The Day She Saved the Doctor Read online

  Contents

  1. SARAH JANE AND THE TEMPLE OF EYES

  BY JACQUELINE RAYNER

  2. ROSE AND THE SNOW WINDOW

  BY JENNY T. COLGAN

  3. CLARA AND THE MAZE OF CUI PALTA

  BY SUSAN CALMAN

  4. BILL AND THE THREE JACKETS

  BY DOROTHY KOOMSON

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  A companion: explores time and space with the Doctor, gets into trouble with the Doctor, fights enemies with the Doctor … And – more often than not – has to save his life.

  Here are four fantastic new adventures with the Doctor, starring Rose, Sarah-Jane, Clara and Bill. Written by Jenny Colgan, Jacqueline Rayner, Dorothy Koomson and Susan Calman, these stories are a celebration of the Doctor’s fantastic female friends.

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  Jacqueline Rayner has written many books, audio plays and comic strips, many of them set in the world of Doctor Who, including the number-one bestseller The Stone Rose and two ‘Quick Reads’ for World Book Day. Before becoming a full-time writer, she worked at BBC Books as an editor on their Doctor Who range.

  Jenny T. Colgan has written twenty-five novels under the name Jenny Colgan and, as Jenny T. Colgan, has published extensively in the Doctor Who universe, including the novels In the Blood and Dark Horizons, and the Big Finish audio drama, Time Reaver, starring David Tennant and Catherine Tate.

  Susan Calman is a comedian, actor, presenter and writer. A regular on The News Quiz, Susan has written four series for BBC Radio 4 and her last tour, The Calman Before The Storm, sold out nationally. On TV she presents The Boss, Armchair Detectives and Top Class. In 2016 she published her memoir, Cheer Up Love: Adventures in Depression with the Crab of Hate, and in 2017, she quickstepped into the nation’s hearts as maybe the most joyful contestant ever on the BBC’s Strictly Come Dancing. An advocate for LGBT and mental health issues, Susan lives in Glasgow with her wife, Lee, and their cats.

  Dorothy Koomson is the award-winning author of twelve novels. Her third book, My Best Friend’s Girl, was selected for the Richard and Judy Book Club 2006 Summer Reads and sold more than 500,000 copies. Dorothy’s books The Ice Cream Girls and The Rose Petal Beach were both shortlisted for the British Book Awards, and in 2013 a television adaptation of The Ice Cream Girls appeared on ITV1. Since her early days of buying comics and working in a well-known comic store, Dorothy has been a die-hard science fiction fan, so she was delighted to work on this anthology.

  ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR

  Kelly Wagner is an illustrator and graphic designer based in Milwaukee, WI, USA. Most of her projects involve branding, product development, illustration, typography and promotional print materials. The foundation of Kelly’s work is the belief that all great design should strongly engage, inspire and communicate. It is her main ambition to consistently deliver deeply intentional solutions that are both beneficial and relevant. Her primary medium of choice is Adobe Illustrator.

  Sarah Jane and the Temple of Eyes

  BY JACQUELINE RAYNER

  ‘Have you ever heard the phrase “Caesar’s wife”?’ the Doctor asked Sarah Jane, as they strolled through the marketplace.

  All about them, stallholders in tunics exhorted them to buy pastries, bread, silks and jewellery. Some stalls boasted rows of amphorae containing oil or wine; others displayed baskets of figs, dates and raisins. If Sarah closed her eyes, the smell of cinnamon and cloves from the spice stalls transported her to a twentieth-century English Christmas with mulled wine and mince pies. The heat of the day, however, gave the lie to those imaginings.

  Julius Caesar might have been as far in the past for the people at this market as Queen Anne was to Sarah, but the Doctor had nonetheless been inspired by the surroundings to regale Sarah with various nuggets of Ancient Roman trivia.

  ‘Yes, I have,’ Sarah replied. ‘It means someone who’s pure, perfect. Above suspicion.’

  ‘That’s how it’s used, yes, but it doesn’t actually mean that at all,’ the Doctor said, to Sarah’s annoyance – she prided herself on her wide-ranging knowledge (an essential asset, she believed, for a good journalist). The Doctor looped his scarf round his neck a couple of times. ‘Caesar’s wife, Pompeia, was hosting a festival of the Bona Dea – cakes, fizzy pop, no men allowed – and a man called Clodius sneaked in. So Caesar divorced his wife.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Because gossips would have been able to say anything they liked about what had gone on at the party, and Caesar wouldn’t have been able to prove otherwise, so she was for the chop. It didn’t matter whether she’d done anything or not, because, as Caesar himself said, his wife must be “above suspicion”.’

  Sarah drew herself to her full height – which, owing to the flat Roman sandals she was wearing, brought her up to about the Doctor’s shoulder. ‘Of all the male chauvinist pigs –’

  The Doctor raised his hands. ‘You don’t think he had a point, then? Some of the things I’ve seen at parties – pass the parcel, musical chairs, blind man’s buff …’

  Sarah gave an involuntary shudder and pulled her Roman cloak tighter round her, although she didn’t need it for warmth. The Doctor immediately noticed, of course. That was just like him, Sarah thought: he’d be completely oblivious when she was sure her feelings were as obvious as the nose on her face, then immediately pounce upon the thing she was trying very concertedly to keep hidden.

  ‘Nothing. It’s nothing,’ she said, defending herself before he could even ask. He was looking so intently at her that she couldn’t help elaborating, although staying silent might have been more sensible. ‘It’s silly. You’d laugh.’

  ‘Well of course I’d laugh! If it’s a joke. Is it a joke?’

  A sharp shake of her head.

  He was staring right into her eyes, no smile, and she knew that he was already well aware it wasn’t funny to her. How did he know her so well? How did her tiniest gesture give away the unspoken fear that lay beneath her smiles?

  ‘Blind man’s buff …’ he repeated, his eyes boring into hers.

  And she did it again. She shuddered! It made her angry, and even more defensive. ‘Well, if you already know, why ask?’ she said, crossing her arms defiantly and ignoring the fact that he hadn’t asked her anything at all.

  During her travels with the Doctor, Sarah had been nearly killed a dozen or more times – actually, definitely more, now she came to think about it. Recently, an attack that had been meant to kill her had instead blinded her, and it had scared her more than she wanted to admit. The powerlessness, the sudden tearing away of one of her senses, had left her terrified. She hadn’t said anything about it to the Doctor, but it seemed she didn’t need to.

  ‘Look, everyone has silly little fears,’ she went on. ‘Mine happens to be going blind. Well, that and snakes,’ she added after a second, remembering a horrifying experiment involving a the illusion of a snake that she’d been put through during another adventure with the Doctor. Going blind and snakes were now two of her top-three fears, but she would never admit the third to the Doctor, not even under duress – and she knew he would never guess what it was, either.

  ‘You’re not scared of Daleks, or Sontarans, or giant spiders?’ the Doctor asked her.

  ‘No.’ She paused, trying to find the right words. ‘Those are all … extraordinary things. Of course they’re terrifying – really terrifying – but they’re extreme. It’s the little things, the things that could still happen when I’m back home and there are no aliens for a million miles. Things like going blind, or being bitten by a snake – an ordinary Earth snake.

  ‘Look, tell me more about the – what was it? The Bona Dea,’ she said, desperate to change the subject.


  ‘The Bona Dea? It means the Good Goddess. Most of the details of her and her cult – including her real name – are lost to history, though. Do you know why?’

  ‘Seeing as I hadn’t heard of her until three minutes ago, no,’ said Sarah.

  ‘Go on.’ The Doctor showed all his teeth, his eyes inviting her into the game. ‘Have a guess!’

  A challenge to her journalistic reasoning! Sarah couldn’t resist.

  ‘Oh!’ She concentrated hard for a moment. ‘Of course! Because hers was a women-only cult, but all the Ancient Roman historians were men, so they didn’t have any information to pass on for posterity.’

  ‘Good girl!’ said the Doctor. It was a pretty patronising comment, but the Doctor was about 719 years older than her and probably the cleverest person ever to walk the Earth, so she’d let it be; anyone else – the Brigadier, say, or Harry Sullivan – would have known her wrath.

  ‘Maybe we could investigate the Bona Dea cult while we’re here,’ Sarah suggested. ‘Cause a storm in historical circles when we get back to the twentieth century.’

  The Doctor gestured down at himself. ‘I don’t think they’d let me in.’

  ‘Oh, come on. With a ribbon in your hair, maybe …’ Sarah tried to look serious, but couldn’t help herself – a laugh burst out. ‘Okay, fair point. Not exactly your look. I’ll just have to do it myself, then.’

  ‘Well, yes, if you want to visit a temple or two. Of course, the Bona Dea is not only a goddess of women. She’s also a goddess of healing, and the symbol of healing –’

  ‘Is a snake. Great. Thanks for the warning. She’ll just have to remain a mystery for ever.’

  The Doctor grinned. ‘Have I ever told you about the time I met the three-headed serpent of Orestian Major – oof!’

  They’d been so intent on their conversation that neither of them had noticed the woman running towards them until she cannoned into the Doctor, knocking him into a basket of cabbages. Hooking his scarf round the stall’s corner post, the Doctor pulled himself up. As he did so, one flailing arm caught the door of a wicker birdcage and burst it open. The stallholder shouted furiously as a dozen tiny birds hopped tentatively towards liberty, then took to their wings and flew out in a single, joyful mass, twittering gleefully.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Sarah said, helping the woman, who had also fallen, to her feet. Then she gasped. The woman’s eyes were solid white and blank. Unseeing. ‘I’m sorry,’ Sarah said hurriedly, embarrassed at having reacted so obviously. ‘Has someone hurt you? Is someone chasing you?’

  By now a crowd had gathered around them, eager for the slightest touch of drama to colour their workaday lives. The stallholder even stopped shouting about his fly-away profits and came round the front of his booth to see more clearly what was going on.

  ‘I need a doctor,’ the woman said desperately, panicky breaths punctuating her speech. ‘Please, someone, find me a doctor.’

  Sarah nudged the Doctor hard in the ribs.

  ‘I’m not that sort of doctor,’ he hissed under his breath, but the woman realised he was talking and turned towards his voice.

  ‘Are you a doctor? Can you help me? Please.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Sarah, as the Doctor shook his head at her. She spoke softly, trying to calm the woman. ‘Can you tell me what happened to you? Are you lost? Were you attacked?’

  The woman’s breathing only grew more frantic. ‘I … I can’t see!’

  Sarah and the Doctor exchanged a look.

  ‘Do you mean you suddenly went blind? Just now?’ Sarah said.

  ‘Yes!’ A bewildered expression crossed the woman’s face. ‘But I don’t … I don’t know what happened,’ she said. ‘I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember? Oh, Fortuna, what has happened to me?’

  Sarah helped the woman to a nearby seat and put a hand on her arm. ‘It’ll be all right,’ she said soothingly. ‘Try to keep calm.’

  Sarah could tell that the Doctor’s mind had already moved on, that rather than worrying about caring for this woman he was trying to work out what was going on. No, that wasn’t quite right. He did care; he just didn’t see the need for small gestures. No cups of tea or sympathy from him when he could be out there, fighting the monsters, instead. It made perfect sense, pragmatically – anyone could offer a drink and a shoulder to cry on, but very few people could defeat an invasion from another world. Therefore, his time was more profitably spent on the latter. This clinical approach to any crisis or problem only served to emphasise his alien nature. The Doctor was Sarah’s best friend, and she was his, but sometimes she wondered how she’d feel if she were one of the people he left behind. How unbearable that would be.

  The stallholder, standing nearby, pointed at the woman. ‘I know who you are!’ he said in a smug tone. ‘You’re Titus Fabius’s wife! Lucilla, that’s it. He’s offered five denarii to anyone with information on your whereabouts.’ Then he added, in an aside to Sarah, ‘Missing for a couple of days, she’s been.’

  It was a foolish thing to say if he’d been hoping to get the reward for himself. Suddenly the crowd swarmed in even closer, each person determined to be the one to claim the bounty. People grabbed at the woman’s sleeves, trying to pull her to them.

  Sarah slapped their hands away, putting herself between Lucilla and the mob. Her eyes fell on a boy loitering near the edge of the horde. ‘Hey! Do you know this Titus Fabius?’

  He nodded eagerly.

  ‘Then go and find him, and tell him his wife is here.’

  The boy slipped away.

  ‘And that means none of you will be getting the reward, so you might as well make tracks,’ Sarah told those who remained. Grumpily, they moved off, although they didn’t go far, possibly hoping there might still be more entertainment to come.

  Sarah turned back to Lucilla, whose milky-white eyes were wet with tears. ‘Your husband will be here soon to take you home,’ Sarah said. She paused, knowing her next words wouldn’t be so comforting. ‘Look –’ she winced at the careless phrasing – ‘I mean, I know something terrible has happened to you and you probably don’t want to think about it, but please try. See if you can remember something. Anything. It might help.’

  ‘I can’t remember anything. I can’t!’ Lucilla’s breath became fast and shallow again, and Sarah spent a few more minutes calming her down. When she was breathing normally once more, Sarah tried a different tack.

  ‘Think back. Were you at home? Or outside?’

  A tiny nod from Lucilla.

  ‘Outside. Right. Here, in the market?’

  A shake of the head.

  ‘Somewhere in the town?’

  Again, the tiniest of nods, then a sudden cry. ‘The harbour!’

  ‘The harbour?’ echoed Sarah. ‘Tell me about that.’

  A deep breath from Lucilla. ‘I had been … visiting. Yes, that was it. And I walked back home by the water.’

  ‘What do you remember about that? Put yourself back there. The sounds, the smells …’

  ‘There was the sound of the seagulls, the smell of the sea. I went on a boat once – one of my husband’s merchant ships – and it made me feel ill, so at first I thought the gulls and the ocean were bringing back those memories, but then I realised I was actually feeling ill. I felt pain. A lot of pain.’

  ‘In your eyes?’

  ‘No. In my stomach.’

  ‘What happened then?’

  Lucilla’s breathing grew agitated again. ‘I don’t know! I just don’t know. I can’t remember anything else before I found myself here … and I don’t even know where I am now! Is this even Ostia?’

  Realising she had no idea either, Sarah jumped up and dragged the Doctor off to one side. ‘Is this Ostia?’ she whispered.

  He took a deep sniff of the air. ‘Yes, it smells like Ostia to me. Spices, fish and salt. A port just south-west of Rome,’ he added. ‘Important port. Like Dover. But without the white cliffs. Or the bluebirds.’

  Sarah hur
ried back to Lucilla. ‘Yes, this is Ostia,’ she said.

  They were interrupted by the arrival of a tall, rather pompous-looking man accompanied by a retinue of slaves. ‘Lucilla! Is it true?’ he cried. ‘Have the gods struck you blind?’

  Sarah felt her anger rise. ‘Ooh, don’t you get all Caesar’s wife and use this as an excuse to divorce her,’ she said, jumping up and waving a finger in the man’s surprised face. ‘The gods aren’t punishing her. She hasn’t done anything wrong!’

  As Lucilla rose wearily, she stumbled. Her husband dashed forward and caught her in his arms, then turned to look at Sarah as he held his wife close. ‘I have no intention of divorcing my wife. She cannot and will not be blamed for the whims of the gods.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Sarah, slightly cowed. ‘Well, that’s good. Goodbye, Lucilla. I hope –’ She broke off. What to say? ‘I hope you get better soon’ hardly felt appropriate.

  ‘Thank you for helping me,’ said Lucilla, cutting across Sarah’s stumbling words. ‘I will be forever grateful.’

  The Doctor and Sarah watched the couple and their entourage walk away. After a second, Sarah realised the stallholder was still standing with them. He clicked his tongue. ‘Who’d’ve thought it?’ he said. ‘Another one.’

  The Doctor rounded on him. ‘Another one? You mean this has happened before?’

  ‘Might have, might have,’ said the man.

  ‘Well, has it or hasn’t it?’

  The man took a deep breath, then let it out with a sigh. ‘So hard to remember the details, when all I can think of is that five-denarii reward slipping through my fingers. Not to mention watching my profits fly away …’ He moved back behind his stall, looking pointedly at the empty birdcage.

  The Doctor stared at him, unsmiling. ‘How much do you charge for a cage of birds?’

  ‘Two sestertii.’ The trader looked down at the large coin that landed on the counter in front of him. ‘That’s not a –’