Doctor Who - The WreathKind
Noelle Southworth was cold.
The trip back from university
has been a long one, but now she had returned for the Christmas holidays.
Bringing only a small bag with her, she had travelled across the country by
bus, not wanting to burden her mother, but also wanting to see the surprise on
her face when she opened the door to her eldest daughter.
Noelle walked up the path
towards her street, the row of houses coming into view as she turned the
corner. It was late in the day, the moon would have been visible if not for a
fine winter’s mist about the air, which
caused her to pull the lapels of her long red coat closer to her.
The streetlights were all
lit, but even so, the pleasantly fluctuating lights from the wreaths that
rested upon the front doors of all the houses across the road could still be
seen.
It was a nice touch, Noelle
thought. She found some Christmas lights endearing, but most were tacky and
gaudy. These were subtle and quietly majestic. It looked like a community
effort and Noelle felt warmed by it.
She crossed the street and
reached her front door, and rather than use her key, rapped on the door, and
waited excitedly for someone to answer.
The following morning, Noelle
woke from a deep post-travel sleep.
She had risen sleepily, just
in time for her mother to hurriedly hand her a fresh cup of piping hot milky
tea, tell her she was on her way for some final Christmas shopping, and that
Fran needed an eye keeping on her.
She was Noelle’s little sister and where Noelle was eighteen, Fran was only three
and their relationship moved from sororal to parental with sometimes surprising
rapidity.
This morning, however, it was
going to be more towards the sisterly side of things. Fran was playing with her
My Little Pony toys; some were brand new, some that belonged to Noelle when she
was Fran’s age.
They played for a bit; Fran
being impressed by how many of the character’s
names Noelle knew (and Noelle being equally impressed at that herself) and
Noelle running with the storyline that Fran was coming up with.
It was at that point that
Noelle checked if her sister wanted something to drink and decided that she
needed another cup of tea too.
She got to her feet and made
for the kitchen, flicking the kettle on. She sat there for a moment, resting
against the kitchen side, as Fran ran upstairs to get more toys.
Noelle’s
mind wandered for a moment as the water started boiling. She palmed her phone,
swiped it on and considered texting her dad. He didn’t
know she was back yet. She opened up the last message string she had with him
and considered texting something, but hesitated.
Her hesitation was
interrupted when she heard Fran call her name in an almost high-pitched cry.
Pocketing her phone, Noelle
raced from the kitchen and up the stairs into Fran’s
room. Far from being hurt and/or in a heap, she was stood on her bed that sat
under the window and was looking out.
She turned to her big sister,
her little face beaming with eyes wide. “Noey,
look! Crah Missmas!”
Beyond Noelle’s house, was a field. Well, it was less a field than an old
overgrown plot. She believed it was once eyed for property development, but the
river than ran a little further back created the likelihood of becoming flooded
in wetter months.
Noelle had never seen the
place flood, but she supposed that it didn’t
have to be under feet of water to be unsuitable for building houses.
The man that Fran had seen
was not Father Christmas, but was indeed an older man. And he was
digging, pulling up roots and uprooting small scrubby growth. He was
industrious, but did not look like a builder or a council workman. He wore a
battered leather jacket and a cravat, his greying beard and goatee adding to
his advanced years. There was no way this old fella was employed to do this.
Noelle had watched him
develop the widening hole for a moment and, upon opening the window a little,
could hear him muttering and grumbling audibly to himself.
She decided, finally, that
she was more intrigued than perturbed.
“Say,
Fran,” she said to her sister, who was just as
enrapt as she was, “Do you think he looks thirsty?”
The old man eyed Noelle
suspiciously, as she offered him a large cup.
“It’s tea,” she said with a smile. “Do you drink tea?”
The man put his spade to one
side and faced her. He coughed a little clearing his throat. “Yes, of course; I like tea,” he
replied gruffly. She reached out offering the cup to him and, gingerly, he took
it from her. She watched as he drank from it deeply (and wincing slightly; she
didn’t want him to scold himself), and then
expelled a deep sated sigh. “It’s been a while since I drank it though.”
He handed the cup back to
her. “Very nice.”
Their eyes locked again and
Noelle could have sworn that she saw an almost imperceptible flicker of his
lip. Forcing back a small smile, she thought.
“So,
er…” When he didn’t proffer his name, she
continued. “What are you up to?”
He eyed her again, wondering
whether to impart any information. He glanced as his cup again before he
decided. “I’m trying to
retrieve something.”
“Well,
that was explanatory,” she said with a sarcastic smile,
hoping to coax a reciprocation. She didn’t
get one. “Do you own this land then?”
“Would
it make a difference if I didn’t?”
Noelle shrugged. “S’pose not.”
“Well,
I’m not exactly sure where ‘it’ is,” He looked back at his progress so far. “So, if you don’t mind…”
Noelle eyed him suspiciously
this time. He held her gaze, his gruff exterior not faltering. But there was
something about him. Noelle did not feel threatened by him. It was almost
weird. But she felt that she liked him.
“Okay,” she said back. She gave him a deliberately large smile,
turned and made her way back up to the house.
“Noey, Crah Missmas is sad.” Fran told her. She was at the window again. “I think he hurt himself.”
Noelle looked out of the
window and saw the old man, now opposite a gaping maw in the ground in the plot
out back, but now clutching at his wrist.
She turned hurriedly from the
window and into the hallway, grabbing a coats her and Fran.
The old man looked up as
Noelle trudged down towards him. “Looks like
you’ve hurt yourself.”
She called out, warm breath escaping from her lips into the cold air.
“Oh,
it’s nothing really,”
The man replied, matter-of-factly, looking at his hand. “An
old root was more stubborn than it should have been.” He
pointed out the offending article as in now lay away from the crater that he now
also stood beside. He awarded her a wry smile. “Not
as stubborn as me though.”
Noelle, with Fran balanced on
her hip, was now close enough to observe the wound on his palm. “Hmm,” She pondered briefly. “Not too deep, but still could do with some first aid, I
suspect.”
The old man grimaced, as if
taking care of the injury was a trouble to bother with. “I
really need to get on,” He told her, almost impatiently.
“I’m sure it
will take care of itself.”
Noelle gave him an
admonishing look. “You need to make that hole a bit
bigger, huh?”
The old man looked at it,
almost forlornly. “It’s
not yielded results just yet.”
“Well,
I think you’ve earned yourself a break.” She told him, decisively. “Come
up to the house; I’ll fix you up a hot chocolate
while we put something on your hand.”
“Oh
no, no thank you,” The old man replied weakly. “I
need to get on.”
“It
wasn’t really a request.” Noelle replied, with a slight steel to her casual tone.
The old man held her gaze for
a moment. She couldn’t really tell what he was
thinking and, for a split second, her comfortability around him was overcast by
a flash of concern, but he spoke again before it could take hold.
“Hot
chocolate, you say?” His tone warming up a little.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Then
I suppose five minutes couldn’t hurt.”
“Yay!” Fran clapped her little mittened hands.
They all three sat at the
dining room table in the extended kitchen, the old man one side, Noelle
opposite and Fran in her raised chair at the end, in between them.
They all had a cup of
something warm (with an extra milky hot chocolate in her sippy cup for Fran)
and Noelle had taken care of the old man’s
hand, cleaning it first and the applying a bandage. Afterward, he had put his
fingerless glove back on where the whiteness of the bandage peered through the friction
burn hole that the root had made right through it.
“So,
what are you looking for?” Noelle asked him, deliberately
casually and blowing on her drink. “You’ve put a lot of work into making a big hole.”
“Something
that belongs to me.” The old man replied, non-committal.
He didn’t seem to want to proffer up any further
information.
“Okay,
well, that makes more sense than you being a landscaper,”
Noelle told him. “You don’t
seem to lend yourself to the ‘illuminous
jacket and hard hat’ style. So it’s clear you’ve not been
hired to clear the place.” She took a sip from her cup. “The landowner sold it the other month. He owns this house too.
Wants to knock it down to make way for a road through to behind.” She nodded towards where the old man had been digging. “They’ll be building houses there
sometime early next year, so if you are looking for something there, you’re going to need to get to it fast.”
“I
intend to,” he replied. “There’s something in there I
desperately need to reach. It may already be too late.”
“Is
there anything I can do to help?” Noelle
asked him.
“Not
really.” The old man gave her a perfunctory
smile. “I just need to get on with it.”
Noelle paused to observe,
intrigued as she was by him. It was though there was a warmness to his distant nature,
but hidden deep down. Like it was trying to surface, but something was holding
it back. Maybe he had lost someone dear to him. A wife maybe? He wasn’t young, maybe that was the answer. He certainly came across
as physically capable, the crater was a testament to that.
Noelle fancied that he was a
real life romance movie character, where he had lost someone dear and whatever
he was looking for was something that was significant to his dear departed
loved one.
He held her gaze softly and
it was Fran who interrupted the moment, seemingly randomly.
“It’s Noey’s birthday
at Christmas, Crah Missmas!”
The old man turned to the
little girl, his gaze broken, puzzled.
“It’s my birthday on Christmas Day.”
Noelle told him, almost apologetically. “I’m Noey. Noelle.”
“Parents
can be cruel,” He replied and actually
chuckled.
Fran responded with a fake
chuckle of her own, just to be involved. She had also taken to this man,
convinced he must be Father Christmas. This made Noelle chuckle too.
And, for a moment, on this
cold winter’s day, Noelle felt truly
Christmassy.
The old man shortly brought
the sentiment to a close though. “Well, I
really must get back to my work.” He rose to
his feet, made an endearing point of thanking Fran kindly for the hot
chocolate, to which she graciously replied ‘you’re
welcome.’ without any hint of humour or irony.
And with that, the old man
made his way out of the house and back to the hole in the field.
The next day, Noelle was
distracted from her day by the sound of heavy machinery. She looked out of the
window again and this time saw the old man manning a small one man digger. The
crater was larger still and he worked industriously, intent on his job.
Noelle didn’t go and visit him this time, she had tasks of her own to
attend. She needed to finish her Christmas shopping and go and visit her dad.
She had actually called her
father the night before and it had been a relief to do so. She missed him and a
part of her that would forever be a little girl, wished he still lived at home.
Still, she was looking
forward to spending some time with him and it was this sentiment that took her
thoughts away from the strange old man beyond the garden.
Later that afternoon, not too
long before evening, the night was drawing in and Noelle had had a successfully
day, with barely a thought about anything but the onset of the holidays.
The old man sat in the corner
of the coffee house, looking distantly out of a misted up window.
The place was a hubbub of
Christmas shoppers, older couples on a routine visit, a gaggle of mums with
pushchairs and a few sets of young teenaged girls. He looked almost entirely unaware of his
surroundings.
Noelle returned from the
service bar with a tray and a pair of drinks and sat opposite him. She had
returned later in the day and approached him once more, this time having to
shout over the noise of the machinery before he noticed her. He had admitted
that, although he was making much headway, it was beginning to seem fruitless.
This time, his temper was frayed. Maybe because of the lack of presence of
Fran, he grumpily snapped at Noelle, but she wasn’t
having it at all. She supposed he reminded her a little of her own Grandfather,
who had died a few years back. He was a grumpy sort too, but she knew he had a
kind heart and had loved him dearly regardless.
She had side-stepped this old
man’s frustration and nigh-on ordered him to
take a break. Her mother was in the house and Noelle didn’t really want to go into all the inevitable questions and the
suspicion that would arise from her bringing this man into the house (‘Why are you taking to this man?’, ‘Why is he digging up the field?’; ‘Why haven’t you
called the police?’, etc). So instead, she took
him along to the coffee house that was on the edge of the centre of town.
“Minty
hot chocolate, this time.” She proffered, passing him the
two-handled mug.
The old man gave a silent ‘Ooh’, with not even the slightest
hint of sarcasm. He took a sip. “Minty.” He took another sip.
“So,” Noelle took a breath. “I’d really like to know why you’ve
been digging that massive hole.”
The old man took his
attention from his cup and brought onto her. “I
really don’t think you’ll find an honest explanation satisfactory.” He told her.
“But
it’s obvious that there’s something down there that means a lot to you,” she continued. “And it’s obvious that it’s not small
because you’ve got an almighty great digger
in there!”
“Yes..” He said simply. He paused, then: “I
do rather like minty hot chocolate.”
Noelle gave him a suddenly
stern look. “Yes, and it cost me £5.30, so I think it would be really nice of you to let me in
on the secret.” A beat. “I
don’t even know your name!”
“It’s… John.”
“Oh
right!” She was not impressed. “So we’re going down the falsehood
route, is that it?”
The old man’s eyes darkened. “Now look
here; that business is my business alone and I don’t
have to explain myself to you.”
“Well,
maybe you’d like to explain yourself to the police.”
“You
jest.”
“Try
me.”
The two looked sternly at
each other for a moment, both trying to see where the other would go next.
It was the old man that
blinked first. “You won’t
believe a word I tell you, I can tell you that much.”
Noelle sighed. “Give it a go. The amount of times we’ve
been visited by aliens this past few Christmases, I’m
not sure there’s much that would surprise me. ‘John’.”
The old man frowned
quizzically. “Really?” He
then paused, holding her gaze once more, and was clearly considering whether to
go ahead or not, before sighing. “Okay. Fine” A smile spread across her face; more with the glee of anticipation
than victory. “But don’t
say I didn’t warn you.”
“Go
on,” she grinned, almost excitedly. “Shoot!”
John raised a wizened eyebrow
and began. “I’m
not from this planet and the planet I am from is in a terrible war with
maniacal creatures known as Daleks.”
“I
know Daleks!” Noelle cried, almost too
excitedly. “There was some kind of incursion
after the ghosts arrived.”
“Some
kind incursion? Ghosts?”
“You
don’t remember?”
“I’m not from Earth. I’ve said
that already.”
Noelle nodded without even
blinking. “Of course. Correct. Continue.”
The Doctor took the
opportunity to take a sip from his beverage, followed by unceremoniously wiping
the froth from his moustache with the back of his hand. “It’s a kind of time war. Earth is not involved, not currently at
least, but many, many planets have been caught in the crossfire. I’ve been doing what I can to help ease the pain for the
inhabitants of what planets I can, but it’s
too much for one person to do a decent enough job.” He
paused again, looking out of the window. Noelle felt the urge to place her hand
upon his where it rested on the table, but refrained as he continued.
“Recently,
there was one planet in particular that was being strategically brutalised by
the Daleks in an attempt for them to gain some kind of upper hand. A temporal
weapon of sorts that surrounds a planet and devolves life in its glare, in an
instant, to their primordial origins.”
Noelle was enrapt. She was
totally taken in by the tale, the gravitas with which this man told it with
kept her suspension of disbelief aloft.
“Only
my ship, a time/space machine, got in the way of the beam. I had managed to
save a number of the indigenous race from this particular planet already, only
to get my TARDIS struck by said beam that had begun to enshroud the planet.”
“The
TARDIS is your ship?” Noelle interjected. “Where is it now?”
“The
answer to that leads to the reason for the hole I’m
digging.” The old man told her. He was
appreciating being able to recant the tale, but she could tell that this was
getting difficult for him to do so. An edginess had appeared in his voice. She
decided to let him continue, unaccosted.
“It
had an unexpected affect. Instead of its intended result, it appears to have
reacted differently when in contact with another temporal device and I was
ejected from my TARDIS upon arriving in this time zone. The TARDIS then flew
out in the temporal ether and left me stranded here.”
“So,
then, the TARDIS is under the field?”
“Exactly!
The homing device I keep on my person has led me to the field behind your house
and I intend to keep digging until I reach her. I have no idea how long she has
been there. Years. Hundreds of years perhaps.”
Noelle was totally committed
now. “But what about the people you saved? They
were on board?”
John looked toward her once
more. This time, she saw the pain in his eyes. She could see that this man had
experienced so much. So much had affected him, yet still the goodness in him
was fighting back the dark.
“That
is my fear also.”
The two had finished their
drinks and had decided to make their way back.
As they walked out of the
centre of town and up a hill into the quieter area, a silence had fallen over
them. It was Noelle who spoke first as they started to turn into her street.
“I
want to help you.” She told him, breaking the
silence. “I want you to find your ship and get to
the people you saved.”
“People?” John queried. “Well, they
are not a people, as such.”
He looked up to the sky. The
night was brisk, but clear and, Noelle followed his gaze, observing a
glittering starscape. It was so serene and beautiful, she couldn’t quite imagine a war raging up there.
John spoke again. “Life has found a way to thrive in every part of this planet.
It has been found clinging to existence in even the most inhospitable of
places. The same is so out there. Life exists in so many forms, fashions and
variations that your mind would boggle at how it has flourished.” The turned the corner and Noelle’s
house could been seen across the street.
“These
‘people’
are more of a joined mind. Not quite a hive mind like bees or ants, but more
energy-based and sharing a composite mindscape, as well as their own
individualities.”
Noelle’s
nose wrinkled. “So, they are more like psychic
insects?”
John chuckled. “No, not at all. They are more like non-corporeal fireflies.” When he caught sight of Noelle’s
confused look, he added. “Tiny sentient balls of light.” He noticed then that Noelle had stopped in her tracks. “What?”
Noelle’s
confused look had turned to one of revelation. “You
said you were ejected from your ship? And that your ship was shunted out of
time without you?”
“That’s right, but…”
“And
you’ve been worried that these beings were
stuck in the TARDIS for who-knows how along a time and maybe having died of old
age, or something? That’s what you’ve
been worried about, right”
“Yes,
that’s why I’ve…
“
“Look.”
They had stopped, across the
road, and were now facing the row of houses that included Noelle’s own. At first, he struggled to catch her meaning. And then…
“Oh
ho, yes!”
Noelle saw him almost step
into a little jig, he was so euphoric. The old man’s
face broke into an almost exultant beam as he span on his heels and turned to
her.
“The
lights! On the wreaths! That’s them!”
Noelle laughed, seeing him
like this almost made her well up. “They’ve been here about as long as you have.”
“Whilst
I’ve been digging a hole!” He turned to her and took her lightly by the elbows. “I think I like Christmas. I had forgotten.”
Noelle hugged him abruptly,
taking him by surprise. “Merry Christmas,
John-whatever-your-name-is.”
And as the two turned to take
in the wonderful sight of lights before them, as these WreathKind shimmered and
sparkled on a darkening Christmassy night, Fran was stood on her bed under her
bedroom window, and peering out from the curtains, watching her sister and
their new friend in their delight.
“Nuh-night,
Crah Missmas.”
I absolutely loved this. Merry Christmas.
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