Doctor Who: Paradise Towers (5 page)

And menacing enough to suggest its purpose was not just to assist in picking up rubbish. The claw hovered threateningly above the Doctor’s head ready to pounce as soon as the Cleaner was sufficiently close.

The Doctor’s survival instincts were strong. Which was just as well. At almost the last moment he looked up and saw the claw reaching out towards him. He gave a gasp. The claw lunged towards him and he managed to evade its grasp and scamper off down the corridor to where the band of Caretakers stood transfixed.

‘Do you do what I usually do in these circumstances?’ the Doctor shouted as he ran towards them.

‘What’s that?’ the Deputy Chief shouted back, galvanised into action by the sudden turn of events.

‘Run!’ called the Doctor. And run they all did as fast as they could. Prisoner and guards were suddenly all in the same boat.

And the Cleaner with its menacing claw pursued them down the long deserted streets. There was much in this encounter that puzzled the Doctor. But there were times to sit and think. And times to run for your life.

‘Quick, into the lift!’ The Deputy Chief pointed to the end of the street where the lift door lay tantalisingly open and waiting.

It was not far now but none of the runners had much energy left. While not that far behind them the Robotic Self-Activating Megapodic Mark 7Z Cleaner rolled relentlessly and speedily along in pursuit.

Somehow they all made it. Deputy, Doctor and Caretakers were packed sweating into the confined lift space. The Doctor looked at the control panel which informed them, correctly or not, that they were on the 23rd floor.

‘I’m surprised any of the lifts in this place work,’ he remarked.

‘Most of them don’t,’ the Deputy replied, desperately pushing at the start button on the panel. Nothing happened.

The doors didn’t shut. The indicator still read Floor 23. And the Cleaner rolled along the street towards them with its claw at the ready.

The Deputy pushed the start button again, his rising panic barely under control. The doors remained obstinately open. The other Caretakers shifted uneasily. The Cleaner got closer.

‘Here. Let me.’ The Doctor decided it was time for action if they were not all to suffer the fate of the young girl in the wallscrawl. He for one had no intention of being clawed to death by a robot. He gathered all his strength and pushed. There was a pause. The Cleaner was nearly at the door now and flight was hopeless.

And then, in delayed response to the Doctor’s efforts, the doors slid shut. The Cleaner was excluded and the lift was in motion. The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief. The Caretakers were looking considerably more cheerful. And the lift was undoubtedly going upwards. Perhaps, the Doctor thought, towards some explanations for the bizarre happenings and extraordinary people he had experienced since entering Paradise Towers.

‘I do hope Mel’s all right,’ he mused...

‘Well, of course, in the old days, it was very different, wasn’t it, Tabby?’ The Rezzies were in full flood now that Mel was settled and tucking in to all the fattening fare they had laid before her.

‘Very different,’ Tabby agreed, spooning huge dollops of cream onto a green scone Mel was tackling. ‘Lovely clean corridors. Nice fresh fountains. Airy lifts to go up and down the Towers whenever you wanted to.’ She sighed. ‘Even the Caretakers did their job properly in those days.’

‘What happened then?’ Mel was all attention.

‘Difficult to say really.’ Tabby spoke with a vagueness that may or may not have been deliberate. Mel found it hard to tell.

‘My memory isn’t what it was. But one thing followed another.

And before we knew where we were, we were in the pickle we are today.’

Tilda looked wistful. ‘Everybody has to fend for themselves, don’t they, Tabby? Take what they can find.’ And somehow or other, this thought led her to offer another sticky cake to an already well-filled Mel. From what they said the Rezzies could ill afford to be so generous but they were so persistent that Mel found it hard to say no without appearing to be rude. And with every mouthful she ate, she got the ridiculous idea that Tabby’s big rat teeth were getting longer and sharper.

‘So you were here from the beginning, were you?’

‘Oh yes,’ Tabby replied. ‘From when the Great Architect finished Paradise Towers and all the youngsters and all the oldsters were brought here.’

‘And the rest? The in-betweens?’

Tabby wrinkled her brow. ‘I don’t quite recall. But I think they had something else to do. A war to fight or something. It’s all a very long time ago. I sometimes wonder whether we won that war or not, Tilda.’

Tilda shook her head sadly. ‘I don’t suppose we’ll ever know.’

‘Probably not.’

The Rezzies were silent and Mel saw an opportunity to ask something that she had been wanting to ask for some time. ‘Do either of you know anything about a swimming pool?’ She took a large bite of her sticky cake.

Again the Rezzies seemed unsure and again Mel could not decide whether the uncertainty was real or assumed. ‘A swimming pool?’ Tilda mused. ‘No, I don’t think so. Why do you want to know?’

‘I have to meet someone there,’ Mel returned, hoping they wouldn’t ask her to be more specific. But the Rezzies seemed more concerned about the immediate situation. ‘You’d be far better off forgetting about any pools and staying here with us, Mel, dear,’ Tilda cooed. ‘Wouldn’t she, Tabby?’

‘Oh yes, Tilda’, Tabby agreed. ‘She can eat and eat to her heart’s content and get nice and plump and healthy. Safe from those nasty Kangs.’

Mel was beginning to find this kindness a bit oppressive.

And she was beginning to worry about the Doctor. ‘Look,’ she explained, ‘it’s very kind of you but I’m afraid I will have to go once I’ve finished my tea. It’s very important that I find out what’s happened to my friend.’

‘Oh nonsense, there’s no rush,’ Tilda urged. ‘Finish your cake.’

Tabby’s face burst into what was meant to be a reassuring smile but somehow the front teeth made it rather disturbing instead. ‘We’ll be very offended if you rush off so quickly, won’t we, Tilda?’ Tilda nodded energetically.

Mel felt herself weakening under the emotional blackmail.

‘Well, just a few more minutes maybe,’ she conceded.

‘That’s it, dear,’ Tilda said contentedly. ‘Plenty of time.’

‘All the time in the world,’ echoed Tabby. ‘Make the most of the peace and quiet.’

And then the peace and quiet were suddenly shattered.

There was a loud splintering sound and the flat’s front door was smashed into innumerable pieces by a powerful unseen fist. All three women turned in surprise.

A large hole gaped now where the central wooden panel of the door had been. And through that hole stepped a man.

Though not tall, he was an imposing figure with a rugged jaw, piercing eyes and a powerful, muscular body. He was the archetype of an action hero, Mel thought. The impression was increased by his commando-style outfit, the strange tattoo on his neck and the powerful-looking gun in his hand. He stood there just inside the door, rather too conscious of the impression of power and dynamism he was trying to create.

When he spoke it was to Mel and his voice was deep and strong. ‘Are these old ladies annoying you?’

‘No.’ Now she had got over her surprise, Mel realised that she was rather annoyed with this intruder, with his assumption of his right to interfere in other people’s business.

The intruder tried again. He pointed to Tabby and Tilda.

‘Then are you annoying these old ladies?’

‘No, she isn’t,’ Tilda snapped, even more annoyed than Mel.

The stranger’s confident pose was beginning to crumble under this lack of response. He was even starting to look somewhat crestfallen. The old ladies, who apparently knew him of old, pressed their advantage.

‘I do wish you’d stop breaking through our door to try and save us,’ Tabby exclaimed. ‘We’ve had to repair it three times already. It’s not as if we’ve ever been in any danger.’

‘Except from bits of door flying all over the place,’ added Tilda.

Mel’s curiosity was roused. ‘Look, who exactly are you?’ she asked the newcomer.

He drew himself up and struck a pose that showed off how big his biceps were. The jaw was stuck out and the voice as self-consciously deep and authoritative as when he first came in.

‘The name’s Pex,’ he announced proudly. ‘I put the world of Paradise Towers to rights.’

And that, for the moment, was all Mel got out of him.

However, the excuse to leave now tea was interrupted was too good to miss and she started to say her goodbyes to Tabby and Tilda. They were very reluctant to let her go and Mel found herself once again finding their solicitude rather on the oppressive side.

‘It does seem a pity when we were so comfortable,’ Tilda kept saying.

‘And you mustn’t be put off by him,’ Tabby added, with a withering glance at Pex who remained stuck in his heroic pose blocking the way out.

Mel glanced at him and decided that Pex wasn’t really alarming at all. He was actually a bit ridiculous. ‘Don’t worry about that,’ she assured the Rezzies. ‘But I do have to find my friend – and the pool.’

‘You will come back and see us though, won’t you?’ Tilda urged.

‘Maybe bring your friend,’ Tabby put in with a gleam in her eye Mel didn’t quite understand.

‘Of course, I will,’ she assured them. ‘And thank you for everything.’

And she stepped through the hole in the front door Pex had created, feeling oddly rather relieved to be away from these kind old ladies. However, she was not to feel relieved and alone for very long. As they came to wave goodbye to Mel, the Rezzies very firmly ordered Pex from their flat. And now as she made her way back down the street, Mel became aware that she was being followed.

‘Just a moment,’ Pex was calling.

Mel turned to face him, liking him no more than before.

‘What is it now?’

‘You are going on a difficult journey,’ he announced smugly, striking another pose designed to show off his muscular development. ‘You need me to protect you.’

‘I most certainly do not.’

‘But that’s my job. I am Pex. I put the world of Paradise Towers to rights.’

Pex’s conceit seemed to be immeasurable and Mel found herself especially annoyed by the assumption that she wasn’t able to manage on her own without this lumbering male tagging along. She said as much and, again, Pex started to wilt under her indignation. It was only when she caught a glimpse of this vulnerability that she found she could like him a little more.

Perhaps sensing this, Pex tried again to persuade her to take him along. There was something almost plaintive in his tone now and Mel began to realise that in some odd way it was very important to him that she accepted him.

‘If you don’t need a protector then you might need a guide.

Somebody who knows their way about.’

He had a point. Paradise Towers was a vast baffling building and Mel hadn’t begun to work out how it was planned. ‘All right,’ she agreed, ‘you’ve got the job.’

She walked off down the street and Pex, happier now she had accepted him, followed on just behind. It was true that a guide would be helpful in tracing the Doctor and that Pex must know the ill-lit and confusing streets a lot better than she did. All the same, Mel couldn’t help wondering whether she might live to regret letting this self-appointed protector tag along.

4

Somehow the Chief Caretaker had the feeling that all was not exactly as it should be. And for somebody as methodical in his ways as the Chief Caretaker it was not a very comfortable feeling to have.

Normally it gave him a nice, snug glow of satisfaction to sit there in his Headquarters surrounded by screens that told him what was going on in every single corner of Paradise Towers.

Everything ran according to the rules in the rule book and none of the Caretakers ever questioned anything. Not even who had first invented all the rules in the rule book. The only thorn in his flesh was the Wallscrawlers and, though they were sometimes a nuisance, he could usually keep them in order with the odd surprise raid like the one he had ordered that morning on Fountain of Happiness Square. All in all, life in Paradise Towers seemed to run on the well-oiled lines that he had laid down for it and all was well with the world.

Not, of course, that even a Chief Caretaker didn’t need a spot of relaxation. For that he had adopted a pet in the Basement of the Towers whom he visited now and then. The Chief Caretaker couldn’t really remember quite how contact had first been made but now he spent a great deal of his waking life thinking about how best to serve his pet. Pets often have good appetites and this particular pet had a mountainous appetite which the Chief Caretaker did his best to satisfy. After all, like any proud owner, he wanted his pet to grow up big and strong.

A particularly satisfying part of the morning had been spent in despatching to the Basement in a Robotic Self-activating Megapodic Mark 7Z Cleaner the remains of the now defunct Caretaker number 345 stroke 12 subsection 3. The Chief had watched the Cleaner carrying its load on one of his screens and thought what a tasty little snack Caretaker number 345 stroke 12

subsection 3 would be for his pet. Even tastier than the Yellow Kang he had despatched earlier. Somehow moments like that gave the extra satisfaction that made his demanding job really worthwhile.

So where had his feeling of unease come from? That was the question and he didn’t really have an answer. Perhaps even he could not really believe that a world as well-regulated as Paradise Towers, a world so well tailored to his own personal convenience, could stay exactly that way for ever. Perhaps it was not given to a man to have a powerful, rewarding job, obedient subordinates and a lovely secret pet to care for. He had no positive evidence to fuel his anxieties.

The Chief sat staring at his screens. In one a Caretaker moved down Nitrate Street removing Wallscrawl. In another two Rezzies scuttled past on their way home. On a third a lift, which had been jammed on Floor 207 for as long as anyone could remember, stayed jammed on Floor 207. On several screens the Chief’s beloved Cleaners went about their work. Cleaning, that was. The Cleaners’ special services were only occasionally called on and with great discretion. The other Caretakers must not be upset...