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GHOSTS OF INDIA
‘What’s Navratri?’ Donna asked.
‘Hindu festival. Lots of dancing.’ Thoughtfully he said, ‘So either someone’s mucking
about with time or…’ He turned back to the old man. ‘What year is this?’
‘1947,’ the old man said.
‘Forty-seven!’ the Doctor exclaimed, and jumped to his feet. ‘Well, that explains
it.’
‘Does it?’ said Donna.
‘Course it does. Think of your history.’
‘Believe it or not, I wasn’t born in 1947.’
‘Not your personal history,’ said the Doctor. ‘Earth history. Didn’t they teach you
anything at school?’
Donna gave him a blank look. ‘I only liked home economics.’
The Doctor made an exasperated sound. ‘Remind me to buy you a set of encyclopaedias
for your next birthday.’
‘Only if you remind me to punch you in the face,’ Donna said.
He looked so anguished that Donna felt compelled to say, ‘Well, nobody’s perfect.’
It was her own fault really, Donna thought. She supposed she should
have known better. Wherever she went with the Doctor she usually ended up running
away from something. He was the sort of man who could find danger in a boxful of
kittens.
‘Oh, brilliant,’ the woman said. ‘So I’m under arrest, am I?
What for? Minding my own business?’
Cameron gaped. He had never heard a woman talk like this before. The woman saw him
and her eyes narrowed.
‘What you gawping at, squirt?’ she snapped.
Donna told herself she was coming on a bit strong. But
she was riled about the way Daker and this Sir Edgar
bloke were treating her, like she was some criminal. It was
only natural that she was a bit stroppy - though maybe she
was directing it at the wrong person.
‘Sorry,’ she said grudgingly, ‘I’m a bit stressed. It’s not
every day you get caught up in a riot and arrested, is it?’
A moment later, Donna jumped to her feet.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Sir Edgar demanded.
‘Outside. You can stand there glugging sherry, but I want to know what’s going on.’
She clomped across the room in her army boots and went out through the screen doors.
He led her through the camp, weaving between the
shelters and lean-tos. Donna looked around, appalled at
the poverty and suffering.
‘Doctor, all these people-’
‘Yeah, I know,’ he said, centuries of sadness seemingly
encapsulated in those three little words.
‘But none of this… bothers you?’ Donna said. ‘I know
tons of people who’d shut themselves in the wardrobe if
they found out all this stuff was real.’
Gandhi smiled his near-toothless smile. ‘Forgive my
impertinence, Donna, but I believe this highlights the
cultural difference between the East and the West. You
see, the bridges of the West are made of concrete and steel
and wire, whereas the bridges of the East are made of
spirit. To communicate in the West you move and talk,
and everything must have a definite resolution, but in the
East we sit and contemplate and suffer and dream. There
are no boundaries for us. Everything remains possible.’
Donna looked at him in admiration. ‘That’s… brilliant,’
she said. ‘Yeah, I totally get that. I’ve never thought of it
like that before.’
‘Don’t you ever get the urge to do something…
y’know… naughty?’ Donna said.
Gandhi chuckled. ‘Naughty?’
‘Yeah, don’t you ever just wanna have a day off from
helping other people, and… I dunno… go on a shopping
spree or… just bask in the sun and pig out on chocolate?’
Gandhi was laughing now. He clapped his hands in
delight. ‘I do like chocolate,’ he admitted.
‘Well, there you go then.’
‘But I deny myself the pleasure of it.’
‘But why?’ Donna asked. ‘I mean, look at all the
fantastic things you do for people. Surely you, more than
anyone, deserve a treat now and again?’
Gandhi had an appointment with Sir Edgar to discuss
possible solutions to the recent troubles, and had asked if
he could tag along. Donna had been delighted. She had
already grown fond of the little man. His selfess good
humour, open-mindedness and joie de vivre made her
think of an older version of the Doctor.
She pulled a sympathetic face. ‘Might not be as bad as
you think. I mean, they’re hardly gonna bawl you out with
His Lordship in the house, are they?’ She flipped a thumb
at Gandhi, who was being helped out of the carriage by a
reverential tonga-wallah. ‘It’ll be all “how do you do?”,
best china and cucumber sandwiches. It’ll have blown
over by teatime.’
The look on Becharji’s austere face when he opened the
door was priceless. Donna had never seen a man do so
many goggle-eyed double-takes before. She had to bite
her bottom lip to stop herself laughing out loud.
‘Me again,’ she said eventually. ‘And this time I’ve
brought a couple of mates along.’
Mary Campbell sniffed. ‘I don’t see why not. They
managed perfectly well before we arrived. I mean, it’s not
even as if they’re grateful.’
Donna felt her hackles rising. ‘How do you know?’ she
said.
Donna didn’t really know what to do. She felt a bit of a
spare part just sitting and waiting, and was all too aware
that she couldn’t mooch around here for ever. She was
annoyed with the Doctor for going off without her yet
again. Even if he was in danger, she would rather be with
him than hanging about not knowing what was going on.
Several times since she’d started travelling with the
Doctor, it had occurred to her to wonder what she’d do if
anything happened to him. She would just have to get on
with things, she supposed. But it frightened her that she
had no identity in this period - no family, no friends, no
roots. Most of the time, life with the Doctor was a
rollercoaster ride, but occasionally it struck her how lost
and alone she would be without him. He was her ticket
home - her only ticket home. And, however fantastic it
was to roam time and space in his company, she still
needed the reassurance that home would be there waiting
for her whenever she decided she wanted to pop back for
a visit.
‘You’ve got that face on,’ she said.
‘What face?’
‘Like you’re gonna slap someone.’
He was silent for a moment, then he said, ‘Yeah, well,
maybe I am.’ He began walking again.
‘I’ve been worried sick about you. At least tell me
where you’ve been?’
He scowled at her, and then he sighed, his expression
softening. ‘How worried were you? On a scale of one to
ten? One being couldn’t care less, and ten being
completely inconsolable?’
She shrugged. ‘Dunno. Four maybe.’
‘Four!’ he exclaimed, his voice high-pitched with
indignation. ‘That’s charming, that is. You do your best to
save someone’s planet and they’re not even bothered.’
She slapped his arm. ‘Oh, all right. Five then.’ Abruptly
she gave him a fierce hug. ‘You do my head in, you do.’
He hugged her back, then extracted himself with a grin.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s walk. I’ll tell you about it as we
go.’