At first it was just another day at Affely Shopping Centre. People stared hard at the holiday prices as if by force of will they could reduce them there and then. Shop window dummies with perfect bodies challenged passers-by to try out the latest fashions. Parents anxiously studied the contents of shopping trolleys and worried if they had enough of everything they needed and wondered if they would have to ask the bank for an overdraft. Brightly coloured chocolates and sweets perched innocently near checkouts waiting for the grabbing hands of children.
A mix of those preparing to shop, those who had taken a break from shopping and those who had completed one of the day’s tasks sat at tables sipping coffee and daintily biting large, but expensive cookies. A short queue stood by a refreshment stand, most hungrily watching the swirl of ice cream that a child was licking excitedly. Kieran Sommers was standing second in the queue and he was annoyed that the person in front was taking his time about what he wanted.
‘I always have vanilla but today I think I might have…well there’s so much choice.’
Kieran behind him wanted to shout out “Just choose”, but he held back with that usual British reserve. The last thing on his mind was wanting to make a scene. Resigned to having to wait for his ice cream, he looked around the mall and wondered why he had even come here at all. Fresh bread, he reminded himself. And there had better be some, and the right size too! Why were the only loaves left the huge family size ones? Almost every time he came here all that was left were the large loaves that he couldn’t hope to eat within three days – by which time it wouldn’t be fresh. And he so enjoyed fresh bread.
‘Do the flavoured ice creams taste the way they should? I’m thinking I might have a strawberry but the last time I had one it didn’t really taste like strawberry.’
Oh just buy it! Kieran was starting to get really annoyed and he looked around hoping to catch a sympathetic glance from one of the many passers by. His eyes locked with those of another, a man who was watching him, a man who was smiling.
Silence seemed to blanket the shopping centre. All around him the people milled about, their mouths moving but with no sound. Except for the voice in his head that told him that he shouldn’t have to put up with oversized loaves, stale bread and indecisive customers.
Hate welled up inside him Kieran just wanted to fill the void with the sound of his own voice. Instead he lashed out with his hands, shoving hard against the fool in front of him. Just as suddenly a wave of noise broke against him and all around him people turned to stare. The man he had shoved picked himself up from the counter and then swung his fist. In his own mind, Alan Field wanted to shout out about the impatience of some people. Worse than that – that someone should actually treat him in such a manner! Alan was ready to give the man who had pushed him a piece of his mind but instead all that energy was channelled into a physical act.
People paused and began to form a crowd around the two men. Tina Mullan, standing behind the counter had already pressed the panic button at the same time as requesting the men to stop. Tina had seen all kinds of behaviour – the child who wanted a flavour that wasn’t available, the child who was insistent that he/she did not want a particular flavour but refused to tell anyone what flavour he/she actually wanted. Then there were those who were never quite certain what they wanted – like the man who was now brawling with the man who had been standing behind him.
Tina became angry when her requests both to the men and to the crowd were ignored. She wanted to shout at the top of her voice, confident that it would stop them all cold. For her, the sole release was to be physical as she too joined in the fight. The crowd watched as the small woman walked round from her side of the counter and then start to pummel each of the men, neither of whom took any notice.
‘That’s it love, show them how to fight,’ laughed one man in the crowd.
Next to him, Julian Bryant angrily turned; ready to complain that the last thing this situation needed was encouragement. His words caught in his throat, and he felt as if they were choking him. A feeling of panic welled up in him, but no one took any notice. If anything they were all laughing. To an outsider it might seem as if they were laughing at the three fighting inside the circle of people, but he knew better – they were laughing at him, especially the man standing at his side. Here he was, choking to death and all that idiot could do was laugh!
Angrily he reached out his hands to the man’s throat and began to throttle him.
Ian Davies was the kind of man who believed in letting people do as they please. If two grown men wanted to sort out their differences with a spot of fisticuffs, then fair enough. If someone objected to Ian’s opinions on matters such as this, again, fair enough. There was no need, however, for the other person to state his opinion by physical means. Just as Julian’s hands closed around Ian’s throat, so Ian reacted by reaching out and putting his own hands around Julian’s throat. The two men began to throttle each other. The crowd seemed to take no notice, offering neither encouragement nor attempting to dissuade the combatants.
Two security guards had arrived by now and they pushed their way through the crowd.
Tom Baird moved towards the three at the centre of the crowd; Frank Waters moved around the inside towards the two men strangling each other.
‘Stop this!’ Frank’s hands gripped the wrists of one man but his arms felt as if they were made of steel. Steeling his own grip he tried to apply a burn to the man’s wrists but to no effect.
Tom was having almost as hard a time as he was. An attempt to pry Tina away from the two men fighting on the floor had resulted in a punch to the eye. Equally enraged, Tom grabbed her around the middle and pulled angrily. This seemed to work but now Tina seemed to turn her attention to him. As Tina’s hands clawed at Tom’s face, a tall man moved towards him through the crowd. Grabbing Tina’s wrists, the man looked at Tom, ‘Move outside the crowd.’
Together they were able to carry the struggling woman beyond the crowd. The moment they moved beyond the edge of the circle of people, the woman ceased her attempts to get back into the fight. Not only did the fight seem to go out of her, so did her energy. As she slumped towards the ground, the tall man looked at Tom , ‘I think we can leave her here.’
‘Thanks, would you help me with the others?’
The man nodded and the two of them returned to the centre of the arena. By this time, a young woman had gone to Frank’s assistance.
‘Rose, try and move them outside the crowd!’ called the tall man.
Frank looked around to see who had shouted and saw Tom standing next to the tall man. Tom nodded and so Frank began to shove the two men through the crowd. With the help of Rose he succeeded. The two men suddenly ceased to strangle one another, their arms falling to their sides at first before they sank to the floor, coughing and choking. Frank stared at them in amazement, but Rose tugged at his sleeve, ‘I think we should help the Doctor.’
Frank followed her back into the crowd but by now Tom and the man referred to as the Doctor had separated the original combatants. Just as the fight broke so did the crowd. People looked around in puzzlement and slowly began to disperse. Someone even muttered about the state of the world today. The guard looked at Rose, ‘what was all that about?’
Sommers and Field had lost consciousness by now and the Doctor was looking at the wounds each had inflicted on the other.
‘Nothing fatal but I think someone should…’
Tom was already calling for an ambulance on his radio.
‘Oh, and Mabel, better ask the police to come over as well.’
When PC Nigel Carlisle arrived at the shopping centre he headed straight for the security room. It was quite crowded; a tall man was tending to the wounds of about five people; two of the centre’s security personnel and a woman were looking at one of the bank of security monitors.
‘Tom, I’m here about that call you put through.’
Tom turned around and noted the police constable, ‘I’m glad you’re here, Nigel. Look at this.’
Nigel removed his helmet, wiped his hand across his forehead and then examined the camera footage he was now being shown. He watched the footage of the fight breaking out. Behind him, the Doctor and the five people involved in the fight watched in silence. The five people watched, horrified and shocked at what they saw. The Doctor noted their reactions in between quick glances at the video screen.
‘That seems straight forward enough to me,’ began Nigel as he turned to look at the five people. He looked at the man who had started it all, with the simple act of shoving a man who had been standing in front of him. He asked each of their names in turn, noting it in his book.
‘And your name, sir?’
‘Just Doctor will do.’
Tom hurriedly explained the role that the Doctor and Rose had played in bringing the fight to a conclusion.
‘A very public minded action, there were a lot of people there who just stood around and watched. That’s the behaviour I would usually expect.’
‘Could I see that again?’ asked the Doctor, moving past the constable to stand beside Tom.
Rose smiled at Nigel, ‘Thank you, the Doctor has a lot on his mind.’
‘The ambulance crew should be here soon,’ Nigel assumed that this Doctor fellow had checked the injuries and was preparing his own report. He turned to look at the five people once again. They all looked so ordinary, but then again, it was always the ordinary people who ended up on the other end of a criminal charge.
Rose walked over and joined the Doctor and Tom. Without even checking with Nigel that it was okay, Tom had rewound the tape to the appropriate section and was now pressing playback. The Doctor stared intently at the screen, watching the fight unfold. At one point he asked Tom to pause the tape and rewind back a few seconds.
‘Is there another angle on the fight?’
‘Sure, but you can see the culprits, plain as day, on this tape.’
Nigel had overheard the Doctor’s request. He had viewed the tape and as far as he was concerned there was sufficient evidence to bring charges against all those involved. It might be summer time, there might be a scorching hot day but that was no excuse for this kind of behaviour.
‘Is there some other activity taking place during the commotion that we should be aware of?’ In his experience, Nigel knew that a lot of thefts were opportunist. An affray such as this would have been a godsend to a shoplifter. However, Nigel was sure none of the shop units had been visible in the footage. Still, this Doctor might have seen something.
‘Try camera 5A,’ suggested Frank, at the same time pressing the rewind button for that tape. Playing back the image only showed a photo booth to the rear of the crowd. A single man stood next to the booth, but he was not doing anything else. If anything, he had probably been waiting for his photographs.
‘You can’t see anyone’s face, just the backs of the crowd,’ commented Frank, ‘I think there is another camera but it will just show the crowd. No, that first tape we showed you is the best one.’
Frank pressed the stop button but the Doctor asked him to play it on for a bit longer. Complying, Frank watched the scene unfold, watched as the crowd began to disperse. The man who had been standing by the booth started to move away, slowly. It looked as if he had not been waiting for photographs after all. Neither had he been involved anything suspect. The man had not been near to anyone so he had not been picking any pockets or snatching purses. He had not touched the machine so there was no sign of vandalism and he had been near none of the shops. Frank’s assessment that the tape did not show anything of note was correct.
Nigel asked for the first tape, ‘I’ll need that as evidence. The rest of you will come with me to the station. Statements will be taken…’
Rose looked at the Doctor and quietly asked him about the man on the second tape, ‘Could he have been just another person in the crowd?’
The Doctor shrugged, ‘There’s something about him…Tom, can I see the first tape again?’
This time Nigel replied, ‘Excuse me, sir. You can make a statement down at the station. I am sure the sergeant will wish to commend you and the young lady for your public-spirited actions. However, I must ask you to refrain from treating this as some sort of reality television show.’
The Doctor looked puzzled, but Rose quickly interjected, ‘Can we make our own way to the station? The Doctor and I are due back at the surgery – we only popped out for fresh air and a sandwich…’
Nigel looked at the Doctor and Rose, then nodded, ‘If I could just have your details, Doctor…?’
‘Smith, John Smith.’
Eyebrows raised, Nigel was already forming the opinion that this Doctor was going to do one of those anonymous Good Samaritan acts.
‘Doctor John Smith, right.’
Rose gave her name and then gave an address that popped into her head. She hoped that the constable would not check it straight away or before she and the Doctor were clear away from the shopping centre. The expression on his face suggested that he did not believe either of them but perhaps he would be too busy to bother about the details of two “public heroes”. The ambulance crew chose that moment to arrive and so any thought that Nigel might have given to holding the Doctor and Rose any longer vanished. By now there was little space for those who already occupied the room, so someone had to go.
‘I would be grateful if you two could come down to the station within the next few hours to give your statements,’ Nigel suggested as the Doctor and Rose left. Somehow he guessed that he was unlikely to see them again.
‘The man who was standing by the photo booth – he wasn’t just another person interested in the fight?’
Rose knew the Doctor well enough by now that something about that man had piqued his interest. The only thing odd about his behaviour was the fact that he had stood apart from the crowd and yet she was certain that there were those who stood on the periphery of similar public gatherings. How many times had she passed by a group of people standing around an accident victim? Rose had never understood why anyone would want to watch while another human being bled or lay in agony. What turned otherwise normal people into ghouls?
‘Most people are horrified by that kind of violence; some are frozen by indecision; others empathise with the brutality of it all. That crowd was different – and that man was different. He wasn’t just passing by; he didn’t just stop out of intrigue or indecision. It was difficulty to tell from the first tape and he didn’t have his face to the other camera, but he looked...’ the Doctor struggled to describe what he had seen.
‘Like he was getting off on the violence – empathising with the brutality of it all?’
The Doctor shook his head, ‘Sated! Yes, that’s the word – he did look as if the violence was having a positive effect on him.’
An ice cream van jingled its way to their attention. It had pulled up outside the park just down the road from the supermarket. Excitedly, the Doctor looked through his pocket for some change.
‘I haven’t had a 99 for ages. Would you like an ice cream, Rose?’
‘Might I remind you that we are supposed to be returning to our jobs, Doctor. If the policeman sees us waiting for an ice cream he might change his mind about waiting for us to come by and give a statement. He might also check that address I gave him and I don’t want to try an explain away false information.’
By now they had drawn level with the ice cream van.
‘Ripple,’ the Doctor suggested, pointing at the appropriate image on the side of the van.
‘Doctor, I think that’s him,’ Rose was looking at a man walking along the river path that ran through the park. His rear profile matched that which they had seen on the second videotape.
‘No ice cream then,’ bemoaned the Doctor as he followed Rose along the path after the man.
The man sat down on a bench close to the river and opened a bag he had been carrying. As Rose drew closer she noted that the man had taken out a small loaf of bread. Some ducks were swimming along the river and as she watched, the young man began to tear chunks of bread from the loaf and was throwing them into the river.
Rose paused by the edge of the bench, ‘Anyone else sitting here?’
The man turned to look at her, he could not have been any more than eighteen, ‘No, just me.’
By now the Doctor had joined her, he had paused to watch some of the other ducks further up the river.
‘I see you’ve brought plenty of bread – just as well, we forgot to bring some.’
The young man paused, mid tear and looked out across the duck pond, ‘You’re afraid of me.’
The Doctor watched the ducks scrabbling for the pieces of bed already floating on the water, ‘Shouldn’t we be?’
Tearing the chunk into smaller chunks, the young man smiled, ‘I don’t make hate – its there anyway. Its always there: everyone has hate and anger but usually it’s locked away, waiting for the right combination. I’m drawn to the hate and anger that lies just beneath the surface…’
‘And you feed on it?’ Rose looked at the ducks, wondering if it was her imagination or had the ducks become more aggressive as they competed for the chunks of bread.
By now the loaf had been completely shredded and most of it had been thrown away. The young man looked at the last chunk in his hand, ‘my parents spent years taking me to see doctors. Everyone thought I suffered from some kind of food intolerance – I couldn’t seem to keep anything down. As I got older I ate less and less. I remember my parents arguing about finding money for private treatment, relatives they could write to, different schemes for raising money into the necessary research. When they argued…I felt better.
‘I began to realise that my hunger eased when they argued. Soon, the only way I could eat was by stirring up arguments – but I didn’t have to do anything, or rather I didn’t have to say anything. I could sit and watch television and think about them arguing and my parents would. At the back of my mind there was the realisation that their anger fed me, I didn’t need to eat anything.
‘I began to learn other things too. It was easy enough to tell everyone that I couldn’t eat when people were watching me. That way I could get rid of the food. Everyone was convinced that I was eating again – after all I started to gain weight and looked a lot healthier than I had ever been.
‘Before then I attended school one or two days a week, the rest of the time was spent at home or in hospital. By high school I seemed to be normal again. Just another boy: trading one thing for another; trying my best to fit in; and make the odd bit of money. I always carried a packed lunch, which I sold to anyone who cared to buy from me. You’d be amazed at how many lads would be willing to buy a homemade sandwich rather than hand over money for school dinners.
The young man laughed, ‘There was one guy who tried to bully me, tried to steal the money I made from selling my lunch. I saw all his hate bubbling just below the surface – he was looking to hit someone, anyone – but on this one occasion I was his choice. That was when I realised that I could nudge someone in the right direction. I could make them release all that hate…not against me, but against someone else. Only one other person was in that part of the school with us at the time. This big lad, the kind everyone tried to stay friendly with because they were afraid of his size. I could see that he wouldn’t really hurt a fly. Anyway, the point is that this bully turned all his anger and hate on the big guy. The big guy, well, I did say he wouldn’t harm a fly but I suppose what I meant to say was that he wasn’t the kind to go looking for a fight. If someone picked on him, that was a different matter.
‘Playgrounds are full of fights – it was all the sustenance I needed to keep me going from day to day. Naturally enough the weekends were tough but I managed to get through them.’
The young man stared at the chunk of bread in his hand and held it out to Rose, ‘we all have to leave school some time. I learnt a lot of things that other people never think about. I need other people’s hate to survive. Outside of school I was faced with finding that anger – I would wait outside pubs or wander past dole offices. How long can I go on like this? Is this my existence, to depend on other people’s misery?’
Rose placed a hand on his, ‘The Doctor is a man of science, he could…’ she meant to explain that the Doctor might be able to cure him but instead she found herself drawn to the young man’s eyes.
‘I don’t think anyone can help me. Your friend,’ the young man glanced at the Doctor, ‘there’s something different about the way he thinks. He’s shielding his thoughts, trying to trick me, but I can catch the odd bit if information. I might make an interesting test subject for the military?’
The Doctor raised an eyebrow, ‘I was considering what might frighten you…’
‘Oh yes,’ the young man’s voice had become cold and hard.
‘Do you really trust this man, Rose? Can he understand your fears? What about the people who have hurt you. Has he even offered to take that hurt away?’
Somehow Rose knew that she shouldn’t but she could feel an urge to strike out building within her. Letting go off the young man’s hand she turned to look at the Doctor.
The Doctor was watching both Rose and the young man; he could see what was happening. He knew that he had to convince the young man, ‘Its easy to see what frightens you. All the people who would think you are some kind of freak, a curiosity fit only for research.’
Rose struggled against the emotions welling up inside her, recognising what was happening. She tried to reach past them, to find some pleasant memory to ease the hate and the anger that were threatening to overwhelm her. Yet, all she could find were bad memories and images of people who had betrayed her, who had hurt her. She remembered mocking laughter that had followed her in the playground and on the streets. Had anyone ever laughed at the Doctor or made fun of him? How could he possibly understand, how could anyone understand? Rose desperately seized on that last thought.
‘I know what its like to be treated as an outside. I know what its like to want to belong…’
The young man stood up and away from the bench and glared at Rose, ‘don’t you understand? I don’t belong; there is no one else like me. I need…I revel in human rage.’
Rose could no longer control herself and she shot up and grabbed the Doctor around the throat. The young man closed his eyes and it seemed, to the Doctor, that his frame inhaled the anger that was in the air. Small as she was, Rose had a powerful grip around his throat, the Doctor knew he could pretend to lose consciousness, that his respiratory bypass mechanism would soon kick in and save him from strangulation – but that would protect him. There was no telling what effect it might have on Rose. From her perspective it would seem that she had killed someone. Even if the Doctor opened his eyes minutes later, for a time he would appear to be dead.
There was no choice but to look into Rose’s eyes. Despite her hands around his throat the Doctor was able to speak in a firm but comforting voice.
‘You know that you can control your anger, Rose. It does not and cannot control you. You have the strength to stop this; there is no threat to you. You know that I won’t harm you and that I won’t lift a finger against you so there is nothing to be afraid of. There is nothing to be angry about.’
Her teeth gritted, Rose eased the pressure she had been exerting on the Doctor’s throat. She looked him in the eyes, determined to find the goodness she knew to be found there. Closing her own eyes she thought of the person she knew herself to be, thought of the woman who would give someone the benefit of the doubt and, if needed, the shirt of her back.
Exhaling loudly, Rose sat back down on the bench, her hands trembling.
The Doctor looked around; there was no sign of the young man. He had made use of Rose’s anger to feed himself and to make an escape.
Rose stared up at the Doctor, ‘We need to stop him.’
‘He can’t help himself. As he grows older he will feed more and more and he won’t be able to help himself. He will leave a trail – fights, riots….’
Laughing ironically, Rose wondered how someone like the Doctor could be so naïve, ‘Each year there seem to be more and more protests which turn into fights and riots. Talk about trying to find one tree in a forest.’
Nodding, the Doctor sat down beside Rose. The sun was starting to set and he raised his hand in front of his eyes to protect them from the glare, ‘Perhaps he isn’t as alone as he thinks he is.’
Story © D.S.Carlin 2004
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