A/N I do not own Doctor Who or any of the characters. The Leadworth mentioned is my own version of the town and isn't based on the town in DW, although certain aspects have been included. "Eyes front, soldier" is of course one of Clara's lines from the Snowmen. Thank you for reading and if you enjoyed it, please leave a short review! Equally, if you didn't like it, consider maybe telling me how to improve it? Thanks again! ~Ellie
Clara Oswald approached the small town of Leadworth in her tiny red car. She had just graduated from university at the age of 24 after taking 3 gap years to look after a family friend's children.
She wasn't sure why, but Leadworth had just seemed like a good place for her to go. The community was very close and the previous occupant of the house she was moving into had been perfectly lovely to her, telling her that if she chose to move in, the villagers would certainly take to her after a while.
As she trundled along the small country lanes, the leaves of the bushes brushing against her car window, she started to sing along to the radio. The house she was taking over was also a small bookstore, and she intended to run it to earn a living. She loved books, but could never name her favourite. To her, all books were equally special and she treated them all with respect and care.
The first thing on her list of things to do was redecorate the store; the previous owner had been elderly and been unable to do much towards the upkeep of the shop. The front was falling into disrepair, so she planned to repaint it and she had a new sign that would be ready for her to pick up from the nearest town the next day, although it was a 30-minute drive. No wonder all the inhabitants of Leadworth knew each other – there was no-one else to know.
As Clara turned down the road that ran through Leadworth, she saw the inhabitants out on the streets stop and whisper to each other about the new car. Cars didn't just pass through Leadworth, not when there was a motorway that passed it. A blonde haired young woman was out with another young woman with fiery red hair, both of whom looked at the car with interest, rather than hostility. Further down the road, she saw a small hospital and a little bakery, along with a pub. Apart from that, and a minute school that looked as if it contained about 15 pupils, if that, it was all houses, mostly small cottages, apart from one big, old house that stood back from the road.
On the other side of the village, Clara's new bookstore stood, paint peeling with the windows and doors boarded up. It was only 3 o'clock and Clara felt she could make a good start on making the store look more welcoming; she could at least take down the boards and make a start on arranging the store.
The books, which had been included in the sale, were away in storage and Clara planned to collect them at the same time as she picked up her new sign, although thinking about it, she might need to make 2 trips. Or 3. She wasn't entirely sure how many books there were.
Clara parked her car and got out her new keys, locking the car as she walked up to the front door. She had to get out her tool kit to wrench away the board blocking up the door before she could even get in. It was a fairly small place, with only the bookstore and a kitchen downstairs. Upstairs, there were 2 bedrooms, a lounge and a bathroom. The plan was to rent out one of the bedrooms if there were any takers or, if not, she didn't know what to do with it. Maybe she'd buy more books and store them in there. Anyway, that was a problem for another day.
The next thing Clara did was take down the boards over the windows, to let some light in. The actual room was a bit dusty, so Clara decided that she would tackle the living area first, then if she had time she would clean up the bookstore and arrange the shelves.
Because she only had a tiny car, she had been unable to bring any furniture, so her bed was an air bed, but the kitchen was equipped with units and a fridge and an oven. "I'm going to have to order a sofa as soon as possible," said Clara, looking up, almost surprised to find she was alone, and not with her old flat-mate, who had moved down south, to somewhere in Dorset.
Heading back to her car, she realised she had never felt more lonely. Here she was, miles from Lancaster, miles from her university, in a small town where she was an outsider. How could she ever fit in?
The next day, after an uncomfortable night sleeping on an air bed in a bare room, Clara continued to work on the shop. She had finished tidying the inside and had visited the town to collect her new sign. The books could wait, she decided. The storage was paid for for another week, so there was no immediate rush.
At that precise moment in time, she was up a ladder in messy overalls, sanding down the front of the shop, preparing to for a new coat of paint. She was humming a tune to herself when she heard a voice from down the ladder.
"'Ello!" It called cheerily and Clara jumped. Below her, looking up to her, was a man, perhaps 30. One of the most noticeable things about his appearance – after the floppy hair and quite frankly enormous chin – was his fashion sense, or lack of it. He was wearing a bow tie and suspenders, which Clara thought made him look ridiculous, although she was hardly looking her best.
The way he seemed to be looking at her bum made her slightly uneasy and she called down to him, "Eyes front, soldier!" The man sniffed and looked a bit offended as she climbed down the ladder to meet him. "Clara Oswald," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm new." They both looked down at her hand, which had, somehow, been covered in paint splatters. Clara cursed mentally. She hadn't even used paint, though she had moved the pot.
"Sorry," she said quickly, wiping her hand on her overalls. "I don't know how that got there." Chin Boy, as she was calling him in her head, grabbed her hand and shook it enthusiastically.
"Hello Clara Oswald, I'm John Smith. Your name is far more interesting than mine, I'm a teacher at the school. I teach mainly History, Science, Maths and Geography. My friend Amy Pond teaches…" At this point he waved his hand around, seemingly at a loss for the words.
"…Other stuff," he finished, grinning. Clara grinned back; his mood was infectious.
"As you can see, I'm taking over the bookstore. Not sure how well it'll work out, I don't know anyone and I don't know if people will come…"
"Of course they will! Clara Oswald, if there's one thing you need to know about this village, it's that everyone loves books! And you do know someone-" he looked a little hurt "-you know me!"
"I've only just met you! All I know is your name, nothing else at all!" He puffed himself up, trying to look a bit more impressive, but Clara wasn't buying it. She just raised her eyebrows and folded her arms. "Come to dinner with me," he said, avoiding eye contact.
"We've only just met. And you're asking me to dinner?" John scratched his face nervously while Clara smirked. He was easily embarrassed apparently.
"No… yes… Um… only if you want to… I mean, as friends… so you can meet some of the other people here, you know… the pub sells good food and a lot of people meet up there…"
"OK, see you there at 7?" she asked, turning back into the bookstore. He was flustered again by her sudden agreement and she tried not to laugh.
"Yes, that's good… I'll see you there…" Clara smiled excitedly to herself as she went back into the bookstore, watching out a window as John Smith, or Chin Boy, straightened his bow tie and walked off, towards the centre of the village. It occurred to her that he had only walked down to the book store to greet her, as he had gone back the way he had come, but she dismissed the thought. People didn't do that, did they?
At 6 o'clock, Clara finished working on her shop and searched through her cases for something to wear. Most of her wardrobe was dresses and she had no problem picking out a nice outfit, complete with her favourite boots. She took a shower, washing off all the dust and paint that had coated her body in a thin layer of muck throughout the day, and she put quite a bit of shampoo in her hair, because, to be quite frank, it looked awful.
She exited the bathroom 20 minutes later fully dressed, with her towel over one shoulder, her wet hair on it. She dug her hairdryer out from one of the cases and quickly dried and brushed it before she put her purse into her favourite red bag, applied makeup, pulled on her boots and headed out.
She was surprised to see John was outside, in a pair of corduroy trousers, a blue shirt, waistcoat and, of course, a bowtie, which seemed to be his signature piece of clothing. "Clara!" he called excitedly. "I thought you might not know where the pub is, so I thought I'd come and meet you." He was looking like an excited toddler and Clara skipped the last couple of steps.
"I think I could've found my way," she told him, a little sternly. "But I appreciate the gesture."
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they turned to walk down the road, as he spoke to her about the village, but about halfway down the road he removed his arm, as if he hadn't realised what he was doing.
Clara looked up at him, properly noticing the height difference that she hadn't seen before. He had to be nearly a foot taller than her, but for some reason she didn't mind. Being short, or petite as she called it, usually annoyed her, but for some reason, she quite liked him being taller; his odd mannerisms and quirky behaviour made her seem graceful and elegant, which she certainly wasn't.
Her PE reports had been something along the lines of 'A fast runner, but it would greatly help if she had some more co-ordination to be able to play team sports effectively.' Her favourite class had been cooking, although she always tried to make soufflés, but she always failed.
"So, who's who around here?" Clara asked, hoping to get to know a bit more about her fellow villagers.
"Well, Doctor James McCrimmon is the village doctor, he works at the hospital with Rory, who works as a nurse. Currently, the only patient is Donna Noble, who has bad concussion. She fell down the stairs and can't remember a lot. She was planning to try to set up James with Rose – she runs the bakery – but she fell and can't remember her plan at all." Clara's eyes opened wide – that was awful.
"Who's likely to be at the pub?" she asked, curious as to which of the villagers she might meet.
"Jackie, Rose's mum. She works as a bar maid. James will probably be there, having a drink with Jack – he's in the navy and currently on leave – Rose might be there, with Amy, but Rory's on shift at the hospital. Quite honestly, I'm not sure who'll be there. Either way, they'll love you!" He sounded so confident and Clara, who had dropped behind, caught him up quickly as he turned into the pub.
Inside the pub, a blonde woman in her 40's who Clara assumed was Jackie was leaning on the bar, talking conspiratorially with 2 men in their late 30's. One of them was wearing a brown pin striped suit with converse and a long brown jacket and the other sounded American and was wearing a navy-blue trench coat.
The American turned round and came over to her as she entered, just behind John. "Captain Jack Harkness at your service. Who are you?" he asked, obviously flirting.
"Jack, stop it," said the man in the brown suit. He was Scottish, which wasn't surprising as they were near Scotland. He held out a hand to Clara, who shook it.
"I'm Doctor James McCrimmon, call me James," he said cheerily, leaning into the handshake in a friendly manner.
"I'm Clara Oswald, I've just moved into the bookstore down the road," she replied, smiling.
"Oh, we know that," said Jackie, in a harsh London accent; one thing Clara hadn't expected to hear. "Causing a right fuss you are missy. Shaking up all our lives." With a shake of her head, Jackie walked away, carrying a tray of drinks.
"Sorry about that," said a voice from behind Clara, another London accent, but softer; friendlier.
"Mum doesn't mean it. We're all very pleased to meet you. I'm Rose. Rose Tyler." Rose was probably in her mid twenties, similar to Clara. From one glance at Rose and James, Clara could tell they liked each other. She could see why Donna had been planning to set them up.
Over the course of her dinner with John, Clara met Amy Pond, and Amy's best friend Mels. Mels was the sole reason that a police force – an admittedly small one, but still a police force – was needed in Leadworth.
Overall, apart from Jackie, all the villagers were pleasant and welcoming and Clara walked back home and went straight to bed, exhausted from all the new names and faces, but she had a big smile on her face.