Table of Contents

Prelude

Prologue

Chapter One: Don’t Forget to Catch Me

Chapter Two: Maius Intra Qua Extra

Chapter Three: Boudiccan Destruction Layer

Chapter Four: Good and Bad at Games

Chapter Five: Hurt⁠ / Comfort

Chapter Six: A Deal with God

Chapter Seven: Friends and Other Lovers

Chapter Eight: Everything Changes

Chapter Nine: The Fine Purple, the Purest Gold, the Red of the Sacred Heart, the Grey of a Ghost

Chapter Ten: What’s Bigger on the Inside than on the Outside?

Chapter Eleven: Castling

Chapter Twelve: Knock Knock

Chapter Thirteen: Let Me Tell You Something That’s True

Chapter Fourteen: Cat Heaven

Epilogue

Author’s Notes

Adapting the Novel for the Screen

Editor’s Note

The original novel of Human Nature, as presented here, features the Seventh Doctor as played on television by Sylvester McCoy.

Coincidentally, it also features someone pretending to be the Tenth Doctor, in a scene that didn’t make it into the televised version.

If you’re not familiar with this version, written with a slighter older readership in mind, expect a few deviations from the adventure as seen on TV.

Prelude

Alexander Shuttleworth leaned back in the easy chair and drummed his fingers rhythmically on his stomach. ‘You may call it cake,’ he told his small audience, regarding the small saucer with the last few crumbs that sat on his lap, ‘but it goes beyond cake. Call it Ultrasponge, Victoria Maximus, empress of icing sugar.’

The ladies of Joan Redfern’s WI group looked at him and then at each other nervously. A few giggled or laughed in a more civilised fashion. Alexander felt as if he was addressing a flock of sheep in hatpins.

‘Well, Mr. Shuttleworth,’ Joan began, replacing her own plate delicately on the table, ‘may we move on to the subject of our talk for today, The Archaeology of the Bronze Age?’

One of the ladies leaned over to her friend and whispered in her ear. ‘I can’t imagine what Joan was thinking of, inviting that man into our circle. One might as well call upon the Serbs to come and ravage us all.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ the younger woman replied. ‘I think he’s quite sweet.’

‘That’s what all his conquests think, all those young girls ruined in their prime. His reputation should preclude him from the Institute.’

‘Reputations!’ roared Alexander, causing the two ladies to jump guiltily from each other’s ear. ‘Reputations are made and broken in British archaeology on the matter of Bronze Age burials. Are we looking at a matriarchal culture, the kind of thing that led to Boadicea’s easy assumption of the reins of power… or do we deal with chieftains?’ He had stood up now, pacing back and forth before the curtains of the little front room in the sunshine.

‘Perhaps the inhabitants of long barrows are not even warriors, but priests… Oh, hullo, Wolsey.’