The Drosten's Curse

by A. L. Kennedy

  The Doctor swiped his hand through his hair and sighed again. ‘It’s time, I think…I think it really is time…’

  Julia remained her usual, dizzy, charming self and then her face lost a touch of its brightness and it was her turn to sigh. ‘Oh, yes. You wanted me to find out where I’d seen you before…’ She looked a little worried. ‘But must I? It’s such a perfect day…’

  ‘When is the last time you had a day that wasn’t perfect?’ asked the Doctor tenderly. ‘And isn’t that a little unusual?’

  ‘I suppose you know best,’ nodded Julia. ‘You are a doctor, after all.’

  ‘Then come with me.’

  And the Doctor walked outside, the old lady holding his arm and trotting along through the garden and then up the grassy rise beyond. At the top of the small hill, Putta and Bryony could see the blue box shape of the TARDIS standing where it had landed, something expectant about it.

  THE PARTY WAS WONDERFUL. It was something like 4 a.m. on 6 June 1914, and the last of the guests were out on the lawn and either dancing under the moon, or lying on the sweet grass by the lake.

  Julia Fetch had never enjoyed herself so much – not since ever so long ago in the days when she was a child and had walked on the beach and found a small white sphere – heavy for its size and vaguely warm. She’d known there was something inside the sphere – or someone. And it had seemed right to slip it under her pillow and to let it be warmed by her dreams.

  In those dreams, it had told her of how old it was and how lonely and how it would come and stay with her and play and how she should let it wake up again and grow. It had asked her what she should like and she had said that she would like to play lots and to be rich enough to do what she wanted and to meet a nice man when she was older and to have babies and grandbabies. But mainly to play.

  The someone had told her – had spoken into her mind – that it would grant her all the wishes she needed and that she should grow up a little so that she could speak to grown-ups and then she could do what she liked. All she had to do was throw the sphere into a body of freshwater – like the lake near her cottage. And in the end it had told her that she would own the cottage and the land and the lake and everything.

  So she had thrown the sphere into the lake and the someone had been kind to her for…oh…too many years to count. And now she did own the cottage and a big house on the land, as it promised her. Her early requests had involved so many silly things she didn’t really need. She had other houses and other land – and she owned the lake, Fetch Lake – the lake where she’d found the sphere. It was the same lake she was dancing beside in this wonderful evening, with gramophone playing deliciously and this man in her arms being absolutely the right one and the best one and – finally – someone she could properly love and get along with and laugh beside.

  The someone’s promise about love had come true and here was Bernard, Bernard Slater, who worked in a chemist’s shop and who she had met quite by chance and she would never forget him. She forgot a lot of things – although she had people to remember all she needed to for her so this didn’t matter. But she would never forget Bernard. She would be with him for ever. She would remember to ask the someone to make them both last for ever…

  She held Bernard Slater very tight and danced and danced.

  But she was going to forget to ask the someone about any more wishes. She was going to be too happy and full of too many plans and too busy making sure that Bernard didn’t feel bad about not having a lot of money and not being used to the strange life of someone who did. She was going to ask him questions about what she could do with her wealth to make it more useful. She’d given a great deal away, but the someone seemed to ensure that her investments always succeeded and that she was always defended by great heaps of pounds and shillings and pence. Bernard would mention that he loved the ocean – he wanted her to look after people, but also to take care of the ocean. And she would be sure that they could spend as much time as they needed learning all about marine creatures together and then do what was right…

  But in August there would be an announcement of war.

  And Bernard would volunteer early and everyone was quite jolly about it all and assumed it would be a small affair and over very quickly, so Julia wouldn’t think to make any requests about the matter. She would trust what she read in the papers and not trouble the someone.

  And Bernard would be killed at Charleroi.

  After that Julia would make no requests, beyond asking that she should no longer be young, because being young attracted attention.

  She wouldn’t ask out loud for children to love and wouldn’t ask out loud for the worst of her pain to be wiped away so that she didn’t have to stand it. The Bah-Sokhar would give her that all by itself.

  And for now she was dancing and aching with joy, thrumming with it. And Bernard was talking to her about how this was a wonderful place, how he loved the lake and the trees…and everything. They loved each other. They were being kind.

  The music licked and swirled round them and the breeze smelled of honeysuckle.

  From somewhere beyond the little line of trees she had heard a funny sound like the dragging of metal up a gravel path, or maybe a wheezing animal, or something…it didn’t matter. And it had gone now. Maybe it was only in her mind. She heard a lot that was only in her mind.

  Bernard leaned in and whispered to her, ‘You are the most extraordinary woman I’ve met.’

  And Julia opened her eyes and said, ‘And you are extraordinary, too.’ And they span half a turn and she suddenly saw – this was strange enough to catch her attention – an old lady standing in the shadows beneath the branches over to her left. She had her hands held close to her face. She looked a pleasant person and her eyes were shining with emotion. Behind her was a tall man with unruly hair and a remarkable scarf. Their eyes met. He nodded and waved, as if he were wishing her well.

  Then the two were gone and she thought nothing further about them.

  As she’d said so often to herself already – I’m in love. We’re in love.

  WHILE THE DOCTOR MARCHED away with Mrs Fetch, Putta was stumbling through a number of sentences he thought he’d better get out of the way. ‘It’s…I mean…I could…Perhaps I could get a job in the hotel doing…something.’

  Bryony studied him and blinked. ‘And what something would you do…?’

  Putta rubbed the back of his neck, which had started to feel weird. ‘Ah…umm…not golf…it’s…not cooking…those pies that aren’t pies and don’t have shepherds in them, I’d get confused…’ His stomach clenched as he considered that Earth was yet another planet on which he couldn’t do anything useful. ‘I could…’ This time when he sighed, the noise was escaping from a Yakt who was unable to think of anything that he could. Perhaps insisting that the being he loved most in the universe hung around with an unemployable alien wasn’t going to be a good idea.

  Bryony was about to tell Putta that, although Mrs Fetch had made sure Bryony had a new job as Senior Day Receptionist, she wanted nothing more than to climb aboard the Abrischooner and get space sick and go on…well, maybe not adventures, but expeditions would be nice…

  Only then the twins walked in.

  Both the Terran and the Yakt chilled at the sight of them.

  Honor skipped for a few steps and then stopped. She swung one arm indecisively. And then then she raised both arms and advanced. So did Xavier. He smiled, too.

  In response, Putta sprang out of his chair and stood, braced, his arms out, blocking any attempt to devour Bryony. This would have worked out well and looked highly impressive if Bryony hadn’t done much the same.

  This meant that Putta collided with Bryony and Bryony clattered into Putta, at just about the same time that they felt young, slim arms closing around them and gripping tight.

  Putta whinnied with fear.

  Bryony held what she thought was his forearm and also held her breath because somehow her mind and body expected that mi
ght make dying in an appalling way a bit better.

  Then nothing happened.

  No one liquefied, no one was absorbed, no one vanished. No one – in short – died in an appalling way. Or even a pleasant way, should someone have found a pleasant way to die.

  Hugging took place. This was rather boring after all the tensions, tortures and running about, but it was also a huge relief. Xavier mainly hugged Bryony because he was nearer to her and Honor mainly hugged Putta because she was nearer to him and both adults made small ‘Wh? Wh?’ noises until they were released and could peer down, their hearts still beating far too fast, at a pair of apparently happy and ordinary Earth children.

  ‘Hello,’ said Xavier.

  ‘Hello,’ said Honor.

  They were both wearing socks and sandals, the way that two perfectly normal Earth children might on a summer’s day.

  INSIDE THE TARDIS, MRS Fetch was nodding. She was both very happy and very sad. She was holding the Doctor’s hand as he operated the console and steered his ship back to Tuesday afternoon, 6 June 1978 – something after 4 p.m. Tea time.

  ‘So that’s where I saw you…I had met you before, just that tiny bit…I remember now…I remember everything…And it’s far too much to remember…I have lived a ridiculously long time, haven’t I?’

  The Doctor inclined his head and gave her a half grin. ‘I should imagine you’ve been alive for something like 300 years. The Bah-Sokhar found you and was fond of you – he knew you were a good thing. So he kept you around.’ The TARDIS wheezed in a minutely different tone and he patted the console. ‘And you’re a good thing, too.’ He shrugged proudly at Mrs Fetch. ‘She can be temperamental but I wouldn’t have it any other way and we’re used to each other…’ Then he continued more firmly: ‘You know it’s going to leave now – the Bah-Sokhar.’

  ‘Yes, I rather guessed it intended to. It gave me all these treats…The way it did when I was a girl…It put a little octopus that was fond of me into my bath…and gave me all those new limbs for a while…can you imagine…? I did enjoy that…’ She studied the Doctor. ‘I think you’ve been alive longer than me, Doctor.’

  ‘Yes, well…’ He wagged one large hand.

  ‘You aren’t tired of it?’

  ‘Oh, not really, you now. Not at all on most days. Not a bit. The universe is…The universe. One couldn’t be tired of that. And it keeps me very busy.’

  ‘You remind me of it.’

  ‘Of the universe?’

  ‘No. Of the Bah-Sokhar.’

  The Doctor frowned briefly. ‘The Bah-Sokhar kills people.’

  ‘But I don’t think it ever meant to. I think it was always trying to help. Living so long and travelling so far and trying to help.’ Julia patted his hand. ‘It will go back to being an egg, won’t it? It will tuck itself away and have a think…And some other little girl maybe will find the egg and—’

  The Doctor stopped looking quite so melancholy and began to enjoy being interested in a new life form and its possible ways of surviving. ‘Yes, some mind will attract it, some way of thinking that it likes the feel of…And it will start again.’ He hadn’t had to kill it. He always enjoyed not having to kill anything. ‘The Bah-Sokhar will transdifferentiate – its mature cells will become entirely different mature cells. Not like the visions and puppets and disguises its chosen…but – yes, why not – most probably some small egg, or a seed capsule…I’ve been known to transdifferentiate myself, now and again…One does miss out on being a child by hopping from one adult incarnation to another, but…Well, one can be a child at any time, can’t one?’ He lifted the old lady’s hand and kissed it, but when he raised his head again, he seemed very serious. He began with a stumble of letters. ‘Ah…of…’

  ‘You want to say that I will have to grow old and die once it isn’t protecting me…?’

  ‘I’m sorry. But yes. You will.’ The Doctor never liked these bits – the bits at the ends of stories, the bits that were natural and unavoidable and terrible all the same.

  He threw a switch and the TARDIS jolted into its chronic descent.

  Mrs Fetch laughed softly. ‘It’s very lovely all this – as a last day – I got a trip in your TARDIS charabanc and I got to see…’ She swallowed. ‘Bernard was lovely, wasn’t he? He was such a handsome, good man.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I’m absolutely sure that he was.’ The Time Lord consulted a dial swiftly – 4.46 p.m. precisely. Or thereabouts. He coughed and then looked straight at Mrs Julia Fetch, a woman who had never been married, but who had spent most of her very long life remembering the wonderful marriage she’d never had and enjoying the marvellous grandchildren that hadn’t quite existed. He gave her his best and widest and wildest smile – the one filled with the Time Lord’s enjoyment of every second of every minute of every day – even the bad ones – because they were there – they were all so there. ‘And I’m absolutely sure that dancing with you that night was his happiest memory.’

  Julia smiled back. ‘Now I can remember the real Bernard, not the one the Bah-Sokhar gave me. I think that’s better – at my time of life. Dreams are nice, but it’s good to wake up.’

  ‘The real Bernard was a remarkable and handsome man. I should know.’ As the TARDIS stabilised its presence in 1978, The Doctor beamed. He’d never really seen the point of modesty – it was so inaccurate.

  JUST AS MRS FETCH and the Doctor walked back towards the garden, out through the gate scampered Honor and Xavier, their arms waving and their voices mingling pleasantly.

  ‘You’re back! Great!’

  ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘There’s cake!’

  ‘You look tired, do you want a seat? Do you want cake?’

  ‘Granny! Granny! Granny! And you’re with the Doctor – we missed him!’

  And the capering, delighted children patted and tickled and yelled at the adults before running off again. They were almost inside the cottage when they stopped dead.

  The Doctor steeled himself for some new strangeness, perhaps an attack – for the last shred of resistance as the Bah-Sokhar faced a kind of death, certainly the death of its current form. He put his arm round Mrs Fetch and prepared for the next threat.

  The twin’s faces focused on the Doctor, their eyes were penetrating and strangely adult, even ancient.

  They opened their mouths wide and said simultaneously, ‘Thank you. This is the last of us. They are they. I am I. Goodbye. Love. Goodbye.’

  And then the long-limbed and sparky and elegant pair of kids were just kids again. They were thoroughly alert again and giggling and – yes – he could see the last of Bah-Sokhar’s influence withdrawing from them like a very faint vapour, or a tint in the light. They both seemed to be completely unaware of the creature speaking through them for one last time, of it leaving them, of it having them pushed them fully into the world as independent new beings – children, in fact.

  And as the Bah-Sokhar’s presence left from Honor and Xavier, the Doctor felt Mrs Fetch stumble slightly and lean against him more heavily. ‘It’s no fun Doctor, being really old.’ Then she giggled and turned to him. ‘I don’t think you’d be up to it.’ Then she made an effort to stand straight, shake off assistance and walked into her home – what had been maybe her first home, long ago. She had a while left to live there and to be with the twins. The children would grow old, too now – she might even get to see them be a man and a woman with lives out in the world. She might last just long enough to enjoy that.

  The Doctor called as she went, ‘Send out Bryony and that fool Putta. We’ll take a stroll while you get reacquainted with your family. I think I need a little air.’

  Because she’d learned a thing or two in her centuries, this made Mrs Fetch give him a sharp look and say, ‘Goodbye, then, Doctor, and thank you. For everything. Thank you so much.’

  The Doctor didn’t exactly blush under his hat, but he did get a bit mumbly when he said, ‘I do hate goodbyes…They’re just…too much like saying goodbye…And
one never knows…’ To distract himself, he asked her, ‘Oh – not that it matters so very much – but what did that egg look like? The one that contained the original Bah-Sokhar.’

  ‘It was round and white and smooth.’ She made a circle with her thumb and forefinger. ‘It was about that size. A pretty thing. I put it under my pillow and then in the morning it had disappeared – but the Bah-Sokhar was there – in my mind…Yes, just a small white ball. That’s what it looks like.’ Julia Fetch laughed, laughed like a much younger woman, hugged her grandchildren to her and went inside.

  Honor and Xavier hugged her back, happy. They were creatures born of love and need and the psychic manipulation of matter at a sub-atomic level – and although that wasn’t quite the usual way to make human children it wasn’t that far off it, either.

  THE DOCTOR STROLLED LANKILY across the well-tended grass. Up ahead the TARDIS was looking very elegant, he thought, in the afternoon light. He could feel that she was ready to be off, impatient, and he was a bit restless himself.

  There were still a few things to deal with. Rather important things. He span to confront his new friends, ‘Now. Putta.’ The young Yakt flinched. ‘No, no, no – it won’t do. You can’t save the day on numerous occasions, act selflessly and bravely and stop people dying and…stop at least one whole planet from being turned into a hell very literally on Earth and then eaten…you can’t do all that and then just slip back into being timid and assuming you’ll never amount to anything.’ He slapped Putta loudly on the shoulder. ‘Cheer up! You love her, she loves you and you really ought to get on with what’s next.’

  Both Bryony and Putta stared at him like stunned bandans.

  ‘No, I’m not experiencing your thoughts…I’ve had quite enough of all that. A stunned bandan would be able to tell that. Now please stop being so complicated about everything – life is remarkably short when you really consider it fully – which you might not want to, that kind of thing can be worrying – and you have a lot to do. Other adventures to have – which you will manage splendidly – and…Putta, stop fiddling in your jacket pocket. What have got there?’