Doctor Who and the Scales of Injustice | Page 8

what to do with half of his cash. Just before they
sent me here, he bought a boat. I know he'll never use it. Steve Merrett called it a status
symbol. I asked Dad on the phone last night what that meant, and he said Steve and his
father were just jealous, and that next-door neighbours were scum. Which means Steve
was obviously right.
'The Memoirs of Sir Marc Marshall OBE. Volume 2: Formative Years of Teenage Angst'.
I wouldn't bet on it. But I've got going now, and there's nothing else to do here, so...
Why am I here? Bloody good question, Marc, I must say. Officially 'the sea air will do
you good and Aunty Eve has been wanting you to visit ever since you were old enough to
be on your own.' Yeah. Right. Truth is, Mum and Dad are having a month of
be-nice-to-the-constituents, and every night it's barbecues, folding newsletters and
postings, or endless meetings with various local groups. And I, of course, would get in
the way.
Mrs Petter said that I should be proud that my Dad does something for the community but
I think she was being sarcastic. Maybe that's what a bloody commie is - a teacher who
thinks parents are one thing but tells their children the opposite. I'll ask Aunty Eve.
Anyway, this place is called Smallmarshes and it's in Kent. Apparently it's not far from
Hastings, which Aunty Eve says is good for shopping, and Dungeness, which Aunty Eve
says is good for nuclear radiation. I don't think she likes it. Come to think of it, I
remember her and Dad arguing about nuclear reactors once. She's Mum's sister, and he's
never liked her. He doesn't like me much either. Probably explains why he sent me here
for the school holidays.
Steve Merrett's dad runs a newsagents down on Deansgate. His mum works in that big
office block above the car park next to the Arndale Centre. She's a secretary or something.
Why can't my parents be normal? Why does Dad have to be an MP? Why doesn't Mum
go to work like everyone else's mum?
This afternoon I'm going to Dungeness to stand next to that nuclear reactor and get
radiation poisoning and then all my hair will fall out and my skin will go green and I'll
die and it'll be in all the papers.
Why?
Because it'll really piss Dad off.

Yeah.
All right, working on the assumption that the average fourteen-year-old doesn't die from
standing next to nuclear reactors - Aunty Eve's still alive and she said she tied herself to
the gates of Dungeness once - I'll write about it later. Let's face it, there's nothing else to
do here.
'Marcus?'
Don't call me Marcus. It's Marc.
'Yes, Aunty Eve?'
'Lunch's ready.'
Toad in the hole? Fish Fingers? Not Spaghetti Hoops on brown toast, please? Something
with a bit of meat in it, or I'll die.
'You'll like this. Potato skins filled with cream cheese and red kidney beans. Get it while
it's hot.'
Oh. Fab. Just what I wanted.
'Doctor Shaw, always a pleasure to see you, m'dear. How are things? Stewart looking
after you properly, is he?'
Liz smiled at Major-General Scobie. 'Everything is fine, thank you, General.' She adored
the way that the weasel-featured old general always called the Brigadier 'Stewart', as if
refusing to acknowledge the UNIT CO'S English heritage, purely because he knew it
annoyed the younger man.
Scobie, Liz had decided on her first meeting with him some months before, possessed all
the looks that casting directors would kill for whenever they wanted an ageing military
officer. A tiny snow-white moustache gripped his upper lip, beneath a beaky nose that
protruded from a thin face with cheek bones upon which you could rest teacups.
Excursions to Burma during the war and a long posting with his late wife in Singapore
during the fifties had left him with a permanent suntan that unfortunately looked as if it
had come straight out of a bottle. But the best thing about him, Liz thought, was his
steel-grey eyes that could reduce a new private to jelly with one glance. Experience
would teach them that beneath the gruff exterior lived a virtual pussy-cat of a man; yet
one who was fiercely loyal and dependable. A top-rate commander, Jimmy Munro had
once called him, and Liz had learnt how right that assessment was.
Scobie and the Brigadier had some sort of love/hate relationship. Being a regular army
liaison officer, it was Scobie's job to challenge and investigate LethbridgeStewart's every
move, but Liz frequently felt sorry for the Brigadier. Old Scobie often seemed to play
devil's advocate to the point of ridiculousness. Still, if it made UNIT more efficient and
saved a few lives