Chapter Eight
'In the end he learnt that he was right. However much you plot, however much you try to think ahead, to second-guess, to predict what will come, you'll never get everything exactly right. How can anyone rewrite history when no-one can even read it properly?'
Benny looked out over the city. They'd passed the worst of the fighting, which hadn't spilled out much further than Trafalgar Square itself. Whole sections of the city were blacked out. The power must be down. The more she saw, the more Benny wanted to stay up here above it all.
The ship was descending. The Doctor peered over the side. 'We're barely clearing the rooftops now. This may be our only chance - it's not too far.'
To prove his point, he leapt over the edge.
Benny gasped, hurrying over to where he had been.
The roof was so close, it almost caught her out - literally only three feet away. The Doctor was already on his feet, brushing himself down. It was a sloped roof, but he'd landed on quite a solid-looking ledge.
The ship was moving at walking pace. Benny had to jog along it to get back level with the Doctor. She jumped across, trying to see the manoeuvre as a one metre hop rather than a five storey drop. This was no more dangerous than running for the bus, she told herself.
Her feet found the ledge, although the Doctor needed to steady her.
'Well done,' the Doctor congratulated, grinning.
The Martian ship continued to drift past. The mortar attack and the helicopter hadn't even scratched the wax-like coating, let alone the metal beneath.
Benny realised that she'd been clinging to the Doctor rather more intently and rather longer than she felt fully comfortable with. He grinned down at her.
'How do we get down from here?'
