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By Craig Young

Behind me the music (Simple Minds?) flowed out exuberantly from the party, into the summer night. I'd left the others, Phil, Alex, Peter, Tom, Cath, Michael, Maureen, Delia, sprawled across the room in variously mellow states, while I looked out over Vogeltown. So, okay, the flat wasn't up to much, but it was a beginning. And at least, this time, my partner was with me.

Christchurch and the demons of my past were somewhere offstage curdling into something sour and pinched as time went on and my memory faded. But for me it was new friends, new life, new responsibilities... something that I'd fought for long enough.

‘Hello.’ He was standing under the apple trees on the slope, with that umbrella, and a softly pulsating light on the police box. I walked over to the figure and spoke softly. ‘I wasn't sure you'd come.’

He smiled at me, with sadness evident in his eyes. It was important that you survived. I'm glad to see you happy and fulfilled. You no longer need me.’

‘Doctor... if it hadn't been for you none of this could have happened. Thanks for being there when I needed you.’ We embraced once, then he turned. I caught a momentary glimpse of Ace inside the police box... and then they turned and disappeared from my life forever.

The CD had reached Don't You (Forget About Me) as I walked back into the party.

This item appeared in TSV 36 (November 1993).

Index nodes: Fiction