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So there I am, talking to a fake alien version of my wife. And the truth is, it’s not so bad, actually.
Now, no, don’t look at me like that. There are things that you can write down that sometimes you can’t say to someone. No matter how much you love them. Because you love them.
There was a time when Amy really liked going clubbing. I’ve never been one of life’s dancers – I can jig around a beer bottle and that’s pretty much it. But not Amy – she’s hands in the air, woo, for hours and hours and hours. She even knows all the moves to Single Ladies. And, of course, there aren’t really clubs in Leadworth, so someone has to be the designated driver. That’ll be me. Rory Williams. Standing by the coats in the corner, swaying gently around an orange juice while Amy’s out there in the dry ice, laughing and dancing. She’s having a good time, so I stand there, pretending very hard, with a desperate grin on my face. Because I love her. And if I let on that I am bored out of my mind, then maybe she’ll leave me. I don’t want that to happen. So there’s me, and the coats, and the orange juice, hoping the wheels will still be on the Subaru when we finally leave New York. By which I mean New York the nightclub, so good they named it just the once.
It’s the same when we’re travelling around the universe, actually. Don’t get me wrong – it’s amazing, it genuinely is. But there are times – just times, when you think, ‘I would quite like a say, if that’s OK.’ Nothing grand. Just a choice of planet or something. Rather than finding yourself in a nightclub on Space Florida, holding the coats and yet another lukewarm orange juice, watching the Doctor and Amy dance.
They’ve gone now. I’m abandoned. They’re not coming for me. They’ve probably forgotten about me already. Got in the TARDIS (what’s that? Whispered a voice)… Yeah, got in the TARDIS and gone. Gone off through time and space (time and space?). Leaving me behind on a beach, talking with a version of my wife. And she is actually listening to me.
‘Right then,’ I said. ‘I don’t suppose you’d mind telling me what the plan is, would you?’
‘Silly,’ she said, tapping me lightly on the nose. ‘The Sea and I are going to make you all better.’ She tipped her head on one side and smiled. ‘You do want that, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I said. Because I am scared. So scared of dying here that I am letting this happen. ‘But why – why are you doing this to me?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s what we do, lover boy. We are very good at it.’
‘But…?’ I prod.
‘Clever thing,’ she laughed. ‘Well, we can only do it by reading your mind fully. We haven’t been able to do that yet. It takes time. Even this version of me is just skimmed from your surface memories.’
‘My brain?’ I said. ‘But why would you want to read my brain? I’m nothing special.’
Amy paused, and ruffled my hair. ‘Of course you’re not, durr.’ She blew a raspberry. It’s oddly chilling. ‘The mind we really want to read is the Doctor’s. But we haven’t been able to get into it, yet. So you’ll just have to do.’
Story of my life, I think, as the mist wraps itself around me.
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