Doctor Who: Bad Therapy (35 page)

He found himself speculating which of the pair was the Toy and which was the human being. They looked lost in the large dancehall, as they stood in pairs behind the statuesque mannequins who lined the edge of the dancefloor.

202

The dancefloor itself was dark and empty, save for a single spotlight focused on Tilda and a motionless, costumed figure. The chorus of the song began, Jack noticed that Patsy sang these words more confidently or perhaps just with greater feeling:

Not a day

I wouldn’t last a single day

Without your tender love

My dear

As the chorus of the song got underway, Tilda began a simple and yet elegant dance around the statue. Occasionally, her hand would lightly caress the still figure as she moved slowly to the rhythm of the music, twisting her body and describing large circles in the air with her hands.

Jack found himself willing the mannequin to respond. Suddenly, he realized the probable result of his thoughts and he hurriedly retreated to the other side of the door to the dancehall.

After what seemed an age, the costumed figure, tentatively, began to respond to Tilda’s movements, swaying to the gentle rhythm of the song. After a few minutes, Tilda and the costumed figure were dancing in each other’s arms. The song spiralled to a dramatic climax and the two dancers paused, standing facing each other in silence.

Carefully, Tilda removed the straps of the painted mask which the mannequin was wearing, to reveal the face of a beautiful young man. His skin was coal-black and his eyes, large and oval; they shone with intelligence. He reached towards Tilda, slipping his hand around the back of her neck, and pulling her gently towards him. Their kiss was met with a splattering of ap-plause from the other Toys and their friends.

Jack became aware of movement close by him. The Doctor was dabbing at his forehead with his handkerchief. He saw Jack staring at him and smiled, looking visibly relieved by what he had just witnessed take place on the dancefloor.

The torch song was replaced with heady, Latin music, and soon the party was in full swing. The dancefloor full of twisting, twirling figures. Everyone but Jack was dancing in the room. Even the Doctor allowed himself to be pulled on to the dancefloor and shuffled, a little selfconsciously next to Tilda.

Jack smiled to himself; it was a relief to know that the Doctor wasn’t an expert at everything. All of the newly awakened Toys gave the little man a wide berth. Jack tried to picture what sort of person the Doctor might bring to life, but he couldn’t even begin to imagine what they might be like.

Jack watched as the last frozen statue jerked into life and begin to dance, clumsily at first, to the intoxicating rhythms. The last of the Toys come alive.

203

‘Goodbye Eddy,’ Jack whispered as a chapter of his life closed for ever.

He was about to slip away, when he saw a figure in a Harlequin costume push its way through the crowd on the dancefloor and head straight for him.

Shocked by the costumed figure’s determination, Jack backed into the hallway of Ronnie Scott’s.

Had he been standing too close to the toys and activated one by accident?

He felt ashamed, exposed, and a little excited as the figure cut a path directly towards him. Could this be Eddy come alive?

What should he do? His first reaction was just to take the masked figure in his arms and let himself be drawn into the rhythm of the dance. He couldn’t deny the part of him that, despite knowing what Eddy really was, simply wanted to be with him. He imagined pulling off the Harlequin mask to see Eddy’s deep blue eyes shining back at him. His shining eyes and wicked, impish grin.

The Harlequin stood before him. It was carrying something in its hand.

Something metal. At exactly the same time that the masked figure let out a high-pitched giggle, Jack realized that it was carrying a cut-throat razor.

‘We’ve been looking for you, Jack Bartlett,’ the Harlequin said.

204

14

London Burning

The Doctor sat on the bar watching the newly made couples dancing in each others’ arms. The dancefloor was a riot of noise and colour and laughter.

Tilda’s barman, Andrew, handed him a glass of wine. ‘Looks like you chose well, darling,’ he shouted over the noise of music.

The Doctor looked down at the glass in his hand. He sniffed it, took a small sip and then put it down on the bar. ‘I hope so,’ he shouted back.

The Doctor became aware of another sound competing with the noise from the stage: a low repetitive thumping sound. Ripples began to appear on the surface of the Doctor’s wine. Scanning the room, he was alarmed to see the firedoors rattling on their hinges, before they finally cracked open and collapsed inwards.

A dozen blank-faced creatures charged through the doors into the room wielding their twin-headed metal spears above their heads. The dancefloor emptied in seconds, the music dying away as the band caught sight of the sprinting figures. Costumed dancers screamed in panic as they tried to get away.

The Doctor leapt off the bar and quickly ran over to face the unwelcome guests. He’d been expecting this. Part of him had actually been hoping for it.

Somehow a confrontation with Moriah felt easier to deal with than another fight with young Christopher.

The Doctor wasn’t surprised to see the huge figure of Moriah follow the creatures into the room, striding confidently into the centre of the dancefloor.

The Doctor had suspected that Moriah wasn’t going to allow the Toys to enjoy new lives outside of his influence.

Moriah’s impact on the occupants of the room was dramatic: the Toys scuttled away from him, sheltering behind tables and chairs, while others hurried to the far exits. Only Tilda and the young black man born out of the dance remained standing defiantly where they were.

‘I thought I told you to bugger off? It’s members only and you’re gate-crashing.’

Moriah pointed at her companion. ‘What is
that
?’ he demanded with obvious disgust.

205

‘The future,
deah
.’

The Doctor joined Tilda at her side. It’s over, Moriah. Why don’t you just leave.’

The huge man towered over the Doctor. ‘If I cannot have my queen, then no one shall. All these creatures are mine. I created them and I have come here to destroy them.’

‘We are free of you now,’ Tilda told him.

‘Free of me?’ he laughed, without humour. ‘What could you possibly understand of freedom? You are nothing more than the lingering residue of my desire. An animated shell. Nothing more. Even as I stand in front of you, you’re entire being is affected by my will, you cannot help but react to my desire.’

‘You overestimate your appeal,
husband
,’ Tilda snapped. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to be responsible for satisfying your desires on your own from now on,’ she quipped, making a rude gesture with her right hand.

A low chuckle spread through the crowd. Tilda bowed slightly, ever the performer.

The Doctor watched as Moriah closed his eyes and frowned in concentration. The Doctor felt the impact of the huge man’s efforts, as his empathic instructions washed through the room, attempting to influence the Toys.

Moriah opened his eyes, only to see Tilda standing in front of him, tapping her foot impatiently. ‘I think you’ll find it’s a little late for that,
deah
. We’re far beyond your reach now.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘In fact, I wonder. . . ’ Her voice trailed away and she closed her eyes.

The Doctor felt a new sensation in the room; a powerful warm emotion rising up around him. He struggled for words to describe it as he glanced around at the costumed people in the room. Following Tilda’s example, every Toy in the room had closed their eyes, a look of deep concentration on all their faces. The room fell into silence.

It was their sense of belonging the Doctor felt. Trust, comradeship and the quiet love of siblings. It was being transmitted from and between each of the Toys, filling the room with their experience of adversity and their new bonds of friendship and community.

A sharp clattering sound startled the Doctor. He looked around to see the mannequins Moriah had brought with him let their spears fall to the floor.

Distracted by the powerful emotions of the Toys, their link to Moriah’s will was interrupted and they became disorientated and sluggish, moving with the graceless uncertainty of drunks.

‘Stop it! Stop it immediately!’ Moriah roared. ‘How are you doing this? It is impossible!’

∗ ∗ ∗

206

Gordy heard the voice of his devil screaming in rage just as Carl bundled Jack Bartlett into the back of the Rover. For a moment, he thought that the voice was coming from inside his head. And for a terrifying second he wondered if he were completely mad, but then he heard a woman shouting in response to the devil’s screams and he knew the voice was real.

Gordy looked back at the dancehall. Could it be that his devil had come?

Had he crawled up out of the depths of Hell itself? Gordy had planned to kill all of his devil’s enemies to win back his approval, but if instead he could help his devil now, surely then he would be grateful and would forgive him his moment of cowardice at the club?

‘Keep Bartlett here,’ Gordy shouted to Carl as he leapt out of the car. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

The voices were coming from the dancehall. Gordy ran into the room expectantly and then slowed to a halt when he didn’t see his devil. He looked about uncertainly, searching for him, but there was only the Doctor, some skinny woman and a big grey bloke in a suit.

‘What’s going on?’ Gordy demanded. ‘Where is he? I heard him, I heard my devil. Where is he?’

The Doctor laughed. He was laughing at
him
. ‘Hello, Gordon. This is turning out to be quite a reunion. There’s someone here I think you might be interested in meeting.’

Gordy felt a red haze of anger descend upon him. He hated the Doctor.

Hated the way he looked at Gordy, as if he wasn’t anything special. He hated the way the Doctor wasn’t scared when he threatened him, and just looked back at Gordy with pity on his face.

‘Come in Gordon, let me introduce you.’ The Doctor indicated the bulky man with his hand. ‘Gordon, this is the Prince of Darkness. Prince of Darkness, this is your willing but misguided slave, Gordon Scraton.’

‘That’s not the devil. Where is he? I heard his voice.’

The man in the grey suit was boiling with rage and ignored Gordy completely. ‘This is your doing, Doctor? You have perverted my work. You have altered the mannequins somehow so they have betrayed me.’

‘Actually, Moriah,’ the Doctor informed him, ‘they did it all on their own.

You should be proud – you’ve created new life in the Universe.’

Gordy stared at the large man in the grey suit. He had no idea what they were talking about, but that voice was unmistakable. It was him! The large man in the grey suit was his devil. Gordy blinked. Where were his horns? His scarlet face? He didn’t look like the devil at all. Perhaps he was disguised?

Perhaps he had to make himself look like a man when he walked abroad amongst the unsuspecting people of the world?

207

‘It’s me,’ Gordy said. ‘It’s Gordy. I need to talk to you. I need you to understand what happened.’

The grey man glanced at him, frowning at the distraction for a moment, before turning back to the Doctor. The ‘devil’ might just as well have punched Gordy in the guts. Gordy had seen that look before, all too many times, on his older brother’s face. Albert had never had the time to pay any attention to him. Never listened to his ideas for scams for the firm. Never let him in on any of the jobs. Gordy had always been an irritation to Albert. An embarrassment.

‘Don’t turn away when I’m talking to you!’ Gordy had wanted it to sound like a threat, but somehow it came out as a plea. ‘I need to explain. I need you to understand.’

The grey-suited man’s eyes flickered in Gordy’s direction. ‘What can you do for me? You’re useless. A coward. I have no further use for you. Leave me.’

‘No! You can’t mean that!’

Something in Moriah snapped. He strode over to Gordy, picked him up in his huge hands. For a second Gordy could see his large grey eyes close up, eyes that were filled with contempt. And then Moriah threw him across the room, and his body smashed through the fire exit and crumpled in a heap in the alleyway.

‘That was uncalled for!’ the Doctor cried out, as he watched Gordy Scraton slump to the ground outside the club.

Moriah whirled round to face the Doctor. ‘Really? And exactly when did your opinion start to count for anything?’

‘Ever since I started getting in your way, at a guess,’ the Doctor said, brightly.

‘Otherwise, you’d still be ignoring me.’

Moriah towered over the Doctor. ‘I warn you Doctor, you are being extremely foolish. If you really cared about the people of this city you would allow me to collect my –’

‘Toys?’ The Doctor quipped. ‘That about sums you up, doesn’t it? You are really a very spoilt child, Moriah. Don’t you understand, your Toys have outgrown you.’

‘Doctor, I have no quarrel with the people of this world. Not yet.’

The Doctor was genuinely surprised by this remark. ‘No quarrel! And what do you call kidnap and murder? Your homicidal taxi cab hasn’t exactly been proffering the hand of friendship, has it?’

Moriah waved away this accusation. ‘The device brought me a few dozen people. No more than that.’

The Doctor closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Can’t you hear what you are saying?’ he asked, eventually.

208

Moriah ignored the remark. ‘You know, I should be grateful to you, Doctor.

After all, it was your companion who led me to Earth in the first place.’

‘What?’ The Doctor was aghast. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I had travelled the Galaxy searching for appropriate material for my work.

After every fruitless quest I would return to the chamber beneath Petruska’s palace on Kr’on Tep to begin my search a fresh. On occasion, I walked amongst my people on the surface of the planet, even though I could never announce my presence.’