by Doctor Who
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He nodded shyly. ‘And you are Rose. I must thank you for all you have done for me.’
She tried to look modest. ‘Oh, it was nothing really.’
Marcia swept her up in a hug.’. You say it is nothing! What you and the Doctor have done for us can never be repaid! Oh, I feared for your safety-we have not seen you since. . . since. . . ’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ said Rose hastily, realising that their last GENIE-orchestrated meeting would be – at least, she hoped it would be – a bit of a blur.
But Marcia was still frowning. ‘You – and the slave Vanessa. . . ’
‘Ah!’ The Doctor put an arm round Gracilis’s shoulder. ‘Now, I wanted to have a word with you about her.’
‘Indeed?’ said Gracilis.
‘Indeed indeed. The thing is, I know she belongs to you.’
Rose snorted, and the Doctor threw her a look.
‘I know she belongs to you. But she isn’t coming back.’
Gracilis opened his mouth to speak, but the Doctor shushed him.
‘I know you paid a lot of money for her. But look at it this way. You bought her to help get your son back – and you’ve got your son back.
You don’t need any more slaves. You’ve just taken on another couple of dozen. And. . . I’d like to give you something in exchange for her freedom. If I could just borrow a bit of muscle. . . ’
With the aid of some slaves, the Doctor brought the Fortuna statue out of the TARDIS and it was carried over to Gracilis.
‘I thought you might have a spare spot for this,’ the Doctor said.
‘After all, you’re missing a statue now. . . ’
So the stone Rose was taken to the little grove just outside the villa entrance.
‘Careful!’ called Gracilis, as the statue knocked hard against a wall during an awkward turn.
‘Is it OK?’ asked Rose.
‘Oh, yes,’ said the Doctor. ‘Well, maybe there’s a slight crack. Just at the wrist.’ And he grinned.
The Doctor and Rose sat in the grove. The sun sparkled across the 168
pond, throwing glitterball reflections across the white marble of the statue. The Doctor petted a peacock, which made a mewing noise like a cat. He mewed back at it.
They’d been sitting alone for a while when Gracilis joined them again. He begged their pardon, but he wanted to ask them something.
‘That girl, Vanessa,’ he said. ‘She was a true reader of the stars, wasn’t she?’
Rose wasn’t sure what to say, but the Doctor nodded. ‘I suppose you could say that.’
Gracilis was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then he continued, ‘I think she was sent by the gods to aid us. And I think you too were sent by the gods.’
Rose laughed. ‘No, really, we weren’t. Honest.’
‘In that case,’ Gracilis said, looking at the statue, ‘you must be gods yourselves.’
‘No, we’re not!’ Rose began, but Gracilis had risen and was moving off.
‘I will honour you all my life,’ he said.
‘Gracilis!’ Rose had suddenly thought of something.
He stopped and turned back. ‘Yes, my lady?’
‘Just – no sacrifices, OK?’
Gracilis smiled and bowed.
Rose took a last look at her statue as they stood up, ready to head back to the TARDIS and places new.
Almost 1,900 years later, a grainy picture of that same statue was sellotaped to a cupboard in Jackie Tyler’s kitchen. It was a shame they didn’t do a proper postcard of it, but Mickey had taken a photo on his phone and had it blown up for her, and that was better than nothing. Her daughter. Her beautiful daughter, Rose. Jackie started singing to herself as she opened the cupboard to get out a microwave meal for one.
In the British Museum, Mickey Smith was standing in the sculpture room. ‘This is the goddess Fortuna,’ he said to the group of kids he 169
was taking round. ‘She brought luck – or took it away. But you’d put up with whatever she did. Because when she decided to favour you, it made everything worthwhile.’
And the kids, who’d been fidgeting and punching each other and daring each other to nick stuff from the gift shop, heard something in his voice that actually made them pay attention for a moment.
‘She’s pretty,’ said one of the kids.
‘Ha! She’s your girlfriend!’ one of the others retorted. ‘You love her!’
And Mickey grinned as he led the taunting, teasing kids to the next exhibit.
Nearly 370 years after that, Vanessa Moretti spent another lonely day in the house, while her father was off supervising the building of his new laboratory. She thought back longingly to the time she’d spent in Rome. How could she have hated it so much? Surely anywhere was better than here. Mind you, it all seemed like a dream now. She remembered the Doctor telling her a long story, something about her father. But now she was home, she couldn’t seem to remember it. She wished she could see the Doctor and Rose again, ask them about it.
But she didn’t have the GENIE any more, so wishes didn’t come true just like that.
She wished she did have a GENIE.
Perhaps her father would be able to build another one.
And who knew how far in space or time from there, a little scaly creature with the claws of a dragon and the beak of a duck sat admiring its surroundings. The grass was green and the sun shone. An animal resembling a large guinea pig wandered over to the newcomer and examined it with interest.
The GENIE looked at the guinea pig. ‘Ah, my furry friend,’ it said,
‘if you had a wish, what would you wish for?’
The guinea pig squeaked. There was the sound of thunder rumbling and then an orange, carrot-like vegetable appeared. The guinea pig 170
squeaked again. ‘You’re welcome,’ said the GENIE. Despite its beak, it almost seemed to be smiling. ‘I think I shall be happy here.’
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Acknowledgements
Thanks to many people:
Helen Raynor, queen of script editors, for help and advice; and Russell T Davies, without whom. . .
Justin for always being there, and being such a damn fine editor too; and, together with Steve, without whom writing these books wouldn’t be anywhere near as much fun;
Lesley, for help and insight;
Phil Cole, fellow one-time Nottingham classicist, for historical reassurance;
David Bailey and Mark Wright for being jolly helpful – and jolly in general;
and of course Mum, Dad and Helen, Jan, Chris and Marie, and my wonderful husband, Nick, for their love and support.
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About the Author
Jacqueline Rayner made a wish that she could combine her degree in ancient history and her love of Doctor Who with her profession as a writer, and The Stone Rose is the result.
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Document Outline
Cover
Contents
Prologue
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
Acknowledgements
About the Author