Storytime! The Adventure of the Priory School

As evenings went in This Time Round, it was on the quiet side. The Doctors, having shown up en masse, had by some miracle failed to launch into a nineteen-sided argument over each other's behaviour, taste in companions, or dress sense, and were instead playing an elaborate game of quantum dominoes. Nyssa, apparently taking a break from her hobby of murdering Adric in creative ways, was describing the emotional benefits of Trakenite aromatherapy to Victoria, Tegan and Martha. In one corner the Ainley Master, who for no discernable reason was disguised as a Grand High Wizard of the Emetic Order of the Golden Rivet, had no attention to spare for anything but the cricket pages of the day's newspaper. At a table for two, Sara Kingdom was explaining to Ace the finer points of field-stripping a blaster, though Ace's far-away expression suggested that in her mind she was field-stripping something else entirely.

The only less than harmonious note was struck by Izzy S, who was leaning against the bar, holding forth to anyone who would listen on the subject of the perfidy of Davros and his Daleks. Nearly everyone there would have agreed with the substance of what she had to say, but the constant reiteration of her grievances was starting to get on people's nerves.

"What's all the fuss about?" Lynda asked.

Rose took a handful of crisps. "She had Daleks on guard outside the nursery. You know, to stop unauthorised people getting in and telling the kids inappropriate stories."

"Only it turned out it was all one of Davros's plots," Mickey explained. "First chance he got, he sneaked his henchmen in there and had them fill the stories with as many Daleks as he could manage."

"I hate Daleks," Lynda said. "So who's guarding the nursery now?"

"No-one."

"So anyone could get into the playgroup and tell the children whatever story they liked?"

Rose nodded. "Rather them than me."

"Best to keep out of it, you think? Very sensible."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Nothing. I wouldn't go near the place, not if you paid me."

Rose, who'd been sipping from a glass of scumble, set it down with a bang.

"You're saying I'm scared?" she demanded.

"Me? Not a bit of it. Look, you're quite right, you don't want to go there. Remember what happened to Miss Foster. She tried to take charge of those kids and when she came out her hair had turned white."

"Only 'cos one of the little tykes tipped a bag of flour over her head," Mickey added, with a grin. "Nah, best not to go anywhere near there."

"Right!" Rose jumped to her feet. "I'll show you."

She crossed to where Izzy was still reiterating her grievances. The other two exchanged glances.

"Smoothly done," Mickey said.

Lynda nodded. "Yeah. Those rugrats'll make mincemeat of her. Can't wait to see how cocky she isn't after an afternoon with them."

"And people say you're sweet."

"I am, when I want to be." Lynda shot him a mischievous grin. "But you don't get into the last three on Big Brother just by being sweet."

"That's all settled," Rose said, returning. "I'm doing Izzy's turn in the nursery tomorrow afternoon. And," she pointed at Mickey, "you're coming with me."

The smile abruptly vanished from Mickey's face. "Now, just a minute—"

"Mickey, you said how dangerous it was, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah..."

"So I'm gonna need a big strong man to look after me, aren't I? Martha won't mind if I borrow you for the day."

"All right, then." Mickey looked around, apparently seeking to share the misery. "You coming as well, Lynda?"

"Nah," Rose said firmly. "She already said she's chickening out, didn't she? Drink up. Time we were going."

Lynda looked down, in order to present a properly chastened appearance, and so that Rose wouldn't see her smirking.