ship's pull drags them spreading like weed under the water. Betty... Betty...

under. Young faces blanched white by the flare. A few boats Remember me, Betty...

left. The tall turret of the U-boat slips under the water, its job done.

'Betty, love. Are you all right?'

Silence. Men bobbing slowly in their Mae Wests. Most of Lawrence Yeadon clicked on the bedside lamp and put them dead already, their faces turned down as if in an arm around his wife who was sitting bolt upright in bed.

penitence. Some are still alive, kicking their submerged feet.

Her nightie was soaked in sweat and there was an awful, The great cold, marble-smooth expanse of the ocean is haunted look in her red-rimmed eyes.

revealed as dawn comes.

'Betty?'

Alfred Beadle. Thinking of home. Thinking of his mum She turned and looked distractedly at her husband. Then and dad back in York, and Betty, his younger sister. Alfred she nodded, slowly and deliberately. 'I'm all right.'

Beadle, not yet nineteen, feeling the freezing water numbing Lawrence eased her back on to the pillow.

his body. Staring out at a dozen of his comrades floating 'Another dream?'

silently by...

She nodded again and reached for the little brown bottle Jackie Barrett, his big face turned towards the sky, quite of pills which stood on the cabinet.

dead. Eddie Turnbull. Always smiling. Always joking.

'Your Alf again?' asked Lawrence.

Slipping under the waves as his life eases away.

She popped a couple of pills into her mouth and managed Alfred Beadle. Thinking of home. Would Betty be making to swallow them.

tea right now? He could do with some tea. Steaming hot.

'Yes. Alf again.' Her voice was dry as paper.

Strong and orange like it was on Sundays in his mum's best china.

44.45.Lawrence sighed and switched off the lamp. The light of corridor and tossed them into the washing basket by the morning was already insinuating itself into the room. He bathroom. Domestic things. Robin's washing. Lawrence's put his hands behind his head and looked at the ceiling.

washing. That's what she needed to do. Comforting 'You can't go on blaming yourself you know, love.'

domestic things. Something mundane to keep her mind off How many times had he said that to her?

it.

Betty Yeadon turned on to her side. She swallowed and Betty entered the tap room of the pub. It stank of stale tried to get a little saliva into her mouth. She couldn't close beer and cigarette smoke. She found a gla.s.s, helped herself her eyes. If she did, she would see him again. Or what the to a triple measure of whiskey and selected a seat by the sharks left of him. Bobbing in the water, his skin blanched window. It was the same seat in which Jack Prudhoe had and his eyes pecked out by gulls. The way the rescue ship supped his solitary pint the afternoon before.

had found him.

Betty glanced at the tatty Christmas decorations pinned 'I might as well get up,' she said, glancing at the clock. It across the bar and began to cry.

was nearly half past eight. 23 December.

Lawrence closed his eyes. He felt terrible. They'd already The Doctor was in voluble mood despite the driving rain been woken up once during the night by the siren from that and had discoursed on a variety of subjects, including b.l.o.o.d.y telescope on the moor. And now another of Betty's Gothic architecture, his favourite angling flies and the nightmares. Something would have to give sooner or later.

importance of a clean collar, by the time he and Ace Betty slipped on her dressing gown and padded down the wandered into Crook Marsham.

hall. She could hear her stepson, Robin, snoring gently in his It was getting light at last and the hotchpotch of houses room. Then his alarm clock clattered into life and she heard and shops became distinct as they advanced up the main his frantic efforts to disable it. He moaned.

street.

Placing her hand on the door, Betty closed her eyes and 'Bit bleak, isn't it, Doctor?'

breathed deeply. It was as if she were drawing strength and The Doctor was gazing across the street at a rather comfort from Robin's presence. She opened her eyes and dilapidated Saxon church.

saw n.o.bby Stiles grinning toothlessly between her fingers.

'Bleak? No, no. It's characterful, Ace, characterful. Just Robin's giant poster of the World Cup winners stared at her, look at that church. Eighth century, I believe, with Norman unseeing.

and Victorian additions. Look at the crenellations!'

Suddenly feeling a fool, she pulled her hand away and Ace grimaced. She couldn't stand it when he became walked off down the corridor.

enthusiastic.

A pair of football socks, stiff with sweat, lay discarded on 'Didn't you say something about breakfast?'

the carpet like mummified earthworms. Betty picked them up and rolled them into a ball. She continued down the 46 47.The Doctor sighed and turned away from the church. He Robin apologised again and then pedalled away like a spun his umbrella round like a water-dowser and pointed madman. Ace watched him go all the way.

towards The Shepherd's Cross.

'Ace?'

'Bit early in the day, isn't it?'

Robin's slim form vanished around the corner and on to The Doctor grinned. 'Mmm, with the sun not even the moor track.

remotely over the yardarm! ... Actually, I was thinking they 'Ace!'

might be serving refreshment of some sort. The TARDIS 'Hmm?'

food-dispensers are all very well but sometimes you just 'If you're still interested in breakfast ...?'

can't beat a decent British cuppa.'

Ace shook her head as if to clear it and smiled. 'Yeah, of There was an upstairs light on but no sign of life.

course.'

Suddenly, in a flurry of scarf, coat and bicycle, a young man The Doctor set off towards a flickering neon cafe sign came hurtling around the side of the pub, almost running about a hundred yards away. Ace followed close behind the Doctor down.

him, her head sunk thoughtfully on her breast.

'G.o.d, sorry. Are you OK? I'm a bit late for work. Are you 'I wonder if we're anywhere near Durham. Have you ever sure you're all right?'

seen the cathedral?' asked the Doctor.