CHAPTER ONE: Picnic

The woman in black was seated in the pew of a small stone chapel, weeping like her heart was breaking–and it was. The Vicar was beside her, doing his best to console her. “Oh vicar,” she wept, “’e were so young, my Tom. And now my Ned as well…both in a fortnight. What am I to do, how shall I go on without my ‘usband and son? It ain’t fair! To have ‘em both die that way, bodies torn asunder…” As the gruesome memory took hold of her, she began wailing anew.

The kindly old man with the gentle grey eyes sighed heavily. He rose and helped the woman to her feet. “There, there, Mrs. Patterson. You musn’t take on so. Just think, your husband and young Ned are in a kinder, gentler place now. No worries for them, just the everlasting peace of eternity. Come with me, now. I’ve something to show you that will ease your bereavement and give you blessed peace.”

Whispering more consoling words, he led her into a curtained off alcove. Holding the curtain aside, he smiled, “I think you are about to see things in a whole new light, Mrs. Patterson.” She walked through the heavy curtain. After a moment of silence, a bright green light illuminated the dimness of the chapel, followed by the echoing of a hideous scream. The Vicar smiled with satisfaction. “There, what did I tell you? No more worries, Mrs. Patterson.”

The Doctor and Martha had just had a narrow escape, and the Doctor thought that a pleasant little picnic excursion–preferably to a quieter time period–was in order. The Doctor ran round the console, pushing buttons frantically. “What we need, Martha, is a little tranquility, eh?” He looked up at her, giving her a manic grin. Martha looked at him skeptically. “You said Peking in 2207 would be a “nice little side trip. A calm and peaceful city, good food, great entertainment”…yeah. It was very entertaining. And I’m still hungry.”

The Doctor shrugged and scratched his head. “Well…it was nice–for a few minutes, anyway.” Martha scowled at him. “I almost got trampled by a dozen panicking androids and a firebreathing mechanical dragon!” The Doctor gave a slightly apologetic smile. “I’d forgotten about the riots. Not a good idea, on the government’s part, replacing all those workers with androids. You humans are a busy lot…always needing to do something with yourselves. The Loo Sin government thought that by giving the people all the food and recreation they wanted, they’d be happy. They’d never reckoned with the negative effects of extreme boredom.” He turned and stabbed a button with his finger, as excited as a child on his birthday. “There! Let’s go have lunch, shall we?”

Martha emerged from the Tardis corridor carrying a picnic basket and a bottle of wine she’d rummaged from the Tardis’ wine cellar. “So Doctor, where’re we off to, now?” The Doctor looked up from the console and gave her a lopsided grin. “Paris, along the banks of the Seine. It’s early May, in the year 1890.” Noticing the wine, he added “I hope you picked a good vintage.” Wrinkling his nose he sniffed the basket. “Mind you, I’m not so sure about the vintage of that cheese.” He strode over and opened the Tardis door.

Martha stood behind him, peering over his shoulder. It was a dismal, overcast and misty day. “Doctor, don’t you get a weather forecast in this thing?” She asked, indicating the Tardis with a nod of her head. The Doctor merely shrugged lamely. “Well…picnic in the rain…where’s your sense of adventure, eh?” He grinned and nudged her.

She looked around. They were parked under a tall pine tree. That’s when she noticed the headstones. Martha looked at the Doctor and raised an eyebrow. “A picnic in a cemetery? In the rain? You’ve got to be joking!” The Doctor tried gamely to hide his puzzlement. “Well, some people do, you know. I mean, it’s pleasant…lots of trees and birds…very peaceful. Just the sort of place for a quiet picnic.” Martha snorted. “We’re picnicking in a Parisian cemetery, in the rain? I have to hand it to you, Doctor, you sure to know how to show a girl a good time.”

The Doctor looked about him critically. He noticed some of the wording on the headstones, and it came to him suddenly just where they’d landed. “Actually,” he said a bit lamely, “it’s not Paris. And it’s not May.” He ducked back into the Tardis and checked a reading, his face changing between puzzlement and curiosity. He shrugged into his long coat and grabbed an umbrella for Martha, saying with a big smile “But the year is right, it is 1890.” She just stood there in the doorway, shaking her head at him. Heaving a big sigh, she asked “Okay, so…where are we then?”

Standing under the pine tree holding a green and navy tartan umbrella, the Doctor looked up at the lowering grey sky. “It’s Cathays Cemetery, near Cardiff.” Martha said nothing, but the look on her face spoke volumes. Just then, she spied a tall cadaverous figure in a long-tailed black frock coat standing by a headstone, staring at her. “Who’s that?” She looked at the Doctor. “Who’s what?” He asked absently. She looked towards the field where she’d seen the man. He was gone. Vanished into thin air. The hairs on the back of her neck started crawling.