The urban metropolis of excited shoppers created an uncomfortable atmosphere as Clara walked past the many franchises. The clustered sound of voices was irritating and she had just missed out on a chance to get a jumper in a shop when her phone rang.

'Hello?' she asked, dropping one of her bags so she had to pick them back up again.

'Clara,' the voice said. 'I need your help.'

'Oh Lucy. What's happened now? Did you drop your house phone down the drain again?'

'No,' Lucy Charles bit her lip. 'You know how I do that counselling for kids thing? There's this one kid who is terrified of the dark and I wanted someone to help talk to him.'

'OK,' she prolonged her words, brushing past a tall man. 'I can't help with that to be honest. I'm not exactly a therapist.'

'You work with kids five days a week and he has insomnia because of his problems. I have to speak to him at nights too because his parents are always working during the day and some Belarusian maid has to look after him. Could you please not just come and have a word with him? I've tried fifteen times and I can't get a single word out of him. It's at 9 tonight.'

'I'm going on that night out with Bucky. Mind you we get back from the restaurant at about 8.30pm. I suppose I could come but that's only as a friend helping out a friend.'

'Thanks. I'll text you the address.'

Hanging up, the schoolteacher placed her phone back in the pocket and made her way out of the shopping centre. As she bumped into someone, she knocked some of their papers down onto the ground. Helping them pick them back up again, she apologised to the woman.

The woman watched as Clara walked off and then stared at the ID card she had stolen from her pocket.

'Sir,' she spoke into a device in her right ear. 'I made contact with Clara Oswald. I have her ID.'