Setting: A cold, rainy day in 2013.
Clara Oswald was wet, cold, and very hungry. She splashed across the crosswalk, her raincoat pulled close and her dripping purse pressed against her side. She stopped for breathe under the first awning she saw. She leant against the display window, closing her eyes for a moment. It had been raining all day. Normally Clara Oswald didn't mind the rain. She loved it, in fact...except when she had to be out in it. Clara had been running errands for Mr. Maitland all day long. Mr. Maitland was her employer and an old family friend; she was nanny to his two children, Artie and Angie. Usually, Clara got along very well with the family. Artie and Angie seemed to adore her, no matter how much they liked to deny it. Clara grinned a little, then remembered something. She had promised to pick Artie up a present in town.
She looked around the busy street searching for a shop that looked like it would sell something Artie would like. Unsuccessful, she spun around to look at what kind of shop she was standing outside of. It was a book shop.
"Of course," Clara breathed. She would buy Artie a book, a magical book full of adventure and suspense. She opened the door and stepped inside the quaint store, warmth greeting her. The cashier welcomed her almost too cheerfully for a rainy day. Clara smiled and returned the greeting. She scanned the shelves, her gnawing hunger forgotten. Quickly she found the fantasy section and began to examine each book carefully. Artie wasn't much of a reader; Clara wanted to change that by giving him the best book ever.
Clara lost track of time. She didn't know how long she had been looking when she heard a voice behind her:
"Clara Oswald?" Clara turned, surprised. A slight, curly-haired young woman stood near her. She wore a sweater and trousers that looked as if they were from the 80s.
"Yes," Clara confirmed, "how do you know my name?" Suspicion made its way into her heart. The woman looked ruffled at that question, as if she didn't expect it to be asked.
"That doesn't matter," she finally replied. Clara crossed her arms as she continued. "I'm here on an important mission from...well...someone who wants me to give you something."
"A mission?" Clara raised her eyebrows, skeptical.
"Yes," the woman nodded, growing more confident as the conversation went on. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. "Here," she said, "take it." Clara took it gingerly as if it were going to explode any second. She read it. It was a phone number.
"Who's phone number is this?" Clara asked, looking up at the woman. She smiled, her brown eyes lighting up.
"I can't say exactly who it is, but I can tell you that it's the best helpline in the universe."
"In the universe?" Clara laughed. That was a rather odd thing to say. The woman nodded.
"In the universe. Call it whenever you really need help. Whenever you're dealing with something you know completely nothing about. I don't know, maybe when you're working the internet or something. Whatever." Clara stared at the woman. She didn't know why, but somehow she believed this stranger, trusted her. She seemed so genuine and caring.
"Thank you," Clara said suddenly and truthfully. She looked back down at the numbers scrawled upon the piece of notebook paper. They were written in a large and loopy handwriting and obviously not that of a woman's. "Hey," she began, "what did you say your name-"
The woman was gone. Clara looked around. She was nowhere to be seen. Clara heard the front bell chime as if someone were leaving or entering the shop. She rushed to the front. The woman had left. She was bouncing down the street toward a tall, curly-cropped man with an enormous scarf wrapped around his neck. She took his arm, and, in a moment, they were gone. Clara stared after them, confused. What had that been all about? She looked down at the paper again. Every ounce of logic in her told her that she had been singled out for some sort of trick and that she needed to toss this in the rubbish bin. Something stopped her, however. She stuffed the note in her pocket. Maybe she would need it one day.
Two Weeks Later
Clara pressed the phone against her ear, sighing impatiently. She turned to Angie. "Angie? Is the internet working? Trying to phone the helpline, they won't answer."
"It's working for me," Angie replied, neglecting to take her eyes off the screen.
"Can I use it when you're finished?" Angie rolled her eyes.
"More than one person can use the internet at a time, Clara." She glanced at her nanny darkly. Anger sparked inside Clara.
"You done your homework?" she asked patronizingly.
"Shut up, you're not my mum," Angie spat back. Clara softened, feeling sorry.
"And I'm not trying to be, okay?" Angie averted her eyes. Mr. Maitland and Archie marched in before Clara could get another word in.
"Right," Mr. Maitland boomed, "Yes. Angie's probably fine on her own. You can probably have the night off," he told Clara as he pulled his overcoat over his broad shoulders.
"I'm okay," Clara smiled, "I'll be upstairs when I figure out my computer." Mr. Maitland smiled gratefully.
"Anyway," continued Mr. Maitland, referring to the ongoing search for a permanent nanny, "the adverts are in, so hopefully we'll find someone."
"I'm here as long as you need me," Clara assured him.
"Good. Right, come along, Artie. Time to go." Looking frazzled, he rushed out of the room. Artie began to follow, a book-in-hand. Clara snatched it from him. She grinned when she saw which book it was. It was the one she had bought him just two weeks ago.
"What chapter are you on?" she quizzed him eagerly.
"Ten."
"Eleven's the best. You'll cry your eyes out!"
"Artie!" Mr. Maitland called from the hallway. Artie trudged off to meet his father, and Clara returned to her phone call.
"Oh come on!" she said to no one in particular, "Just answer. Pick it up. Pick it up. Pick it up." She wandered upstairs to the guest room. By that time she was ready to get up. She sat down in front of the laptop, stabbing the keys to look at the wifi connections. How was she supposed to connect to one? She was beginning to regret her negligence in educating herself about the internet. Clara dropped the phone.
"It's useless!" she groaned to herself. "No one's going to pick up!" She huffed, considering going downstairs to ask for Angie's help. Then she saw it. The piece of paper she had been given in the shop. It's the best helpline in the universe. The woman's words echoed through her head. Clara remembered her specifically mentioning the internet in connection with it as well. Logic once again told Clara not to call the number, but Clara found herself dialing it nevertheless. It rang for a few seconds, and then a clear "Hello?" issued from the other end of the line. Relief flooded through Clara. Everything would be alright now.
"Ah, hello. I can't find the internet!"