Chapter 45: Not Appropriate

‘Mary Sue,’ said David Tennant. ‘I thought you’d abandoned me!’

‘No, I’d never! I was… Oh, wait, you’re joking, right?’ Of course he was. He knew all about my death defying adventures. And that wasn’t all. Before we began working out how to extricate him from this murder charge, there was something incredibly important that I had to say. ‘I know who you are,’ I said. ‘The Teacher told me.’

‘Oh,’ he said, looking at the table. ‘I… Well.’ I can see why he hadn’t told me before. Knowing that David Tennant was an evil reincarnating demon who had fathered me and then turned good for the love of my angel mother, who had stayed lost for thousands of years when she learned who he was, definitely made things weird. But it was something we had to get through. He looked down at his hands with the face he wears on television when he is doing something that hurts him but is the right thing to do. And then he gave me the sparkling grin he does next, and said, ‘Well, yes. There it is! Been remiss at birthdays. Not much of a dad, am I?’

He didn’t feel like my dad. I had a dad, who had been my dad all my life. David Tennant felt like… Well, he felt like David Tennant. Except that now, when I looked at him, I finally understood what it was about his face that made him so mesmeric. His eyes were old. I can’t explain it, and maybe I just saw things because I knew them, but they seemed like eyes-like-fathomless-wells in bad romantic novels. He said, ‘You’ve cut it pretty fine, haven’t you. The arraignment is tomorrow. The Teacher must be doing his nut.’

‘I haven’t spoken to Miss…’

‘Mary Sue, Mary Sue, I cannot imagine what you are going to say, but before you say it: walls have ears.’ Of course. I’d been going to mention Miss Smallbone’s name. David Tennant and I were the only people who knew who she was. Miss S had called to tell me Sir Connaught Sampson-Samson was picking me up to bring me here, but by the time I let him into my house, she was off the phone, and I had no way to get back in touch with her.

In the car, I had asked Sir Conn, my head of chambers, why he couldn’t take over from me as David Tennant’s counsel. He said, ‘Won’t work, old fish, I’m all out of ideas. The prophecy says that your father will be beyond hope, coiled in a snake or some such metaphor, and you will cut through the metaphorical coiled snake with a sword. Specifically, says the prophecy, you will prove his innocence, which could hardly be more apposite, no? It will be like a miracle, because you will see something no one else sees, and do something no one else could have done. There is also something about him sacrificing himself for you and your mother, but that comes later. The language in the original is more ornate, but that’s the gist. Looking forward to it – seen a lot of hopeless cases, but this one beats the band. So, every faith in you, but we probably best get off to see Tennant, since time’s winged chariot.’ Like most of the angels, Sir Conn’s lip crinkled when he said David Tennant’s name. They couldn’t forgive him his millennia of evil. He looked back at the road, having not done so for the duration of the above speech, slammed on the brakes, and shouted, ‘GET OUT OF MY WAY, FOXTONS-MINI-TOERAG! Ha ha. Parp parp.’

Sergeant Rollo Price followed behind, in his own car, not a police one. I asked Sir Conn if Rollo was an angel or a demon, and why the Master had photographs of him in his LA mansion. Sir Conn said he knew nothing about Rollo, and I believed him. But Sir Conn also agreed that it was suspicious. ‘Speak to the Teacher about it,’ he said.

The case certainly seemed like a hopeless metaphorical coiled snake. Thirty lawyers had witnessed David Tennant decapitating my husband. Even if his weapon had mysteriously disappeared, it was the definition of an unwinnable case. I asked David what he thought, and whether he might consider insanity as a plea, and he said, ‘The prophecy says you’ll prove me innocent. You’re my girl,’ he said, something wrenching at his face again from inside, ‘No idea how you’ll do it, but I can’t see what can possibly go wrong.’

I asked more questions, but he was unhelpful. He said, ‘Doesn’t really matter yet, tomorrow’s the arraignment, I’m pleading “Not Guilty” whatever, and then you’ll have a couple of weeks. Plenty of time. What’s le Pen up to?’

‘He’s still saying it was an accident. Everyone believes him except Mayor Boris.’

‘I’ve always liked Boris.’

‘Yes. Who is my mother, David? Do you have any idea who…’

‘No. You will have to ask the Teacher.’ And right at that moment, I remembered that when he puts on his brave face on the telly, it always means that he’s lying to his companion because he thinks it’s for the best. Technically, it was irritating now it involved me, but it has always been my very favourite expression of his, the doomed sense of self-denial, the thing I love most about the Doctor. What I felt about him at that moment, as a ray of sun flashed across his face, was very inappropriate indeed. God help me, I thought, because it looked like no one else could.