Bigger on the inside: Space, Time Travel, Alien Criminals (A Space Time Travel Mystery Book 1)

by Alianna Smith

  Rose Tyler was the daughter of Peter Alan Tyler of Vitex fame. Personally, Dave didn’t like the Vitex drinks, and neither had Rita, who had deemed them too sugary (she was right, of course, they were disgustingly sweet). Rose hadn’t been heard of before she’d become the débutante of the year, which surprised Dave. Either Peter Tyler was a very powerful man to have achieved to have been able to keep her hidden, or Rose’s biography was really interesting. Not that he bothered with gossip like that, of course. He just wondered how the Tylers had managed to keep their daughter a secret for such a long time. Rose didn’t seem to work, but she was very committed to charity, just like her mother, Jackie, who until a few years ago had been a very public persona only to withdraw after Battle against the Cybermen.

  The Tylers seemed to be very interesting, but what Dave cared most about was the real Rose, the Rose he had met for lunch. The Rose whom he had found in the street, and the Rose who had returned his jacket to him and who had thanked him for being there for her. The Rose who had not answered all of his questions despite the fact that she seemed a very honest and trustworthy person.

  Dave was confused.

  He clicked on the photo search, and instantly the screen filled with thumbnails of photos of Rose. For a moment, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being a peeping tom as he scanned the miniature photos. There were stunningly beautiful portrait shoots of her, most of them done for magazines, but there also were a few illegal shots of Rose with her hair tied back in a sloppy pony tail, wearing jeans and robust outdoor clothing and shoes suitable for long walks and running. She looked vivacious and animated in those unguarded snapshots; in the studio shoots she had that melancholy air about her, and in some of them her sadness was palpable.

  Dave wondered if other people had picked up on that. Her official website didn’t yield much personal information aside from the usual biographical data. He checked her event calendar and found that she was among the guests at the charity event he was doing for Sean the next night. And then he remembered something. Wasn’t 27 April her birthday?

  After a quick check on the biographical part of her website, he leaned back in his chair. It was indeed her birthday, but her site didn’t say how old she was. Rose was young, judging by her looks, but her eyes had told him otherwise. What was it about her, he wondered again.

  -:-

  He arrived at the charity event ahead of time to discuss his job with the organisers. They gave him a guest list, complete with notes on how best to deal with some of the more petulant ones. Although he shook his head in his thoughts, he didn’t let on. It wasn’t his place, and if it weren’t for Sean, he wouldn’t even be here. He did not normally do celebrity photography. The organisers also told him that he’d only have to stay for the official part of the event; he could leave as soon as the informal part began. It was a two-hour job, and Dave was quite glad that Robin and Anna wouldn’t need to babysit too late. Grateful as he was for them helping out, he knew he needed to become more organised to master life with the children and without Rita. It was reassuring to know that he had people he could turn to when he needed to, but he didn’t want to have to rely so heavily on them.

  Rose was indeed on the guest list. It surprised him because it was her birthday, and because she was probably still recovering from her accident. There was no plus one next to her name. She’d probably stay for as long as etiquette dictated, or perhaps she could use her health as an excuse to escape early.

  Why was he thinking about her? They were both there to do a job; it was work and not a social meeting. Besides, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to talk to her at all. Not that it mattered, because despite all the questions he had, he couldn’t think of anything to say to her. Dave realised that he wanted to be with her but not talk to her.

  He chewed the inside of his cheek. If anyone heard his thoughts, he’d say “Yeah, right, so do I, pal,” and make some obscene gesture. It wasn’t like that. He just wanted to get to know her, and maybe even see what it would be like to share a silent moment with her. Just that, perfectly innocent. That, and maybe sharing a drink of some sort. Without alcohol, in his case, because he had to drive himself home.

  Dave got his camera out and started to get ready. He took a few test shots of willing wait staff to check the lighting. There was a shy student whom he captured quite beautifully. The girl was stunned, and he promised to send the photo to her via email. She smiled gratefully at him, and he thought it was good to have an ally on this job. Tanya, he knew, would have been completely useless in a setting like this. It was probably a good thing that he didn’t know too much about the people whose pictures he was going to take either.

  Eventually, the ceremony started and he moved towards the stage to capture the event. Then he moved around the floor to take photos of the guests. He made sure that his name tag with credentials was clearly visible at all times, and he made a point of silently seeking permission of his subjects before taking the pictures and thanking them by nodding and smiling at them.

  And then there was Rose.

  “Oh. Hello,” she said, smiling. It was a guarded smile, nothing at all like the one from the previous day.

  “Hello,” he said, biting his tongue as her name threatened to slip out. He smiled at her and lifted his camera a bit. “May I?”

  “Of course,” she said, smiling for the camera. It was a radiant smile, good enough for the event, but he saw that her heart wasn’t in it. The sadness and loss clung to her like a heavy cloak, and he wondered if there was one like that around his shoulders too. Did it take a kindred soul to recognise it, he wondered, or was it clearly visible to anyone who cared to look?

  He took a series of photos of her and thanked her.

  He moved on to find Rufus Horwood, and before he knew it, he had lost sight of Rose.

  -:-

  He didn’t see her again until after his work was done. Not quite ready to go home yet, he moved outside onto the rooftop garden. It was beautifully illuminated by fairy lights and big candles in lanterns. The leaves of the potted plants were moving gently in the light breeze, and as he stepped towards the balustrade, he took in the lights of the city around them, but his eyes came to rest on their reflection on the water.

  “’s beautiful up here, isn’t it?”

  It was Rose. She joined him at the balustrade, her arms wrapped around herself for warmth. It had been a mild April, but the evening was cold. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

  “’s that how every other meeting of ours will go? You draping your jacket over me?” she asked, her eyes sparkling. The tip of her tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth, and he had a hard time concentrating on her words. This was pure Rose, he realised. She was herself with him.

  “I wouldn’t mind,” he said.

  Rose laughed.

  He would have loved to capture that moment in pixels, but he didn’t dare. They hardly knew each other. It wasn’t proper. Besides, this was private.

  “Thank you, Dave.”

  They were silent for a while. The breeze was tugging at her carefully coiffed hair, working a few strands loose that played about her face. They softened the line of her jaw a bit, and her lips seemed less tense as well. Again, the colour of her eyes was hard to tell in the tricky but gorgeous light. She licked her lips and brushed a lock of hair back.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” she said eventually, as if she’d only just arrived.

  “Working,” he said, pointing at his camera.

  “Me too,” she said, gesturing at her clothes. She was wearing a powder-blue dress that looked like water rippling around her. Although she seemed to be a woman with all the right curves, he thought that she was thinner than she ought to be. Was it because of the loss she’d suffered?

  “I’m off now, though,” he said. “I just couldn’t resist coming up here. For the view.”

  “I came here for the peace and quiet.”

  “I’m sorry.”

&n
bsp; “Why? You were here before me.”

  They were quiet again for a while. Dave raised his camera, adjusted a couple of settings and mounted it on a small tripod he’d brought. “Sorry, I can’t resist.”

  “Can I have a look?” Rose asked.

  He stepped aside so she could see the display. She was pulling the jacket closer about her as she did, and the lock of hair she’d tugged back came free. Dave was very tempted to brush it back for her.

  “Beautiful,” Rose said.

  “Yeah,” he croaked.

  She stepped aside so he could take the photo.

  “Happy Birthday, Rose,” he said as they waited for the exposure time to pass by.

  “Thank you. So you did look me up on the internet.”

  “I couldn’t resist. And I only checked your official site,” he hurried to say.

  Rose laughed. “’s okay.”

  Her phone chirped, and she excused herself. Dave watched her put some distance between them, and he returned his attention to the camera to give her some privacy.

  “I’m afraid I have to go,” Rose said. “Mickey needs my help.”

  Dave was surprised that she apologised in the first place. It wasn’t like they were on a date. Besides, Tanya had pulled the same stunt on him the previous day.

  “It was nice to see you again,” he said, picking up his camera.

  Rose stared at him.

  “Get out your phone,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Your phone. I’ve got your number, but you haven’t got mine. I’d like to see some of the photos you’ve taken of me tonight,” she said.

  “Sure.” He dug out his phone and noted down her number. His heart was racing. Rose Tyler was actually giving him her phone number. Numbers. In case she wasn’t in.

  “I’m looking forward to seeing them,” she said, taking off his jacket and handing it back to him.

  “Aye,” he said, stunned.

  “Bye, Dave,” she said, laying a hand on his wrist.

  “Bye.”

  Then she was gone.

  Chapter 4: The Day I Met You

  The photos Dave had taken at the charity event appeared in several glossy fashion and gossip magazines. Thankfully, there was only one of her in each of them she’d bought, and she had to admit that, for once, it was a good picture of her. He had caught her unawares, in conversation with someone who had been cut out of the photo, laughing at what the other person was saying. She looked younger in that photo than when she looked at herself in the mirror. The dress she had worn that night was described as conservative in the caption, but she had chosen it for exactly that reason. It covered her scars up nicely, and this was what she was going to look like at future events. She’d never give the public reason to discuss her scars or their provenance. And she certainly wasn’t going to have them removed. She’d have them always, as a reminder of what she had lost, of how far she could go — too far, it had turned out. The Torchwood doctors had nearly lost her twice after she’d been taken to the infirmary. Although she’d never felt truly alive since she fell though the void – and she knew she was considered dead in her original universe – she’d never wished she were dead. There was always something to live for, something to enjoy like having her mother, Pete, and her new little brother to share things with.

  In a way, she was glad that the days of the dimension cannon were over. Jumping had always been risky and as time wore on, and universe after universe turned out to be Doctor-less, Rose had begun to think that the walls between universes really were irrevocably sealed. He’d once said „Never say never,“ and that had kept her going for a long time. He hadn’t appeared as a hologram on the beach for nothing. She knew that if he could, he’d have turned up in person — he had burnt up a sun just to see her.

  She returned her attention to the photo in the magazine. Dave must have taken more than just the one, of that she was sure, and although she has asked him to show them to her he hadn’t yet called. Had he forgotten about her, she wondered? It was a bit of a disappointment because they had seemed to bond on the rooftop garden, both of them wanting away from the crowd and the attention for a while.

  Rose put down the magazine and finished her tea. She had yet to pack for her trip down to London; there was plenty of time left before she had to catch the train to Edinburgh, from where she’d travel to London by sleeper. She needed to get packed early enough to be able to make a run to the chemist for anything she might be running low on. That way she could go straight to the house in London instead of having to stop off at Boots on the way from the train station. It were usually the essential items she ran out of and only realised so at the very last moment.

  When she’d finished packing she was pleased to find that she didn’t need to go buy anything, except perhaps some snacks. Rose sat back on her heels after she had pulled the zip of her wheeled suitcase shut and had secured it with a small padlock. Pushing a few loose strands of hair back she looked at the austere white wall that provided a stark contrast to the dark wooden headboard. It was a lovely, sturdy old bed, one of the few luxuries she had indulged in when she’d moved in. It was made for two, but she usually only used the half by the bay window, dropping books and magazines and her netbook on the empty half before she went to sleep. The headboard and foot board were both slatted and rose to a generous height, giving her a feeling of being very small and protected in it.

  For a moment Rose considered painting the wall a deep blue, but that was just as bad as white. She didn’t want any other physical reminders of her loss. Maybe a pale, silvery green would do, or even grey. But certainly not blue or pink. Her pink days were over.

  Her phone chirped and she scrambled to her feet to pick it up from the bedside table. As she accepted the call, she stepped towards the bay window and sat on the arm of the chair she had put there to look at the small, slightly neglected bit of garden that had come with the house. She really needed to call in a gardener to tidy the place up a bit so she could enjoy it on warm days. She hadn’t bothered checking the caller-ID so she asked, “Hello?”

  “Rose, I know you’re still off but we could need your help down here,” Mickey said, slightly out of breath.

  Rose straightened a bit. “What is it? Where are you?”

  “We aren’t far from you. The situation itself is under control — Sheeryan trader ship crashed in the park. The Sheeryan are all right, and we’ve got a crew in to salvage the ship,” Mickey explained.

  “But?” Rose asked, furrowing her brow.

  “Well, we’ve got a witness, and she’s a bit... of a wild one,” Mickey said.

  “A wild one?” she asked, unable to hide a note of amusement.

  “She’s a bit like you, actually,” Mickey said. “Like you used to be.”

  “I was never a wild one!” Rose objected.

  “Rose, please,” Mickey said, unwilling to argue with her. He was right not to; they were at an incident, and the job was more important than semantics or their shared history.

  Rose sighed. Packing early had been a good idea, but she would never make it to her favourite sandwich shop now. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. But you’ll have to give me a lift to Queen Street Station later on.”

  “Anything, Rose,” Mickey said. He was really desperate.

  Taking the car didn’t make any sense for the short distance, and she could certainly use a bit of exercise before being cooped up in the train. Rose walked at a brisk pace to the park and found the site of the incident. The rescue team were hard at work, but she ignored them, approaching Mickey and Jake instead. They were standing at a short distance from the site, towering over a willowy girl that sat on a bench hugging her knees. She was staring daggers at the two men, her lips a determined pout. Her long, brown hair fell around her face like a glossy veil, and she was wearing a baggy t-shirt over a mini-skirt and black leggings. The black ballerinas she wore nearly slipping off her feet, and there was a huge handbag next to her on the bench. />
  When Jake spotted Rose, he smiled in relief and met her. “Her name’s Lucy, and she saw the whole thing happen. We’ve been trying to talk to her, but she’s... Not very forthcoming.”

  “Yeah, I gathered,” Rose said, wondering why they thought the sullen teenager would open up to her. Lucy wasn’t older than fifteen. As Rose approached her she noticed that the girl was very tense and close to shaking with rage. This wasn’t only about the incident.

  “Lucy, this is Rose Tyler,” Jake said as they reached the bench.

  The girl looked up briefly, confusion flickering over her face before she withdrew again, shrugging her narrow shoulders in acknowledgement.

  “Hello, Lucy,” Rose said.

  “Rose is our boss,” Mickey said.

  Lucy looked up. “Yeah? So she can tell you to get lost?”