Doctor Who: BBC Eighth Doctor Adventures [045] - Eater of Wasps

Author:Trevor Baxendale
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science-Fiction - Doctor Who
ISBN: 9780563538325
Publisher: BBC Books
Published: 2001-06-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Liam Jarrow looked carefully at the face in the picture. He could see his father’s eyes looking right back out at him – he couldn’t tell what colour they were, of course, but they shone with love and courage. The photograph had been taken just days before he left for France, his mother had said. He looked so heroic in his uniform and cap.

Liam returned the photograph to its customary position on the mantelpiece, tears welling up in his eyes. He needed to be every hit as courageous as his father had been when he went off to fight the Hun. His mother was in the kitchen, still stirring the cup of tea Liam had made for her over an hour ago.

It was stone-cold now. When he looked in on her, he could see Tom Carlton’s wedding ring glinting on her finger. Liam should have been sitting with her, comforting her, but he felt woefully inadequate. His bitter resentment of Tom Carlton’s place in her life – in their lives – had been a barrier between them that Carlton’s death had only served to crystallise. Now Liam had another reason to hate Carlton: even in death, he had managed to set mother against son.

He looked in at her once more. His mother’s face was puffy and red with grief, her eyes raw with the effort of crying all night long. For a moment Liam considered going in to sit with her. But he couldn’t. He was frightened that his mother might express her grief by turning on him. He could sense that harsh words were only just around the corner.

There was a knock at the front door – or at least Liam thought it had been a knock. It was strangely persistent and forceful.

He checked quickly through the living-room window, which overlooked the path outside. Through the net curtains he could see someone in a familiar tweed jacket with brown leather patches on the elbows. ‘Oh, no,’ he murmured, and then, louder so that his mother would hear, ‘It’s Mr Rigby.’

‘I don’t want to see anyone,’ croaked his mother from the kitchen.

But, with a sudden crunch, Charles Rigby’s fist punched right through the front door.

Liam reeled back in shock. Rigby’s hand now grasped the ragged edge of the door and heaved. More wood was torn away with terrifying ferocity. Liam backed against the far wall, gasping in fear as the entire door was kicked right out of its frame with a splintering crash. The door fell inwards to reveal Rigby lurching in its wake.

His skin was grey and shiny with sweat. His hair was thin and dishevelled.

And there were wasps flying all around him – and in and out of his mouth.

‘Liiiaaammmmm…’ the shambling figure cried, reaching out towards him.

Liam was assailed by a dreadful stench, like something from some animal’s flyblown remains. He slid away down the wall, his legs feeling horribly weak.

‘Liammm…’ Rigby’s voice was a slurred, painful rasp. ‘Liammm!’ He seemed to be staring plaintively at Liam, but his eyes were burning red.

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