<pre style="line-height: 21px; white-space: normal; color: #444444; font-size: 15px; text-align: start;">The Doctor looked as if he had seen a ghost. The edges of his mouth twitched downwards as he stood, closed his book and stalked below deck, his pointy chin sticking outwards. I gazed in shock after him wondering what I had done to offend him.
"Hey, Doctor!" I called, rushing after him. "What's wrong?"
The Doctor turned around and looked me straight in the eye. His face no longer looked so stormy.
"You like soufflés, don't you?" he said, looking down at me. This time, it was my turn to be shocked. How had he known? My mum and I, we had regularly made soufflés - the kind that makes you say, "Oh my stars!" and decide the soufflé is too amazing to live. But that was before she - before she died.
Tears stung my eyelids. "The soufflé is not the souffle. The souffle-"
"Is the recipe," the Doctor finished. I felt my jaw drop.
"Doctor-"
"Oswald," the Doctor began, his face taking on the angry expression of a few moments ago. "If you know what's good for you, you will not follow me now. You will turn this boat around and go home."
The Doctor straightened his bow tie and made his way back into the hold.
I stood on the deck , trying to make sense of how the Doctor knew about the soufflés. If I didn't follow him now, I would never know, would always be wondering about the funny man in a fez. Suddenly, I realized I had made my decision when he told me to go home. </pre>
