 even of your best roses please.’
He had arrived at the entrance to the structure. The old flower seller looked hard into his eyes and said, ‘It's been a long time hasn't it?’
‘Has it?’, the Doctor stared back at her, memories flooding back into his mind, ‘Yes, I suppose it has. I do have such a problem with time you know, always letting it slip past me when I'm not looking."‘
The Doctor handed the flower seller a crisp £20 pound note and before she had the chance to give him his change he had gone through the entrance of the graveyard, the bunch of flowers resting gently in his arms. After several minutes however, he stopped walking. He had strayed so far in without checking his bearings that for a moment he thought he was lost. However, looking carefully around him he noticed a large stone sculpture of a ship commemorating the life of its long dead captain buried below. He now knew exactly where he was and continued on.
Finally reaching his destination, the doctor solemnly took his hat off and stood perfectly still, silent as a ghost.
Facing him were six small graves in a neat row with room for at least another six on the right hand side. Each tombstone was blank except for a fist-sized Roman numeral carved delicately into the centre from I to VI.
If anyone had been asked whom they thought the plots were for they would probably have replied that, judging by their size they could only be for children who had lived past their first gasp of air.
The Doctor would have had a different answer but it would have been unlikely he would tell anyone, something's were just too private.
Gently crouching down, he placed a red rose on each grave and straightened up again. Standing back to get a clearer view he clasped his hands, eyes closed in some form of silent prayer of remembrance.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
 ime in a graveyard passes as quickly or as slowly as a person there wishes, and especially slow for a Time Lord with a great deal on his mind for past, present and future matters. When the Doctor had finally finished with his thoughts he replaced his hat neatly on his head, opened his eyes and spoke.
'Alright, Ace. You can come out now.'
Sure enough a slightly embarrassed figure appeared from behind a nearby statue and began walking over to him. ‘Well?’ the Doctor said with his back to her. ‘What have you to say for yourself?’
Irritated with herself for being discovered so easily, Ace carefully avoided the question. ‘Here's your money back, Professor. That shop of yours closed down years ago, It's a pub now and the two shillings wouldn't even get me a pint of water.’ She rattled the coins in her hand for effect but immediately stopped when the Doctor turned around to face her.
Suddenly the Doctor looked different to Ace, as if he had somehow become older since she had last seen him. Perhaps it was only in her mind or maybe with all the reminders of the past surrounding him she had only just realised how old he actually was. It was quite possible that he had been around longer than any inhabitant of the graveyard they were standing in t the moment. Only now did she begin to comprehend how much of a history the person she called 'The Professor' had before they had met and how little she actually knew despite all their adventures together.
Maybe he hadn't changed at all, she hadn't been looking properly before. One thing she noticed that was definitely different about him was the single red rose gripped tightly in his left hand. ‘What's that for?’ she asked, pointing directly at it.
The Doctor looked at the lone flower in a strangely familiar way as if he hadn't noticed it before and glanced back at its companions laid out on the graves and at the bare ground on the right. ‘One still left...no, I don't think so,’ Ace could hear him mumble under his breath, ‘not just yet.’
Deftly, he snapped the rose in two and fitted the top half into the button hole of his jacket, brushing it lightly for effect. A sly smile slipped from his mouth as he looked down at his companion, ‘Sorry, Ace, I forgot to get one for you. Do you forgive me?’
She sighed, ‘It's alright, Professor. I've never been that keen on flowers, far too prissy for me. I'd prefer a can of nitro any day, much more useful!’ She paused to gather her thoughts and some air before asking the next question which naturally enough was ‘Where do we go now?’
The Doctor glanced up at the grey clouds forming in the sky above them as they left the graveyard together, heading back towards the TARDIS.
‘Where indeed...?’
written by
FRANCIS CAVE
copyright 2009
  
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six ways backwards page2
