Stories Book Past Doctor Adventures Grave Matter 1 image Overview Characters How to Read Reviews Statistics Quotes 1 Overview Released May 2000 Written by Justin Richards Pages 247 Time Travel Unclear Location (Potential Spoilers!) Earth Synopsis Dorsill: a group of islands shrouded in fog, the community facing economic ruin and struggling to survive. When Christopher Sheldon buys the islands outright, the locals owe him a debt of thanks. They don't ask too many questions about what Sheldon and his friends are up to; they don't care that he seldom ventures into the one small village; they don't ask why he saw fit to spend such a large amount of money — or where he got it from... Even when the first few people die, there's an assumption that it's down to natural causes: allergic reactions, an especially virulent strain of flu, a tragic fishing accident... And if the sheep and chickens are behaving oddly, that's hardly a worry. No, if there's anything to arouse suspicion, it's the arrival of retired civil servant Sir Edward Baddesley. But generally life goes on, with its little triumphs and upsetting tragedies. Until the two strangers arrive... Read Read Favourite Favourited Add Review Edit Review Log a repeat Skip Skipped Unowned Owned Owned Save to my list Saved Edit date completed Custom Date Release Date Archive (no date) Save Characters Sixth Doctor Peri Brown The Denarians Show All Characters (3) How to read Grave Matter: Books Grave Matter Reviews Add Review Edit Review Submit a Review Statistics AVG. Rating143 members 3.58 / 5 GoodReads AVG. Rating143 votes 3.58 / 5 Member Statistics Read 24 Favourited 3 Reviewed 0 Saved 0 Skipped 2 Quotes Add Quote Link to Quote Favourite (The Doctor was in the kitchen. He was wearing a white apron which barely covered his ample form. He was frying bacon over a gas ring.) DOCTOR: (cheerily) Good morning. Some mod cons at least. PERI: That smells terrific. (seating herself at the kitchen table) Where are our hosts? DOCTOR: Trefoil is sorting out his cellar, and Liz went to the farm for milk. I gather there isn’t a Mrs Trefoil. (He shuffled the bacon round the pan with a wooden spatula, letting it hiss and spit in the fat) The bread’s good. Home made from local flour, of course. — Grave Matter