Warning: This story contains two very strong accents which, although they belong to kick-ass characters, I find notoriously difficult to spell. I am very familiar with the town of Hartlepool, because I lived there with my grandpa for a couple of years, but if you are a rare industrial towns pedant, please leave your criticisms in form of review. Thank you, and enjoy!
In a corner of the universe, far away from where we are now, a small blue box spun in a pocket of time, like a coin careering on its edge on a tabletop. Like the coin the Tardis gradually slowed, spinning lower and lower and lower still... before finally tumbling away again, sinking into reality. Its path was not as random as it seemed, but was in fact controlled by the clever mind and nimble fingers of a Time Lord; the Doctor, to be precise. (Although the degree of control was open to interpretation, according to some of his companions over the years.)
In fact, those who didn't know the Doctor well, or heard the stories of his adventures, might be inclined to challenge his cleverness also. The shabby figure casually tweaking the controls did not look like an academic at first glance; more like a mannequin in the window of a charity shop fallen on hard times. The messy dark hair and comical face, barely a muscle away from a mischievous smile, also hid the intelligence well. But if you were to look into his eyes, just at the right time, you might suddenly feel a small irrational shiver of fear, and perhaps forget for a moment what you were about to say. It goes without saying that it wouldn't be wise to get on the wrong side of those eyes.
For now though, the Doctor's mind was calm, and happy- alone with the core of the Tardis. She sang to him, like she always did when they were alone. Unlike his earlier incarnation, he was now less inclined to wish to be by himself, and enjoyed the company of others. But solitude was a rare gift, and for that reason a day like this was all the more precious.
Strangely, it was the Tardis this time that broke the connection in order for them to land. Usually it was the Doctor who had to tear himself away from the machine, in order for Jamie to get some fresh air every now and again. The poor boy had, after all, joined him so he could have experiences- not to just clear up after the two of them. The Doctor had a tendency to get distracted, and on average left five to ten forgotten cups of tea lying around in various places every day. Of course, not all of them were found the day they were "lost", and so Jamie had begun a habit of carrying a pair of latex gloves in his shirt pocket, in case he ran into a mouldy cup left in some crevice in the corridors.
Although he hadn't been around as long as Ben and Polly (who had left for London some time ago), Jamie's trained ear recognised the sound of the Tardis landing somewhere; and within a few seconds he entered the control room.
"Where are we, Doctor?" he asked curiously, peering at the console screen. It remained stubbornly blank, save for static and occasional white pips.
The Doctor examined the console readings with apparent interest. "Well, this is a new one to me," he commented vaguely. "Have you ever visited the North of England, Jamie?" The Scotsman shrugged helplessly. Back in his time- the year 1745- his people and the English weren't exactly the best of allies. "Sorry, I completely forgot. Well, there's no time like the present. I'm guessing by the coordinates that this is somewhere in the Teesside area, in the 1980s."
"Will they do fish and chips here, do ye ken?"
"Must you always think only of your stomach?" the Doctor teased good-naturedly. "Yes, I expect they will. Only one way to find out, eh? And I suppose it is around lunchtime, anyway."
The two men exited the Tardis cautiously. Upon seeing his surroundings, the Doctor gave a delighted shout.
"Well, will you look! We're at the seaside! And what a marvellous day for it, too!"
"Ye cannae smell the sea." Jamie was just as excited, but made an effort to hide it. "Where'd ye say we were again?"
"This is Hartlepool, I believe," said the Time Lord, taking out a tiny notebook. "A charming marina, isn't it? And such history!"
"What history?"
"Well," the Doctor began, "There is a tale that may or may not be true or exaggerated. Apparently, during the Napoleonic wars- a little late for you, I'm afraid- a monkey was washed up in a shipwreck on that beach." He pointed in the direction of the shore. "The boat was French, and the townspeople jumped to the unfortunate conclusion that the monkey was a member of the French navy."
"Ach, ye're pulling my leg, surely! No' a proper monkey, like in the zoo?"
"I did say it was only a story. Anyway, the people held a trial, and hanged the poor creature within days." The Doctor paused. "Rather cruel, of course, but nobody had seen a chimpanzee before. They simply knew no better."
"I bet they must feel a right bunch o' numbskulls now," added Jamie gleefully.
"On the contrary, I believe the people are actually quite proud of it, actually. They wrote songs about it, and did plays about it. They see the monkey as a sort of mascot, I think."
"Bonkers, the lot o' them." Jamie looked about him. "At least they have fish and chips now. Look!" True enough, a small chip shop stood by the railings, by the ships moored in the marina. Jamie and the Doctor approached it, keen for some food.
It was, to their pleasure, "a proper old-fashioned chippy"- a phrase Ben had coined last time they were in London. The place smelt of cheap batter and frying oil, and on the counter was a mountain of issues of "The Daily Star" for wrapping the meals. There was nobody else there. The Doctor took a quick look at the papers; they were for the second of July, 1987. Of course, it would be a few days out.
"Can I help you, sir?" The Doctor glanced up. He was under scrutiny by a burly man at the counter, who beheld him with suspicious eyes. The Teesside accent was so thick, you could make a spoon stand up in it.
"Two sausage and chips," said Jamie quickly, to distract the man. "That alrigh'?" He had quickly put on a similar accent. Jamie had quickly perceived that this was the sort of place that didn't behave kindly towards outsiders- especially "posh English chappies" like the Doctor. The man gave him a look, and went to shovel the soggy cut potato pieces into a bundle of newspapers.
"Thank you," the Doctor said to Jamie quietly. "That came in rather handy. I still don't know how you do that." The boy looked uncharacteristically bashful at the praise.
"Ach, well, I don't ken either. I just heard it, and it sort of happened..." They both jumped, as their sausages and chips were slammed down on the counter inches from their noses.
"That'll be five pound seventy," said the intimidating man. Luckily the Doctor had a ten pound note on his person, and he gingerly handed it over to the till. Meanwhile, Jamie gratefully bit into one of the chips. Moments later, he coughed.
"Are the chips usually this salty here, Doctor?" The Doctor frowned, taking one of his own smaller ones. He resisted the urge to spit it back out.
"Goodness me! That is rather salty, isn't it?"
The man at the till had a thunderous expression on his face, having overheard. "Do you have a problem with my chips?"
"Too right we do!" Jamie snapped, still barely holding onto the Hartlepool accent. "What'd you do to them? I may well have just gone outside and taken a sip o' the sea!"
"These here are the best food on the marina," snarled the man, "and anyone who says otherwise can stuff-"
"Ralph!" said a sharp voice. "We're running low on Lilt. Can you do the honours?" The man called Ralph gave the Doctor and Jamie a withering look, and retreated grumbling to the back. The woman who had spoken, a tall woman with a blonde perm and tired eyes, took his place.
"I'm sorry about that," she said to them wearily. "Ralph doesn't normally blow up at people like that. Thing is, he's had a bit of a shock. He lost two brothers in the big sink. To be honest, he shouldn't be at work in his state, but we're so short of people as it is. It helps some people to work- keeps their minds off things. I'm Eileen Bow, by the way. I run the shop."
"Nice to meet ye."
"The big sink, did you say?" the Doctor repeated. "What's that?"
"Don't say you haven't heard! It even made national news, you know. See?" They finally got a proper look at the papers. The following headline was emblazoned on the front page: "TOWN PAYS HOMAGE TO SHIPWRECK VICTIMS". The picture underneath showed a crowd of people, all sad-looking, holding flowers. One of them was holding up a cardboard sign saying: "God help the folk on HMS Margate".
"The Margate sank three weeks ago, just off Marske," said Eileen sombrely. "Almost two thirds of the manpower on the ship were from Hartlepool. Tragic. Hardly a person here who wasn't affected."
"What about you?" asked the Doctor gently. The woman turned pink.
"Nobody important," she said stiffly. "Anyway, do you have a complaint?"
"Well, the chips are a wee bit salty..." Jamie looked down at them ruefully. "But... it's nae really important in the big picture, is it, now I think about it. Sorry for wastin' your time."
"Eeh, it's alright," Eileen chuckled kindly. "It makes a change from the complaints we usually get. Normally people think our food has been too plain!"
"Really?" The Doctor was suddenly intrigued. "That's rather odd."
"I know! We're putting almost four times as much salt on as we usually do! We know it's not healthy, but it's all about the customers these days, pet."
"Yes, yes, I quite understand," said the Doctor absently. "Now, how long has that been going on for?"
"Oh, I'd say about... two weeks, give or take? It was a sort of a gradual thing, and some people like more seasoning anyhow, don't they; now curries are getting popular. I had one a few days ago, and it nearly singed my hair off!"
"Quite. Well, you've been a great help, madam. Here's a tip." The Doctor rummaged in the pocket of his Edwardian coat, and finally procured a half-crown, pressing it into Eileen's palm. "I know you're decimal at the moment, but it might make a good keepsake. Cheerio!" Jamie pulled an apologetic face at the shop-owner as they left. In the short time they had been in the warm, the weather had turned considerably. There was now a moderate breeze, as well as a mild drizzle, and Jamie pulled his jacket close to him. Not so that the Doctor could see him, of course. If the Scotsman was caught complaining about English weather, he'd never hear the end of it. It was also getting quite dark.
"Did that lady just call ye 'pet'?" he jibed. The Doctor frowned.
"Yes, I did notice that. A nice phrase, really, don't you agree?"
"I don't know about you, Doctor," said Jamie quickly, "but I find this place a bit funny. As if something's aboot to happen, but no one properly knows yet. Y'know... what's the word..."
"A pensive atmosphere, would you say?"
"Oh, aye."
"I have to say I agree." The Doctor folded his notebook into one of his voluminous pockets, and squinted at the grey water, which was becoming noticeably disturbed. "Then again, it's somewhat expected, when there's been a blow to the community such as this. Like Mrs Bow said, there's very few people who won't have-"
"Doctor!" Jamie pointed further down the marina. "Look at yon chappie down there! What's he doing?" Through the mist caused by the light rain, the Doctor could just make out a figure, unusually tall compared to the railing. With a jolt, he realised that the person was on the railing, and was preparing to jump! He looked to Jamie, and could see that the human had come to the same conclusion.
"Hey! Get down from there, it's dangerous!" They ran towards the figure. It turned its shadowed face towards them in the dim light, and, contrary to getting down, seemed to brace itself further to take the watery plunge...
...And yes, I have put in a cliffhanger on the first chapter, because I am a horrible person.
Updates should be fairly regular, about once every three days or so. If not, feel free to operate the mechanism which hits me with a stick and forces me to labour over the story further (otherwise known as constructive criticism in the reviews box).
Thank you.