Doctor Who: The Clockwise Man

by Richards, Justin

  The Doctor and Wyse were talking quietly but urgently.

  The Doctor had quickly examined the body, reminding them he was not a doctor of medicine. Even so, he was sure that the girl had been dead for an hour at most, probably a lot less. The marks on her neck were like the marks on Dickson's the night before. But deeper, darker, and more damaging.

  'Have you any idea what is happening here?' Wyse asked.

  'You think I might?'

  Wyse shrugged. He looked old and drawn, as if finding the girl's body had sapped some of the life from him too. 'You seem like a man with insight. This has to be stopped. A few attacks, the odd person knocked out. . . Well, that's bad enough, of course. But, Doctor, a girl has died. Out there behind this club. On our very doorstep.' He took a long, deep breath. 'We cannot just sit by and do nothing.'

  'The police,' Rose said, looking up for the first time. 'They'll. . .'

  'They'll do their best,' Wyse said. 'But do any of us really think that will be good enough?' He turned to the Doctor, looking straight into his eyes. 'Do you know something, Doctor? Anything? About all this?'

  The Doctor held his gaze for several moments. Then he stood up, hand to forehead, sighing and sad. 'Enough. I know an innocent girl's dead. I know whoever – whatever – did this has to be stopped. That's enough.'

  'And what do you propose, Doctor?'

  The Doctor sat down again, leaning forward from the edge of the chair. 'There's more to this than we know or guess. And you,' he pointed at Rose, 'need a distraction. It's terrible and brutal and unfair, but moping won't help.'

  'I like moping. When people get killed.'

  'We need to be alert, aware, sparking with ideas.'

  'Fat chance.'

  'And I still want to see the British Empire Exhibition.'

  'Ah!' Wyse perked up at this. 'It's very good actually. Lots on, you know. And the new stadium is a glory to behold.'

  'You go then,' Rose told him, looking away.

  'Oh, I've been. I'd welcome the chance to go again, mind. But I fear the police will want to take a statement from me.'

  'From you?' Rose frowned, looking at him.

  'He did find the body,' the Doctor pointed out.

  'Oh. Yeah.'

  'I reckon we should avoid making statements,' the Doctor went on, looking meaningfully at Rose. 'It'd only confuse them.'

  'You'll enjoy the exhibition,' Wyse said gently. 'I would like to join you, but I expect they'll delight in keeping me hanging around for a while just to demonstrate how important they are. The Doctor's right, my dear. It'll take your mind off things.'

  Rose didn't like being called 'my dear'. But somehow coming from Wyse in such a disingenuous manner, it seemed friendly and kind rather than patronising. 'OK,' she said.

  'Triffic!' The Doctor clapped his hands together and leaped to his feet. 'You get your cloak, and I've already got my jacket back.' He paused, lips pursed as he thought. 'Let's call in on Sir George on the way and thank him for returning it.'

  'Except you know he didn't.'

  'We ought to be sure,' he said. 'Or we're being unfair too.'

  Rose sighed. 'I suppose. Hey,' she thought suddenly, 'I wonder if Freddie wants to come to the show. I doubt he gets out much.'

  'That's true enough,' Wyse agreed. 'Poor little fellow.'

  'Let's ask,' the Doctor said. 'Come on.'

  The only hint Dickson gave that he had ever even seen the Doctor or Rose before was a slight widening of his eyes. He seemed to have completely recovered from his ordeal of the previous evening, deigning to acknowledge this with a neutral, 'Very well, thank you,' in response to Rose's enquiry.

  'If you will wait in the drawing room, I'll see if Sir George is at home.'

  'You'd think he'd know,' Rose said as Dickson marched off stiffly down the hall. She poked her head round the drawing-room door to watch him go.

  'He knows. He's asking if Sir George wants to see us,' the Doctor replied from inside the room.

  Rose turned to join him. But as she did, she caught sight of something moving through the balusters on the landing above. It reminded her of when they were leaving the night before, and she could guess what it was. Or rather, who.

  'Hi, Freddie,' she called.

  'Hello,' he replied, a little sheepishly. He stood up and looked down at her over the rail. 'Have you come back for the coat?'

  'I've got it back.' The Doctor was beside Rose in the hallway now. He opened his jacket and jiggled it, just to prove he was telling the truth. 'See. Why don't you come down and join us for a minute?' Freddie hesitated. 'Come on, it's you we've come to see, really'

  Making up his mind, Freddie made his unsteady way down the stairs. He did not have his crutch with him, but held tight to the railing all the way down. He dragged one leg slightly as he walked stiffly across the hall, but otherwise there was nothing to suggest he had trouble walking.

  The Doctor led them into the drawing room. 'Yes, the kind Miss Heart brought my coat back,' he said.

  'I saw her with it,' Freddie said, sitting down and giving a quiet sigh of relief. 'I saw. . .' He frowned and paused. 'I heard. . . lots of things,' he finished. He looked at Rose, his eyes moist. 'Is it true?'

  'You listened to the grown-ups last night?' the Doctor asked.

  Freddie nodded.

  'Some of it's true,' Rose said.

  'What Father said about me? About being the real Tsar?'

  'Didn't you know?' Rose asked.

  Freddie shook his head. 'No. Maybe. I don't remember.'

  'What do you remember?' the Doctor asked. His tone suggested he was just making conversation, but Rose could see that he was staring intently at Freddie.

  The boy looked away. 'It was a long time ago. I remember the boat, and meeting my new father for the first time. And I remember how happy Mother was to come to England. She cried.' He bit his lip at the memory. 'And I think I remember my old father. He was nice and kind too. He had a big black beard, and he was always smiling. He carried me everywhere, so I wouldn't fall and hurt myself. And he said he would talk to the men outside the barn where we had to sleep that night. But then Mother said we had to go, we had to leave him behind. Mother carried me then, and that was nice. But I missed Father's soft voice and his strong arms.'

  'When was this?' Rose wondered.

  Freddie looked straight at her, his face pale. 'When Father shouted, and the men shouted too. When we heard the shooting.'

  'Freddie.' The voice was quiet and calm and reassuring. 'Cook has made some cake.' Freddie's mother was standing just inside the doorway, and Rose wondered how much she had heard. 'Why don't you go and ask if you can have some?'

  The boy grinned suddenly, and got to his feet. 'Thank you,' he said, walking stiffly across the room. He stopped in front of his mother.

  She tousled his fair hair and smiled at him. But Rose could see too the sadness in her eyes. 'You'll be all right? You can manage?'

  'Yes.'

  'Go on then.'

  She waited until the sound of Freddie's slow footsteps was gone before coming over to join the Doctor and Rose. 'I worry so much about him,' she said quietly. 'Even before, it was difficult. But when the revolution came, and Theo. . .' She shook her head. 'George has been so kind.' She blinked away the memories.

  'It's been hard for you,' the Doctor said.

  'Yes,' she said simply. 'I see you have recovered your coat, Doctor.'

  He nodded. 'Yes, thanks. Melissa Heart said you asked her to return it to me.'

  Anna frowned. 'Really? Well, perhaps Dickson found it and saw her. Sir George is working in his study, I'm afraid. He does not like to be disturbed, but if you wish to see him. . .'

  'That's OK,' Rose said. 'We're off to the British Empire thingy.'

  'Exhibition,' the Doctor explained as Anna looked confused.

  'I have not been,' she confessed.

  'That's all right.' The Doctor grinned. 'Not your empire, is it.' His grin froze. 'Sorry.'

  'We w
ondered if Freddie wanted to come along,' Rose said quickly. 'He'd enjoy it.'

  'I'm sure he would. You are very kind.'

  From her tone, Rose could tell that the answer was no. 'You can come too. It'd make a nice day out.'

  A kind thought,' Anna said. 'But I would worry so much. He. . .' She paused. considering how to phrase what she wanted to say. 'It would not be safe for him, I fear.'

  'I don't think there are assassins waiting round every corner,' the Doctor said.

  'Assassins?' She frowned.

  'He's just a boy,' Rose blurted out, suddenly upset and annoyed at the thought there might be people who wished him harm. Perhaps what had happened to Beth was somehow to do with Freddie. 'It's so unfair.'

  'Unfair,' Anna agreed quietly. She bit her lip, just as Freddie had done a few minutes before, sitting in the same chair. Their expressions were almost identical, but years apart. 'Yes. So unfair.'

  They sat in silence for a moment. Rose looked at the Doctor. The Doctor shrugged. Then Anna stood up and spoke.

  'I shall ask Dickson to drive you to Wembley, if that is convenient.'

  Thanks,' the Doctor said.

  And Freddie may come with you in the car. But then Dickson will bring him straight home again. So that nothing happens to him.' She nodded, the decision made, though from her expression even this was not an easy choice to make. 'I really cannot allow him to wander about outside on his own. But he will enjoy the car journey. Thank you.'

  'There's a kid in the block called Josh,' Rose said while they waited. 'His mum never lets him play out or anything. It's sad.'

  'What's he like?' the Doctor asked.

  Rose shrugged. 'No one knows. Quiet. Lonely.'

  'Quiet ones rebel.'

  'You'd know,' she teased. But he didn't answer.

  The car was huge and noisy and black. All the cars, not that there were many, seemed to be black.

  'Black is the old silver,' the Doctor told Rose when she pointed this out.

  Freddie was excited. There were no seat belts, which worried Rose. What made her even more anxious was the way Freddie bounced on the leather seat as he stared out of the window, giving a running commentary on each and every little thing – interesting or not. The Doctor saw her watching anxiously, and shook his head – the boy was enjoying himself, and it didn't seem as if that happened often.

  After about ten minutes, Freddie settled down as the novelty wore off. Rose was sitting next to him on the bench seat across the back of the car. The Doctor was opposite them on a seat that folded down from behind the driver, like in a cab. A glass screen separated them from Dickson in the front.

  'It's strange seeing London with so few cars and people,' Rose said.

  The Doctor nodded. 'More cars'11 come soon enough.'

  'And lots more women than men,' she realised.

  'It's 1924,' the Doctor said, as if this explained it. 'There're about two million more women than men in Britain.'

  Freddie nodded. 'Because of the war.'

  'Of course,' Rose realised. 'That's why it's all so quiet.'

  The Doctor leaned forward. 'That's why there are so few young men. The 1919 flu killed far more people than the Great War ever did.' He leaned back again, and closed his eyes. 'Whatever humanity inflicts on itself, nature can always go one better.' He opened his eyes again, but they were unfocused, as if staring at a different scene. Rose had to lean forwards herself to catch what he was saying: '. . .collapsed in the street. School children died at their desks between sums.'

  'We're here,' Freddie said, his excited voice contrasting with the Doctor's sudden mood. The boy leaned across and took Rose's hand. 'You will tell me all about it, won't you?'

  Rose smiled and squeezed his hand. 'Promise.'

  It was massive: a city of classical buildings fashioned from grey concrete. A size and scale and sense of optimism that put the Millennium Dome to shame. Each and every country and dominion and colony of the British Empire was represented, some with their own vast concrete pavilions, some sharing with others.

  Formal gardens and walkways meant that the mass of grey was never overpowering. Rose found it hard to credit that only eighty years before her time Britain still had an empire, although the Doctor explained it was more like the European Union – a collection of states and countries that in this case shared a common history rather than a common geography. But despite the fact that Britain no longer ruled many of them directly, there was a sense of cohesion and pride everywhere. In the enormous British government pavilion, a gigantic relief map of the world showed the extent of the empire. Even now, a quarter of the way through the twentieth century. that empire covered a quarter of the world.

  It was both boring and fascinating in equal measure. Whenever they got tired of one thing, they simply moved on until something else caught their interest. They seemed to walk for miles. By late afternoon, as the light was fading and the crowds were thinning, Rose found it hard to distinguish between the different pavilions and exhibitions. She could remember grimacing at a collection of fox furs – silver, black, red and white – but could not recall whether they were from Canada or Newfoundland. Or Burma. She remembered both of them laughing at a field full of ostriches, but were they from South Africa or Tristan da Cunha? It was behind the full-size working replica of a diamond-washing plant, she knew that.

  And it wasn't just the pavilions – each of them in the style of magnificent buildings in the country they represented. There was a South African train, where the Doctor and Rose were served sandwiches for lunch. There were flickering black-and-white films of local life in the various dominions and colonies. Tribal people from West Africa living in an exact replica of their own village at home, overshadowed by the concrete pavilion from India – its style reminiscent of the Taj Mahal.

  There were sideshows and minor exhibits everywhere. In the Indian pavilion, it seemed as if every prince in that country had a stand where his staff were at pains to show off their ruler's achievements and the attractions of the local region.

  'So nothing from Russia then,' Rose observed as they finally reached what seemed like the last few buildings.

  'Nah – not part of the empire.'

  'Got their own.'

  The Doctor nodded. 'Yep. It'll last a while yet, though it's not in the greatest shape.'

  'The revolution,' Rose said, thinking back to the discussions at Sir George's that first evening.

  'Mmmm.'

  'Not a great way to run an empire, I s'pose. Shooting the king or whatever.'

  'The Tsar. And his wife. And his kids. No, not great-Mind you,' the Doctor added, 'Charles I got his head chopped off.'

  'That was ages ago.'

  'Which makes it better?' The Doctor clicked his tongue. 'Only ten minutes away in the TARDIS. Ends and means, always tricky.' He was looking round, as if trying to decide which way to go next. 'The women had diamonds sewn into their clothes. Bullets went whizzing round the room as they bounced off. Dead in a cellar,' he sighed, his breath misting the air. 'One of the most powerful families on the planet, and that's about the only thing people remember about them. That and haemophilia.' He seemed to have lost interest suddenly, and quickened his pace.

  'Haemo-what?'

  'Got it from Queen Victoria, something else people forget. It's a hereditary thing, stops the blood from clotting. The girls were fine, but poor little Alex had it. Nasty.'

  Rose nodded, vague memories of a TV news item about exhuming the Tsar's family drifting back. 'Good job Charles I didn't have it then.'

  The Doctor grinned back at her, and the past was the past again – something distant you could joke about, not a tragic memory. 'Like I said, it's the one thing people remember about the Romanovs. That and the fact they died.'

  At the back of the vast exhibition area was an enormous amusements park for the children. Here the variety and divergence of the lands of the empire made way for a full-size model of the old woman who lived in a shoe. There certainly were s
o many children that no one could have known what to do. But it seemed to Rose she hadn't actually been too hard done by – with all manner of games and amusements including a miniature railway to entertain her guests.

  Freddie, she thought sadly, would have adored it. The place was like an innocent and naïve version of the theme parks Rose knew. Instead of roller coasters and rides, there were see-saws and swings and rocking horses. And instead of bored parents shouting at their children or ignoring them, there was an army of uniformed nurses supervising the youngsters so that parents could wander freely through the empire of reality while their children explored the wonders of this imaginary world.

  That's progress for you,' she thought.

  But the biggest shock was the final building.

  'Know where you are yet?' the Doctor asked, amused at Rose's expression as she realised what she was looking at. Union Jacks flew from the flagpoles on the two gleaming white towers. The whole magnificent edifice looked new and confident and as if it would stand for ever as a reminder of the temporary world the Doctor and Rose had just walked through.

  'Wembley Stadium.'

  'They call it the Empire Stadium,' the Doctor told her. 'Largest sports arena in the world. Bigger than the Colosseum.'

  'I saw them pulling down the towers,' Rose said. 'On the telly.'

  'It opened for the FA Cup final last year, 1923.'

  She was standing in awe, looking up at the white concrete that seemed so strong and permanent. Remembering the indignity of its destruction. 'Who won?'

  The Doctor stared at her in something approaching disbelief. 'Bolton Wanderers,' he said. 'Who else?' In the same tone of voice, he added, 'It wasn't just random, you know. Whoever took the TARDIS must have had a good reason. It's time we got this sorted.'

  SIX

  The building on the opposite side of the street was an imposing shadow in the gathering evening. Ronald Cheshunt sniffed and nodded as he watched the uniformed doorman walk slowly back and forth, gloved hands behind his back, feet stamping to keep warm.