MISS COOPER

Miss Cooper:Filler

Disclaimer: Same as always

Author's Note: Hands up, and be honest; how many of you noticed something specific about the list of names in the Visitor's book in Chapter 3? Look carefully. Take the first letter of each name... there you go! This is just a Filler; not a proper update, but hopefully it'll intrigue you to keep reading, yes? My last exam is 3rd of June :) So, expect a proper, full-length chapter on wednesday/thursday. I'll also probably update Sherbet Fountain, too. Enjoy!


Ben Dover

Idris Feller

Luke Rutherfors

Isabelle Jackson

Simon Poncelet

Majorie Wells

Anna Gibbs

Nicholas Rosser

Gerry Linn

Emma Jones

Rani Nichols

The carer stared down at the list of names in the Visitor's book with an expression of mild bewilderment. She'd only picked it up because some one had left it on the floor rather than putting it back in its proper place on the hall table. How hard was it to put a book back? People these days, honestly; they had neither common sense nor manners. She'd been about to close it and then go and tend to the afternoon tea round when something about the list of names struck her as being…very odd, though she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was.

" Anne?" she called, beckoning a petite woman with brown-cropped hair who was sitting cross-legged in the poky little office that was joined on to the entrance hall. " Have you got a moment?"

The woman called Anne came over, curiously, a pen stuck firmly between her teeth, and what looked like the draft of a menu in her hand.

"Look at these names; do you recognise any of them at all?" the carer asked, sounding perplexed.

Anne quickly scanned the list, miming the names as she went.

"We've got a 'Jones' in here," she suggested, her brow furrowing. "Edgar Jones; you know, the old guy with the war medals?"

The carer nodded, distractedly. "But most of the visitor's we get are relatives of the residents aren't they? None of our lot has these surnames, none. Look, they're all different, too! Most of the visitor's come in with the rest of their family, yet none of these has the same surname…according to this they've all came in on their own."

The two women stood in the entrance hall, holding the heavy Visitor's book between them, silently. For some reason, something didn't feel right. Call it women's intuition or…nurse's instinct but the list just seemed very strange.

"Wait a minute," said Anne, suspiciously. "According to the date, all of these people came in today!"

The carer looked at the top of the page and recognised her own, neat handwriting recording today's date and saw that Anne was quite right. "There's no way we've had eleven visitors today," she said, firmly. "It's been really quiet today."

"No, I agree," said Anne. " We've had five at the very most…"

She chewed on the top of her pen, pensively and accidentally dropped her piece of paper on the floor.

"What's this?" asked the carer, bending down to retrieve it for her and looking at it in interest.

"Tomorrow's menu," said Anne, glad of a change in subject. "Fish pie for lunch tomorrow!"

"Eurgh," groaned the carer. "It'll stink the place out, that will!"

"It will, won't it?" replied Anne with a small smile and a slight wrinkle of her nose. "Still, the old'uns seem to like it so…"

"Yeah," agreed the carer, returning her gaze to the list of names. "I think this should be a case for Miss. Marple though," she joked weakly, tapping the book.

"Mmm," mused Anne, "It's probably just someone trying to be funny."

"Well I wish they wouldn't," retorted the carer in annoyance, studying the mix of messy handwriting… 'Luke Rutherfors…Isabelle Jackson…'

With a small gasp of realisation, the carer pointed at the spidery cursive. " They were all written by the same person!" she exclaimed. "Look at the way they've done their 'S's'; they're carbon copies of each other!"

The 'S's' in each name were all identical to each other; like ornate figure eights. Regardless of how well the person had attempted to disguise their handwriting, the 'S's' were a dead giveaway. The handwriting was small, round and slightly too loopy. The carer would hazard a guess that whoever had, for some reason written a long list of strange names, was probably female. You could always get a vague idea of a person from their handwriting. Whoever this woman was, she had the sort of writing that was neither neat, nor messy and so was trying to make up for it with elaborate swirls and monkey's tails, as if she was always trying to impress someone, or to prove her worth.

"Ah," said Anne, taking her pen from her mouth. "That sort of explains it…"

"Does it?" asked the carer, in surprise.

"Yeah," continued Anne, " It'd explain why we haven't noticed eleven people waltz in here…coz eleven people haven't waltzed in here, have they? Some sad freak's just decided to be an arse and write ridiculous names down…probably got nothing else better to do."

"Right, yeah, yeah; you're probably right," agreed the carer, though privately feeling that Anne wasn't right at all and that there was definitely something more to it. Still, what could she do about it? It was a list of names…nothing more.

"I'll still keep an eye out," she decided, finally closing the book, giving Anne a polite smile. "The mystery of the Visitor's book…to be continued."

Anne laughed. "Ooh, you're on to a bestseller, there!" she remarked, half-turning, as if to return to her office, then changing her mind. "Actually, what time is it? Visiting hours will be ending soon, won't they?"

The carer looked at her watch. "It's about ten-to-five; they've got ten minutes. Not that there's many visitors anyway…just Archie's family, bless them."

"Poor man hasn't got long left, has he?" said Anne sadly, looking forlorn.

"No," grimaced the carer. "But he's hanging on."

The two women stared at the floor uncomfortably for a few minutes. Sometimes, it was hard not to grow attached to the resident's; especially with someone as lovely as old Archie. Sometimes…watching the poor old people grow steadily more ill with each new day was absolutely heartbreaking. At times, both women questioned why on earth they did their jobs, as they were so constantly faced with sadness and suffering. Sometimes, it just didn't seem worth it…

Anne gave the carer a comforting smile and squeezed her arm before returning to her office. "Don't think about it."

" Yeah," replied the carer, pasting a false smile on her face as she returned the Visitor's book to the table and, clearing her throat pushed open the doors to the West wing. Tea duty beckoned…

" Oh, Sylvia?" called Anne, poking her head round her office door and calling her back; a faint tone of urgency detected in her voice.

Sylvia turned back around; letting the double doors, as dilapidated as they were, close with a dull thwack behind her.

" Has that strange couple left yet?" she said, guardedly, as if she was conscious of someone overhearing her.

" What strange couple?" asked Sylvia, frowning at her. She hadn't noticed any strange couples…

"The tall man and his partner?"

"What tall man?" questioned Sylvia, crossing the entrance hall towards her. Something told her that she needed to hear this.

Anne rolled her eyes at her. "Trust you to miss a hunk like him! I tell you, he's the best-looking man that's ever stepped through those doors," she said, her eyes widening and giving a girlish giggle. "Love to be the woman who was with him!"

"Who?" said Sylvia. She felt very much out of the loop and wasn't very happy about it.

Anne gave her a pitying look. "There was a tall American man here before, wearing one of those great coats, with this dark-haired woman. Looked as if they'd been to hell and back, the both of them."

"What did they do?" asked Sylvia, her natural nosiness getting the better of her.

Anne waved her hand dismissively. "Walked round the grounds for a bit and then came through here…you didn't see them?"

"No," replied Sylvia, huffily. "I've been sitting with Mrs. Davidson for most of the afternoon; she seems to think something is going to rise up through the floor to get her…poor thing; she's having a bad day today."

Anne clucked her tongue, sympathetically. "Aaah. She's trapped inside her own mind, that one. Bless her. It's enough to make you weep, isn't it?"

"Yes. Yeah it is…but this couple?" Sylvia prompted her gently.

"Probably gone now," said Anne flippantly. "But the way they were carrying on…you'd think they had the world to save."


Who wants a peek at the next chapter?

With difficulty, Gwen opened her eyes, her throat feeling dry and itchy, as if she'd swallowed sawdust. There was a hot, sticky wetness trickling down her left cheek. She did not have to taste the potent, metallic tang against her lips to know that it was her own blood. Whimpering with the effort, she raised her head slightly and saw a familiar flash of dark grey woolen fabric. Jack's coat. It took a while for her to gain her bearings and realise that she was lying beside him, with her head tucked into the crook of his arm.

"Ssh, keep still," he told her lowly, his voice sounding strained and thick. Nevertheless, she felt a small pressure on her shoulder and was dimly aware that he had gently pulled him closer towards him. Such was her position that she couldn't see his face, couldn't tell if he was hurt or not, but he was conscious...he was alive.

"Jack," she croaked, sounding like a rasping old woman. "Wha-?"

"Shh!" he replied, squeezing her reassuringly. "Don't say anything. Keep still."

Swallowing, she nodded in obedience and allowed her eyes to flutter closed. Dust and rubble enclosed her vision like a coarse, stone blanket, yet she could still hear. Dimly, she was aware of a loud buzzing that filled her ears like angry wasps. However, it did not take long for her brain to catch up with her ears, and she registered that what she had initially thought was buzzing, was actually two, angry, unfamiliar male voices.

"What business is it of yours, old man?"

"I make it my business when people start messing around with my Void! But come on, Rift energy nucleating Void energy? That's not even impressive!"

Back                         Home                              Doctor Who Main Page                          Next

Your Name or Alias:      Your E-mail (optional):

Please type your review below. Only positive reviews and constructive criticism will be posted.