CHAPTER 8

THE PICNIC HUT

The Reverend Edward Carmichael wearily dabbed his handkerchief on his glistening brow while Ace rattled on the old, horse-shoe shaped, black iron knocker on the door of the farm cottage. Moments later the door opened and a short, dumpy, lady, warm and friendly-faced and of late middle-aged years, stood clutching a tea towel and peering at them through the doorway. Both Ace and the vicar found themselves smiling in response to the good-natured kindliness radiating from the lady.

Ace opened her mouth to speak but the vicar was the quickest off the mark. "Hello there, I'm Edward Carmichael and this is my friend Ace."

The woman's face lit up with a cheery smile, as she shook the vicar's and Ace's hands in turn. "My name is Charlotte but everyone calls me Dotty," she chuckled, "Do come in, my dears, and have some afternoon tea with us."

"This is most kind of you," said the vicar as the woman ushered them into the small sitting room.

A large black and white Collie dog lay on the floor at the feet of the farmer, who was levering himself up out of the chair and into a standing position. "C'mon Rex," he growled, giving the dog a nudge with his foot. The dog snorted and got up onto all fours. It yawned and waddled towards the visitors, slowly wagging its tail. It sniffed at their legs as the farmer stretched out his right hand to shake the vicar's and beamed a broad smile. "Harry Goodacre," he announced.

"Edward Carmichael," said the vicar in response. "I gather you've already met Ace." At that instant the door opened and all eyes turned towards the pretty young lady, attired in a long floral dress, who was entering the room. She smiled sweetly, and rather shyly, at her father and the two visitors.

"This is my daughter Margaret," announced Harry proudly. Ace was astonished to see the girl curtsy before closing the door behind her. Harry looked at the vicar again. "Are you the vicar of yon church?"

"Indeed, yes!" beamed back the parson.

"Well we feel very honoured to have you as our guest. Please take a pew, er, oh! Sorry I mean seat, your worship." Ace and the vicar chuckled at his unintentional pun. The vicar decided it would be kindest not to correct his host for calling him "your worship."

"You too, missy," he said at length.

"I'm Ace," pressed Ace. She felt slightly irritated at being referred to as 'missy'.

"Give your mother a hand with the tea things," said Harry to Margaret and the girl nodded at her father and then slipped quietly out of the room.

"This is very kind of you," said the vicar as they all sat down.

"Not at all your worship," replied Harry. "Yon missy said that you were feeling the heat a bit. I dare say you could do with a rest out of the Sun and a spot of refreshment." As the vicar was about to speak they heard the rattling of China and the door opened and in came Charlotte carrying a tray with small cakes and biscuits piled on two plates, with some other small tea plates and biscuits to one side.

"Oh, splendid! This is so very kind of you!" enthused the vicar as Charlotte set the tray down on a small coffee table in the midst of the armchairs in the room. She chuckled and beamed a broad smile at her guests as she left the room.

Charlotte's voice called out "Johnny! Johnny! Tea and cakes! Come down dear!" The reply was muffled and a little gruff.

Moments later Charlotte came back into the sitting room carrying a small tray on which was a tea pot, sugar bowl, milk jug, and a pile of tea spoons followed by Margaret carrying a larger tray on which was an assortment of cups, saucers, and tea plates. "It's so lovely to have visitors, isn't it Harry?" she asked rhetorically.

For the next three quarters of an hour Ace and the vicar enjoyed tea, biscuits, cakes and idle chatter with their hosts. Harry Goodacre was not an unkind man, despite his bluff exterior. However, it soon became obvious that he was a man very used to getting his own way and that he ruled over his family with a rod of iron.

His daughter, Margaret, was almost painfully shy and Ace had no real success in getting into a conversation with her. Charlotte was warm and effusive. Having visitors to afternoon tea was obviously a rare treat for her and she revelled in every minute of it, constantly fussing over her guests and her family.

Even Rex, the dog, was friendly. After spending some time enjoying being fussed over by Ace, it eventually laid down, dozing, across her feet. The only slightly sour note to the afternoon was the unyieldingly sullen demeanour of Johnny. For most of the time he sat in awkward silence, keeping his gaze rigidly fixed to the carpet.

"Dotty, love, show his worship that joke your sister sent you," said Harry after they had all put their now-empty plates down on the small table.

Charlotte looked faintly aghast at her husband. "Ooo, no Harry! It's not suitable for his worship."

"Of course it is! He will see the joke, go on woman!" Charlotte looked awkward as she rose from the chair, moved over to the sideboard, and fumbled about in a drawer. Eventually she withdrew a piece of paper and handed it the Reverend.

"Ooo, I don't know what you will think, your worship," she said, looking slightly embarrassed. The Reverend looked from Charlotte to Harry and then back to Charlotte again as he took the piece of paper and begun to read it. Moments later he was chuckling. Moments after that he was laughing. Moments after that he was almost convulsing with laughter. Harry was also chuckling, Margaret was smiling and Charlotte now had a relieved look on her face and was beaming a wide smile.

"Oh, that is wonderful!" exclaimed the vicar. "So funny! Oh, Ace you must read this!" He handed Ace the piece of paper.

The paper was headed 'THE HOUSING PROBLEM'. It read:

'A young couple wanted to buy a house in the country. The house was owned by the local vicar, who showed them over it. After the visit they realised that they had not seen the W.C. and so they wrote to the vicar asking him where it was. Being ignorant of the term 'W.C.', he thought that they meant Wesleyan Chapel. You can imagine the couple's surprise when they received the following reply:

Dear Sir,

I regret to inform you that the nearest W.C. is eight miles from the house. This is rather unfortunate if you are in the habit of going regularly. However, it may interest you to know that many people take a packed lunch and make a day of it. It has been built to accommodate a thousand people and it has been decided to replace the old wooden seats with plush new ones to ensure greater comfort - especially for those who have to sit a long time before the proceedings begin. Those who can spare the time walk. Others go by train and get there just in time. I myself never go. There are special facilities for the ladies presided over by the Minister, who gives them all the assistance that he can. The children sit together and sing during the proceedings. The last time my wife went was twelve years ago - and she had to stand all the time. By the way, the song sheets are to be found hanging behind the door. I hope this facility will be of use to you - and that you will be able to go regularly.

Yours faithfully…'

The pleasant afternoon interlude continued for a few more minutes, with continued laughter and conversation. Only Johnny remained steadfastly sullen. "Would you like another piece of cake, dear?" said Charlotte to her son, as she offered the plate to him, which still had two cakes left on it. He continued to stare at the carpet giving no sign that he even heard her.

"Johnny!" barked Harry. The boy flinched. Then looked awkwardly at his mother. "No thanks," he said coolly and then he once again resumed staring at the carpet. Charlotte's smile withered as she replaced the plate on the small table. Harry continued to glare at his son. It was the third, and worst, of such awkward moments during the otherwise very pleasant interlude.

"More tea, your worship?" said Charlotte a little lamely.

"No thank you Mrs Goodacre. Actually time presses on a bit. This has been a very welcome break and it has been so kind of you all to offer us such hospitality but we really better had be getting on our way now." Harry levered himself to his feet, as Ace and the vicar rose. Johnny briskly got up and started to stride towards the door.

"Johnny!" barked his father, "Go out to the old barn. I'll be out in a minute!" Johnny stopped at the door and glanced back at his father. He visibly paled and his lips tightened as swept abruptly out of the room.

Margaret's gaze fell floorward, while Charlotte looked sorrowfully at her husband and momentarily seemed to be about to say something. Instead she fiddled with the tea things on the tray for a few seconds, before looking up again at her guests. She coughed slightly and then said, "It's been so nice to have you both as guests here. Do come again, anytime."

"And you are very welcome at the vicarage," replied the Reverend as they all moved out of the room and towards the front door. Stepping out again into the unrelenting heat of the day, the two guests shook hands with their hosts and bade their thanks and farewells.

"Hmm! It's certainly a hot one today," growled Harry to his wife as they waved a final farewell to Ace and the Reverend Edward Carmichael. The old farmer then set off in a brisk march towards the nearby old barn. Charlotte glanced anxiously after her husband, as she and Margaret turned away and went back inside the cottage, closing the door.

"It's a great shame that Harry and Johnny don't get on," observed the vicar as they began their stroll back across the field. He looked thoughtfully at Ace. She was obviously in a pensive mood.

She glanced back in the direction of the old barn. "Do you think Harry will do something to him?" said Ace uncomfortably.

"I don't know, my dear, though I fear that the young man might well be in for a hiding but there is nothing we can do about it. It is between them, I'm afraid."

Ace's features flared with anger. "That's gross! I mean, he must be nearly twenty. He shouldn't be treated like that at any age!"

The vicar sighed. "I can see that it has been troubling you. I thought you were rather quiet back there. Well, you see, the young man has a very strong will just like his father. So they clash. I suspect in due time they will find a way of getting along when Johnny gets a little more mature and Harry mellows…"

'BANG!'

Both Ace and the vicar suddenly stopped in their tracks as they heard the loud report of a gun. They looked at each other and then towards the barn, which was where the sound had come from.

"Oh Rev, what has happened?" whispered Ace. The vicar was too stunned to answer. They saw the cottage door open and Charlotte and her daughter appeared once more.

"Harry! Johnny!" shrieked Charlotte as she began to run towards the barn. Margaret ran with her and the old collie dog also appeared from the cottage and ran alongside them.

"C'mon!" shouted Ace as she started running towards the barn.

After a moment's indecision the vicar started lumbering after her. Ace was still some distance from the barn when she saw Margaret haul open the door and she and her mother disappear inside. She heard them both shriek out in fear and grief but then 'BANG!' 'BANG!' The two shots silenced the women's shrieks.

Gripped with fear, Ace stopped running. She was now just a few metres from the barn door. It was still partly open but she was on the wrong side of it to see inside. She heard the dog growling and barking frantically. 'BANG!' After the shot came a hideous yelp of agony from the dog, then a howl. Then the dog fell silent.

Ace remained rooted to the spot, her mind whirling in turmoil. She cursed herself for her fear but then something else, some other sensation, was also rising up inside her. Against all reason her fear was beginning to turn into a feeling of excitement, even elation. Unconsciously she assumed a lupine pose. Her throat gurgled as she breathed deeply and she slowly crept, panther-like, towards the barn door. Her nose twitched as her now heightened sense of smell detected fresh blood amongst the various, to her almost narcotic, odours from inside the barn. To her eyes, all colours appeared to drain away apart from a red veil at the periphery of her vision.

As she was about to move forward to the door, a sudden wave of revulsion overtook her. "No! No!" she whispered to herself. She clenched her eyes shut for a moment and breathed a very deep breath. In the midst of all this horror, she was being overtaken by the unwelcome legacy of the Cheetah People once more. The infection she suffered was trying to transform her into a beast once again. She fought against it with all the might she could summon. She glanced back to see the vicar still some distance away. He had stopped and, with his right hand clutching his chest, was trying to regain his breath. Seeing him charged her once more with resolve. She was now back in control. The REAL Ace would now take a look in the barn.

She crept to the door and carefully peered round the edge of it. She saw the bodies of Margaret and Charlotte laying face down on the straw-covered the floor. Next she saw the collie dog. It was laying on his side and the straw in front of its head was stained red. She slowly peered round some more and next the body of Harry Goodacre came into view. He was sprawled on his back with his arms splayed open. His walking stick lay near him. His chest was an amorphous mass of red.

A half-seen half-sensed movement caused Ace to peer further round. She saw Johnny Goodacre. He stood erratically shaking and shuddering. His eyes rolled uncontrollably and his jaws champed as a white froth dripped from his mouth. His two hands gripped a shotgun, the weapon stirring about in his palsy. A small box was near his feet, the box being open and on its side and the contents, shotgun cartridges, lay spilled out onto the floor.

Steeling herself Ace called out "J-Johnny! Johnny!" as she cringed behind the door. Johnny showed no sign of hearing her. "Johnny!" He gave a loud gurgle and collapsed to the floor, still shuddering and champing his jaw. The shotgun was now trapped beneath him. Ace slowly moved from the cover afforded by the barn door. Trembling, she slowly picked her way towards the writhing young man.

"Johnny!" He still did not seem to hear her.

Suddenly a loud wheeze and a clatter from behind startled her and she looked round. It was the vicar, clutching at the barn door and staring aghast at the carnage in the barn. Their gazes met. Suddenly the vicar's gaze shifted and his eyes widened and he thrust out a hand in front of him. "No! Ace!" Looking back Ace saw Johnny jumping back upright. The twin barrels of the shotgun were now pointed directly at her chest! He was no longer shaking, champing his teeth and rolling his eyes. Now his gaze was steady and fierce, exuding the evil that now possessed him.

"Don't! Johnny, don't!" called out the vicar, desperately. "Put the gun down, lad. We know you are ill. Nothing bad will happen to you. You're ill. We can help you!"

A cruel smile twisted Johnny's face and he began a hideous, shuddering, whining laugh. Ace closed her eyes and waited for the worst to happen. She felt sure that this time nothing would save her.

"Johnny!" persisted the vicar, "Johnny! Your sister, your mother. Think of them. You're ill but you can be helped. In the name of God don't let there be any more lives lost!" The whining laughter abruptly stopped. Ace braced herself.

"That's it," the Reverend continued, "Think of your sister. Think of your mother." Ace forced herself to open her eyes again. She saw the young man staring at the bodies of Charlotte and Margaret. A fierce battle seemed to be raging within him. His rapidly changing expression was becoming increasingly fixed into one of horror and grief. He let out a loud scream of anguish and sank to his knees and began sobbing loudly.

Ace fought against the paralysis that her terror had caused. She started to move towards Johnny. Suddenly the young man once again pointed the gun at her. "Stop!" he shrieked. Ace was again frozen the spot. There seemed to be a long moment of indecision in Johnny's eyes. Then he suddenly swivelled the gun, placing the end of its barrels against the underside of his chin.

Ace and the vicar shouted "No!" almost in unison.

'BANG!'

Ace screwed her eyes shut both from the shock of the loud bang and from the disgusting sight of bloody debris erupting from the top of Johnny's head. She heard Johnny's body slump to the floor. She also heard the rattling of the barn door behind her as the parson slumped against it and then, still clutching it, sank to his knees.

As Ace and the Reverend Carmichael slowly walked away from the farm buildings they no longer noticed the oppressive heat of the day. The reddening of their skins that was the result of several hours exposure to the sunshine had now faded to a brownish-grey pallor. They silently moved towards a line of trees that was the beginning of a large area of woodland.

The long silence was broken by the vicar. "I really do think we ought to find the police, Ace." He looked at the girl beside him. She returned his gaze. Her face quivered and tears welled up in her eyes. They stopped and he put his arms around her and drew her into a hug. "Shhh! You're alright now, Ace my dear, you're alright now. Its just the shock coming out on you. Let it out. You'll be fine."

Ace sobbed uncontrollably. She felt ashamed. She had always had supreme confidence in her toughness. She had seen and faced many horrors before this. Now, though, everything had just become too much for her to bear. She was sick of being afraid. Sick of her life of not belonging. Sick of her life of frequent danger. Sick of facing death, and sick of good people being killed. Ace leaned her head on the Reverend's chest and she put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Shhh, now Ace. Shhhh," he said gently as she cried.

The two young men, both attired in their army uniforms, walked jauntily along the old country lane. One of them moodily kicked at a large stone and sent it ricocheting off the grassy bank.

"Nearly there," said the other.

"Don't change the subject, Tony Wilson! Did you or didn't you?" pressed the first one in a broad Scots accent. Tony just grinned.

"Alright, I'll ask her."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, wouldn't I, eh?" laughed the other, giving Tony a shove and breaking into a run. Then Tony laughed and began to scamper after his friend but he soon slowed to a walk. His friend did the same.

"Phew, Rob! It's too hot to run," gasped Tony.

"Aye. How far have we come?"

"About four miles, I think. According to the map, camp is about that distance from the village, so we must be nearly there by now."

Robert was still a few metres ahead of Tony. He could begin to see round the next bend in the densely tree-lined lane. "Aye y'right. We're here!" he announced. A couple of minutes later the two soldiers walked into the village square.

"Not exactly bustling with life is it," commented Tony dryly as they stepped onto the small green.

"Hmm," was the only answer that Robert gave. He just stared about him, as if he was seeking some inspiration from the quiet scene.

"Plenty of girls, you said," Tony said imitating his friend's accent. "There would be plenty of wee lassy's aboot on a hot and sunny afternoon like this, you said. They would be oot having picnics on the village green, you said. Well, here we are, so where are they?"

"Hmm," murmured Robert again.

"We've walked all this way for nothing, haven't we?" asked Tony rhetorically.

"Hmm," said Robert.

"Oh, you're about as much use as a chocolate teapot!" Tony was now feeling somewhat exasperated.

"There's bound to be some girls about. We've just got to look for them", said Robert.

"Where?" demanded Tony.

"Er, well, in a café. There's bound…"

"It's Sunday, you flaming idiot!"

"Oh, yeah!" They both fell silent.

"Phew, I'm hot," said Tony at last, "Let's find somewhere where there's some shade, for a bit."

"For a bit of what, without any girls?" japed Robert.

Tony chuckled and gave his friend a friendly shove. They both stood scanning the village square for a suitable shady place. Tony spotted the only open doorway. "Ah! Over there, look. Let's go in the church for a while. It's always cool inside churches."

Robert's expression showed that the idea did not sit happily with him. "I dunno, is'ne there anywhere else?"

"Can you see anywhere else?" Real irritation sounded in Tony's voice. The look on Robert's face showed that he acquiesced, albeit reluctantly.

"Right, come on then!" said Tony leading the way.

"I wonder why it is so quiet?" mused Robert as they crossed the green.

"They probably heard that you were coming!" Robert gave Tony a shove that made him stagger and they both laughed. Unseen by the two friends, several shadowy forms moved behind the net curtains of one of the nearby houses.

"Phew, that's better!" exclaimed Tony as they entered the church. The shade and coolness was very welcome after the brightness and broiling heat of that afternoon.

Robert looked a little apprehensive. "I dinna think we…" he began.

"Hey, look at that!" exclaimed Tony as he saw the white cover half pulled off the alter, and the cross and the one remaining candlestick laying on the floor to the side of it. Tony strode up the aisle. Robert walked up behind, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Tony glanced back at Robert. As he turned his head back he noticed the open vestry door - and the legs he could see of someone laying on the floor in there. Robert noticed Tony's stare and he also looked towards the vestry door. They glanced at each other again and Tony moved towards the vestry. Robert followed. They stood at the doorway horrified by the sight of Fred Huggett laying on the floor, with the top of his head smashed in and a large pool of blood extending from it and towards the far wall. The bloodied candlestick lay on the floor next to the corpse. Robert turned away, stepped away from the doorway, bent over, and was violently sick. Tony was numb with shock but after a moment he turned and moved over to Robert who was now straightening himself back upright.

Tony put an arm around his friend's shoulder. "We have to find the police," he said unsteadily. "Come on, Rob." They started to walk down the aisle but four figures appeared as silhouettes in the church doorway.

Tony coughed to clear his throat and then called out "S-someone's been murdered here. Fetch the police. It's horrible!" The group in the doorway remained silent and motionless. Tony and Rob could see through the doorway that other figures joining the first four. "Someone get the police!" Tony called out again. Still the group in the doorway remained silent and motionless. Robert and Tony stopped walking. They looked at each other, a growing apprehension mirrored in each other's faces.

Several hours had passed since Ace and the Reverend Carmichael had left the grizzly carnage behind them at the Goodacre's farm. They were now resting in the shade of the woods. The fierce heat of that morning and afternoon had given way to a relative coolness in the lush greenery. Birds chirruped noisily and fluttered about amongst the canopies of the trees. Here in this haven of peace and beauty the events in the barn now seemed like a horrible dream. Ace and the Reverend sat opposite each other, Ace on a grassy mound and the Reverend sat with his back up against the truck of an ancient old oak tree.

"How are you feeling now, my dear?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"OK Rev," Ace replied rather coolly. He could see that Ace was more than a little embarrassed by the way she broke down in tears after the terrible events at the farm. He guessed that she was used to maintaining a fiercely independent and strong outward appearance. He shrewdly deduced that she was also on the brink of leaving adolescence and becoming a fully fledged woman, with all that passing entailed.

"This Doctor," he began again, "how did you come to work with him, or is he a relative?"

"A relative! Get real!" laughed Ace. Her mood seemed to lift at that instant and she grinned at the very idea of being related to the Doctor. "No - er but how we met is a bit complicated," she added cagily. "Er, I can't really say as it is a Government secret."

"Oh," wheezed the vicar. It was obvious to him that she was not going to reveal anything on that subject. They fell silent yet again.

"It's getting late. We'd better start to look for the TAR…er, for the picnic hut, now," said Ace at length.

A couple more hours passed, with Ace and the Reverend Carmichael circling about in the woods, though stopping for frequent rests. Although they were both increasingly tired and aching, they chatted more easily. Ace learned about the Reverend's childhood, his interest in railways, and how he eventually became a village parson. However, the Reverend did not learn very much more about Ace and nothing more about the Doctor.

It was now perceptibly darker than earlier and, looking up, they could see that the highest leaves and branches were lit with the orange glow of the lowering Sun. Ace spied a familiar object ahead of them. She could see the roof and lamp of the police box above some of the bushes ahead of them. "Ah!, I can see it, Rev. It's just up ahead."

"Oh, thank goodness," wheezed the parson, "I don't think I could have gone very much further". Ace pressed on ahead of him. She was surprised at the sight that greeted her when she walked into the clearing.

The Doctor sat on one edge of a large Persian rug that was spread out a short distance in front of the closed police box doors. He grinned a toothy smile at the approaching Ace. A full picnic hamper lay spread out before him on the rug. There were plates of sandwiches, pies and cakes. There were tea plates, napkins, tea towels, knives and forks, cups and saucers and jugs of milk and fruit juice. There was even an ornate metal kettle just beginning to come to the boil over a small tripod and spirit lamp!

"Ah! Good! On time for once, Ace." The Doctor said in a tone of gentle sarcasm.

"Throwing a party, Professor?" quipped Ace cheekily and the Doctor replied by pulling a goofy grin, while crossing his eyes and lifting his Panama hat with his right hand. Ace chuckled. The sound of crunching undergrowth and an almost asthmatic wheezing signalled the arrival of the Reverend Carmichael.

"Good gracious me!" exclaimed the vicar.

"Ah, Reverend, nice to see that you both safely got away from the villagers this morning. Do sit down to have something to eat and drink."

As Ace sat down on the rug the vicar stood gawping at the TARDIS. "What on Earth is a London police box doing out here in these woods?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know," replied the Doctor as he slapped the back of Ace's hand that was reaching out for one of the cakes. He looked at Ace, "Sandwiches first, sweet things after," he said in a patriarchal tone to her before looking up again at the vicar who was picking his way across to the TARDIS. "Er, we just found it here and it makes a good hut for our picnics."

The vicar pulled and pushed at the door handle but with no effect. "It won't open," said the vicar. Ace watched the Doctor keenly.

"Ah! Er, I have the key in my pocket. Best to keep the flies and other insects out, you know. Do come and have some food before Ace scoffs the lot."

"Oi!" mumbled Ace, though a mouthful of cheese and cucumber sandwich. The Doctor pulled another comedic face at her.

The vicar chortled and he kneeled himself down on the rug. "Oh this looks a splendid repast," he said as the Doctor picked up a plate of sandwiches and offered the plate to him.

As the three chatted, and ate and drank, the orange glow of the sunlight dappling through the trees gradually deepened to a livid red and then quickly faded altogether. The Doctor did not have much to say about his day after they all managed to escape from the church that morning. Instead he closely listened to the account given by Ace and the vicar. The mood of the trio became increasingly solemn as the events at the farm were recounted. Almost as a graphic accompaniment the quality of the light changed in the clearing. The warm glow of the day was gone and was replaced with the fading cooler light of early evening.

At the end of the tale the Doctor sat back and exhaled heavily through his nose, his face grimly set. "The influence is growing," he said, "The creature is nearing the Earth. We haven't much time left".

"One thing I don't understand, Prof…, er, I mean Doctor," began the vicar, "exactly how is it that you know that?"

"I'm afraid that's a Government secret," interrupted Ace. The Doctor looked at her. She returned his gaze. "I've revealed to the Rev that we are Government agents," lied Ace in a matter-of-fact tone, "and that our scientists had detected this creature nearing the Earth." As a wry smile faintly crept onto the Doctor's lips Ace continued, "Er, but that everything else is a Government secret, Professor."

"Quite right, Ace," said the Doctor, nodding approvingly and then looking at the vicar, "I'm sorry that we can't tell you any more." The parson nodded but the expression on his face showed that he did not like details of whatever it was that was going on being kept from him.

The Doctor stared abstractly at the now extinguished spirit lamp under the kettle. "I think that we should go and find Cindy and young Michael. I hope that they are both still at their home."

"Would that be Cindy Peters and her son?" questioned the vicar. The Doctor nodded a little absently.

"Do you think they are in danger?" began Ace. Then her eyes widened with growing alarm. "The villagers! They're after us. If they knew that…"

"Time to pay them a visit," said the Doctor abruptly as he sprang to his feet. "Reverend, if you would excuse Ace and I, we will just clear these things away into, er, the hut."

"Allow me to help," the vicar replied, leaning forward to gather up some of the now empty plates.

"No thank you, that's fine. You have a rest. Ace and I will do this," pressed the Doctor amiably but firmly.

"Oh, well thank you very much for that nice tea. It was most kind of you." The Doctor answered with a smile as he and Ace gathered up the picnic things. The vicar got up and shuffled across to the edge of the clearing and peered into the woods. He noticed that it was now very much darker between the trees.

The Doctor put the key into the TARDIS door lock and turned it. The door opened. Ace was standing with an armful of crockery, at his shoulder. "Don't go in," he hissed, "just put the things down just inside the door." With a movement of his eyes and a slight movement of his head he indicated in the direction of the vicar. Ace nodded knowingly.

A minute later the ground in front of the TARDIS was cleared of the picnic things. "Ace," whispered the Doctor again as Ace was about to bend and place the last consignment of items just inside the police box doorway. "Listen to me. There is no time to explain but I'm afraid that we will soon be saying goodbye to each other. I'm sorry, Ace, but you are going to have to stay here in this time."

"What!" exclaimed Ace, almost forgetting to whisper, "You're not just going to clear off and…"

"Ace, listen will you! This is all my fault and now I am going to have to pay for it."

"What…?"

"Listen!" hissed the Doctor as his face flashed with anger and impatience, "I don't know if I can defeat this evil but even if I can," the Doctor paused and drew breath, "it will certainly mean my death!"