Clara was busy trying to prepare supper for the kids with half an ear cocked for the sound of George Maitland's car pulling in and the other for the sound for the TARDIS materializing. A second later, she wished rather fervently that she hadn't been listening quite so hard.
A mortally offended shriek followed by a series of muffled thumps shattered the afternoon quiet. "Artie! I'm gonna kill you!" Angie's voice echoed through the house.
"Hey, what's going on up there?" Clara yelled, as two sets of footsteps thundered down the stairs. Frowning, she turned off the gas so she could sort whatever catastrophe the kids had just perpetrated.
"You rotten little creep!" Angie screamed, charging into the kitchen in hot pursuit of her brother, who dodged around behind Clara, seeking refuge, nearly knocking a pot off the stove in the process.
Clara grabbed each child firmly by the shoulder, tying to keep them both restrained and, more to the point - separated. "What on earth is going on here?" she demanded.
"That miserable little sh-"
"Angie!"
"Cretin," Angie amended, "put a jar full of spiders in my sock drawer."
"Artie?" Clara prodded, rather sternly.
"My book says that they thrive in a dark, dry environment," he protested.
"Artie, how many times have I told you, I'm thrilled that you love science, really I am, but the bugs stay outside in the garden shed. Now, apologize to your sister."
"All right. I'm sorry."
"And you're doing her chores for two nights."
"Yes!" Angie exclaimed.
"Two nights!" Artie whined.
"Angie, hush," Clara warned. "Artie, one night for bringing bugs in the house when I told you not to, and one night for messing with your sister's belongings, which you have also been told not to do. And Angie - this is it. It's done. Do you understand me?"
Both kids nodded.
"All right then. Artie, every last bug outside in the garden shed, now. Angie, please go pick up whatever got in the way of your rampage down the stairs. I heard things fall."
"You just want us out of the way because your boyfriend's coming," Angie retorted.
"Where's he taking you?" Artie asked. "Can we come, too?"
"I don't know where we're going, so no, you can't come. Maybe some other time." 'After the Doctor and I have a really long talk about safe environments,' Clara added silently. "Now go. I need to finish cooking."
Angie sauntered back upstairs, smirking, and Artie scampered out into the backyard, leaving the door open.
Clara sighed and turned back to the stove, trying to remember what she'd been doing. She reached up to open a cabinet and get a jar of sauce. She could just about stretch high enough for her fingers to close around the first jar on the shelf. Lowering her arm, Clara suddenly realized that she was holding a jar full of …things. Things with antennae and way too many legs. She shrieked and stumbled backwards, flinging the jar away, heedless of the consequences.
Suddenly, she felt herself wrapped in a strong pair of arms that somehow managed to be quick enough to hold her steady on her feet, and catch the jar before it could shatter.