Doctor Who: The Sleep of Reason by Martin Day

Author:Martin Day
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Tags: Science-Fiction:Doctor Who
ISBN: 9780563486206
Publisher: BBC Books
Published: 2004-10-13T10:00:00+00:00

relief needed to be upped in the wee small hours to get the patient through the night. Once – dozing in the obstetrics department of an inner-city hospital – she’d been roused to help with a birth complication. A woman who spoke not a word of English had been about to give birth to triplets – and two out of three of the children were breech.

That had been quite a night. But nothing could have prepared her for the rough shaking of the shoulders that interrupted a weird dream about marsh-mallows and an identity parade of masked soap stars. Tracy was sitting in the staff room and must have nodded off in the middle of a gripping article on the UK’s future at the heart of Europe.

Liz Bartholomew was standing over Tracy, her face utterly drained of colour.

‘Sorry, Dr Bartholomew,’ said Tracy, rubbing her eyes. ‘Must have nodded off. . . ’

‘There’s been. . . There’s been an accident,’ said Liz, almost babbling in her panic. ‘Mike Farrell is dead.’

‘Oh my goodness! What happened?’

‘You’ll find out soon enough. What I need you to do is contact the police, get an ambulance here – though there’s nothing they’ll be able to do for him.

I’ve tried phoning but the line’s dead.’

‘That was one hell of a storm last night,’ said Tracy. ‘It came from nowhere.

Must have knocked down one of the poles or something.’

‘I need you to pop out and phone 999,’ said Liz. ‘If you can’t get your mobile to work there’s a phone box on Charnage Lane, just before you get to the village.’

‘No problem,’ said Tracy. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

She grabbed her coot from the peg on the back of the door and headed for the car park. She knew there was no point trying her mobile: even if you could get a signal you could guarantee the connection would drop at the most vital moment. The sudden storm had been followed by blank skies and sub-zero temperatures. Her red Metro was covered with frost; there was some antifreeze in the boot but, typically, she couldn’t get it open. The back of her glove dealt with the worst of the ice on the front windscreen; after much cursing, the driver’s door opened.

She turned the ignition, switched on the rear demist, put all the blowers on maximum. Almost immediately the interior temperature began to rise – a fault in the car’s thermostat, the last mechanic she’d spoken to had said. It was great in winter, but a pain the rest of the year when Tracy had to drive round in a T-shirt with both windows down just to survive. She really should get the car sorted out, but there never seemed to be quite enough money to get it repaired properly. At the end of every month the story was the same: a big, fat zero in the bank account, or worse.

105

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