Part One: Stranger in the Lake
He opened his eyes with a start. He was lying down on a bed, a set of large, white curtains where billowing in front of an open window. It was sunny outside and he could hear the sound of birds chirping. Physically he felt absolutely fine, apart from a niggling pinprick of pain in his left thigh. Mentally he felt that something wasn't right.
He felt like he was forgetting something. And then it clicked. It came flooding back into his head just like the water that had poured in and nearly drowned him. Like the water he was now waist-deep in. He shook his head and tried to clear the brain fog that was still lingering. His ship - his TARDIS - was damaged and had come crashing down to...well, somewhere. He wasn't exactly sure where he was.
As the strange images of the sunlight and curtains faded he scrambled to his feet. He felt better than he usually felt after a regeneration. Usually he would feel groggy and disorientated and needing to find himself. Right now he felt fit as a fiddle. He laughed inwardly. It was just as well that he felt better because the console room was rapidly filling up with water and he needed to get out.
He idly scratched at the itch in his leg and then got to his feet. He felt a little unsteady at first and then felt the strength in his new legs. He clapped his hands together and laughed. "Onwards!".
The Doctor waded through the cold water and reached the remains of the console, the burnt out insides still sputtering sparks and hissing like a angry swan. “Oh, my old girl,” he said, “what are we going to do with you?”
As if to answer the Doctor's question the console exploded in a flash of light and fire throwing him backwards and into the water. He pulled himself out of the water and coughed and spluttered. “Thanks, old girl,” he said, now thoroughly soaking wet. “I suppose we'll have to do this the old way,” he said, giving the obliterated console a knowing nod.
He waded through the water once again until he reached the other side of the console room. He reached down into the water, his other hand pressing against one of the walls. His hand slid down the wall. He glanced up at where his hand had been. The wall looked like it was melting. It was like he had pushed his hand down a wet slab of clay. This time the Doctor looked genuinely concerned. The TARDIS had recovered from disasters before and rebuilt herself, but this time the internal dimensions were failing and if they failed with him inside it would rip him apart.
He went back to what he was looking for and hefted a large, wooden chest out of the water, putting it down on a step that led to an inner doorway. He opened the chest and rummaged through the collection of water-damaged objects - an old map of a dead city, an ornate crown, a late 20th century mobile phone - before he finally found what he was looking for. It was a thin metal bar that resembled a starting handle for an old car. He smiled sadly at the object and then waded back towards the doors.
As he reached the doors the inner wall he had been standing next to cracked and split, crumbling down into the rising water.
The Doctor took a moment to survey the damage behind him and then reached down into the water. He felt around for a few seconds before he finally found the socket that the handle slotted into. He gripped the handle firmly and began to turn. He hadn’t opened (or closed) the doors like this for centuries so it took a while to get going.
There was another shudder from somewhere deep within the TARDIS. The cloister bell was now tolling deeper and more frequently than it had ever done before.
“Come on!” he said as he tried to turn the handle faster. The doors were slowly, very slowly, opening, but the gap wasn’t wide enough for him to slip through.
The TARDIS was now starting to shake violently. He knew he had to get out in the next few seconds or it’d be over.
The water was now gushing in through the narrow opening in the doors and the console room was growing darker and darker. A deep rumble was coming from somewhere deep within the old time ship. It was now or never.
With one more great turn he widened the doors some more. But the handle was jammed.
“COME ON!” he yelled, trying to force the handle. But it was no good. He turned back to the back wall of the TARDIS which had now completely gone giving way to a dark, black void. The dimensions were collapsing, the engines were gone. A horrible, howling sound was coming from the darkness.
He grabbed the door and pulled and pulled and pulled. The more he pulled the more the water gushed in. It was now or never. With one great heave he yanked them open.
The last thing he remembered was fire behind him and water in front of him.
And then nothing…
Saxerby, Saturday July 16th 1949
“Well?” said Betty as she sat down on the blanket next to Mary.
“Well what?” said Mary, blushing.
“Oh, come on, Mary,” said Betty, giving her a knowing look, “you can’t fool me. How long have we known each other now?”
“Since we were four years old,” said Mary, as she opened up the picnic basket and took out the ham sandwiches and two bottles of lemonade.
“Exactly,” said Betty. “Twenty years.”
“I can count you know,” said Mary.
Betty flicked her long, curly blonde hair over her shoulder and then crossed her legs. “So?”
“So what?” said Mary, not meeting her gaze.
“Oh, let’s not start again,” said Betty. “So what did you say?”
“About what?”
“Mary Auckland you know exactly what about,” she said. “Tell me.”
“Okay,” said Mary, looking her friend directly in her blue eyes. “I said no.”
“NO?!” said Betty. A flock of birds vacated the tree above them, flying off into the blue summers sky, alarmed at Betty’s high-pitched voice.
“Sush!” said Mary.
“I will not sush,” said Betty, flabbergasted. “Arnie Potter - the most handsome, most…most…well, most handsome man in the village asked you to the village dance and you said no?!”
“That’s right,” said Mary.
“But…why?” said Betty, a pained look in her face. “I’d have given anything to have been on his arm at the dance.”
“And that’s exactly why I said no,” said Mary, as she unwrapped the sandwiches. “I’m not the sort of woman that needs to go to a dance with a man, especially one who has the eye of all the other young woman in the village.”
“You’re not one of them are you?”
“One of what?” asked Mary, frowning at her friend.
“You know…you don’t want to be the prince instead of the princess, do you?”
Mary gave a withered look to her friend. “Even if I did what would it matter to our friendship?”
Betty didn’t know how to answer.
“Look,” said Mary, “Arnie Potter is a very handsome young man, but I’m just not interested in dancing. It’s never been my thing, you know that.”
Betty shrugged her shoulders and nodded.
It was true - Mary had never been interested in learning any kind of dance. The one time she had actually gone dancing was at another village dance around ten years ago. Her mum had made her dance with one of her cousins and she’d clumsily stepped on his foot. Her cousin, Frank, had howled in pain, stepped back and fallen into a table full of homemade cakes that her aunt had baked.
It had nearly caused a family incident. Nearly.
After that Mary had decided against ever attempting anything so graceful as dancing again.
“You can’t blame everything on 1939, you know?” said Betty knowing exactly what her friend was thinking.
“Maybe not,” said Mary, frowning, “but I still don’t want to dance. Besides, I‘ll never forget the look on Reggie‘s face when Aunt Jeannie‘s dog started licking cream cakes off him.”
Betty shook her head and then smiled inwardly to herself. “Maybe I’ll ask Arnie Potts out then.”
“Be my guest,” said Mary quickly.
“Oh, you’re no fun,” laughed Betty.
“I am hungry though,” said Mary, laughing along with her friend.
They were about to tuck into the sandwiches when there came an almighty explosion from the other side of the field towards the lake followed by the sound of splashing water.
Betty looked terrified and looked up at Mary. “What was that?”
“Maybe another unexploded bomb?” said Mary. They had discovered one in Norman Jackson’s field back in ‘46. It had nearly blown up half of his sheep.
“Should we go and tell PC Forrester?”
“Well an explosion like that would have been heard for miles. People will already be on their way.” Mary took a quick swig of her lemonade and then got to her feet.
“Where are you going?”
“To investigate,” said Mary.
Betty got to her feet. “What? Shouldn’t we wait for PC Forrester first?”
Mary looked back at her friend. She loved Betty, but she was also a very nervous woman. Mary on the other hand had had to grow up fast after her brother and father had been killed in the war. Mary liked to think that nothing phased her. “Someone could be hurt. You wait here for PC Forrester and I’ll go and investigate the lake.”
Betty nodded, concern in her eyes. “You be careful though.”
“I will. I’m not letting you take Arnie Potter to that dance without a fight.” She smiled cheekily at her friend.
Betty smiled nervously back.
The lake wasn’t too far from where they had been sat. Through the trees and over a fence, the lake was set down between hills. It wasn’t a very large lake, but it was home to wild geese and ducks.
Mary stood on the top of hill looking down at the water. A small plume of smoke rose from where she assumed the bomb had gone off. Her eyes surveyed the entire lake and it was then that she saw a figure struggling to the bank.
“Are you okay?!” said Mary, cupping her hands to her mouth, hurrying down the hill and towards the figure - a man - who had pulled himself out of the water. “What happened?” she asked.
He had short grey hair, a slightly large nose and a deeply furrowed brow. He had a kind face, but one that looked like it had seen the horrors of war. A bit of a world-weariness about it. He didn’t look too old - maybe late 40’s, early 50’s - and was dressed in a soaking wet grey suit. Mary noticed that the suit also looked burnt and charred, but strangely there was no evidence of any burns on his skin.
The man was on his back, propping himself up on his elbows and trying to catch his breath. “These arms,” he said - he had a well-spoken voice - , “I haven’t grown into them yet. Makes swimming rather difficult.” He turned and smiled up at Mary.
“I beg your pardon, sir?” said a bemused Mary.
“Nothing, my dear,” said the man. He took a moment to catch his breath again and then turned over and sat with his legs splayed out in front of him. “This suit has had it,” he said, fiddling with his cufflinks and what little remained of his shirt cuffs. “I suppose everything outlives its usefulness in the end.”
“Was it a bomb?” asked Mary, staring out across the lake.
The man looked at her, his eyes scanned over her rapidly, but not in a creepy way. It was as if he was trying to take in everything about her. She was wearing a white and cream dress adorned with small, pale green flowers. She had worn her hair down today and her long brown hair fell down over her shoulders.
“Mid twentieth century clothing,” he muttered to himself. “Late 1940’s, yes?” He looked up at her.
“Surely you must know the year,” she said crouching down beside him.
“I was in an…accident,” said the man.
“So it was a bomb?” asked Mary.
“Sort of,” said the man. “I was…ah…I was in my fishing boat. I must have struck the device. It exploded beneath my boat.”
Mary’s eyes scanned the lake. There was no wreckage. It must have totally destroyed the boat. “Isn’t it a bit odd to go fishing in a suit like that? Are you injured?”
“Apart from my suit, no,” said the Doctor. “Thankfully. But thank you for asking.”
Mary looked up as the sun disappeared behind the clouds, casting a shadow on the both of them. “You asked about the year?”
“Ah, yes,” said the man, tapping on his head. “Just a bit disorientated. That’s all.”
“Well maybe we should take you in to see Dr. Wood.”
“I’m sure that’s not necessary,” said the man. “I’m feeling quite fine now, although I could do with a new set of clothes.”
Mary frowned. Something still didn’t sit right with her. She’d lived in the village since she was born. She worked at the local post office and she was confident that she knew virtually every single person that lived in the village. She had never seen this man before.
“Where do you live?” she asked.
“Ah,” said the man, looking a little bit put on the spot, “I don’t live in this town.”
“Village,” corrected Mary.
“Yes, village.” He cleared his throat.
“Do you even know where you are?” asked Mary.
“Of course I do,” said the man, getting to his feet and feeling a little unsteady.
Mary grabbed his arm to steady him. “You’re in Little Thumbleton.”
“Exactly,” said the man. “Lived here my entire life. Good old Little Thumbleton.”
Mary looked disappointed. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said, sadly, “but this isn’t Little Thumbleton.”
The man looked like he had just been caught out. “I’m sorry?”
“Little Thumbleton was a place myself and my friend, Betty, made up when we were children for our dolls.”
“Oh, very clever. But I assure you it’s just the concussion,” said the man. “I had a dolls house once, you know!?”
“Then you really do need to see Dr. Wood.”
“I really don’t,” said the man. “I’m fine. Please trust me Miss…what’s your name?”
“Mary,” she said. “And your name?”
“John. Doctor John Smith.”
“Oh, so you’re actually a doctor yourself? Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m absolutely fine.”
“I’ll take your word for it, Dr. Smith.”
“Please, just called me the Doctor.”
Mary shivered as she realised the sky had grown a lot greyer since she had been stood beside the lake. The sun had now gone in and her bare arms had goose bumps on them. “We really need to get back to the village.”
“Agreed,” said the Doctor. “I may not need to see your Dr. Wood, but I’m certainly not going to risk shivering myself to death in these wet clothes.”
“MARY!” came a frightened voice from the top of the hill.
Mary and the Doctor both looked up. Standing there was Betty. She had the picnic basket under her arm and was shivering in the cold air, her blonde curls blowing wildly in the wind.
“Betty, what’s wrong?” asked Mary, as she and the Doctor made their way back up the hill.
“It’s her. She’s coming again. We need to get out of here!”
“Who?” asked the Doctor.
Betty glanced momentarily down at the Doctor, but was that frightened she didn’t even bother to ask who he was.
“Betty, calm down,” said Mary, putting her hands on her shoulders. “It’s the middle of the day. She won’t come during the day time.”
“She won’t come during the day when the sun is out,” said Betty, her frightened eyes looking all around her. “Look at the sky.”
Mary and the Doctor looked up at the sky. The sun was well and truly obscured by the clouds now. Thick, dark rain clouds had rolled in and where threatening to burst at any point. The wind was whipping up and the Doctor was getting colder and colder in his wet clothes.
Mary gasped and then looked down at her breath. “It’s like winter,” she said, fear now creeping into her own voice. She didn’t get frightened very often.
“What is this?” asked the Doctor, frowning at the two young woman.
“There’s no time to talk. We need to get out of here now.”
Mary and Betty turned to leave and the Doctor grabbed Mary’s arm.
“But, wait…”
Mary turned to him. “If you really lived in Saxerby you’d know exactly why we don’t have time to talk. We need to get back to the village now!”
The Doctor didn’t argue as Mary snatched her arm away. He ran as best as his legs could take him behind the two girls.
They climbed a small, wooden fence and then passed through a line of trees into an overgrown meadow. As they closed in on another line of trees the Doctor looked back at the gathering storm clouds, the rain beginning to spit down on them. He nearly collided with the back of Mary but managed to stop himself in time.
The two woman were standing stock still right at the entrance to the woods. The Doctor followed their gaze to where they were looking. Standing a little way into the trees was a little girl - maybe around 10 years old - wearing a long white dress down to her ankles and a pair of white shoes. Her arms hung limply at her sides and she didn’t move. But it was her face that was the most unnerving. She didn’t have one. Where her face should have been was a glowing light. It illuminated the dark trees around her.
“I told you,” said Betty. “It’s her. The girl in the woods. She’s come for us.”
To be continued...
