Chapter One

Kadiatu had never been the easiest of people to strike up a conversation with, but this time she had been more taciturn than normal. She and aM!xitsa stowed away the provisions in virtual silence and soon after that their time machine vanished from the gravel driveway in a burst of colour and light that Benny's human vocabulary couldn't even begin to describe. Once she'd probably have envied them as they flew off into the unknown for another new adventure, but now she was quite content to spend a day on her own sitting in the overgrown garden of the Doctor's house, watching the birds chase each other around the treetops.

On that first morning she'd mopped down the wrought-iron garden furniture and brought out a couple of faded cushions from the living room sofa. She'd arranged them along the south side of the house, the one with the best view of the grounds, she'd put up a garden umbrella and then settled down to a day of serious relaxation. First, she had caught up with her diary. This was more important than ever, now that she'd finally persuaded a publishing company that there was a market for her memoirs. They'd paid her quite a big advance for the rights, so it only seemed fair that she should get around to sending them something.

She only wrote eight hundred words, none of them particularly enthralling ones, but managed to avoid thinking about Jason all day. Mid-afternoon she did catch herself congratulating herself that she hadn't been thinking about him, but concluded after some soul-searching that that didn't count.

When the Doctor hadn't turned up as arranged the next morning, Benny decided to spend a couple of weeks here in Allen Road before trying to get a lift anywhere else. She had quickly settled into a routine. At half-seven she'd shuffle across to the other side of the double bed in the main guest bedroom, and then shake herself awake when she realised that her husband wasn't there. Every night for thirty-three years - with only about a dozen exceptions before she was married - she'd slept in a single bed, by herself, so why did she feel so lonely every morning now when she woke up and there was no-one lying alongside her? She toyed with the third finger of her left hand. For thirty-three years she'd not worn a ring on that or any other finger, why did she now miss the weight of one that she'd only worn for a few months? Musing on this kept her occupied for a couple of minutes, before she decided that angst wasn't her thing, and she really ought to get on with her life.