paisley-patterned picture of a perfect housewife who was joined on her right by a moustachioed, dungaree-wearing gardener, complete with tanned skin, sleek black hair and a chest that looked like it could house wildlife.
'Back!' Rory yelled.
But the front door was also blocked. Isley's dark shape blotted out the light that should have streamed through
the
frosted
windows,
and
a loud
hammering began as her fists beat out a deadly rhythm on the wood panelling outside.
Rory looked at Amy smugly. 'See, it was locked.'
But Amy was already pounding up the stairs to the floor above. She turned at the top of the landing to see Rory still dawdling in the hallway.
'What are you doing?' she yelled.
Rory looked up at her then dashed through the 102
NUCLEAR TIME
open door to the lounge. There was a crash that made Amy flinch; the sound of glass cascading to the kitchen floor as the sinister couple switched off their house-proud personas. In the confusion, she barely registered that the drumbeat on the front door had ceased.
Rory returned a moment later, struggling up the stairs towards the frightened girl and swaying under the weight of the bulky television set. He chipped its wood cladding on the banister as he clambered upwards.
'Find a bedroom with lots of furniture, we'll barricade ourselves in!' His voice was muffled by the large object.
'What's that for? Passing the time while they try to break in?' Amy was scared and confused.
'Just get in a room and get ready. I'm going to buy us some time.' He reached the last stair and turned just in time to see the housewife and her husband standing impassively at the foot of the staircase, heads tilted in unison, regarding the young man with a piercing gaze.
'There really is no point to all this fussing, young man.'
The woman placed a brown-slippered foot onto the first wooden step. 'You're only wasting your own time.'
She rested a hand on the banister and began to climb the stairs as if embarking on the most mundane of upstairs tidying.
Rory hefted the television over his head, 103
DOCTOR WHO
stepping backwards in an attempt to keep his balance. He locked his arms and heaved the set in a wide arc that sent the heavy wooden box crashing down onto the surprised head of the android. The vacuum tube imploded, and Rory made a vain attempt to shield his face with his sleeve from the shards of glass and wood that streamed outwards from the figure as she was sent sprawling back towards her husband by the force of the blast. Some smaller splinters skipped through his fingers and Rory screwed up his face as a sharp cut slashed across his cheek, missing his eye by millimetres.
At the foot of the staircase, the woman clenched her fist and, unflinchingly, began beating at the wooden
frame
that
still
covered
her
face,
splintering it after only a few blows. The metal rivets and panelling tumbled to the floor in a pile of sawdust and scrap metal.
The woman turned her head once more to face the shocked pair who stood open-mouthed only a few metres above her. Amy gasped.
Where once had been the friendly face of a housewife, with permed hair and laughter lines, there was now nothing but a metal skull. The glass of the television screen had shredded the rubber skin completely, and sparking wires sprayed out from between the steel bones. One of her gel-
104
NUCLEAR TIME
eyeballs was still in its socket, and it swivelled slowly to meet Amy's horrified gaze.
Casually, the husband tossed the remains of the set back into the lounge and shoved his wife to one side as what was left of the woman's hand felt roughly about for the banister. But Amy was already being bundled into a nearby bedroom, Rory slamming the door shut behind them and leaping to grab the top of a nearby wardrobe as he did so. His feet lifted from the floor as he attempted to use the weight of his body to tip it over across the frame.
Amy spotted a desk in the far corner and began dragging it across, just as
'Back!' Rory yelled.
But the front door was also blocked. Isley's dark shape blotted out the light that should have streamed through
the
frosted
windows,
and
a loud
hammering began as her fists beat out a deadly rhythm on the wood panelling outside.
Rory looked at Amy smugly. 'See, it was locked.'
But Amy was already pounding up the stairs to the floor above. She turned at the top of the landing to see Rory still dawdling in the hallway.
'What are you doing?' she yelled.
Rory looked up at her then dashed through the 102
NUCLEAR TIME
open door to the lounge. There was a crash that made Amy flinch; the sound of glass cascading to the kitchen floor as the sinister couple switched off their house-proud personas. In the confusion, she barely registered that the drumbeat on the front door had ceased.
Rory returned a moment later, struggling up the stairs towards the frightened girl and swaying under the weight of the bulky television set. He chipped its wood cladding on the banister as he clambered upwards.
'Find a bedroom with lots of furniture, we'll barricade ourselves in!' His voice was muffled by the large object.
'What's that for? Passing the time while they try to break in?' Amy was scared and confused.
'Just get in a room and get ready. I'm going to buy us some time.' He reached the last stair and turned just in time to see the housewife and her husband standing impassively at the foot of the staircase, heads tilted in unison, regarding the young man with a piercing gaze.
'There really is no point to all this fussing, young man.'
The woman placed a brown-slippered foot onto the first wooden step. 'You're only wasting your own time.'
She rested a hand on the banister and began to climb the stairs as if embarking on the most mundane of upstairs tidying.
Rory hefted the television over his head, 103
DOCTOR WHO
stepping backwards in an attempt to keep his balance. He locked his arms and heaved the set in a wide arc that sent the heavy wooden box crashing down onto the surprised head of the android. The vacuum tube imploded, and Rory made a vain attempt to shield his face with his sleeve from the shards of glass and wood that streamed outwards from the figure as she was sent sprawling back towards her husband by the force of the blast. Some smaller splinters skipped through his fingers and Rory screwed up his face as a sharp cut slashed across his cheek, missing his eye by millimetres.
At the foot of the staircase, the woman clenched her fist and, unflinchingly, began beating at the wooden
frame
that
still
covered
her
face,
splintering it after only a few blows. The metal rivets and panelling tumbled to the floor in a pile of sawdust and scrap metal.
The woman turned her head once more to face the shocked pair who stood open-mouthed only a few metres above her. Amy gasped.
Where once had been the friendly face of a housewife, with permed hair and laughter lines, there was now nothing but a metal skull. The glass of the television screen had shredded the rubber skin completely, and sparking wires sprayed out from between the steel bones. One of her gel-
104
NUCLEAR TIME
eyeballs was still in its socket, and it swivelled slowly to meet Amy's horrified gaze.
Casually, the husband tossed the remains of the set back into the lounge and shoved his wife to one side as what was left of the woman's hand felt roughly about for the banister. But Amy was already being bundled into a nearby bedroom, Rory slamming the door shut behind them and leaping to grab the top of a nearby wardrobe as he did so. His feet lifted from the floor as he attempted to use the weight of his body to tip it over across the frame.
Amy spotted a desk in the far corner and began dragging it across, just as
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