|
Читайте также: |
6th December 1783
Oh, for the sake of Saint Peter! What a disaster!
One of the strangers and the child Maria have escaped.
I watched them go. ‘No! Stop!’ I cried, running to the door. ‘Stop! Stop! Stop!’
Then I realised I was shouting at no one, and I felt silly.
Her own pain overcome, my beloved Perdita was at my side in an instant, soothing me. ‘I’ve rung for help,’ she said. ‘They can’t get far.’
I looked up at her. ‘Are you sure?’
She nodded. ‘I will go and issue instructions.’
She left the room with a swish of skirts.
That left me alone with the Thing. It stood there, patiently. Waiting for orders. So, with a weary sigh, I sent it away. Off it went back down to The Sea.
Dear Perdita came back in, closing the French windows after it. She tidied her hair and paused before turning to me, her face sympathetic. ‘Don’t worry, my darling. It’s all in hand. Why not have a rest now? It will all be better in the morning.’
And it will be. Because she tells me so.
*
7th December 1783
A new day! A glorious new day!
Well, I say that. It was perishing cold, the water in my bedside basin nearly frozen, and even the carpet chilly. The maid had lit the fire in my bedroom, but the heat was hardly spreading out beyond the hearth.
Perdita had dressed already and had an excited look on her face. ‘Come, my dear, come and see.’
It was the same look my mother wore when she told me the brilliant news that it had snowed. The sight was almost as wonderful.
I stood at my study window and watched as the patients were wheeled out onto the veranda and down the sea path to the beach. Each one, still and silent, bumped along in their chair, their ever-faithful attendants with them.
I felt Perdita squeeze my hand. ‘Look,’ she breathed.
And then I saw her. The girl with the bright red hair, slumped in her chair, staring blankly ahead of her, being wheeled patiently along. Miss Pond, and the figure behind her, grim and expressionless, a man I now knew was called the Doctor. Only it wasn’t really the Doctor. This version of him had come from The Sea, to learn all it could about Amy Pond. She was completely in its control.
‘What a wonderful day!’ I beamed. I actually beamed.
‘Exactly,’ Perdita agreed, clasping my hand to her lips. ‘Oh beloved! It is taking her down to the beach. Soon we will know everything about them.’
I left my study, and crept out behind our guests, following at a distance, trying not to rub my hands with glee. I felt the same childish thrill I always felt as the wet sand sank under my feet, leaving squelching footprints. I remembered that first time I had stood on the beach and realised there was something there, something in the water that called to me, that rolled out of the mist and into my mind, wrapping itself around my every thought and giving me everything that I wanted. Ever since, I’d always kept at a wary distance as the spirits worked their magic on my patients – every single day they came down to the shore, and they left better. I don’t know how it works, but I know that it does. The Sea gives them exactly what they need. And in return… it learned all about them.
It wanted Madame Amelia Pond, I knew that. It had tried before, and it had failed, summoning Kosov to bring them to me. There was something about those three strangers – how had they come here? What were they? Something I did not know and The Sea wasn’t telling me. But it wanted desperately to try again.
Now it had its chance. It did not matter about the boy called Rory. It was a pity about the man called Doctor. The real Doctor was probably lost on the waves and would wash up in a fisherman’s net somewhere.
But Amy Pond. Oh! The Sea had briefly been able to touch her mind – it knew that the Doctor was the most important thing in the world to her, and it had given a copy of him to her. If they spent enough time together, the copy would become every bit as good as the real Doctor. It stood there now, wheeling her down to the beach, one hand resting lightly on her shoulders, drawing all it could from her.
There she sat, her head nodding slightly, those pretty eyes wide open, listening to The Sea as it washed in, waves folding over and over, calling out ‘ forget, forget, forget ’ as it washed across the beach. Her hair was the brightest thing in the world that morning, red against all that grey. Her skin was so pale, pale as a freshly laundered sheet. She was probably cold, but she wouldn’t feel it – not as The Sea reached into her.
I watched as the fog came up from The Sea, rolling out along the beach, little fingers stretching up across the beach, and dancing around her feet. The fog glowed slightly, a faint green, as if thousands and thousands of little candles flickered inside it.
It would not be long now before it knew everything it needed.
The figure of the Doctor stood behind Amy Pond, his hands resting on her shoulder. Gentle, but firm. There was no escape for her. Not any more. Soon she would remember, and then everything of hers would belong to us.
Дата добавления: 2015-09-09; просмотров: 201 | Поможем написать вашу работу | Нарушение авторских прав |
|