Free Doctor Who: The Celestial Toymaker by Gerry Davis, Alison Bingeman

kitchen with a large Welsh
dresser housing gleaming Willow pattern cups and plates, and a long
deal topped table complete with mixing bowls, rolling pin and pastry
board.
    On one side, was a long deep ceramic
sink with a wooden draining board; on the other, a large coal burning
range with oven and hobs on which a variety of saucepans were
simmering.
    'A trap.' The voice came from behind
them, deep, mellow and fruity. 'A trap, in here, in Mrs Wiggs'
kitchen! You'll have to watch your language, young fellow.'
    Steven and Dodo wheeled around to see
standing by the table, a red-faced, mustachioed, somewhat portly
middle-aged man, smartly dressed in a red uniform with white breaches
and crossed belts over his chest which Steven, who studied and liked
reading books about military history, was quick to recognise as a
sergeant's uniform from the time of the Napoleonic Wars.
    'Yes,' said another voice. They turned
to find a comfortably plump, middle-aged woman with a mop cap perched
on her head, and a red mottled face, the result of standing over too
many hot stoves. She spoke with a cockney accent. 'What do you want
in my kitchen?' she asked.
    Dodo, pleased to see somebody who
looked almost normal - after the clowns and the playing cards,
stepped forward. 'We're looking for the next
game. Perhaps you can help us? The clue goes:
    Hunt the key to fit the door, That
leads out on the dancing floor; Then escape the rhythmic beat, Or
you'll forever tap your feet.'
    'Well,' said Mrs Wiggs (for that was
her name), 'only dancing floor I knows of is through there.' She
pointed off at the other end of the kitchen where there was an old
oak door with a large lock and keyhole.
    'Oh, thank you,' said Dodo. She started
walking across to the door while Steven stayed behind, looking
curiously around the kitchen.
    The Sergeant drew himself up to his
full height. 'Right then, young fella m'lad. No loitering. Pick your
feet up. Hup two, three, four; hup two, three, four.'
    Steven turned around to him
contemptuously. 'You look like a toy soldier to me. Why don't you go
back to your box?'
    'What's that?' the Sergeant raised his
hand and twisted one of his long moustaches. 'You young whipper
snapper! I'll, I'll -'
    Steven turned on him again. 'You'll
what?' he said.
    'Well,' said the Sergeant, backing
away. 'I'll uh -You need a good hiding, m'lad!'
    After all he'd been through, Steven was
spoiling for a fight. 'Who's going to give it to me?' he said. The
Sergeant backed away again and Mrs Wiggs came forward.
    'No fisticuffs in my nice clean
kitchen, Sergeant,' she warned.
    The Sergeant nodded. 'Just as well you
spoke, Cook.
    No telling what I might have done to
him if you hadn't stopped me.'
    Mrs Wiggs looked at him fondly. 'You're
a terrible man when you're roused, Sergeant.'
    The Sergeant twirled his moustache
again; his eyes were twinkling. 'Army training, Cook. Six years with
the Iron Duke.'
    Dodo had been trying the door handle
without success, then she turned back. 'The door seems to be locked.
But I'm sure we must get through here. That's what the clue says. The
TARDIS must be out on the dance floor.'
    Steven came over, tried the door, then
kicked it. 'How can the Toymaker expect us to play his crazy games if
he locks all his doors!'
    The Sergeant lowered his voice and
nudged Mrs Wiggs. 'Like to have him in my mob,' he said. 'Just give
me a week. I'll make a man of him.'
    'What?' Steven turned back
threateningly.
    'Uh,' said the Sergeant. 'Well, like,
not that he needs making a man of. I'm sure he's that already - but
just to sharpen him up a bit, like.'
    'Now,' said Steven, 'I'm warning you.'
He moved towards the Sergeant.
    Dodo came forward and took his arm,
smiling at him. 'Really, Steven,' she said laughing, 'if they're not
real, how can you lose your temper with them?'
    Steven looked puzzled and scratched his
head. 'You can't have it both ways, you know,' said Dodo.
    'All right,' said Steven. 'We'll just
ignore them. They're obviously sent to