Loving the Alien: Part Four

Previously on Loving the Alien:


Part one is here


Part two is here


Part three is here


And part four... is right here.





CHAPTER ELEVEN


Helvetica Jones always knew when The Doctor was going to pop by for tea. She could never have told you how she knew – she just kind of sensed it. This morning there had been something about the way the clouds swirled, high and delicate in the blue skies above her cottage. Something about the stillness in the morning air and the crackle of the flames in the kitchen fireplace.


So it was no surprise to her when she came back in from the garden, arms laden with firewood, to see the kettle on the boil and the tall, spindly form of The Doctor sprawled out in her favourite chair.






“Morning Doctor,” she said cheerfully, filling a basket with the firewood. “New face. Like it.”


“It has a certain dignity, doesn’t it?" Replied The Doctor. “Tea?”


“Always.” She sat down at the table as The Doctor poured boiling water into a battered blue teapot. Helvetica regarded the table, observing the two cups The Doctor had set out next to her multi-coloured tea cosy. “Travelling alone, are we?”


“Not exactly.”


The tea cosy twitched. Helvetica sat up in her chair, startled. Then the tea cosy started to move towards the edge of the table. Carefully she reached out. As she touched the tea cosy, it stopped moving.


“Oh no,” squeaked a little voice from underneath the tea cosy. Slowly and carefully, Helvetica lifted it up. Underneath was a small, white blob with short stumpy arms and legs and the cutest face she’d ever seen.


The Doctor poured the milk. “Helvetica, this is Flimbleby, an Adipose of undetermined origin. Flimbleby, this is Helvetica Jones, Art Historian and amazing cook.”


“Hello!” exclaimed Flimbleby, wandering across the table and taking one of Helvetica’s fingers in his tiny hands. She wiggled her finger, shaking his hands gently, and smiled.


“Well aren’t you the sweetest thing ever. I’ve never heard of the Adipose before.”


“We are made of fat!” shouted Flimbleby gleefully. “Cake please.”


“I promised him cake,” said The Doctor.


“You promised yourself cake,” she smiled. She stood up and went over to an old wooden cupboard. “So, Doctor, to what do I owe the pleasure?” 







CHAPTER TWELVE


The Lovely Thin Lady brought out one of the biggest cakes Flimbleby had ever seen.


Not the biggest, of course. When he was friends with the Big Fat Lady With The Hat he had seen a cake as big as the table he was now standing on. It had been white and full of cream and the Big Fat Lady had jumped right into it, which had been funny and the cake had gone everywhere!


But this cake was pretty big, and Flimbleby wasted no time in chomping into it. As he ate, Doctroo told the Lovely Thin Lady about the pictures at the museum that had been smashed up, and the Dinosaur pictures that went on fire, and how he thought it might happen again, to some other pictures. He did not tell about how Flimbleby had helped fight the Nerminates, but maybe he was saving that for later, and maybe there would be another cake.


“I wondered if you had heard of any similar occurrences,” said Doctroo, through a mouthful of walnut cake.


“History is full of art being destroyed, Doctor...” said Lady Helvetica. “Let me see…” And then she had brought out a Big Book and laid it out on the table.










She turned the pages slowly, discussing each one with Doctroo. Flimbleby peered over the edge of the huge book. It was full of photographs and scraps of paper cut out of magazines – pictures of people dancing in beautiful coats, or doing singing on a stage, or carving big shapes out of stone. Flimbleby hoped there would be a picture of a dinosaur or a dog or a cat, but he couldn’t see one. “Stupid,” he muttered to himself. 


Then Lady Helvetica turned a page and Flimbleby saw something he did recognise. It was The Big Fat Lady With The Hat! She was in a photograph with lots of other people, sitting in rows looking at a big stage. On the stage was a Beautiful Lady with Lots of Hair, doing a big sing.


You could not hear the singing, because it was just a photograph, but Flimbleby knew she was because he remembered being there. He could not see himself in the photograph, but he knew that he was right there – hiding under the Big Fat Lady’s hat and listening. It had sounded so lovely that he had wanted to cry. But then…




CHAPTER THIRTEEN


“… then this woman stood up in the audience – the huge woman in the vulgar hat with all the feathers – and started shouting.” Helvetica pointed out the lady in the audience. Her hat was indeed vulgar, and looked far too big for her head. She was also, indeed, extraordinarily overweight, to the point where her face was nearly as shapeless as Flimbleby’s.


“Shouting? During the solo in the third act?” said The Doctor. “That’s the most beautiful solo ever written. Performed by Mariella Seltrexion - the greatest singer the galaxy has ever produced. To get a seat at this must have been next to impossible – and this woman starts shouting?”


“Shouting at the singer!” said Helvetica. “Ruined things for everyone. The performance couldn’t go on – the spell was broken. Seltrexion never sang again. This was to have been her greatest performance, and this woman ruined it forever.”


The Doctor turned the pages, scanning the clippings and sipping his tea. “Here she is again – beheading the crystal statues in the Citadel of Praal.”


“And here,” said Helvetica, “punching David Bowie in the nose. He never sang the same again after that; destroyed a brilliant career.”


The Doctor peered at the picture – the front page of The Daily Mirror, 1972. A young Bowie, zig-zag paint down his face and in fully Ziggy get up – was reeling under the attack of the woman, who was now fatter than ever.


“But this didn’t happen…” mused The Doctor. “Bowie went on for years…” He shook his head. He could feel the memories shifting, fading. Maybe Bowie had never sung after this… How did Ashes to Ashes go again? “No!” He slammed the book shut, making Flimbleby jump and drop his cake.


“We can’t carry on looking. As we look at these stories, these events become part of our time stream. Once that happens, we can’t interfere. We need to think of somewhere this woman has gone without looking in here. And then we need to find her. And we need to stop her.”


There was an almighty crash from outside. Helvetica and The Doctor span round to face the door. Flimbleby took the opportunity to grab another piece of cake.


Helvetica strode over to the door and flung it wide open. The Doctor joined her, peering out.







The cottage stood alone atop a small hill. As far as the eye could see, stretching to the horizon, was a forest of white-frosted pine trees. Down past the garden, on the edge of the forest, was a newly landed space craft. Three legged, squat and possessed of an eerie beauty.


Three figures appeared through the trees and started walking up towards the cottage. They were tall - spectrally thin with large, bulbous heads and spindly, elongated fingers.


The Doctor clamped a hand on his forehead. “This makes no sense at all.”


“What are they?” asked Helvetica, peering down at the advancing creatures.


“Creatures genetically engineered to slip through your memory. They don’t really have names, but I’ve met them before. They’re sometimes called – the Silence!”







 The Doctor stared at the spindly monsters, willing himself to focus even as his mind told him to forget what he was seeing. “Keep looking at them. If we look away even for a second, we’ll forget they are there, and we’re done for.”


And then Flimbleby burst through his legs, running out of the cottage into the garden. He jumped up and down, waving at the approaching creatures. “Hello!” he shouted. “Hello Noel! How are you?”



End of Episode Four


Click here for part five