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Charley could hear the music drifting down the corridor before she reached the console room and wasn’t surprised when she entered to find the Doctor singing along as he pottered around the controls.“See the pyramids along the Nile… See the sun rise on a tropic isle… Just remember, darling all the while… You belong to me…”Leaning on a nearby pillar she just watched him for a moment as he pulled his glasses down from where they’d been perched on top of his head to peer at one of the readouts. His coat had been discarded on the armchair, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow and he looked relaxed and happy; it had been a very long time since she’d last heard him sing and his voice, low and melodious, somehow managed not to get lost in the cavernous room, harmonising effortlessly with the one on the record that was spinning on the old turntable. Having been exposed to his love of opera early in their acquaintance it was a surprise to find a while later that he was also fond of sentimental ballads; such tastes apparently changed from one regeneration to the next as his other self had been extremely disparaging when she found a cache of discs that were quite possibly the same ones she’d heard so many times in this room, wondering aloud (and loudly) why an adventurous young woman like her wanted to spend time listening to old torch songs.It didn’t take him long to spot her there in the shadows and when he did his face lit up. “Charley! Good morning!” He held out a hand. “Fancy a dance?”She pushed herself away from the pillar. “Before breakfast?”“Absolutely the best time. Come on!”Charley shook her head in fond amusement, letting him pull her close and start to sway them both around the dais; as the key rose in the background he gazed soulfully into her eyes, crooning,“I’ll be so alone without you… Maybe you’ll be lonesome too, and blue…”“Is that where we’re going? To a dance? Sounds like fun.”“I suppose we could, if you like. I was leaving it up to the TARDIS to decide.”She snorted. “And of course that always ends up working. She’ll probably drop us in the middle of a warzone; she usually does.”“I’ve had a very stern word with her about that. It shouldn’t happen again.” They’d made a circuit of the console; twirling them around the Doctor started moving back the other way. When she looked less than convinced he added as a caveat, “Well, hopefully not,” before continuing with his contented humming.“You’re very cheerful this morning,” Charley remarked, amused, and his eyebrows shot upwards.“Charlotte Elspeth Pollard, how dare you! I’m always cheerful,” he informed her with mock-indignation.“Doctor, I think we both know that’s the most appalling fib. You were in a frightful grump last night when I went to bed, and all because you couldn’t find some tool or other.”He spun her around again. “It wasn’t just ‘some tool’; it was the six-and-a-half inch inkle-gruber I needed to fix that faulty circuit in the TARDIS’s navigational coil. And I did find it. Eventually.”“Oh, yes?” Charley raised a brow of her own. “And where was it?”He looked faintly uncomfortable, and started singing again. “Fly the ocean in a silver plane… See the jungle when it’s wet with rain… But remember darling, till you’re home again…” She just shot him a look and he sighed. “In amongst the cushions on my chair.”“I’m not in the least bit surprised. I did tell you to look there more than once, if you recall. It probably fell out of your pocket.” The song came to an end, the last notes dying away, and they slowed gradually to a stop, though he didn’t let her go. “Did you fix the circuit?”A pause. Then, “Weeelllll. Not exactly, no.”Charley sighed. He might be a fair bit older than when they’d last shared the TARDIS but his attention span it seemed hadn’t increased. She’d owned more focused goldfish, she was sure. “Why am I not surprised? What distracted you this time?”For a moment the Doctor looked slightly shifty, as though he might be considering an excuse, before he gave in and admitted, “I found the spare needles I bought for the gramophone in the chair too; thought I’d lost those over six hundred years ago.”“So you spent the night listening to old records?”He shrugged. “It seemed a shame to let the needles go to waste.”She just looked at him, and couldn’t help laughing. “You are completely hopeless.”“Oh, I don’t know; I discovered some Billie Hollidays I’d forgotten I had so I think it was quite a productive few hours,” he said with a grin, releasing her at last after giving her a quick squeeze and turning to the console.Charley followed, taking up her place at his side; it was quite frightening sometimes how easily she’d slotted back into all the old patterns. “Will this navigational circuit you still haven’t fixed affect where we end up by an enormous margin?”“It’s a circuit in the navigational coil and no, I shouldn’t think so. Well, not much,” the Doctor added when she gave him her patented ‘pull the other one’ stare. The wheezing bellow of the TARDIS’s engines rang through the room and he reached over to pull the hanging monitor down to eye level, nodding towards the text that had appeared on the screen. “Here you go: nothing worrying or dangerous in that, is there?”“Famous last words,” Charley muttered, taking a look for herself. “Earth, Humanian Era, Local dateline 14.05.2016. That’s not very precise, is it? Where on Earth are we?”“Oh, how many times has that question been asked across the epochs?” the Doctor wondered. When Charley didn’t bother attempting an answer he peered at the readouts on the console. “According to the old girl she’s landed us in Hampshire. A place by the name of Little Polherd. Can’t say I’ve heard of it.”“Little…” A strange sensation crept down the length of Charley’s spine. That was a name she hadn’t heard in a very, very long time. “Did you just say ‘Little Polherd’?”“Yes. Do you know it?”“I - ” She tried not to laugh. “I should do.”The Doctor frowned at her over his spectacles. “Charley, is something wrong? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost. Or heard one.”“Well… in a way I have.”The frown deepened. “I don’t follow.”“It’s… it’s where I grew up. My parents’ house is there,” Charley explained and his brows rose again in understanding. “Polherd Court. My family have lived there for generations. Or rather did live there. We’re a bit after my time.”“No reason why they shouldn’t still be in situ.” He glanced at her. “Would you like to find out?”“I…” She thought about it. Her parents would be long gone, and probably Cissy and Peg too… what would she find? A house full of complete strangers? No house at all? The Doctor was watching her and she turned back to the monitor, torn. “I don’t know.”“We can easily go somewhere else - ” His hand moved towards the dematerialisation controls and she reached out quickly to grab it before he could send them back into the vortex.“No! I… I suppose we could take a look.”“You’re sure? Charley, you know you don’t have to - ”“I’m sure,” she said firmly, cutting him off, even though she was anything but. Crossing over to the armchair she retrieved his coat and threw it to him. “Let’s go.”“As my lady commands.” The Doctor rolled down his sleeves and shrugged on his coat before pulling the lever that opened the doors. “After you.”Charley snatched up a jacket for herself and led the way. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” she said as they headed up the steps and he tucked his glasses away in a waistcoat pocket, “Why are you wearing those?”“Because I need to. I’ve been in this body a long time now and things start to wear out, just like they do with humans. Time Lords aren’t immune to aging, you know; it just takes us a bit longer.”She shot him a sly glance. “Are you actually admitting that you’re getting old?”“Did I say that? I’ll have you know I’m in the prime of my life; I’m a mere stripling by most Gallifreyan standards,” he informed her loftily, enquiring after a moment’s consideration, “What’s the matter with them, anyway? I rather like them.”“Somehow, I guessed that. I suppose you think they make you look incredibly intelligent,” Charley said, laughing when he looked put out. “Oh, your face! Yes, I like them too,” she assured him. “They really suit y - ” She broke off as she stepped out of the TARDIS and nearly walked straight into a chest of drawers. “Oh.”It shouldn’t really have been a surprise to find that they’d landed, not somewhere in the village as she’d expected, but indoors, and in a bedroom to be precise. A bedroom that, after the initial slight disorientation had dissipated, she realised was unsettlingly familiar, so much so that she just knew if she closed her eyes and walked forwards she could get from one side to the other without stumbling over anything else.“Charley?” She was standing just outside the door and the Doctor had to squeeze past her and the furniture; the TARDIS was taking up a rather large amount of floor space. “Are you OK?” He looked around curiously, obviously trying to work out what had spooked her.“It’s my room,” she said, and he turned, puzzled.“What?”Charley just stared, unable to believe it. She knew the slope of that ceiling; she’d lain awake for hours staring at it, imagining all the places she wanted to visit, all the adventures she wanted to go on. The décor was just the same, the pictures hanging in identical spots and even to her amazement what looked like her own toys sitting on the window sill and the top of the wardrobe. There was her bed, shaped like a boat, that she’d begged her father to buy after falling in love with the one given by Lon Chaney to Mary Philbin in The Phantom of the Opera; on the floor lay the rag rug she, Cissy and Peg had made one wet summer under the instructions of their governess, grumbling all the time. The dancing lady lamp still stood on the bedside table beside a stack of books… she might have left it yesterday.“It’s my room,” she said again. “My bedroom, in my parents’ house! It can’t be long after I left; all my things are here. The TARDIS must have got her dates wrong; you said that navigational circuit needed fixing.”“That particular circuit shouldn’t affect the old girl’s ability to accurately triangulate our position in time and space but there’s always a first time for everything.” The Doctor’s brow furrowed and he produced the sonic screwdriver, holding it aloft. “Let’s see.” It buzzed briefly and he regarded the display before shaking his head. “Nope. I’m picking up 3G and wireless internet signals so we can’t possibly be pre 2000.”“But that doesn’t make sense!” Charley gestured to their surroundings. She could even see a very battered Steiff pony that had been a much-loved present from her godmother on a chair in the corner, and there was the sampler she’d stitched with much labour and resentment behind the door. “It looks just as I remember it! Why would it be exactly the same after nearly ninety years?”“Hmm.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Are you sure it’s exactly the same? Have a proper look around,” he suggested.“Well, of course it is! It’s my room; I should know,” she retorted but she wandered a bit closer anyway. As she did she realised that there were several things out of place and some that didn’t actually belong to her at all; she was sure she’d never seen the mouse with red shorts and braces before and the dolls definitely weren’t hers, too thin and flimsy with odd proportions, not like the china babies she and Cissy had pushed around in miniature prams and which had been consigned to the toy box in the nursery long before she decided to stow away on the R101. It was her childhood bedroom but at the same time it wasn’t; it looked as though it still belonged to a child rather than a young woman soon to have her London season and coming out ball, and there was something faintly odd about it, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. The décor was the same but the longer she looked the more she realised that the colours were too bright, as though the walls had been freshly painted, and everything was far too tidy; it had never been that way before, not when she was living there. The housemaid always despaired of her. Shaking her head she glanced back at her companion. “Doctor, what’s going on?”Before he could reply there was a footstep out on the landing and a voice called, “Hello? Who’s there?”The Doctor arched an eyebrow. “I think we may be about to find out.”As the door opened Charley braced herself, even though, rationally, she was well aware that the new arrival couldn’t possibly be anyone she’d known. A moment later she was able to breathe a partial sigh of relief when a young woman with red hair and a dark green fleece jacket entered the room, a woman whose expression crumpled into an annoyed frown when she saw the intruders.“I thought I heard voices,” she said. “What’re you doing up here? Those stairs have a sign that quite clearly says ‘Private’; do you not understand English or just make a habit of ignoring instructions?”“Well, I… that is we….” Charley glanced at the Doctor, not quite sure what to do with this unexpected information about her home.Thankfully she could still rely on his charm and he offered the woman one of his most persuasive smiles. “I’m terribly sorry, we must have got lost; taken a wrong turn. It’s a bit of a rabbit warren, really, isn’t it? So many old houses are.”The redhead’s eyes narrowed and she folded her arms, looking him up and down. “There’s only one staircase up to these rooms and you had to step over a barrier to climb them. I don’t think you can really use getting lost as an excuse. Do you?”“Really? I thought it was quite possible.” He shrugged. “Oh, well. I suppose you wouldn’t believe that we arrived here quite by accident, either?”“Nope.”“Thought not.”“We, um, just wanted to look around,” Charley said. “Family reasons. I… well, my grandmother actually, used to know the house and - ”“Oh.” The woman’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. ”I see. You’re not with the re-enactors, then?”“Re-enactors?”“Yeah. I thought that you might be part of the Victorian lot who’re setting up in the garden. Y’know, with the costume and all…” She waved a hand vaguely In the Doctor’s direction and Charley could see what she meant; though his new outfit wasn’t as obviously old-fashioned as the one he’d been wearing when they first met the green frock coat, silk waistcoat and scarf definitely weren’t something the average person in the street reached for when they got up in the morning, especially when the gaiters and belt were included. He looked slightly affronted and she heard him mutter,“First time anyone’s said that in ages. I told you I should have kept the leather jacket.”“No,” she told their new acquaintance, trying not to smile, “We’re not with anyone else. My… er… ” She struggled for a suitable word. “My… partner and I just thought we’d sneak a quick peek; Granny used to tell me stories, and I’ve wanted to see the place for myself for simply ages.”“Right. Well, it’s not really on, ignoring the barriers.” The woman didn’t sound quite as irritated now. Charley noticed that she was wearing a name badge with Annabel printed on it. “We don’t allow the public up here unless they’re on a guided tour; the rooms are so much smaller than the ones downstairs and too much footfall can cause damage.”Charley had no idea what she was talking about but nodded and hoped it looked as though she did. “Oh, of course. We’re very sorry, aren’t we, John?”He looked startled to be addressed in such a way but covered it impressively smoothly. “Yes! It was all my fault, really.” Another one of those smiles was aimed in Annabel’’s direction. “I’m just too curious for my own good.”“Yes. Well, I suppose I might be able to overlook it,” she conceded, “As long as you come with me now; I don’t want anyone else thinking it’s OK to ignore the signs.”“Oh, we’ll be happy to. Shall we follow you?”One corner of her mouth quirked in what might have been the makings of a smile. “I’ll bring up the rear. Don’t want you wandering off, do we?”“Perish the thought. Come on, Charley.” When he got close enough the Doctor whispered in her ear, “’Partner’?”“Well, we are partners, aren’t we?” she asked innocently.“Partners in crime, certainly. You do know it has other connotations in this era, don’t you?”“Of course. And there is a reason I didn’t call you ‘Doctor’,” Charley murmured.“Oh?”“I thought if she thought we were a couple she might not be quite so suspicious. People are funny like that. Well, humans are, certainly.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Does it bother you?”“No, I suppose not. It just took me by surprise, that’s all.”“I can’t pretend you’re my father any more, can I? That would be silly.”“Good point. Though I never really thought I looked old enough to be your father,” he mused. “Uncle, maybe. Older brother at a push - ”“Doctor,” Charley warned, and he just grinned.They’d reached the end of what had always been called the Nursery Corridor in Charley’s day even though it housed her and her sisters’ bedrooms and the nursery itself was actually on the floor above, and emerged onto the landing, much narrower and darker here than those on the grander levels. It was a few moments before their new friend caught up with them and when she did she was shaking her head, looking rather bemused.“Is something the matter?” Charley asked, guessing what was probably the cause.“Yes. No. I don’t…” Annabel gestured with her thumb back the way they’d just come. “It’s probably just me going loopy, but did either of you notice that there’s a police box in Lottie’s Room?”“A police box?” the Doctor repeated before Charley could process the implications of that name. “No, I don’t think so. Did you see one, Charley?”She jumped. “Me? No, no, I didn’t see anything like that. Strange thing to find in a bedroom, surely? How would someone get it up the stairs?”Annabel shook her head again. “I’m sure I saw one, but it definitely wasn’t there this morning. Wait here, I’ll just take another look - ”“Oh, I’m sure there’s no need,” the Doctor said quickly. “It’s a bit warm in here and you’re obviously rather stressed; I’d just put it down to a momentary hallucination.”“Why would I be hallucinating about police boxes? That’s a really weird thing to dream up; I’ve only ever seen photos of them.”He shrugged. “The human mind works in many peculiar ways. I’d recommend having a sit down and a cup of tea; when you come back up here I’m sure it will have completely disappeared.”“You can trust him,” Charley added when Annabel looked hesitant, “He’s a doctor.”“Indeed I am. How about you tell us a little about the house?” he suggested before the poor woman could say anything else. “When it came into the hands of National Heritage, for example.”Annabel blinked. “You’ve made it this far and you don’t know? There’s a whole exhibition about that on the way in.”“Oh, I always make a point of ignoring that sort of thing. I prefer to savour the ambience, draw my own conclusions; reading notice boards is such a horribly dry way of experiencing history.”“Riiight.” Annabel’s expression suggested she thought she was talking to what someone in the time period Charley had recently left would describe as a ‘nutter’. She supposed she couldn’t really blame her; not everyone was as experienced in dealing with his eccentricities as she was herself. “Well, the answer to that’s quite easy: when the last owner, Sir Richard, died back in the fifties the death duties were massive. His widow couldn’t afford them and the house so it was given to the government in lieu of payment. She retired to the family’s London property and we stepped in a couple of years later. It was commandeered by the MOD during the War and they left it in a pretty dilapidated state; a lot of work went into returning it to its former glory.” They’d reached the foot of the stairs in the course of that potted history and Annabel glanced at the Doctor. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask: just now, did you call her ‘Charley’?”“Yes, he did. It’s short for Charlotte,” Charley said. “Why do you ask?”“Was your Gran actually a member of the family?”“Not that I’m aware of. She worked here, before the War. She was my great-grandmother, actually,” Charley added quickly when the Doctor surreptitiously shook his head and mouthed the words at her, belatedly realising that given her current apparent age a grandmother wouldn’t have been old enough to be a housemaid in the 1930s. “Is there a problem?”“No! No.” There must have been an unintentional trace of hauteur in her tone - a legacy from her mother which she tried to ensure rarely made an appearance these days - as Annabel hurriedly explained, “It’s just that it’s a bit of a coincidence. Lottie, whose bedroom you were in, was called Charlotte and we know from her sister’s letters that she preferred to be known as Charley. Something of a tomboy, by all accounts; she ran away from home when she was eighteen. I thought that maybe you might have been named after her.”“It’s possible, I suppose,” the Doctor mused with an admirably straight face considering they’d just been presented with the suggestion that Charley had been named after herself. “Do you have any more information about this young lady?”For a moment Annabel looked unsure, as though she still wasn’t entirely happy with their explanation for their presence upstairs and thought she should be marching them to the manager, or whoever was running the house now, but then she nodded. “Come with me.”She led them along the landing, past the guest rooms and those once used by Charley’s parents, and down the oak stairs lined with ancestral portraits that ranged from the early sixteenth century and about which she as a child would make up stories, giving the occupants of those tarnished frames far more exciting lives than they had really led; seeing them again was like meeting old friends, but the encounter was fleeting and they descended into the main hall to the sound of voices, footsteps ringing on the marble floor as a group of tourists followed a tall middle-aged man in the same uniform as Annabel who was telling them about Sir Peter Polherd, who had changed the family surname to Pollard after the Civil War to disassociate himself from his regicide brother. The Van Dyck portrait of him still hung over the mantelpiece, and that of his wife above the drawing room door.“Are you all right?” the Doctor asked Charley quietly and she startled, not having noticed she’d been staring into space, half-listening to the guide’s story.She shook herself. “Yes. It’s just a bit… strange. You said I looked like I’d seen a ghost earlier; now I rather feel like one.”“I suppose in effect you are. It can’t be easy, seeing the house you grew up in like this.”“No.” Charley sighed. “It’s true that you can never really go back isn’t it? Nothing stays the same.”“That’s the nature of time, I’m afraid. Always moving onwards.”“Sometimes I wish we could stop and catch our breath.” She glanced at him; he was watching the tourists with an amused eye. “I don’t think you’ve told me about your childhood home. Have you ever returned?”His expression immediately darkened. “I did, once,” he said, but before she could ask any more Annabel was waving to them from the drawing room doorway.“We’re working on a new exhibition about the sisters but for now this is what we have on display,” she said, ushering them over to the table by the window where Charley’s mother had liked to put flowers from the garden as well as a clutch of family photographs.To her surprise both were still in place, though the vase that had been used wasn’t the same one she remembered. The pictures were, however: the one of herself, Cissy and Peg all dressed up that they’d been dragged to a photographer’s studio off Oxford Street to have taken, and after which she’d been extremely disappointed to find that there was no party to go to; her grandparents in their Victorian finery looking very stern and unapproachable; Peg as a baby, all fluffy curls; Daddy and Mama on their wedding day; Charley petting Duke, her father’s Springer spaniel… there was one she didn’t recognise, though, of a couple standing on what looked like the terrace at the back of the house, but the light from the window was falling across the frame and she couldn’t see it properly.“There were three girls: Charlotte, Cecilia and Margaret,” Annabel was telling the Doctor, who made a show of listening attentively. “Daughters of Sir Richard and Lady Louisa Pollard, born respectively in 1912, 1915 and 1919. All had the usual upper class education: a governess followed by a stint in a Swiss finishing school to polish them enough to catch a decent husband once they’d come out into society. It seems their parents didn’t want or imagine any more for them; with the world opening up and women making more of a mark on events it must have been stifling to be stuck at home like that.”“It was,” Charley said without thinking, adding when Annabel looked at her in surprise, “I mean, I’m sure it was. For them.”“What happened to them?” the Doctor asked and once he had Annabel’s attention again Charley sidled around him in an attempt to see the unfamiliar photo. “Were they close?”“I believe so. We know from family recollections we have that Charlotte was always the leader of the pack; she had a wonderful imagination and would tell the others stories, make up fantastical worlds for them to play in. There are a few of her books in the library and the ones that seem to have been her favourites are things like Peter Pan and Alice in Wonderland. It seems that it was her lust for adventure that led to her disappearance in October 1930,” Annabel explained. She pulled the photograph of Charley and her sisters closer and pointed each of them out. “That’s her, there. Cecilia’s on the left and Margaret is sitting in front.” Frowning, she glanced up from the photo to Charley. “Are you sure you’re not related? You’re very like her.”Charley straightened, not sure how she was going to get out of that one. “Well, I… that is - ”“Maybe your great-grandmother had a bit of a fling with Sir Richard,” the Doctor put in, ignoring the indignant sound she made at the suggestion and turning back to Annabel. “Always a chance in these places, isn’t there?”“Doctor…!” Charley hissed but Annabel just laughed.“Yes, I suppose so. It’s rather a sad story, really,” she said, looking at the photograph. “After Charley vanished the family seem to have gone a bit to pieces. Cecilia ended up as something of a black sheep; took up with Moseley and was cut off, understandably, so we don’t know much about her. And after the War Margaret married an American businessman and emigrated to New York. Hardly ever came back.”“That is very sad. May I?” The Doctor indicated the photo; she hesitated before nodding.“We don’t usually let people touch them but I suppose it would be OK just this once. They thought she’d died, you know. Charley. Her diary was unearthed in the remains of the R101 airship when it crashed in France a few days after she did a runner from her school. No one knows how it got there; her name wasn’t on the passenger list and there were no extra bodies found in the wreck. It was a mystery what happened to her for years.”“Oh?” An eyebrow arched enquiringly. “That makes it sound as though someone eventually found out the truth.”“Well, not entirely. It seems that Sir Richard never really got over losing his eldest daughter and things got a bit difficult between him and Lady Louisa for a while; apparently she and Charley had a bit of a fractious relationship and he partly blamed her for driving Charley away. I don’t think that was true as by all accounts Lady Louisa was pretty cut up herself and I guess that was probably the reason Cecilia went off the rails, but that’s just my opinion, of course,” Annabel added. “Sir Richard never gave up hope that Charley might come home, but it wasn’t until 1955 that a letter arrived, apparently from her, posted in Singapore. Unfortunately, he’d died six months before so he never got to see it. Or her, when she came to tea with a husband in tow a few weeks later.”“She came back?” The Doctor exchanged a glance with Charley. “After all that time?”Annabel nodded, and reached for the photograph Charley had been trying to see. “It was a shock to everyone by all accounts. This photo was taken the same day.” She pointed to a figure that, though she was looking away from the camera and trying to keep her hair from blowing around her face Charley immediately recognised as herself – herself as she was now. In the photo she was smiling at the person beside her, a man much the same height wearing a suit and a panama hat that hid most of his face, but whose distinctively sloped jaw and lop-sided grin gave him away as the Doctor. Seeing this for himself the Time Lord quickly put the photo he’d been holding back on the table and turned so that his profile was hidden from Annabel, pretending to appraise the portrait of Charley’s mother that hung above the fireplace instead. “I don’t believe they ever returned after that one visit – spent their time travelling by all accounts, mainly to remote locations - but it seems to have set the minds of the family – what was left of them at least – at rest.”“All’s well that ends well there, then,” the Doctor said after a pause, during which Charley did her best to assimilate this information without much success. She now wanted nothing more than to get back to the TARDIS so that they could discuss these impossible events in private but they couldn’t really just run away, not when Annabel had been so accommodating. It seemed he thought the same as he gestured towards the portrait. “Now that’s very fine. A Sargent, isn’t it?”“Yes. That’s Lady Louisa; he painted her almost at the end of his career, when she was just eighteen. The picture was actually sold in Sir Richard’s lifetime, money being tight after the War, but when the relatives of the American collector who bought it put it up for auction we managed to raise enough money to get it back,” Annabel said proudly. “It’s good to see her back where she belongs. I think - ”“Anna?” The guide from the hall poked his head around the doorframe. “Can I borrow you? The Shearings group have got a few questions I can’t answer again.”“I’ll be right there.” Annabel smiled apologetically. “Sorry; I’ll have to go. They always want to know the silliest things.”“No apology needed,” the Doctor assured her. “Thank you for your time. And we promise to stick to the marked route on our next visit, right Charley?”Charley blinked, dragging her gaze away from the photos. “What? Oh, oh, yes. We really are terribly sorry about that.”“I’ll let you off this once. Hey, if you or any of your family have any stories to tell about this place do please let me know.” Annabel rummaged in her pocket and found a leaflet, onto which she scribbled what looked like an email address. Charley had become used to those during her time in twenty-first century London. “I’d love to hear them.”“Of course.” Charley took the paper, which appeared to be printed with information about the house. “I’ll be sure to ask.”“Great! Nice to meet you both; enjoy the rest of your day.” Giving a quick wave Annabel was gone, leaving them with an older lady that Charley hadn’t even noticed sitting in the corner of the drawing room and who just smiled and nodded politely. Charley instinctively smiled back, head in a whirl; turning to the Doctor she found him studying the photograph of the two of them, glasses on and hands folded behind his back, giving the perfect impression of an interested tourist.“Doctor,” Charley said, just loud enough for him to hear, “What is happening here?”“That’s something I’d rather like to know myself,” he murmured, glancing over his shoulder to give the lady in the corner a smile of his own and remarking in a louder voice, “Fascinating!” before dropping back to a whisper. “Obviously you and I both know that we haven’t visited this house together before but this picture seems to suggest otherwise, doesn’t it?”“We’ve got to go back. We’ve already been; or at least we will do… or have done… oh, I hate trying to talk about things like this! I don’t know how you do it.”“Centuries of practise. And it certainly looks that way.” The Doctor considered for a moment, gaze moving quickly between their chaperone and the door; it was quite obvious that they were being watched. “Think we can sneak back to the TARDIS without being spotted?”Spying the eighteenth century hunting scene that someone had once told her showed a several-greats grandfather riding with Frederick, Prince of Wales, Charley made a beeline for it and beckoned him over. “Oh, John, you should see this; it’s a Wotton,” she called, adding sotto voce when he reached her side, “I believe that can be arranged. You are in the presence of a daughter of the house, after all.”“Then lay on , MacPollard. It seems we’ve got work to do.”
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“Well, that’s the letter posted,” Charley said as the TARDIS doors closed behind her. It had felt extremely strange and not exactly comfortable knowing she was back in Singapore so close in time to the events that had ended in their being separated, even if she had just been looking for a post box. “I wish I’d been able to see the original; then I would have had some idea what to say.”“If – as I’m pretty sure is the case - we’re caught up in a causal loop then the letter will always have said whatever you wrote half an hour ago,” the Doctor told her, glancing up from the console. “A few different words, a change in syntax… as long as the message is the same it won’t matter.”“To be honest, I didn’t really know where to start. How do you address your mother after twenty five years of silence? ‘Hello, Mama, it’s me, Charley. I’m not dead after all, see you soon’?”His expression was an odd mixture of amusement and faint alarm. “That’s not what you wrote, is it?”“No, of course not! Well, not exactly that.” She joined him on the dais. “At least that article on the National Heritage website told us when the letter was sent. I can’t believe there are people actually researching my family, writing a book about us!”“Historians and publishers can always scent a good story.” The Doctor’s hands moved over the controls, taking them away from Far East Asia and on to their next destination: back to Little Polherd, Hampshire, but this time in June 1955. “You should be flattered.”“It just feels rather intrusive. I’m not sure Daddy would have approved.” Charley watched as he carefully calibrated dials and flicked switches. “She is going to get us there at the right time, isn’t she? I know how temperamental she can get.”The Doctor shot the time rotor a stern look. “Given that she was the one to take us to your home in the first place, I’d say the old girl’s in it up to her helmic regulator. She obviously knows that something’s going on; she’ll have been able to sense it down the timelines. I think we were always meant to land where we did, and because we ended up there - ”“We have to go back to 1955 to complete the loop. Yes, I know how it works. I should do after all this time.”“I suppose that’s true.” Setting them on their way he straightened, hitching up one hip to perch on the edge of the console so that he could run a sharp eye over her. “You’d better get changed; the journey won’t take long and it would probably be best under the circumstances if you don’t frighten the horses with some wildly out-of-period garb.”“I haven’t a clue what to wear; I’ve never been to the 1950s before,” she reminded him, glancing down at the jeans and jumper she was wearing. Never entirely comfortable trussed up in frocks and frills it hadn’t taken long for her to start experimenting with clothes from other time periods once she’d stepped aboard the TARDIS; she was used to most styles by now but hadn’t quite managed yet to shake off the comfortable twenty-first century togs she’d favoured during lockdown. “What’s wrong with this? Haven’t women started wearing trousers by then?”“They started not long after you left, though it took a while for them to be accepted. And there’s nothing wrong with it, per se, it just occurred to me that conservative types such as your mother will probably have a little trouble assimilating 2020s casual when they’re still used to girdles and white gloves, that’s all,” the Doctor said, the corner of his mouth twitching.“Oh, really? In that case, you’re going to change, too.”He turned back to the controls and moved a dial a minute amount to the left. “I don’t think so.”“Yes, you are.” Charley shifted him round to face her again, smoothing down the lapels of his coat. “I know you like this, and I like it too, but we saw in the photograph that you did. And to be honest, if I’m going to introduce you to my mother as my husband I’d rather she didn’t immediately ask me why you’re wearing fancy dress.”His lips twitched again. “Husband. Yes, I noticed that. I’ve obviously been given an upgrade.”“I can’t really call you anything else, can I? Friend is too imprecise, too… too small a word. Partner… well, she won’t accept that, will she? The only logical reason for us to be together in her eyes is that we’re married.”One of those ever-mobile brows quirked. “And you inferred that in your letter?”“I…” She trailed a finger over the fabric of his waistcoat, fixing her gaze on the top button. “I might have done. Obliquely.”“Really.” The Doctor took hold of her left hand and regarded their linked fingers. “In that case, while you’re in the wardrobe you’d better find yourself a ring. She’ll definitely notice if you’re not wearing one.”Charley hadn’t thought of that. “Oh, goodness, yes. She certainly will.”“I’m sure the TARDIS will help you find something suitable. I’ll meet you back here in fifteen minutes.” He disentangled himself, kissed her on the forehead and strolled off towards the inner door. Halfway there he stopped, glanced back and obviously trying to sound casual remarked, “You know, leather jackets were becoming quite popular in the Fifties. I could always - ”“No, Doctor. If I have to dress conservatively then you do, too,” she told him sternly. “You were wearing a suit in the photo. And anyway, if my mother is going to have kittens at the sight of me in jeans I’m sure she’ll react the same way to your jacket.”“You could tell her I’m a sailor,” he suggested, a hopeful note in his voice.“No, Doctor.”He sighed. “Oh, well. You can’t blame me for trying.”She waited until he’d gone before she started laughing.Charley didn’t really have much idea what she was looking for; she recognised the dresses of her youth, which were radically different to those worn by her mother at the same age, the hemlines on the knee instead of the floor, and the sort of styles that were coming in around the time she left Earth but given free rein in the TARDIS wardrobe she’d often chosen in a pick and mix fashion, not bothering to find out exactly when the clothes she chose to wear on a daily basis were from.Fortunately the ship always knew what she wanted when she ventured inside for something specific and she quickly found a rail of rather nice frocks with nipped-in waists and wide skirts and, aware that time was pressing (ironic in a time machine) she picked one that looked like the dress she’d been wearing in the photograph, in navy blue with polka dots and a red patent belt that cinched her in just enough without being uncomfortable. She’d vowed never to wear stockings again once she discovered the far more convenient future miracle of tights but on this occasion had to bow to convention as that was all that had been provided; she hurriedly pulled them on, trying not to snag the weave with a stray hangnail and doing her best to ensure the seams were straight. Having added the shoes and the small, cap like hat that had been put out for her as well she regarded herself in the mirror and decided that she actually rather liked the effect. It was pretty without being ridiculously feminine and as the heels were low and there was plenty of fabric in the skirt she would easily be able to run away from monsters, an activity she hoped wouldn’t be required but knew from long experience with the Doctor that it was always best to be prepared for.Once a ring on her wedding finger (which felt very strange), a light jacket and a pair of gloves had completed the ensemble she went off to find him. Unsurprisingly he’d beaten her back to the console room and was sitting in his armchair reading Robinson Crusoe upside down; she’d challenged him on that the day before, sure he was just pretending, but he assured her he preferred it that way, claiming it was more interesting. She hadn’t believed it then and still didn’t.“Well?” she asked loudly to get his attention when he gave no reaction to her presence. “Will I do?”He glanced around the carved back of the chair, looked her up and down and nodded. “That looks about the right period. Well done.”“Thank you.” She stood there for a few moments, feeling a bit silly, before asking, “What do you think of it?”“It’s very…” He considered for a moment. “Very… nice.”The assessment was disappointing, to say the least. “Nice? Is that it?”“What else do you want me to say?”“You could tell me if you like the dress, or the shoes, or the hat. Just say something other than ‘nice’. Nice is just such a nothing word. It’s what people say when they don’t want to think of anything else.”He looked at her again. “It’s… very like the one in the picture,” he offered, adding with a shrug when she just waited expectantly for more, “Sorry, Charley. Dresses aren’t really my thing.”Charley rolled her eyes. He might have been an alien but he could still behave just like most of the men of her acquaintance when required. “Never mind. Let’s have a look at you.”Obediently he jumped up and struck a pose, arms outstretched. In place of the quasi-Victorian outfit she’d been getting used to the past few weeks he’d found a three-piece suit in stone linen that looked cool and suitably tropical given they were supposed to have come from Singapore and teamed it with a pair of rather natty brown and cream brogues. A navy and white spotted silk handkerchief that conveniently matched her dress peeped from his breast pocket and instead of a tie there was a scarf in the same fabric at his throat. He’d even made an attempt to tame his hair, though without a great deal of success and she reached out to smooth back a couple of rogue curls. “Does madam approve?”“Very nice.” Two could play at that game. She tucked the ends of the scarf into his shirt collar. “You look like the photo, too. Apart from one thing: where’s the hat?”“Must I?” The Doctor pulled a face. “I haven’t worn a hat in centuries. It isn’t really me.”“Maybe not, but you were wearing one in the photograph so you’re going to wear one now. In my day, no gentleman ever went out without a hat and I doubt things can have changed that much in a couple of decades.” Charley glanced around and spotted a panama with a navy band hanging on the nearby hat stand; fetching it she popped it onto his head, adjusting the angle until she was happy. “There you are. Perfect.”“Thank you. She’s definitely in on this, you know,” he remarked heading for the console. “The TARDIS, I mean.”“What makes you say that?”He gestured to the hat. “The band on this used to be red.” Casting a glance towards the time rotor, he told the ship, “I’ll be having words with you later, old girl.” The TARDIS just made a beeping noise in reply and he shook his head, smiling. “You’re horribly sentimental sometimes.”“Do I take it that means she’s finally accepted me, then?” Charley enquired lightly. She’d always had a difficult relationship with the TARDIS; though it had improved after their time in the Divergent universe, when the problem of her existence had been solved and the ship was no longer infected with anti-time she’d still never thought that she was entirely welcome.“It certainly seems like it.” The Doctor opened the doors and sunlight began to stream into the room, bright against the dim surroundings. “Well, it looks like a lovely day out there! Shall we go?” Without waiting for an answer he strode off towards the stairs, getting halfway up them before he realised that Charley wasn’t following. She remained by the console, clutching the silly little handbag the TARDIS had put out for her; though she knew she had to do this her body didn’t seem to agree, her muscles refusing to respond. The Doctor skipped back down the steps and returned to her, folding his hands around hers and dipping his head ever so slightly so that he could look her in the eye. “Charley? Are you ready?”“No,” she said honestly. “And I’ll probably never be.”“We can leave. Come back another day. Or not at all.”It would be easy to take that option, to run away, but she knew they couldn’t. “And if we do that events will just conspire to nudge us back here, won’t they? We know we’ve done this, we’ve seen the evidence. We can’t escape it. We have to complete the loop, or things could go terribly wrong; it’s happened before.”“That’s true, but just at the moment I’m more concerned about you than the possible effects on the timelines,” he replied firmly. “Time will sort itself out, one way or another.”“Yes, and I know what that means. I’ve been a paradox, remember? I don’t want to start any more, however small.” Charley huffed in frustration. “If you want the truth, I’m scared,” she admitted after a pause. “It’s been so long… I don’t think I’m even the same person I was before I left. And talking to my mother was never that easy before; what on Earth am I going to say to her?”The Doctor’s smile this time was soft. “I’ll be there. You won’t need to deal with her on your own. And I’m sure that turning up out of the blue with a dashing man at your side will initiate some form of conversation.”Charley felt her mouth twitch. “I see. Dashing, are you?”“Well.” The smile became a grin. “It has been mentioned once or twice.”“You know, your head should rightly be twice the size it is,” she informed him. “Come on, let’s go before I change my mind.” Releasing her, he sketched an exaggerated bow and offered her his arm, which she took with an equally theatrical curtsy. As they sauntered towards the doors she commented, “Actually, it’s a shame this you isn’t much of a hat-wearer. It does make you look quite dapper.”“If you like it that much maybe I’ll have to work it into my regular wardrobe.”She considered that before shaking her head. “I don’t think a panama would go. Maybe something like a Stetson, or a - ”“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” the Doctor said and she laughed, though the laughter faded quickly when they stepped outside and she saw the oh-so-familiar landscape around them.The TARDIS had landed in the park, under some trees near the old ice-house. To one side and ahead of them stretched the carriage drive which had always been meticulously maintained by the groundsmen when Charley was a child but now looked as though it needed some work, bushes and brambles creeping in from the edges and weeds sprouting amongst the gravel. Slipping her arm from the Doctor’s and catching hold of his hand instead she found herself moving automatically through the scrubby grass, suddenly desperate to see the house. They’d not ventured outside on their earlier (later) visit and her heart bobbed into her throat when she remembered Annabel’s claim that the place had been rather run down when National Heritage took it on; rounding the bend in the drive it was a relief to see that though the paintwork obviously needed attention it looked much the same as she remembered, the red brick warmed by the sun and the wisteria that grew across the front, much thicker and extensive than it had been in her time, still flowering.“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again,” the Doctor murmured, looking around with interest. Their shoes crunched loudly on the gravel but there were no recent tracks that indicated any cars had driven this way recently which meant that visitors, at least from any distance, weren’t often received any more. When they reached the final approach and stood before the house itself he gave a low whistle. “I’m impressed. This place is Elizabethan; I hadn’t realised your family had such a long lineage.”“Sir Thomas Polherd was knighted by Henry VIII. His son built this house on the site of a dissolved priory, n 156…3, I think. I have a very impressive pedigree,” Charley informed him in a deliberately exaggerated cut-glass accent before grimacing. “I always wished I was just a normal person. Being told I had to behave this or that way because of my background… I hated it. I just wanted to be free, to do what I wanted to do, not what was expected of me all the time.”“I know exactly how you feel. Family precedent has a lot to answer for.”She glanced at him in surprise. “Did your family try to push you into doing things you didn’t want to as well?”“Of course. Why do you think I left Gallifrey in the first place?”“I’m never sure. You’ve given me at least half a dozen reasons.”“And all of them good ones. Look out,” the Doctor said, nudging her with an elbow and nodding towards the front door, which was opening, “I think we’ve been spotted.”Taking a deep breath, Charley only realised her grip on his hand had tightened when she felt him squeeze it back. With no idea who was living in the house now it was impossible to know what to expect. Had any of the old servants stayed on? Surely her mother wouldn’t open the door herself; the house was far too big for one elderly lady to manage alone, even if she had known the first thing about doing so. Perhaps Edith was still there in the kitchens; as the cook’s name popped into her head Charley began to wonder what she could possibly say if that was the case after the terrible experience of Edward Grove. Edith of course would know nothing about it but even after so long the memories were still fresh in Charley’s mind. It was so fantastical; how could she ever explain it all? How could –“I thought it must be you! Grandma showed me your photos.”The unexpected voice jerked Charley abruptly from her thoughts and she almost jumped to see the small figure that had emerged from the house. A girl - no more than seven or eight, she guessed, in a summer dress with a sailor collar, her fair hair in plaits that might have been neat to begin with but were starting to unravel - jumped down the steps and ran over to them, declaring in a voice that bore a very definite American accent,“Auntie Charley! You are my Auntie Charley, aren’t you? Grandma said you’d be coming today.”“I… well, I suppose I might be,” Charley hedged, glancing helplessly at the Doctor.“I would say, at a guess, that this young lady’s mother is your sister Margaret,” he said with a smile, and the girl nodded.“That’s right. I’m Lottie.” She turned to him. “I guess that makes you my Uncle John.”Charley had to hide her own smile when this time he had to silently appeal to her for assistance, for once in his lives lost for words. “I… er… well…”Fortunately Lottie didn’t seem to notice. “Come on,” she said, grabbing both their hands and starting to tow them towards the door. “Grandma’s waiting on the terrace; she can’t wait to see you. I’ll tell McKinley to fetch tea.”“You’ll ask Mrs McKinley to bring tea, Lottie,” someone else said, and Charley realised an older woman with horn-rimmed glasses wearing a smart tweed suit and sensible shoes was standing in the doorway. “Off you go, now; I’m sure Mr and Mrs Smith don’t want to be dragged around like one of your dolls.”“Aw, but Miss Trotter, can’t I - ”“And when you’ve been to the kitchen you can inform her ladyship that the guests have arrived,” Miss Trotter continued, her tone proving that she was from the same mould as the governesses Charley had endured (and in some cases driven away) years before.Lottie rolled her eyes. “Yes, Miss Trotter. But can’t I - ”“Now, please. I’ll take your aunt and uncle round to the terrace; it’s such a nice day I’m sure they’d like a little walk through the garden.”Watching Lottie pout and grumble Charley couldn’t help but see another girl there in her place, one who had had just as little love for rules and decorum. “Don’t be too hard on her,” she said when Lottie had vanished inside the house. “She’s excited, I think.”“Oh, yes, indeed! She’s talked about nothing else since your letter arrived,” Miss Trotter said, gesturing for them to precede her along the front of the house. “It’s been ‘Auntie Charley’ this and ‘Auntie Charley’ that; apparently that’s how her mother has always referred to you and she has obviously picked it up.”“Well, yes, Peg would have done. It’s what she and Cissy always called me. Is…” Charley hesitated, not sure she wanted to know but not wishing to be surprised, either. “Is Peg – I mean Margaret – here today?”“Sadly not; Mrs Armistead had to return to New York last month, much to her chagrin. She wanted to see you, naturally, but her husband had an important meeting that couldn’t be postponed. Lottie was rather upset; she hadn’t been expecting her parents to leave her quite so soon.”“I take it she’s staying with her grandmother before she starts school over here,” the Doctor remarked, adding with a shrug when Charley glanced at him in surprise, “It seemed a logical deduction.”“And a correct one,” Miss Trotter told him. “Mr Armistead was very insistent that she have a proper English education. I’m just easing her in for a few weeks, so to speak, trying to teach her how to behave. She’s a little harum-scarum at the moment, I’m afraid.”“Nothing wrong with that. She seems quite lively to me; I’d hate to see that drummed out of her.” His tone was light but there was a definite note of warning in it and Miss Trotter looked faintly uncomfortable for a moment before the expression changed to relief when she was saved from having to respond by their reaching the gate in the wall that led to the rose garden; able to turn the conversation to the flowers, which were in fine bloom if somewhat overgrown and in desperate need of pruning, instead she did so until they rounded the fountain and crossed the paved space to the side of the house that in Charley’s time had been a fernery but now boasted nothing more than a couple of cracked and empty stone troughs, coming at last to the terrace steps.“Mr and Mrs Smith are here, Lady Pollard,” the governess announced as she reached the top, and Charley’s heart missed a beat when at last she heard her mother’s voice, a little lower in pitch but still achingly familiar, reply,“Thank you, Trotter.”Then, before she could quite process the emotions that were surging to the fore Miss Trotter was moving aside and there she was, getting to her feet and holding out her hands, a guarded smile creasing a face that was both more lined and yet at the same time more youthful than Charley had been expecting. Her hair was still long but completely white now, arranged in a perfect bun on the back of her head in much the same style as she had always worn it and her clothes harked back to the fashions of her youth, her skirt almost to her ankles, the collar of her blouse high and frilled. Charley’s mouth was dry and she realised she hadn’t been joking in the TARDIS; she really did have absolutely no idea what to say.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Lottie, it’s so wonderful to see you,” Lady Louisa said, and in an instant Charley was transported back to her childhood. She swallowed, a lump quite suddenly there in her throat, and when she received no immediate reply her mother looked faintly puzzled. “What’s the matter? Won’t you say hello?”Though she was trying Charley still couldn’t manage to produce any words. She felt the Doctor’s cool, reassuring touch on her back, heard an inexplicable whisper of “Brave heart, Tegan” in her ear, and then he was stepping past her, removing his hat and offering a hand to Lady Louisa.“I’m sorry, she’s a little overcome,” he explained. “Memories, you know; it’s been a long time.”“It has indeed.” Charley’s mother shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr… Smith, isn’t it? Welcome to Polherd Court.”“Thank you, Lady Pollard, and it’s actually ‘Doctor’.” He flashed her a smile. “That’s what everyone calls me.”“I see.” Expression faintly sceptical, Lady Louisa glanced at her daughter. “Lottie didn’t mention that in her letter. Are you a doctor of medicine?”“Sometimes. And sometimes other things: history, folklore, science… I dabble in many areas, but my speciality is really the aerodynamics of applied horology, otherwise known as ‘why time flies’.” The Doctor nodded towards the house, thankfully continuing before that statement could be questioned, “I must say , it’s a beautiful place you have here. I wasn’t expecting such a venerable property. Charley tells me it’s Elizabethan; obvious really from the mullioned windows and structure of the wings. Typical of the period.”“Then you’re a doctor of architecture as well?” Lady Louisa raised an eyebrow. “A polymath indeed. I’m actually surprised Lottie remembers; I never could get her properly interested in her family history. She always preferred fairytales.”“Oh, nothing wrong with that.” The Doctor grinned. “I appreciate a good fairytale myself. A legend, too. And you can’t beat a good myth, can you?”“That was because fairytales were more interesting, Mama,” Charley said, finally finding her voice. “Don’t you think it would have been fun if Lady Wilhelmina had been a witch? Or if wicked old Sir Stephen was really a highwayman?”“I think it might have embarrassed your father,” her mother replied, one corner of her mouth lifting slightly before she added briskly, “Oh, do come here at once and give me a kiss; you’ve been away so long you must owe me hundreds.”Charley did, glancing at the Doctor who nodded encouragingly. “You’re looking very well, Mama.”“As are you. I thought you might have got one of those dreadful suntans that everyone seems to want these days, having been in the tropics, but I’m very glad to see that’s not the case. Well, sit down, both of you,” Lady Louisa commanded. “I hadn’t realised you’d arrived; I didn’t hear a car.”“We asked the driver to drop us off at the gates,” the Doctor told her smoothly, waiting for the ladies to take a seat before doing the same. “It’s too nice a day not to take advantage of and Charley wanted to show me the sights.”“Yes, like the oak tree I fell out of playing pirates when I was six,” Charley said. Her nerves were jangling and she was glad when he reached for her hand; his touch had a marvellous grounding effect and she felt herself relax, just a little. “I still have a scar on my chin.”His lips quirked in amusement. “I’d always wondered where that came from.”“I’m afraid Lottie was always one for rough and tumble,” Lady Louisa told him with a sigh. “She used to lead her sisters astray.”“They never complained,” Charley countered, and was startled by the sadness that swept across her mother’s face.“No. No, they didn’t,” she said. “Poor girls. They were quite inconsolable when you left; I think Cissy felt as though she’d lost a limb, and dear Peggy cried for weeks. And when we thought you’d…” She shook her head sharply. “Forgive me; I hadn’t intended to bring any of that up so soon. McKinley should be here shortly with the tea.”They’d cried. For some reason Charley had never thought that they would; being the one who ran rather than those left behind, for a long time she had never really considered how her disappearance would have affected her loved ones. She’d been too busy, too caught up in danger and excitement; as time went on and her old life retreated further and further into the past it was easy to tell herself that they would have eventually carried on perfectly well without her, and to hear now that her sisters, those to whom she had once been closest of all, had missed her, shed tears for her… Stupidly, selfishly, she’d always thought that they would be happy for her, finally escaping to see the world, to have some of those adventures they’d talked about. It had been easy to believe that her absence would have made few ructions in the staid little world she’d always inhabited, distance just increasing her naivety. If you never looked back, you never had to deal with the consequences; for you, at least, everything you’d left just stayed the same as it had always been. She’d often wondered if that was the reason the Doctor kept going forwards.“I’m sorry, Mama.” No other words seemed adequate, even if she had some at her disposal just then.“I’m sure you must have had a reason. And at least you’re here now; your father would have been so happy to see you.” A tear glistened in Lady Louisa’s eye and she glanced in the direction of the estate chapel – also the parish church - just visible through the trees. “It’s such a shame you couldn’t have come home sooner.”“It took some time for the news to reach us.” The Doctor squeezed Charley’s hand again when she felt her own eyes well up. “We move around a lot; when we get the English newspapers they’re always weeks, even months late, and then it took time to arrange passage home… Charley wrote as soon as we heard.”“How did it… how did it happen, Mama?” Charley asked, not entirely sure she wanted to hear the answer. Though she’d always known her father was/would be dead at some point, never having expected to see him again it had seemed like an abstract concept until now. Just six or so months ago in this timeline he would have been sitting there on the terrace exactly as they were doing at that moment, perhaps in the very seat she was currently occupying, and the thought that she’d missed seeing him by such a short margin… for a moment she wanted to ask the Doctor if they could go back further, to see him just once, but she knew what his response would be.“His heart,” her mother said, blinking the tear away. She never had liked showing emotion in public, a stance that had been the cause of several arguments between them when she tried to curb Charley’s natural exuberance. “It was very quick; he wouldn’t have known anything about it, so the doctors said. McKinley found him, after dinner one evening just before Christmas; he’d collapsed over his desk.”“The peaceful ending he deserved, I’m sure,” the Doctor said gently, and she nodded.“Yes, yes indeed. Ah, here’s Lottie.” Looking grateful for the distraction, Lady Louisa smiled as her granddaughter approached from the house proudly carrying a laden tea tray and followed by a worried-looking plump woman that Charley guessed must be the housekeeper. It was clear that the place was no longer fully-staffed as it had been in her time. “I’m so pleased Peggy brought her over; she’s been wonderful company for me.”The Doctor got to his feet. “Let me help with that,” he offered as Mrs McKinley winced at the way the cups were rattling rather alarmingly in their saucers. She looked almost pathetically grateful when he took the tray and put it down on the table with all the crockery intact.Lottie bounced on her toes. “We’ve got cake,” she informed everyone. “And cookies.”“Biscuits, Lottie, not cookies,” Lady Louisa chided. “Why don’t you sit down next to Lott - ” She frowned. “Oh, dear; this is going to be awkward. I can’t very well call you both Lottie, can I? That would be too confusing.”“You could call me Charley, Mama,” Charley suggested. “It’s what I’ve always preferred.”“Why don’t you call her Charley, Grandma?” Lottie asked, curious. “Momma does.”“Well, I suppose… we called her Lottie when she was born and that’s what stuck. Your mother named you after her,” Lady Louisa replied. “You’re both called Charlotte.”“Yeah, but Momma doesn’t call her ‘Auntie Lottie’, does she?”“No, that’s true.”The Doctor caught Charley’s eye. “It’s Charley, then,” he said, and she smiled, remembering their first meeting, how he’d called her that immediately when she told him that she was Charley to her friends. At last releasing her hand he ran his gaze over the contents of the tray and it lit up when he saw the Victoria sponge. “Ah, now that’s something I’ve not tasted in a long time! Did you make it, Mrs McKinley?”“I did indeed, sir. It still feels odd to be able to get hold of the ingredients so easily,” the housekeeper told him. “Can I cut you a slice?”“Yes, please. It looks delicious.”“Don’t let him have too much,” Charley warned, knowing what he was like with the contents of the biscuit tin. “He’s got a terrible sweet tooth. Haven’t you, darling?”He caught his lower lip between the teeth in question, obviously trying not to laugh at the unexpected endearment and the stress she’d put on it. “Yes, I’m afraid I have.”“I don’t suppose you had rationing in the East,” her mother remarked. “It only ended here last year. Ridiculous that we had to endure it for so long after the end of the War, but there it is. Money is short all round now.”“How did you meet Auntie Charley, Uncle John?” Lottie asked as the tea was poured, crunching the shortbread biscuit she’d swiped from one of the plates when Lady Louisa wasn’t looking and earning herself a reproving glance from Miss Trotter. “Was it in Singapore? Momma always says she ran away because she wanted to meet a boy at the Singapore Hilton; was that you?”The Doctor and Charley exchanged a glance. “No, that was someone else,” she said. “I didn’t actually get there, though I did try.”“We met on board an airship.” The Doctor took a forkful of cake and nodded appreciatively. “This is very good, Mrs McKinley.”“An airship? Surely not the R101?” Lady Louisa enquired, looking startled, and Charley found herself holding her breath, not sure where he was going to go with this. Surely he wouldn’t just tell the truth? That would be ludicrous!“Actually, it was.” Casually he reached for his teacup, somehow managing not to spill any when Charley gave his ankle a warning kick under the table. “I was on my way to Karachi, on a lecture tour, but before we were due to take off I realised I’d mislaid some of my notes; I’m terribly forgetful, you see. When I went to ask the stewards if I could possibly have access to my luggage so I could look for the missing papers you can imagine how surprised I was to find that one of them was Charley! It turned out that she’d smuggled herself aboard in place of one Mr Simon Murchford, who she’d managed to get roaring drunk so that she could pinch his uniform. Wanted to see the world, and keep her date in Singapore.”Charley’s mother’s eyebrows lifted towards her hairline. “Did she really? And exactly who was this ‘date’ you wanted to meet?”“His name was Alex Grayle. You didn’t know him; we met at a dance organised by my school and saw each other a bit afterwards,” Charley said, adding defensively when her mother’s lips pursed in disapproval, “He was travelling to Singapore and suggested we meet at the Hilton on New Year’s Eve; I thought he was joking at first but he insisted he was serious so I agreed. It sounded such fun, and I hated that school. I wanted a bit of adventure.”“But surely the R101 went down with no survivors,” Miss Trotter remarked. “How in the world did the two of you escape?”“We never made it into the air,” the Doctor replied, much to Charley’s relief; she’d been half expecting him to mention the Triskele and Ramsay. “I decided to disembark while we were still in Cardington and persuaded Charley to come with me; I don’t know precisely what it was but something about that ship just didn’t feel right. After that I helped her to find a hotel as she didn’t have much money on her, obviously, and didn’t want to just come home with her tail between her legs. There’s not a lot of excitement in Bedfordshire in October, so when I was organising an alternative route to India she asked if she could come too and as I’m always up for a bit of company I agreed. We’ve been together ever since.”Lady Louisa’s frown hadn’t disappeared. “How very unconventional. I can’t say I approve, but I suppose what’s done is done.”“Well, there’s something of the bohemian in me, and in Charley, too, you know. We’re kindred spirits, really. I travel a lot and she decided to join me on the road.”“After you were married, presumably. I take it you are married?” “Of course we are, Mama,” Charley assured her, deliberately picking up her teacup with her left hand so that the ring could be seen. “We’ve been married for… how long is it now, John?”“Ooh, it must be nearly twenty-five years,” the Doctor said after a few moments of exaggerated consideration. “Silver wedding anniversary in January; the time really has flown!”“Well, you would know all about that, dearest, being an expert on the subject,” she told him sweetly.“Thank you, my love,” he retorted and she had to try very hard not to spit out the mouthful of tea she’d just taken.Beside her Lottie pouted. “Aw, that’s such a boring story. I thought you would’ve met somewhere really exciting!”The Doctor leaned over, and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “All right, I’ll let you into a little secret: I made all that up for your grandmother and Miss Trotter. I didn’t think they’d believe me if I said Charley and I really flew from the burning airship to my time machine on the back of an alien dinosaur.”“Doctor,” Charley chided under her breath but Lottie just laughed.“Really?” she exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight. “That’s fantastic!”“It is, isn’t it?” he agreed, grinning, and Charley kicked him again. “Ow!” He shot her a hurt look, reaching down to rub at his ankle. “What was that for?”She gave him her best innocent expression in return. “Sorry, dear. My foot must have slipped.”“What happened then?” Lottie asked excitedly. “Where did you go next? Did you keep the dinosaur as a pet?”“Don’t be so preposterous, Lottie,” Lady Louisa scolded as the Doctor and Charley just looked at each other, “Dinosaurs died out millions of years ago. Doctor Smith is quite obviously teasing you.” Not giving anyone a chance to respond to that she turned to her daughter. “After the R101 went down they found your diary in the wreckage,” she said seriously, a slight tremble in her voice. “For several weeks we thought you were dead, until we were informed that you weren’t listed in the records and as everyone who was could be accounted for you couldn’t possibly have been aboard. You should have let us know that you were all right; since you left we’ve had no idea where you were, not until your letter arrived last month. When I first read it I thought that someone was playing a prank until I recognised your handwriting.”“I’m sorry, Mama,” Charley told her, and she meant it. She should have made contact, she knew that now. Leaving them not knowing hadn’t been fair, but then she had come to realise as she got older that the young rarely thought of such things. It wouldn’t have been hard to do but travelling in the TARDIS had been so chaotic that she never even thought to ask the Doctor to take her somewhere she could post a letter or a card, and though she’d never wanted to leave maybe, deep down, she’d always thought that if one day the unthinkable happened and she had to go back she would somehow slot into their lives as though nothing had changed. “I didn’t realise I’d left the diary behind, and we were out of touch for such a long time - ”“It’s entirely my fault, Lady Pollard,” the Doctor cut in, evidently sensing with that casual telepathy of his the guilt that was welling up inside her and perhaps feeling a little himself now that he was face to face for once with the consequences of his own actions; he had never seemed very concerned about the family she’d left behind, either. “I should have insisted she write to you to explain.”“Oh, I don’t blame you, Doctor Smith,” Lady Louisa said with a sigh. “Not entirely. I know my daughter; you couldn’t have made her do anything she didn’t want to. I don’t think anyone has that capability; it’s certainly not something her father or I ever possessed.”An awkward silence reigned around the table following that pronouncement, broken only by the delicate clinking of china, and Charley felt her cheeks burn in shame. She knew she was in the wrong, and though she might be a middle-aged woman now and had accepted the fact her mother could still make her feel as though she was five years old. She busied herself with her tea, declining a slice of cake even though the Doctor was obviously enjoying his, and told herself that though she might have made some questionable decisions, they had at least been hers to make; she wasn’t a child any more and hadn’t been for a very long time.At length Miss Trotter put down her cup. “Come along, Lottie,” she said, touching her charge – who until then had been happily clearing the plate of biscuits - lightly on the shoulder. “I think it’s time we left the grown-ups to talk.”Lottie screwed up her face. “Aw, Miss Trotter, do we really have to?”“Yes, dear. I’m sure your aunt and your grandmother have a lot of catching up to do; we’ll just be in the way.”The youngster looked so disappointed that Charley opened her mouth to tell Miss Trotter she could stay but before she could speak the Doctor pushed back his chair.“You’re right, Miss Trotter; they most certainly do,” he agreed and turned to Lottie. “And they don’t need me cluttering the place up, either, so tell me, Miss Armistead: do you know how to play croquet?”“No. What is it?” she asked eagerly. “A game? I love games!”“I’ll show you. And Miss Trotter can come, too. I’m sure she knows where the balls and mallets live; a house like this must have a croquet set somewhere.”Miss Trotter looked completely flustered at the suggestion, delivered as it was with one of the Doctor’s most winning smiles. “Well, yes, I do, but surely we shouldn’t - ”“Yes, we absolutely should. Come on, Lottie; you can bang in the hoops,” the Doctor said, reaching for his hat and dropping it onto Lottie’s head. It fell over her eyes and she pushed it back, grinning up at him. “If you’ll excuse us, ladies..?”“He seems like a kind man,” Lady Louisa commented as the little group strolled along the terrace and the Doctor’s voice drifted back to them, challenging Lottie to a race down the slope onto the lawn; she started enthusiastically and he chased after her, pretending to trip halfway and ending up rolling dramatically to the bottom, much to the girl’s delight.“He is,” Charley agreed.“If a… trifle eccentric.”Charley laughed. That meant her mother thought the Doctor was completely mad. “It’s one of the things I love most about him.” Amusement fading, she looked at her hands, clasped in her lap, for a long moment before taking a deep breath and announcing, “I am sorry, Mama, for not keeping in touch. I should have done, but our life has been so hectic, and the D – John’s work takes him to so many out of the way places - ”“It’s all right, my dear. I understand,” Lady Louisa said, making Charley blink in surprise and wonder whether she’d just heard right.“You do?”“Yes. Or rather, your father did. He knew you weren’t suited to this life, told me so many times, but he didn’t know how we could go about changing things. You weren’t academic, so university wasn’t an option, and there were so few opportunities then for girls of your class... it was difficult to know what else could be done for you. We couldn’t let you become a racing driver, or an actress, which if I remember rightly were a couple of your own suggestions, but he thought that perhaps another year abroad might help. Southern Europe, perhaps, or Egypt… he had the idea that some proper foreign travel would help you to shake off your wanderlust, allow you a few of the adventures you so desperately craved before you had to settle down.”“Oh.” That was definitely not what Charley had been expecting to hear. “I had no idea.”“No. Well, he was going to discuss it with you when you finished your last term at school, but then we got the message barely a few weeks into the first to say that you’d gone missing…” Lady Louisa shook her head. “It hurt him a great deal, when you ran away, but deep down he understood.” She smiled sadly. “He always understood you girls much better than I could.”“It must have been lonely for you these past few months. Without him.”“I can’t deny it. Peggy was here for a few days after the funeral, and again in May, but her husband is so frightfully busy that she spends most of her time in New York just now. And as for Cissy…” A shadow crossed her face. “We don’t talk about Cissy.”“She didn’t come to say goodbye to Daddy?” Charley asked.“No. And I wouldn’t have allowed her over the threshold if she had; he would never have forgiven me,” her mother retorted, tone so sharp that Charley quickly looked around for a change of subject, her eye wandering over the house behind them, the overgrown creepers and flaking paint on the window frames. From this angle, so much closer than when she’d arrived, it definitely looked as though it needed a good deal of love and care, the air of neglect obvious as she juxtaposed that which was before her eyes now with her own memories. She knew from what Annabel had told them that if she were to venture inside the dilapidation would be greater still and was glad the day was fine enough to keep them outside.“The house looks rather sad,” she remarked, and after a few moments Lady Louisa nodded.“We can’t get the staff nowadays; no one wants to work in service any more. And of course things have never been the same since the end of the War; we moved to London when the War Ministry commandeered the place and they used it to lodge American GIs, some of whom decided to try cooking in one of the bedrooms and set fire to the floorboards, which collapsed into the library below. Your father was devastated when we were able to return and he saw what they’d done; tried to have it put right but after so many years of further damage it would just have cost too much, especially with all the other work that needs doing.” She sighed. “I really don’t know what I’m going to do about it. It’s far too big for one old lady and a schoolgirl; Lottie and I are really just living in the East Wing now, the rest is under dust sheets. And then there are the death duties; the amount the government wants to take from me is quite ludicrous. Far, far more than I can pay and still keep the house.”“Is there a way to… oh, I don’t know… give them the house instead?” Charley suggested, adding when her mother looked surprised, “You just said that it’s too big for you to manage.”“I suppose I hadn’t thought about it. I’m meant to be seeing Mr Threlfall next week to discuss the situation; I did speak to Jeffrey – Peggy’s husband – on the subject but as you’d expect he’s not very knowledgeable when it comes to English law. Would you…” Very uncharacteristically Lady Louisa hesitated. “… Would you mind very much if I did give the place away?”An hour ago, when she’d first arrived, or even earlier when she’d stepped inside for the first time in decades, Charley might have said yes. But the longer she spent there the more she realised that reality and her memories no longer matched; time had moved on too much for her to feel at home here any more. Not that in all honesty she ever really had; she’d always been searching for something else, something beyond these walls. “No,” she said. “Not at all. And if it’s the right thing for you to do I don’t think Peg would, either.”“But what would they do with it? Not knock it down; I couldn’t bear that, and your poor father would be spinning in his grave. He’d probably haunt me for the rest of my days.”“What about National Heritage? They often take over properties, I believe; preserve them for future generations,” Charley said, partly quoting the slogan that had been printed on the leaflet given to her by Annabel sixty-one years in the future.“Yes. Yes, they do; I’ve heard about it from friends who have been hard up.” Lady Louisa grimaced. “I hate to think of myself in that boat but it is true that an estate like this takes such a shocking amount to run and over the past ten years the money just hasn’t been there any more. That’s why there are buckets under the holes in the roof and we sold my portrait by Sargent.”“You still have the London house, though; why not retire there?” Charley suggested. “You’ll be closer to your friends and I’m sure the upkeep would be far less.”“But what about Lottie?”“Take her with you. I’m sure she’ll have more fun exploring the sights than being stuck here in the country until term starts.”A cheer from the direction of the lawn had them both looking that way to see Lottie pointing and laughing delightedly, having completely smashed the Doctor’s croquet ball a good six feet from the nearest hoop much to his apparent annoyance. Lady Louisa smiled, a genuinely fond smile that had the effect of softening her face from its normal stern lines.“Perhaps you could take her along on your travels for a while,” she said. “You’re right; she shouldn’t be buried in the country the way the three of you were. I think she may be an adventurer too; I offered her Peggy’s room but she insisted on having yours. Fell in love with that ridiculous bed.”That explained the unfamiliar toys they’d seen in 2016. There was the sound of another thwack from the lawn; pretending to be offended by Lottie’s laughter the Doctor gave his ball a deliberately exaggerated bash that sent it careering off at an angle ridiculously wide of the target and into one of the straggling flowerbeds, an action that just had her giggling even harder and Miss Trotter giving an amused roll of the eyes as she called out,“I’m not sure you completely understand the rules of this game, Doctor Smith..!”“Oh, but it’s much more fun this way, Miss Trotter!” he countered with a grin. “Go on; let your hair down!”Charley couldn’t help smiling, too. “I’m sure John would love to, but our trips aren’t really suitable for a child. He has a lecture in Oxford this evening which is partly why we’ve come home, but after that we’ll be back on the road again. I’m never quite sure where we’ll end up next, and sometimes neither is he.”“That must be exciting.” Her mother glanced at her. “I’ve never travelled. Had my season in London, married your father, and then the three of you came along… all very conventional. It never occurred to me to kick over the traces; maybe I should have tried, but that sort of thing just wasn’t done in those days. The world has changed a lot since then.”“For the better, hopefully.”“Yes. I take it you don’t have children of your own?” Charley shook her head; there was no way that she could explain about the sound creature or the sentient house that were her only offspring and wasn’t sure she wanted to. “That’s a shame. I always thought you would make a good mother.”It was fortunate Lottie took that moment to run back to them as Charley had no idea what to do with that unexpected statement. “Uncle John just told me he met Marco Polo!” she announced, adding with a faintly exasperated glance back at the Doctor, who was strolling behind her with Miss Trotter, “Even I know that’s not true. Marco Polo’s ancient history!”“Oh, he’s a horrible joker,” Charley told her. “You shouldn’t listen to a word he says. I never do.”“I know,” the Doctor said. Taking back his hat he settled it on his head at a slightly rakish angle and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Are you ready to go, Mrs Smith?”Lottie’s face fell. “You’re not leaving already? But, I was - ”“Sadly, the dreaming spires are expecting us and I’m a couple of centuries late as it is.” He turned to Charley’s mother. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Louisa.”“You’re very welcome, Doctor Smith. Thank you for bringing my daughter home at last,” Lady Louisa replied as behind her Lottie, plaits flying, turned and ran lightly up the steps and into the house, much to Miss Trotter’s consternation.“Oh, I had very little to do with it. As you’re well aware, Charley knows her own mind.”“As does the TARDIS,” Charley muttered under her breath, switching on a smile when her mother took her hands. “Goodbye, Mama. It was good to see you again. I’m sorry it took so long.”Lady Louisa shook her head. “Will you come again? When things are settled?”“I…” Charley hesitated. She knew the answer to that question, but she couldn’t bear to let her mother know that this would be their last meeting. “We’ll see,” she said eventually. “It depends where life takes us; tomorrow we could be on our way to Australia.”“Well, if you are, send me a postcard. I’ve always been curious about the place.”“I will.”“Do you have a car coming to collect you?” Miss Trotter asked. “I could telephone - ”“Oh, please don’t trouble yourself,” the Doctor told her. “We’ll walk; we’re quite used to rambling around. We can - ”“Don’t go yet!” At the shout they all turned to see Lottie racing back towards them, almost slipping in her haste. She was carrying something that looked vaguely familiar, something rectangular with a circular lens that Charley recognised belatedly as a camera, but one both far in advance of those she remembered from her childhood and antique when compared with similar equipment of the future. “I want a picture!”“Oh, yes, of course! She’s actually a very good little photographer,” Lady Louisa said. “Peggy and Jeffrey bought her a Brownie for her birthday. You must let her take a couple.”“Momma would be cross if I didn’t get one.” Lottie took up a stance in front of the table and, having motioned for them all to shuffle closer together ordered, “Now, hold still all of you. And say cheese!”“Very well: gorgonzola,” the Doctor offered, earning himself a very grown-up-sounding tut in response and a slap on the arm from Charley.“I can’t get used to how quickly pictures are taken now,” Lady Louisa confessed when the shutter had clicked and they were permitted to move. “Or how small the equipment has become. I can still remember when one had to hold perfectly still for over a minute; it was so very hard to do!”“Auntie Charley, Uncle John, let me have a shot of you two,” Lottie said just as they were about to resume their farewells, reminding Charley that the picture which had brought them there was still to be taken. She had all but forgotten about it.“How would you like us to pose, Lottie? Like this?” she asked, and slipping her arm through the Doctor’s turned to him just as a gust of wind tried to blow her hair over her face. He laughed, angling his head towards her as she tried to brush it away, and she heard the click again that told her they’d done it. They’d completed the loop.There was a little more slightly awkward chatter of the kind that always happened when parties broke up, inconsequential comments as those leaving tried to draw themselves away. At last, when they really did have to go before she changed her mind and promised that they would return, and soon, her mother kissed her on the cheek and murmured,“Look after yourself, Charley. We’ll be thinking of you, wherever you are.”Hearing that name for the first time from one who had always refused to use it, Charley had to bite very hard on her lower lip to stop her eyes welling with tears again.They strolled back to the TARDIS, waving to Lottie until, standing on the front steps with Miss Trotter, she was hidden by the bend in the drive, but Charley couldn’t leave without making a detour to the chapel and her father’s grave. Upon seeing the headstone tears did finally fall and the Doctor slid an arm around her, letting her cry into his shoulder before carefully drying her cheeks with his handkerchief.“We could go back further,” he said quietly as they stood there, listening to the chirping of the birds in the overhanging yew tree that bordered the little churchyard. “You could see him.”“No, we couldn’t. I know that. You know that. But thank you for offering.” Charley sighed. “This is why you don’t go back, isn’t it? To see people after they’ve left you. It’s because if you don’t, you never have to find out what happened to them. You don’t have to see their graves. They can live forever.”He rested his head against hers. “Yes. And I don’t want to disrupt their lives. It’s a big change, having to make a life after travelling in the TARDIS; they don’t need me upending it by turning up on their doorsteps with a few Daleks or an odd Cyberman in tow.”“Even though you’d like to see them again?”“Even then.”She was quiet for a while, and at length they left through the old lych gate having passed the monuments to Polherds both venerable and notorious, wandering hand in hand towards the police box that stood dappled by the late afternoon sunlight, a couple of squirrels nosing around the base.“Could we stop off in Fifties Australia, do you think?” she asked when the Doctor was rummaging through his pockets for the key.An eyebrow arched. “What for?”“To pick up some postcards. I thought that I might send one or two to Mama.”He frowned. “There was no mention of postcards in that article we read.”“Maybe no one found them. You did say that time would compensate for small changes,” she reminded him.“That’s true. I suppose a couple wouldn’t hurt. Aha! Gotcha.” He held up the key triumphantly and Charley laughed.“You and those pockets of yours. Have you ever thought about clearing them out once in a while?”“One never knows when something will come in useful. Are you all right?” The question was serious, and he looked relieved when she nodded.“Yes. I’d thought about the offer you made a few weeks ago and decided that returning wouldn’t be a good idea but I think I’m glad we did come. I know what happened now, and while it might not be all good news, I can live with it. I’ve got an end to the story; I don’t have to wonder any more.”“The Americans of the later twentieth century would refer to that as ‘closure’.”She pulled a face. “Eurgh. Would they?”“Mmm. It means that you can move on, knowing, as you say, that the story’s ended. How do you feel about gaining a niece?” he asked as he opened the door.“Not just me; you’ve gained one, too.”“Yes. It seems I have, if only by proxy.”Charley smiled. “She’s lovely, isn’t she? It’s a shame I won’t see her grow up.”“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t damage things too much if we popped in a few years later, when she has a life of her own, perhaps. Though of course we might have some explaining to do if we wait a couple of decades and you don’t look any older.”“Which will doubtless happen because the TARDIS is always so reliable when it comes to finding the right date and time.”“Don’t be so hard on her; she got us here, didn’t she?” The Doctor looked thoughtful for a moment. “Do you know what I think?”“No. I never know what you think. What do you think?” Charley enquired.“I think the old girl has been trying to set us up.”Now it was her turn to frown. “Doctor, despite what you said earlier the TARDIS and I have never exactly got on. I’m well aware that she doesn’t like me. Why would she want to do that?”“Oh, I don’t know.” He smiled softly, and patted her hand where it still rested in the crook of his arm. “Maybe she’s noticed how happy having you back has made me.”She felt herself blush at that. “Well I’m very happy to be back,” she said, adding quickly before things could get too sentimental, “Would she really stick us in a causal loop just to do that?”“Well…” The Doctor shrugged. “She’s a semi-sentient type-40 TT capsule. Maybe to her that constitutes a good date.”“To each their own, but personally I’d rather have dinner and dancing.”“I believe that can be arranged. I wouldn’t mind cutting a rug or two myself. Where would you like to go?”Charley thought. “When was that song you were singing this morning from? I rather liked it.”“See the marketplace in old Algiers… Send me photographs and souvenirs… Just remember when a dream appears… You belong to me…” he warbled. “Actually, as it happens it’s from the early Fifties. We can swing by a little place I know in Chelsea if you like; we’re already dressed for it.”“I am. I’m not going anywhere else with you in that suit; you’re covered in grass stains.”The Doctor rolled his eyes. “You are never satisfied! All right, I’ll change. Not the leather,” he promised when she opened her mouth. “Or my other coat. Something appropriate.”“In that case, Doctor Smith, I think that’s a marvellous idea,” she told him and he grinned, letting go of her arm to hop down the steps and head for the console where he started inputting coordinates, finally pulling the dematerialisation lever with a flourish.“It’s funny, Mrs Smith,” he said, returning to her side to take her hand and twirl her across the floor. “I thought you might…”