And then a face appeared.
And the face smiled. And the memory faded.
Little Pebbleford was an ordinary village. Ordinary houses. Ordinary buildings. Ordinary people, and ordinary, every day, simple things. Crime was low and happiness was high. People simply got on with their lives. If you were ready to retire and settle down, or were simply after getting away from the hustle and bustle of the busy towns or cities, then Little Pebbleford was the place for you.
Alice Stokes was also pretty ordinary, but she had come from a slightly more hectic background. She was the oldest of five girls, and, being the eldest, had more or less helped her parents to raise her sisters. This experience had led to her desire to become a school teacher. Although she had initially started out with primary school children, she had moved on to more troublesome secondary school pupils.
She had done her training - as an English teacher - a few years back, and had finally received her first secondary school assignment - teaching ages 11-16 at Little Pebbleford School.
She had been there for six months and was enjoying her job and her life. And life couldn’t have been different than what it had been six months ago. Back then she had been in a car crash and had been unconscious in hospital for a few days. When she’d woken up, she’d discovered a new love for life and for the world around her.
She had rented a small house in the village centre and had enjoyed the quiet, peaceful days. School life was hectic, but at the age of 25 she was still able to sympathise with some of the older kids. She was a good teacher and a good friend to them, but she knew how to keep her distance and keep things professional.
But her life was due to change rather dramatically on one grey, Autumn evening, after another ordinary day at school.
She had just finished packing up her stuff and was about to leave when the headmaster - David Groves - walked into the room. He was a tall man with a bald head and just a little bit of hair around the sides. He’d gone bald at a young age and his pencil-moustache always made him look more serious than he actually was.
“Good afternoon, headmaster,” smiled Alice.
“Please, Alice, we’re off duty now. David will do.”
“Good afternoon, David,” smiled Alice again.
David smiled and held out his hand, dangling a bunch of keys in front of her. “Could you pop the new keys down to the caretaker. I was meant to do it at lunchtime, but I had a governors meeting.”
This afternoon the school had had new locks put onto the doors. New security measures.
“Ooh,” said Alice, letting him drop the keys into the palm of her hand, “shouldn’t he be here now?”
“Well I was going to wait for him to get here,” said Groves, “but he said he’d been held up for a few hours. Can‘t wait around forever, you know. Goodness knows what he gets up to at that big old house!”
“I see,” said Alice. “Well, yep, that’s no probs at all. He’s at Casterby House, isn’t he?”
“That’s right. Next to the church.”
“I’ll drop them off now. I’ve gotta pass that way. Need to pick up some eggs from Mrs Blissett’s.”
“Good stuff,” smiled Groves.
Alice noticed Groves itching his right wrist. “You okay?”
Groves quickly looked from his wrist and then to Alice. “Oh, fine. Just the bloody washing powder. I’ve told my wife to change it, but she’s having none of it. Says it brings out the fluffiness of her cardigans.”
Alice smiled, gave a little chuckle, said her goodbyes and then made her way out of the school.
Five minutes later, Alice was on her rather rickety bike, cycling along the little lane that led from the school and down to the little streets that filtered off from the main village square. The school was built on the top of a hill of chalk that now overlooked a new cluster of houses. Apparently, back in Roman days, there used to be a fort there. Alice believed the story, because on a clear day you can see all across the county. A perfect spot to observe the approaching enemy.
Alice took a turn to the left and veered into a small lane that led to a large, white house with a small stone wall and a quaint front garden. Next to it was the small village church, St. Augustine’s, and it’s old graveyard.
Alice hopped of her bike and leaned it against the wall. She opened the creaky, iron gate and walked down the little pathway towards the front door.
Above the doorway was a wooden plaque with golden letters proclaiming the building to be “Casterby House”.
Alice knocked on the door and waited.
There was no answer. She knocked again.
Still no answer.
She decided to post the keys through the letterbox, and then realised that it was screwed shut.
She frowned. “Hello!” shouted Alice, peering around the edge of the house and towards the fence surrounding the back garden. “Is there anybody there?”
No answer.
She sighed and made her way back up the garden path. She needed to get home and have something to eat. Then she’d try again.
Before she got on her bike, she thought she heard a wheezing and groaning sound coming from somewhere inside the house, but there was nothing to be seen. Tutting to herself at being distracted, she got back on her bike and made her way towards the village square.
In the centre of the square was a stone statue of one of the first mayors of the village - Autlock Brown. She locked her bike up against a fence and made her way into Mrs Blissett’s Butchers.
“Hello, dear,” smiled Mrs Blissett, her round face and red cheeks breaking into a smile.
“Hi, Mrs Blissett,” said Alice. “A dozen eggs, please.”
“Coming right up.”
Alice had a thought. “Hey, have you seen anything of the school caretaker?”
“Mr Smith? No, not today. But he likes to keep himself to himself, doesn’t he?”
“I suppose,” said Alice. Alice had never really met Mr. Smith before. She had seen him on the odd occasion, pottering around the school with his walking stick, but she had never spoken to him. He always looked distant and tired, but he also seemed to be looking around for something. Like he wasn’t quite there.
She paid for the eggs and then made her way back to her bike. She put the eggs in the front basket and then set off again. She took a turn up another little lane between the buildings until she reached a small, quaint little bungalow with potted plants and hanging baskets outside.
This was home. The lovely little place she was renting whilst she was working at the school. It had taken a while for her to settle in, but now she had, she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else but here. If she could afford it, she had one day planned to buy the place.
She took her bike around to the back, locked it in the tiny shed, and then made her way inside.
Thirty minutes later she was lying in the hot, bubble-filled bath, her eyes closed as she let all of the days aches and pains ease out of her and evaporate in the steaming hot water.
Her days were manic at the school, but these were the moments she savoured. The moments were she could relax. The weekend was just around the corner, and Alice was determined to spend it relaxing.
For a fleeting moment she found herself starting to drift off back to her days looking after her sisters. There was Rosie, the second oldest and the prettiest of them. She had always been there to give advice to her, even though she was a year younger. Then there was Audrey, Mary and Katy. Katy was the youngest and had often caused Alice to have the most headaches. She was a little tearaway, always getting into trouble and invariably needing Alice to get her out of trouble. Mary was the quiet one. She was into her books, rather than toys, and then Audrey was the oddest. She found it strange to be calling her own sister odd, but Audrey had always been the one who would be found at the bottom of the garden, examining dead birds and mice. Strange.
She rarely kept in contact with them now. Well, except Rosie, who she met up with once a month, but she missed them all. She missed their company.
She was momentarily distracted from her thoughts when she felt something a little…odd.
She thought she could feel the bath vibrating. She opened her eyes and looked at the surface of the water. She was right - it was vibrating. Ever so slightly. The water had small, tiny ripples in it.
And it wasn’t just the bath. The whole bathroom looked as though it was vibrating as well. She could see the glass with her toothbrush in it slowly, slowly vibrating across the windowsill.
And then it stopped.
She frowned, dismissed it as possible building works nearby, submerged her entire head in the water one last time to rinse out the shampoo, and then climbed out of the bath.
After drying and getting dressed, she tied her still-damp, brown her into a ponytail and left the bungalow. She still had to get those keys to the caretaker.
It was now dark and all of the shops had closed for the day. She had put on a woolly, beret-type hat and her long coat and walked across the village square and back towards Casterby House. She needed the night air to wake her up from her sleepy, hot bath.
Once at Casterby House she noticed it was in darkness.
She let out a huge sigh. She needed to get these keys to him somehow.
And that’s when she saw the blue flashing light. It was coming from around the corner and over the gate that led to the garden.
She pushed on the gate, but it was locked.
“Hello?” she shouted, looking up at the gate. “Hello, is there anybody there?”
No response.
She cursed silently. “Mr Smith, I have your keys. The ones for the school. They changed the locks, you know. You need them to get in.”
For a moment she considered throwing the keys over the gate so she could get back home and to her nice warm house, but the headmaster had put more faith in her than that.
“HELLO!!” she bellowed again.
The blue light went out. She heard the sound of footsteps on gravel and then the clunk-clunk of the gate being unlocked.
For a moment she was scared, and then she dismissed the stupid thought straight away.
The gate swung open and standing there was a tall man in a black suit, blue shirt, black tie and a bright yellow smiley-face badge pinned to his lapel. He was completely bald and was leaning on an beautifully carved, wooden cane.
He frowned at her.
“Mr Smith,” said Alice, “I’ve brought you the keys from the headmaster.”
He continued to frown.
“We’ve not met, but I’ve seen you around school. I’m Miss Stokes, the English teacher. Alice Stokes.”
The man broke into a grin and extended his hand. “Ah, good to meet you, Miss Stokes.”
“You can call me Alice, Mr. Smith.”
“And you can call me the Doctor,” he said, shaking her hand.
“The Doctor? What are you a Doctor of?” she said, handing him the bunch of keys.
“Everything mostly. And nothing. Depends on your perspective really.”
She frowned. “And you’re only a school caretaker?” She wondered if he’d been struck off the medical practice for some sinister reason.
The Doctor grinned. “It’s only a temporary position. I’m only here until I find what I’m looking for.”
“And what’s that?” asked Alice, as they both made their way up the garden path and towards the front gate. “I mean there can’t be that much to find in a small village like this.”
“Actually, you can find many things in small villages like these. Many, many secrets.”
“Secrets? What kind of secrets?”
Suddenly, as if to punctuate Alice’s question, a huge explosion and a plume of smoke came from the direction of the school. The ground beneath their feet shook and Alice and the Doctor were thrown to the floor.
“What was that?” said Alice, scrambling to her feet to try and see.
“I’d say that was what I was looking for!”
Somewhere, in a darkened control room, a shadowy object, about the height of a small man, slowly moved on the spot. It was almost as if it was testing itself to see that it still moved.
They were awake…
Next time: The Doctor and Alice discover something buried under tons of rock. Coming Saturday 11th January 2014.
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