by John Peel
He managed to rise to his feet and falteringly cross to the control panel. Weak at the knees, he clutched at it for support. There was a door at the end of the room... leading where? Just how big was this impossibility, anyhow?
There was a noise from outside. People? Friends? Enemies? Steven couldn’t be sure, but whoever it was, he didn’t want to face anyone until his head was working properly. He headed for the far door, more falling than walking, and once through it, he spotted a side room, with a bed in it. The thought of rest was too attractive to deny, and he allowed himself to fall finally, into the softness it offered. He was unconscious in seconds.
London hadn’t changed much in three years. Ian and Barbara hastily fled the time machine, to find themselves in an abandoned garage. Taking their belongings, they walked outside into the fresh air. Behind them, they heard a muffled explosion. Their decision was irrevocable—and neither of them regretted it a bit.
They deposited their luggage at King’s Cross Station, and then set off to sample the delights of home, in a dizzying, almost drunken, whirl. They had a pint in a pub by the Thames . They fed the remains of a sandwich to the pigeons in Trafalgar Square
. Ignoring the puzzled expressions of the passers-by, they ran through St James’s Park, and looked at Buckingham Palace as though for the first time.
‘Home!’ Barbara exclaimed, happily.
‘Well, almost,’ Ian said. ‘Let’s take a bus, eh? Beats a TARDIS for reliability any day.’
They hopped on to the first one they found, and settled down, still bubbling over. The conductor came over and looked at them, waiting.
‘Er... two threes, please,’ Ian asked, extending a shilling.
‘Two threepennies ?’ the conductor asked. ‘Where you bin, mate—on the Moon?’
He couldn’t understand why both passengers broke down, laughing.
Later, after they had sobered up somewhat, Ian and Barbara considered their situation. Three years away...
‘Good job I own my own house,’ Ian pointed out. ‘I’ll bet your landlady relet your flat years ago.’
‘I hope so,’ Barbara agreed. ‘I’d hate to find I’ve three years’ back rent due!’ Then she giggled. ‘I’ll bet you’ve got some dusting to do!’
‘Be serious,’ Ian complained, with a grin. ‘I wonder what Coal Hill School looks like?’
‘Do you suppose we can get our jobs back?’ Barbara wondered. ‘Hey—I just thought! What are we going to tell the headmaster?’
In the TARDIS, the Doctor switched off the Space/Time Visualizer at this point. Grumpily, he looked around. The control room seemed so much emptier now that there was just him and Vicki in it. It wasn’t the same without Barbara and that impudent wretch, Chesterton.
‘Hah!’ he exclaimed. ‘Why should I miss them ? Always fussing and bothering and getting in my way! Come to think of it, I would have asked them to leave. I would! Yes, yes—that’s exactly what I would have done.’
Still muttering to himself, he crossed to the controls. Slamming the levers and dials, he started up the time rotor. It began its steady rise and fall, as the TARDIS faded out from the surface of Mechanus. The Doctor turned and glared at Vicki. ‘I’m quite exhausted,’ he informed her. ‘I’m going to lie down for a moment. Yes, just a moment. Don’t touch anything.’
He hurried from the room, but not before Vicki had seen the tear on his cheek that matched the one running down her own.