Silhouette Read Free Page B

‘Is there a fortune teller?’ she asked on a whim.
    ‘That’ll be in the Carnival.’
    ‘The Carnival?’
    The woman pointed. ‘Up that end is the Carnival of Curiosities. They’ve got all sorts in there. It’ll cost you a penny each to get in, mind.’
    ‘Want to give it a go?’ Clara asked the Doctor.
    ‘Oh yes. It sounds …’
    ‘Curious?’
    He smiled. ‘Intriguing.’
    The Doctor produced two shiny pennies to pay at the gate into the Carnival of Curiosities, receiving two cardboard tickets in return.
    ‘Just show this if you want to come back later today, squire,’ the lad on the gate told him. ‘Only valid for today though, mind. Tickets’ll be a different colour tomorrow.’
    Inside the enclosure, there was an open area where several stalls were set up in the snow, and tents round the outside. The fortune teller was something of a disappointment. The elderly woman, wrapped in a shawl, sat at a table hunched over a crystal ball. She waggled her fingers over it, having first deprived Clara of another halfpenny, then gave a bored and obviously pretty standard spiel about her meeting a tall handsome stranger and going on a long journey.
    ‘Well that much is right, I suppose,’ she said to the Doctor. ‘You want a go?’
    He shook his head. ‘Either she’s a charlatan, in which case there’s no point. Or she genuinely can see into the future in which case meeting me will probably provoke a coronary.’
    He was more interested in an exhibition of ‘Never-Creatures’. Once inside the tent, they found themselves confronted with glass bell jars filled with unidentifiable organic matter and grotesque sculptures. Labels suggested the contents were anything from a still-born starchild to a breed of moon-pig only found in the mountains of Spain.
    The prize exhibit, stretched out under a glass case at the end of the tent was a dead mermaid. The Doctor spared it little more than a glance. ‘An obvious fake,’ he announced, just too loudly for comfort. ‘The skin’s the wrong colour and those fins are entirely the wrong shape.’
    He embarrassed Clara again by yawning loudly in the middle of the Strong Man’s demonstration outside the tent. The man was huge, his upper body covered with tattoos that included a dagger on each bicep and chains across his chest. With his bald head and broad physique he reminded Clara a little of Strax, except the man was much taller – well over six feet. He impressed the rest of his audience by smashing a pile of bricks with his hand, breaking a slab of stone withhis forehead, and finally attempting to lift a metal pole with baskets of rocks attached at each end.
    The muscles in his neck and arms stood out impressively as he strained and grunted and eventually managed to raise the rocks off the ground. He braced his legs, hefted the pole to his chest, and staggered as he struggled to lift it high above his head.
    The Doctor sighed, looking round to see if there was anything more interesting happening somewhere else.
    ‘You got a problem, mister?’ the Strong Man demanded, slowly lowering the pole. He kept it braced across his chest as he stared at the Doctor.
    ‘Me?’
    ‘That’s right – you.’
    ‘Sorry.’ The Doctor walked up to the Strong Man. ‘I just wasn’t
that
impressed, I’m afraid.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Doctor,’ Clara warned.
    There was a tangible air of anticipation among the crowd as the Strong Man glared back at the Doctor. ‘I can soon teach you to be impressed.’
    ‘You think so?’ The Doctor gave Clara a ‘What can you do?’ glance. Then he took the metal pole from the man, holding it easily in one hand, steady as the rocks in the baskets attached to each end. ‘Let me hold that while you try.’
    The Strong Man stared back, astonished.
    ‘What’s your name?’ the Doctor asked.
    ‘Michael.’
    ‘Michael what?’
    ‘Michael, sir.’
    ‘No, no, no. Let me put this down.’ The Doctor set down the pole carefully. ‘What’s your