The House That Jack Built: The House That Jack Built

She made an exasperated noise in her throat and stormed off towards the house.

'You do love to make friends,' Jack said as he drew up alongside Alexander.

'It's a skill. I take it this is you firing me from my temporary position?'

'It is.'

Alexander nodded. 'Thought as much. That girly didn't take a liking to me in the end. Can't think why. We got out safely, didn't we?'

'Not all of you.'

'That was always a risk,' Alexander sighed, 'and you know it. Your gallivanting about altering history was far more cavalier and life-threatening, but nobody questions you, I notice.'

'You'd be surprised.' Jack began to push Alexander towards the oak tree.

'You'll go too far one day, my boy,' Alexander said. 'And when you do you'd better hope they're more forgiving of you than they were me.'

Jack didn't reply. They stayed in silence beneath the shadow of the tree for a few minutes, each thinking their own thoughts.

'How is that young boy, Joe?' Alexander asked.

'You care?'

'Not particularly,' Alexander admitted.

'He's fine. Had a bit of good fortune, actually. Won a car in a magazine competition.'

'One he doesn't remember entering, I assume?'

'Oh, he remembers it. That and more — doesn't mean any of it happened.'

'Ah… You continue to rewrite history, even now. What are you going to do to me?'

'I don't know,' Jack said softly.

'Yes you do. You just haven't got the balls to do it. You don't know if you can trust me any more, and if you were half the secret soldier you pretend to be you'd act on it. You'd identify me as a problem and take the appropriate action. Given that you can't make me forget — and rest assured you can't; Torchwood may be far more progressed scientifically than the rest of these monkeys, but you're a long way from having sufficient skill to get around my physiognomy — there really is only one way you can solve a problem like me. I'm just interested to know if you're strong enough to carry it out.'

'Maybe I'm not as pragmatic as you,' Jack said, walking away.

'Don't kid yourself,' Alexander called, stretching in his wheelchair and closing his eyes for a doze.

Jack cut across the lawn, avoiding Trudy Topham's waving arms as she pretended to be a butterfly amongst the sparse blooms. There were times when his inability to age or die was a blessing. At least dementia would never get him. Lunacy, perhaps, given his lifestyle, but never dementia.

'Is he ill?' asked a voice from the patio. He looked over to see an elderly man straining over his stout walking cane and glancing between Alexander and Jack.

'Nothing serious,' Jack said, walking over to him. There was something very familiar about the man, but nothing he could place.

'Shame!' the old man chuckled, and the ghosts of twenty Capstans a day rattled around the brittle cage of his chest.

'He doesn't seem to have many friends here,' Jack replied.

'Or anywhere,' the old man agreed. 'Nobody visits him either. Mind you, there's nothing unusual in that. They shove us in here to forget, don't they? Not like in my day. My mother, bless her, lived with us until the day God took her, and I would never have had it any other way…' The old man's voice wavered as he thought about his past. Jack recognised the look only too well, lost in memory…

'I'm sure she appreciated it.'

The old man nodded. 'She did, she did… Poor woman had been abandoned altogether too many times in her life. I certainly wasn't going to add to it.'

'You were a good son.'

Jack smiled, and kept wracking his brain to place the old man. There was definitely something recognisable there, something in his smile… He stuck out his hand. 'Doctor Harkness.'

The old man took it. 'Gordon Cottrell. Pleased to meet you.'

A cold feeling ran through Jack, his skin erupting in gooseflesh. He would have said someone had walked over his grave — he'd certainly had enough of them.

'Cottrell?' he asked. 'What was your mother's name?'

'Alison,' Gordon replied, rather befuddled by the question. 'Why? You're rather young to have known her, I suspect!' Jack nodded. 'Of course…' He fixed a big, false smile in place. 'Best be off! Patients to see.'

'Aye, well, good talking to you. Maybe see you around again.'

'Maybe.'

Jack had to fight the urge to run as he made his way back towards the car park. He took off his white coat, got back in the SUV and stared out of the windscreen, heart pounding and his breath coming in shallow bursts. After a moment, he pulled a medical tin out of his pocket, opened it, took out the syringe filled with an overdose of anaesthetic he had intended to give Alexander and squirted it out of the window. He put the syringe back in the tin and drove away from Mercy Hill Care Home.

'Hello there,' Gwen said, as Julia opened the door of Jackson Leaves. 'Sorry to disturb you, but I'm from the Council and I just need to ask you a couple of questions.'

Julia checked the identification Gwen was offering and nodded reluctantly once she admitted it all looked in order.

'It's a bit of a mess at the moment,' she said, letting Gwen in and leading her through to the kitchen. 'I still haven't finished unpacking.'

'Never fun, is it?' said Gwen, sitting down at the kitchen table.

'No,' Julia admitted. 'Especially when you're by yourself.'

'Just you then, is it?' Gwen asked. 'Big place for someone on their own.'

'I inherited it from my aunt,' Julia said. 'She rattled around in here for years. I don't think I will.'

'Oh?'

'No… Can't say I like the place much. I'm planning on letting it out. Students, maybe.'

'Oh yes? Why not, eh? Plenty of room.'

'Yeah. I've advertised, but no takers yet. If nobody turns up, I might just sell it, get one of those new apartments at SkyPoint.'

Gwen squirmed. 'I hear they're not all they're cracked up to be.'

'Really?' Julia sighed. 'Just fancied something a bit more modern. Place like this, it's just too…'

'Full of ghosts?' Gwen smiled.

'Something like that.' Julia wiped pointlessly at the kitchen worktop, nervous and wanting something to distract her. 'Well, whatever I decide to do, I need to smarten the place up a bit. Don't suppose you know anyone cheap and reliable, do you? I'm hopeless at that sort of thing. My ex used to do it all, but he's…'

'Yes?'

'Accident at work… I'd rather not go into it.'

'Of course,' Gwen said, getting to her feet. 'I quite understand, and it really is none of my business. Look… This is obviously a bad time. Maybe we can do this over the phone in a couple of weeks?'

'That would be better. Thank you.'

They walked back along the hall to the front door, Gwen stepping outside and smiling as she handed Julia a fake business card. 'I'll call you next month,' she said. 'It's nothing major, just some work we're doing in the area. Oh…' She bent over to pick something up off the gravel. 'Don't leave that lying around. You never know, do you?' She handed the lottery ticket to Julia.

'That's not mine,' Julia said. 'I never do the lottery.'

'Well, it's definitely not mine,' Gwen said. 'I always play the same numbers, my husband's birthday… You may as well hold on to it — never know your luck!'

'I suppose.' Julia didn't seem at all convinced but put the ticket in her pocket anyway.

'Maybe you won't have to worry about finding workmen after all.' Gwen smiled and walked down the drive, waving goodbye over her shoulder.

'Well?' Jack asked as she moved past him and headed for the SUV.

'She's fine. False memory's holding.'

'Good.'

'Excuse me,' came a voice from behind him.

Jack turned to see a young woman jogging towards him.

'Help you?' he asked.

'Hope so!' the girl replied. 'I'm looking for a place that's advertising rooms around here. Nina Rogers…' She stuck out her hand.