| Chapter 6 | Contents |
"And that's it?" Jackie asked.
"I told you," Mickey said. "Rose wanted to do it. Yeah, Lynda put her up to it all right, but she could've said no. That's what I'd have done."
"Well, I'm not putting up with it. She put that picture of Rose all over the Internet, didn't she? That isn't Rose's fault. I'm going to go round there and—"
"Jax," Pete said patiently. "Rose is a big girl now. If she wants to get into some prank war that's her decision. We can't fight her battles for her."
Jackie scowled. "I know. But I can't bear to think of that girl getting away scot free." She looked round the room to where the half-human Doctor was toying with his sonic screwdriver. "Isn't there anything we can do, Doctor?"
The Doctor looked up. "Pete's right, Jackie. Whatever happens now, it's got to be Rose's decision." He tapped the sonic against his lips. "Although..."
"What?"
"Well, there's no reason why we can't come up with a few ideas, is there? I mean, to suggest to her tomorrow. If she says no, that's it. But if she says yes, we've got a plan all ready."
Jackie leaned forward eagerly. "Now you're talking. Don't tell me, you've thought of something already."
"Wellll..." The Doctor drew out the word as long as he dared. "Maybe. Tell you what. Mickety-Mick-Mick-Mickey, do you think you and Martha could get your hands on some knock-out gas? And a hearse?"
Three hundred and forty-seven people liked this picture, Lynda said to herself, unable to keep the stupid grin off her face. Her computer pinged again.
Three hundred and forty-eight people now. I suppose I ought to feel sorry for Rose, but it's all just so funny.
She kicked off her shoes, and flung herself onto the sofa, unaware that thick white vapour had just begun to pour through the keyhole behind her.
After a few seconds, she wasn't aware of anything at all.
When Lynda woke, it was with an ache in her head and a dry throat. It took her several attempts to get off the sofa, cross the room, and look out of the window. Instead of the pub car park that she would normally have expected to see, the view was of a quiet square in London. A horse-drawn cab was moving slowly along the road, while the pavement was given over to top-hatted gentlemen and elaborately crinolined ladies.
"Lynda," Rose's voice said, from the empty air. "Or should that be Rebecca? Nice to see you're up and about."
"What do you mean, Rebecca?" Lynda demanded. Something flickered at the corner of her eye. She turned her head to look at it, but there wasn't anything there. "What's going on?"
"Can't you guess?"
Again, something moved, just outside Lynda's vision. She glanced rapidly left and right, trying to catch sight of it again.
"All right," she said, trying to stall for time. "You want to get your own back. What's it going to be? Bears? Lions? Daleks? Crocodiles?"
"Oh, nothing like that."
At that moment, Lynda managed to catch a proper sight of what she'd only glimpsed before. Rows of toddlers, eagerly watching... her. And, sitting in front of them, Rose, a big book open on her knee.
"Welcome to Story Time," Rose's voice said triumphantly. "Please remember to avoid any bad language or explicit content. And if the kids are good, maybe I'll let them play with you in the garden later. You'd like that, wouldn't you, children?"
To Lynda, the cries of toddler approval sounded like distant, disastrous echoes of unbearable mockery.
"Anyway," Rose continued. "Best get this show on the road."
She cleared her throat.
Rose / Narrator [vo] :
A trick that everyone abhors
In little girls is slamming doors...
Lynda felt the narrative's grip close around her. Of its own volition, her hand rose to the door handle, turned it, pulled the door wide, and then slammed it with all the force she could muster. She struggled to regain control of herself, but to no avail.
"... She was not really bad at heart," Rose's voice continued remorselessly. "But only rather rude and wild; She was an aggravating child..."
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