A Fifth Doctor story. By Clive May (clive@cj4386.demon.co.uk) Rating: PG13 - mild profanity. The copyright of Dr Who is the property of the BBC. Archive info at the end. Under the spreading branches of a mighty oak, Turlough was digging a hole. With a grunt of effort, he hefted another shovelful of earth, and strew it upon the growing pile of rich black loam. Leaning on the shovel, he took a much needed breather, before glancing across at the Doctor, standing bare-headed in the drizzle. Framed by Tegan and Nyssa, the Time Lord was carefully cradling a rather tatty red fashion stiletto shoe in his hands. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- The destruction went on a-pace. A motley knot of people had gathered in the decaying street to watch. Among that shabbily dressed crowd, a man and two young women stood out, due to their outlandish garb. The man was stylishly dressed for a cricket match in a by-gone age - Edwardian perhaps? The older of the two women wore the uniform of a stewardess; and the younger, a pretty girl of regal bearing, wore flowing dark robes. Further along the street, four men of distinctly military bearing, loitered by a rough terrain vehicle. They were dressed in dark overcoats, the collars turned up against the chill wind. They made no secret of the fact that they were watching the trio. The wrecking ball crunched into the next wall. A slender, blond haired woman, standing near to Nyssa, groaned. She rocked back and forth, as though it were her the ball had smashed into. Nyssa quickly stepped to her side, grasping the woman's arm to steady her. Nyssa recoiled at the bone chill of the woman's flesh. "Are you alright?" she asked. The woman started and glanced sharply at her. She was well past the first flush of womanhood, Nyssa noted, but a sort of worn down attractiveness still clung determinedly to her once beautiful features - though the effect was marred by the untidy mascara and the unsightly scarlet blotch of her mouth. She peered puzzled at Nyssa's hand steadying her and seemed about to speak, when The ball crashed again. she let out a low pathetic moan and trembled. The chill wind dragged at her tired hair. and plucked at the tears in the not quite silk blouse, sending rainbow satini sheens rippling over the cheap material in the wan winter sunlight. She was wearing a red mini-skirt, short enough to expose an indecent expanse of thigh. Her right foot was encased in a tatty red stiletto; the other was bare. The once sheer stockings were laddered all to hell. Over her shoulder on a brassy chain swung a gaudy cheap leather hand bag. The breaker ball crashed. the woman groaned and sagged. Nyssa took a firmer grip. "I think you should sit down. Come along," she urged. "There's a seat over there." She steered the unresisting woman across the road to a solitary park bench standing at the edge of a ruined children's play ground. Easing the woman down on to the bench, she sat down beside her. the woman balanced the tatty leather bag on her knees. She hunched over it, her long fingers tearing at the ugly brass clasp. Many of her red painted nails were broken. They made little clicking noises as she scrabbled to get the bag open. "Gawd! I need a fag!" she muttered. "Bloody hell! I need a fag." In her agitation, she couldn't seem to work out how to get the bag open. Nyssa laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright? Is there anything I can do to help?" The woman stopped plucking uselessly at the clasp to turn a look of utter misery on the concerned girl. "Have you got a fag? Gawd! I need a fag!" Nyssa shook her head. "No. Sorry but I..." She trailed into silence as she realised the woman was not listening to her. "What's a body to do?" she was moaning miserably. "Where's a body to go when they've finished knockin' down me 'ouse?" "You used to live there?" Nyssa asked. "All me life, luv. I were born in that 'ouse - like me Mam before me. Always fancied livin' out in the sticks though. That's what got me started on the game, to get outa this place. But then I falls for that no good boyfriend of mine. And he drinks all me earnings away. So I've had ter live round 'ere all me life. And i ain't lived nowhere else right up until that last punter." The woman fell silent. A deep shiver ran through her lean frame at the recalling of that 'last punter'. The ball brought down another wall. It slid into ruin with a fearful crashing and grinding, exposing an internal wall decorated with grimy Donald Duck wall paper. "Punter?" Nyssa inquired puzzling over the unfamiliar word. "Ay. That last un I picked up. I gotta feelin' for the wrong uns. Me instincts was shouting at me to steer clear of this un! 'Maggie,' I tells me self, 'Maggie, girl, you stay clear of that one! That there's a wrong un'." She gave a little shake of her head, making garish earrings clash plangently. "But what's a poor workin' girl to do? There's the rent needs paying. And that no good boyfriend's pissed all me earnings up the pub wall again...But he don't look like one of them pervy ones - even with him being got up all in black. I always steer's well clear of them pervy ones. Straight satisfaction's me game. Tenner a go and I don't do none of that kinky stuff, not even for extra! Aint never had much in me life but I got standards, you see? And he looked quite the handsome gent with his little beard...But his eyes..." she broke off shuddering. "...Gawd! but he's got the Devil's eyes. I swear them eyes'd curdle milk. But I was desperate for the readies. So I slips me arm through his, and puts on me glad face, an asks: 'Want a really good time G'vnor?'." She paused, holding her breath as the great blackball swung back for another go - as though it were about to chew another great chunk out of her very existence. Nyssa waited for the woman to go on, all her empathic training instructing her to remain silent, knowing in the deep places of her being, this woman's need to speak her life. She understood instinctively that she was seeking some kind of absolution - an absolution that only she, Nyssa of Traken, held the power to grant. Across the road, amid the little knot of on-lookers, the Doctor waited with Tegan. Down the road, the four men still lounged in attitudes of alert relaxation around the rough terrain vehicle. An oppressive sense of waiting hung heavy over the half-demolished street. At Nyssa's side, Maggie began talking again. "He tries ter shake me orf, like I was a piece of dirt. And I sees he's clutching onto a metal box like grim death. And he 's hurt, hurt bad. He's bleeding. Gawd! There's blood all over. 'Right!' I tell's me self: 'Maggie! You don't need no more trouble. You get yerself away from this geezer right now!' But when I tries to pull away, he turns on me, and grabs me arm, and turns them eyes on me. Gawd! I was shit scared. He tells me: 'I am the Master! And you will obey me!' Can't never forget them words - and them eyes. The next thing I know, the punter's shoving me up the steps to me 'ouse over there. I remember hearin' sirens. And the fella starts lookin' like thunder. And he hurries me into me own place, and slams the door. He drags me into me bedroom and lets me go. He sets himself down on me bed and opens up that precious box he's been clutching like death. He takes out one of them testy tube things and holds it up and starts boasting how all he's gotta do is break that one little tube and the world dies of an 'orrible plague! And how not a man in a million will be left alive afterwards, and how he's gonna rule the world. Gawd forgive me! But I believes him. I can see it in them Devil eyes - he's meaning it for real! He really does! And he tells me he's gonna break that tube and all if I don't put the law off the scent when they come knocking at me door." Across the street the arm of the wrecking wagon swung back for another swipe at the pathetic tumbled down remains of the row of houses. "I can hear the law coming. And I'm sore afraid but I can't let that creep do in the world. I just can't do that, can I?" The ball swung; bricks and rubble exploded from the impact an drained down on the detritus scattered around the site. Maggie clutched her bag and shuddered. "Gawd! But I need a fag - you got a fag?" "I'm sorry - no. what happened then?" "I don't want to think on it," Maggie said, her eyes watching the wrecking wagon maneuvering for the last few shards of wall. "I'm only forty two. I don't want to die!" Gently Nyssa laid a hand on the trembling woman's shoulder. "It's alright, Maggie. Nothing can harm you now. Please go on. Tell me what happened next. It's very important." Maggie stifled a sob, rocking back and forth in her extremis. She nodded and went on in a small, frightened voice. "He put that tube away in his box and starts groaning. He lays down on me bed. His blood's running all over me mam's old counterpane. She didn't have much, me man - but she was proud of that counterpane. It's a family heirloom that is. She'd be spinning in her grave to see that punter's blood spoiling it like that. It made me mad to see it...So I grabs up that box and runs for it. I reckon if I can keep it away from him 'til the law comes...I gotta do that- for me Mam's sake, you see...I aint been much in me life. Just an honest working girl what didn't cheat no punter. I always gave value for money - you ask any of the fellas round 'ere. They'll tell you: 'Old Maggie, she's a good girl, she is'. And I always fancied being a heroine like what you see in the comics. So I snatches up the box and runs for it, down the steps into the cellar with it. And he's hollering about 'I must obey him.' But there's nuffin he can do, cause he's all beat up. But he starts a-hollering for me to stop and I gotta obey him cause he's the Master. But I don't pay him no heed 'cos I can already hear the Law outside with them sirens blaring and I knows that If I can just keep away from him for a minute then the Law'll be along to feel his collar...Then I'd be a hero, for savin' the world, and get me picture in the paper -" her spirits rallied suddenly at that thought. "Be good for business that would..." Across the road, the great ball brought down the last remaining bits of wall in a shattering roar of falling masonry. Maggie seemed to shrink into herself. She curled around her tawdry bag, whining piteously, abject terror in her wide staring eyes. she began to cry. "Oh Gawd! I don't wanna die! Please! I don't wanna die!" "There's nothing to fear now, Maggie," Nyssa soothed the woman in a gentle, comforting voice. "You really don't have anything to fear now - not any more. The time for fear is long past...When you got into the cellar, what happened then? You must tell me? It is very important that you tell me." Maggie shuddered and closed her eyes. "I don't want to think on that." "He can't hurt you any more, Maggie. Please tell me what happened?" Maggie nodded. She went on reluctantly. " I locked the door and hid his box in a place where he couldn't find it in a hurry. Lord! But he was a strong one! I'd never have believed it - what with him bleeding like that. But he comes storming down the stairs and crashes in the door like it was paper...His eyes! Gawd! His eyes are all big and starey! He starts tellin' me 'I gotta obey him cos he's the Master - I gotta give him the box' But I can hear the Law bashing in the door upstairs...He's got this little gun thing...He grabs for me....I hit him with me bag...No! Please...Noooooo!" The woman's hackle raising scream of pure terror rent the air. Eerily, the soul tearing sound mutated into the wailing of the warning siren on the building site. Ghost-like, in the billowing dust, a man in a bright yellow hard-hat was waving frantically at the man driving the wrecking truck. The engine roar died as he switched off. The driver dismounted to join his fellow worker who was kneeling down by a dark shape half-buried in the rubble. The dust settled around the two men like a shroud. It was the sign the Doctor had been waiting for. He waved to the men lounging by the rough terrain vehicle and hurried towards the kneeling men. A small group of curious on-lookers trailed after him. The military men arrived in the Doctor's wake, waving warrant cards and ushering the by-standers back. The Doctor pointed out a small metal box amid the jumble of broken brick-work. Two of the overcoated men stooped, got a purchase on the box and eased it clear of the rubble. One of the other men examined a stenciled legend in scarlet lettering on the side, nodded his satisfaction and smiled at the Doctor. The man's grin was edged with relief. He waved the two men holding the box away and all four retreated with their prize. The Doctor did not even watch them go. His attention was elsewhere, on something he thought far more important. He knelt down and carefully worked a small object from the debris. He rose, and bore the object away to where Tegan stood watching him, hugging herself against the chill wind. "What is it?" she asked trying to get a look at the thing he was cradling so reverently in his hands. Before showing it to her, the Doctor studied Tegan's face a long, thoughtful moment, then, coming to a decision, he held it out for Tegan's inspection. She examined the scruffy red leather shoe. There was something inside it. She peered closer and recoiled in horror. She turned away and stared into the pale blue winter sky, her face pale with sudden pain tears in her eyes. At her sides her hands were balled into fists as she struggled with a storm of painful emotion. Across the road, a sudden cold wind eddied about the old bench where Nyssa sat alone watching her two friends. She rose and crossed to them. "Doctor?" Without a word, the Doctor held out the shoe to her. Nestling inside was a tiny perfect human skeleton wrapped in the remains of a silk blouse and a red mini-skirt. Nyssa nodded in grim satisfaction and turned to comfort Tegan. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- With a caring hand, Nyssa arranged the tiny bouquet of wild flowers on the little mound of freshly turned earth under the branches of the mighty oak. She remained kneeling a long moment regarding the arrangement, before she rose and glanced over her shoulder to where the Doctor, Tegan and Turlough waited by the TARDIS. The Doctor smiled encouragement. She turned back to the grave. "I'm sorry, Maggie," she said softly. "But we can't arrange for your photo in the paper...But at least you're in the country now." The frowsy looking woman standing in the shadows smiled her gratitude, and ever so gently thinned away. The end