5th March 2005

The harvest, which had been planned for twenty-five years, and which would not be brought to a final end for another fifteen years, began on a chilly day in early March, 2005. It all started (so far as I'm aware) with a job interview, and a woman by the name of Ellie Oswald.

Ellie was, or rather had been, the head chef at a restaurant in Mayfair. But mainly, she kept to desserts - souffles and such. But she could cook more or less any meal that was requested by the clientele (and as you might imagine, an expensive restaurant in Mayfair attracted it's fair share of demanding customers). Whatever the demands, Ellie would see that they were met. As she looked back on her previous employment on the morning of March 5th, the memories were mainly of a happy, satisfying career which was brought to an end far before it's time.

The restaurant (name of Auditore Da Firenze) was owned and managed by a wealthy Italian immigrant named Giovanni Pavano. He was one of those extremely rare bosses who was adored by his employees - he was charitable with his wealth, and he treated and paid his staff perfectly well. For example, when Ellie fell pregnant with her daughter Clara eighteen years ago, he was entirely supportive, giving her all the time off she needed, and making whatever adjustments were required at work for her. Despite the fact that she'd been only a simple kitchen assistant back then.

Of course, by the time Clara Oswald was eighteen and Ellie, aged forty-four, was the head chef, it's fair to say that Giovanni loved her - as I've explained, she could do basically anything in the kitchen. She kept the customers happy, even the most ludicrous of people, who wanted their vegetables steamed at a certain heat, or their steaks fried in butter as opposed to grilled. Whatever it was, she would do it. It was thanks to her that Auditore Da Firenze had such a spectacular reputation, and he jolly well knew it. Plus, he did love those souffles she made! Oh, how he loved them. Everyone did.

Ellie smiled sadly as she put her blazer on, checking her reflection in the mirror - got to look smart for a job interview! Feeling suddenly nervous, she sat back down on her bed, the bed she shared with her husband Dave. A cruel coincidence had seen him too dismissed from his job in a "restructuring" of the accountancy firm where he worked, and the only new job he'd been able to find so far was on the checkouts at a supermarket. In short, they had fallen on very hard times. Clara, aged eighteen, was a student. She had very little money, and Ellie and Dave were terrified for her - they'd always promised themselves that they'd support Clara through her degree, but the fact was that they barely had enough money for food. If Clara had to drop out of college, they'd never forgive themselves (though really, I'm sure you'll agree that it was neither of their faults). But parents feel that responsibility, don't they? And the notion that they might not be able to see her through college broke their hearts.

Ellie thought back to better times - for instance, the last time she'd spoken to Giovanni, a few hours before he was found dead in his home, aged just sixty-four, his pale, lifeless face shocked and distorted by the severe heart attack which killed him more or less instantly.

Ellie remembered watching, with immense pride, as he finished his second bowl of her souffle, wiping his mouth with a napkin and beaming.

"It fantastico mia care signora! Er...how you say...sei un bravo...cooko?"

Ellie giggled - Giovanni could speak English so perfect that it could have been his first language. In the twenty years she'd worked for him, it had been a long running joke of his to pretend not to speak a word of it - and, somehow, it still made her laugh. Now, sitting on her bed for a moment before heading out to her job interview in the city, she still found herself laughing again. Though thinking of Giovanni had brought a tear to her eye.

"Why thank you, mia caro signore." Ellie beamed. "You want more?"

"No, no. Too much of a good thing, I think, eh?" He chuckled, patting his stomach. Ellie could see his point. Giovanni was a large man. Not morbidly obese, but certainly pretty large. His hair, once jet black, was flecked with grey, and his large brown eyes were misty with cataracts. On the day he died, he was a man past his prime. That made Ellie sad in itself - twenty years before, he'd been gorgeous! Forty-four, her current age and skinny, in the prime of his life. Everyone fancied him back then.

"I go now, si? Vado a casa in Italia!" (I'm going home to Italy!).

"All right, well you have a good time," Ellie said, kissing him on the cheek, "have a nice rest."

Giovanni smiled. "Si, si. Ehh...I'm leaving Grant in charge. But he isn't so confident, so..."

Ellie nodded, "I'll make sure he's all right, boss. We'll be fine, don't worry. You've earned a break."

"Oh yes," Giovanni agreed, "yes, I rather think I have. Been lots to do, si?"

"Yeah," Ellie agreed, "go on now."

"Yes. Grazie for the souffle, my dear."

"Anytime," Ellie winked.

With a smile, Giovanni bid her farewell, and went home. He was flying out to Italy for a couple of weeks that evening - he wanted a holiday, and he could spend some time with his son down in Florence.

He never got to the airport, let alone to Italy. He'd just finished packing (his suitcases were found by the door), and had been waiting for his taxi when he dropped down dead, dead before he hit the floor.

Here, Ellie stopped thinking back. She had to get a move on! What was she doing? Besides which way, the memories of after that last meeting were not pleasant. Giovanni, her boss and friend of twenty-years was dead. The restaurant staggered along under Grant's leadership for a time, but the magic had died with Giovanni. Two months after his death, Auditore Da Firenze closed it's doors for the final time, leaving it's fifty-four employees, including Ellie, out of work. That had been in November of 2004, four months ago. Two weeks later, Dave Oswald had lost his job too.

But no. She wasn't going to think about that. Not today. Today was the day it all got back to normal, right? This job was perfect for her, if she could only get it...she thought she could.

She knew she could.

She stood up and, glancing at herself in the mirror once more, went downstairs. The Oswald's owned a nice little house, with three bedrooms and an open plan layout downstairs, with pale beige walls and wooden floorboards. Not that they were keeping up with the mortgage, of course - if things didn't improve in a couple of months, the house would be gone. But again, Ellie wasn't thinking about that today. Today was the day it all changed!

Of that, Ellie was quite correct. Oh yes. Things were going to change for the Oswald's today. But not for the better.

"Hey, mum!" Clara had been lying down on the sofa (home from university for the Easter break), "you look fab!"

"You think so?" Ellie asked. Truth be told, she knew she did - she was a beautiful woman (her daughter had gotten her own good looks from Ellie), and she was certainly dressed for the occasion. Blouse, blazer, smart trousers and flat shoes. Ellie Oswald did not like high-heels.

"I know so!" Clara insisted, "give us a whirl!"

Ellie smiled and turned around on the spot.

"Yeah, you'll do." Clara assured her, "if they don't hire you, they're stupid."

"Hmm..." Ellie said, "well, fingers crossed."

"Aye," Clara agreed (she'd developed a faint Lancashire accent from going to university up north), "you'll do fine, mum. I promise."

"Yeah..." Ellie said softly. "It's a funny place. The restaurant, that is. It's like...it's like you know it's there, but you just kind of...don't."

"Eh?"

"I can't explain it. It's always been there. It's just down the road from where Auditore Da Firenze was. But when I saw the ad in the paper, I hadn't a clue where the place was."

"What's the name again? The Panoptican Steakhouse, ain't it?" Clara said.

"That's the one." Ellie agreed. "When I saw it, I was like, wow, it's that joint! I'd passed it for twenty-years on the way to work, but I'd never given it any thought at all...weird, huh?"

"Bit weird, yeah." Clara agreed, "and mum...do you think perhaps you should go now?"

"What?" Ellie glanced at her watch, "oh my stars! Yeah...thanks love. It's mini-kievs for dinner, that all right?"

"Sure," Clara agreed. A lot of their meals were cheap and frozen these days. When Ellie and Dave had both been earning good money, Ellie used to cook the most amazing dinners (when she wasn't working, that is). But they didn't have the money for good food right now. Hopefully that would change after today.

"All right, love. See you later."

Clara nodded. "Yeah, and mum...good luck. You'll be fine."

Ellie beamed, and Clara was embarrassed to see that she was welling up a bit. "Thanks, babe." Ellie said. "Come here."

"Really?" Clara got to her feet grudgingly and slouched over to her mum. Ellie pulled her into a tight hug. Clara was particularly short, and Ellie was particularly tall. That made Ellie strangely happy, in a weird way. Even when Clara was an adult (which she basically was now), she'd still be Ellie's little girl. She didn't dare tell Clara that. Her daughter would probably cringe to death hearing something like that.

Ellie released her daughter and looked at her pretty round face. "I love you, Clara."

"Well, you've got good taste then," Clara teased. "I love you too. Now go on! Go and show 'em what you can do!"

Ellie chuckled, "I'll try. I'll see you later."

"Bye. Love you lots."

With that, Clara flung herself back down onto the couch and her attention went back to the dreadful soap opera on the television. Ellie left, closing the front door quietly behind her. Clara Oswald never saw her mother again.

So that was how Ellie Oswald found herself, an hour later, standing outside the Panoptican Steak House, a stone's throw from the boarded up shell of her previous workplace. She looked the other way as the taxi passed it - it upset her looking at it, and today was about the future. Not the past.

So she paid the driver and, taking care not to look down the road at the old ruin, looked up at the big brick building that she hoped would be her new place of work. It was a thriving restaurant all right, and she couldn't quite understand why she'd failed to notice it for twenty years...or, indeed, why nobody at Auditore Da Firenze had ever talked about it...

But maybe they had, a little voice at the back of her head told her. Maybe you just can't remember...

Maybe. Maybe not. It didn't matter, did it? Because Ellie Oswald, of course, had no idea what a perception filter was, nor why one of such incredible strength was surrounding an ordinary brick building in Mayfair.

So, shrugging her shoulders, she pushed open the glass door and strolled in. The dining room was packed full of customers, and decorated in much the same way that Auditore Da Firenze had been. Pure white tablecloths, a red patterned carpet and a glittering chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Along the far wall stood a bar, where two men in suits sat, sipping champagne. The only peculiar thing that Ellie noticed was that the walls were a lurid green, decorated with strange roundels. Odd choice. The ceiling was the same. Red, white, green. It looked pleasant at a glance, but the more you looked, the less appealing it became. A bit of a mess of colours really. Shame. But that didn't matter. The place looked well-to-do. It looked posh. It looked as though the money would be decent.

Oh yes, thought Ellie. This would do me fine.

A waiter strolled up to her, smiling broadly. "Good afternoon, ma'am," he said, bowing. "How may I help you?"

"Yeah...I'm here about the job in the kitchen. Oswald." Ellie smiled, feeling suddenly nervous.

"Ah, yes," the waiter exclaimed, shaking her hand enthusiastically, "yes, yes, yes! Ellie Oswald, isn't it? Right this way ma'am."

"Thanks," Ellie said, rather taken aback by the strange little man. He was shorter than her. Not as short as Clara, but still pretty short. He wore a spotless white shirt and a red waistcoat, with black trousers and gleaming shoes. He looked vaguely Chinese, and Ellie guessed that one of his parents must have been Chinese, the other European. He would have been very handsome, but for a particularly large mole that had burrowed into the side of his nose like some sort of insect. Shame really, Ellie thought. Still, he was a courteous little chap, bouncing with enthusiasm. She already liked him a little, and guessed that if she got the job, she'd get on particularly well with him.

All said, it took ten minutes to reach the manager's office. If Ellie Oswald hadn't already been so addled by the perception filter, she would have realized that the building was impossibly big.

Bigger, in fact, than it was on the outside. But like I said, the perception filter was immensely strong. Poor Ellie didn't notice a thing.

But finally, after the ten minute walk that Ellie barely noticed, the little waiter stopped in a crossroad of corridors. It was weird here, Ellie thought. The corridors were metal! The floor, the walls, the ceiling - all metal. Cold, grey metal, the lot of it. The only thing by way of decoration was the occasional scatter of circular patterns on the walls, the same kind that had been in the dining room. And...well, there were a lot of them corridors. It was getting like a maze. There hadn't been any windows for a while now. It was quite dark, the neon lights on the ceiling glowing dully yellow. It just...it just didn't seem quite right...

"Mr. Wrench's office is just down there ma'am," the waiter said right on cue, knocking Ellie's emerging doubts back out of her mind.

"Thanks," Ellie said, and shook his hand again. "Big place here, isn't it?"

The waiter's expression hardened a little. "Why no, ma'am. I don't think so. Not particularly. Good luck to you." Then, he turned on his heel and marched off down a separate corridor. Not the same one he'd brought Ellie down. Weird.

So Ellie was left alone. Taking a deep breath, she walked down the corridor to the manager's office, her heart thumping. This was it. Make or break. She needed this job, even if it was slightly...strange in here.

But it isn't strange, that little voice in her head insisted, just focus on the interview.

She knocked on the wooden door gently, her nerves jingling.

"Come in," came a man's voice from inside the room. Make or break, Ellie. Make or break, girl. She took a deep breath and entered.

The first thing she noticed was a window - sunlight flooded in, in stark contrast to the dank and unlit web of corridors outside. That was a relief, and already she felt a little more comfortable. The office was carpeted red, like the dining room, and was cool and airy. And there, sitting behind a large mahogany desk, sat Mr. Wrench himself. He was a young man. Younger than her. Thirties maybe? Late twenties even? He was quite bald. Looking closely, Ellie could see very thin stubble on the top of his head, which suggested that he was bald by choice, and shaved his hair. He sported a little goatee, and wore a immaculate white suit.

"Good afternoon!" Ellie said enthusiastically, "I'm Ellie Oswald. Here about the kitchen job."

"The kitchen job," the man repeated silkily, not smiling. "So we're a restaurant today, I gather?"

Ellie frowned. "Sorry sir, I...don't quite know what you mean."

"No," Wrench replied sarcastically, his silky smooth voice dripping with contempt. "And you would not. Please - have a seat."

"Thanks," Ellie said, sitting down opposite Mr. Wrench. There was one thing she knew already, after only a few short seconds in his company - this man would not be as pleasant to work for as Giovanni Pavano had been. Not at all. But needs must, eh?

"So...Ellie Oswald." Mr. Wrench said softly.

"That's me," Ellie said, trying to sound cheerful.

"Yes. Well I, Ellie Oswald, am Mr. Tomasz Wrench, the owner of...this restaurant. But enough of the niceties. You are here, as you say, for a job in the kitchen?"

"I am indeed," Ellie said, feeling awkward and embarrassed by the man's frosty attitude. "Mr. Wrench, is this a convenient time? I could always come back if you -"

Mr. Wrench laughed. It was a nasty, rattling sound that did nothing to improve the frosty atmosphere in the room. "Back later? But I insist...I'd like to interview you now."

"Well, thank you sir. I just wondered, you seemed a little distracted, and I -"

"No, no." Mr. Wrench interrupted Ellie for a second time. He was smiling now, but not in a pleasant way. His eyes were saying something entirely different...

"So," he continued, "tell me about yourself."

"Sure. So I'm forty-four, and I was the head chef at the restaurant just down the street. Auditore Da Firenze. It closed, of course. Perhaps you knew Mr. Pavano?"

"No."

"Oh, okay. He passed away a few months ago, and the place closed...so I'm...you know, I know what I'm doing. The place had superb reviews, and it-"

Then, Mr. Wrench did something very peculiar, something which made Ellie stop mid-sentence. He smelled her. Literally. He stood up, leaned over the desk and sniffed deeply.

"Hmm. Healthy. Reasonably young. Ideal weight, and slightly taller than average. Suitable, I suppose."

"Suitable?" Ellie repeated, gazing at the man before her in disgust. The freak before her, in his white suit, in a little office tucked away deep in his labyrinth of a restaurant. She stood up - yes, she was desperate for work. But she wasn't a fool, and she wasn't going to lower herself to working for somebody like this. "Thank you, Mr. Wrench. But I'm afraid I don't wish to continue this interview."

Ellie turned to leave. Then it hit her. I can't get out, she realised. I don't know the way out! She felt panic rising in her chest and turned back round to face Mr. Wrench, who was grinning broadly now.

"Where's the nearest exit?" She demanded, trying to keep her voice steady. He didn't reply. Instead, he slowly walked around his desk and towards her. All at once, everything that she had noticed but dismissed came flooding back to her, as the perception filter's effects wore off. Even the strongest perception filter won't work once you know beyond any doubt something is wrong, and Ellie knew that by now. A hideous picture began to form in her mind. A dilapidated wreck of a building, which she'd mistaken for a buzzing, fancy restaurant. A handsome, if slightly disfigured man in a posh suit who came to greet her. Now, looking back, hadn't that man been dressed in filthy rags? Hadn't he stunk? Hadn't his mole actually been a wart? She thought back to that dining room - only now, far too late, she realized that it hadn't been a dining room at all. It was...something else. As for the guests who'd been eating there...no way were those human beings. She hadn't so much as glanced at them, but in that moment, she knew that if she had looked closer, whatever she would have seen would have sent her screaming from the building, and possibly, just possibly have saved her life. Finally, she remembered the impossibly long walk to Wrench's office...

Ellie knew better than to go out into the corridors to escape Wrench. She'd be lost and helpless in seconds. There was his window! Crying, she barged past him and tried to smash it open. Yet as hard as she whacked it, she couldn't make even a tiny crack. She felt Wrench's cold, slippery hand close over her mouth, cutting off the scream that was about to emerge.

"We all have jobs in here." Wrench told her sincerely as she cried and writhed to get away from him. "And now you've come to me, you'll have a job too. Your woes are over. Your poverty is over. All your troubles are over now, Ellie Oswald."

Ellie sobbed, her tears spilling onto Wrench's hand. He didn't release her mouth, but his thumb and first finger moved upwards to her nose. He clamped her nostrils shut tightly. Ellie's heart exploded in her chest as she realized what he was doing. She struggled against him even harder, but he gripped her round the waist tightly, and no amount of writhing and fighting helped...she felt horrible, raw pain gnawing at her lungs, but every time she tried to inhale, Wrench's horrible clammy flesh prevented any air getting into her body. She was being suffocated, and the pain was unbearable. Her lungs were on fire...she cried desparatley, but with every passing second, her struggles became weaker and weaker. Finally, after two minutes of horrible agony, she stopped fighting completely. She hung limply in Wrench's arms. The agony of her air-deprived lungs was burning ever stronger, but she didn't have any strength left in her. Her head hurt, and her arms hung uselessly as her sides.

She wanted her last thoughts to be of her beautiful daughter Clara and her husband Dave. But try as she might, the horrible facts of reality got in the way of those thoughts - I'm getting murdered! I'm gonna die, here and now, just forty-four years old. They'll have to go on without me...all I wanted was a job...I don't deserve this...

Except she didn't die. Tomasz Wrench let her go with seconds to spare, letting her drop, unconscious, to the floor at his feet (dressed in white shoes to match his suit). He looked down at her thoughtfully, smiling a twisted smile. Right on cue, there was a knock on his office door.

"Come." He called.

The door opened, and in walked the waiter. He was dressed in filthy, off-white rags, with a torn and ancient red waistcoat. An enormous growth spurted from somewhere at the side of his nose. His face was lopsided, leering and unwashed.

"Shall I take her?" The thing that Ellie had thought was a waiter wheezed.

"Yes," Wrench said slowly. "Yes. This is quite a moment, is it not? She's the first. The first meal, you might say."

"Yes sir," The thing wheezed, picking her up and slinging her over his shoulder. "She alive?"

"She is," Wrench assured him. "Just."

So the creature took Ellie Oswald. It's important to understand that, at this point, Ellie was certainly alive. She would have very likely recovered from her near suffocation as well. But they did something with her. They took something, in a process that I neither fully understand, nor do I want to fully understand it. What I do know, however, is that an hour later, Ellie Oswald was dead. They dumped her in an alleyway when they'd finished with her, where she would be discovered by some poor, hapless citizen.

The official cause of death was a brain aneurysm. Nobody could explain why she'd been down an alleyway by herself, but there was no evidence of any foul play.

There's one other thing I know - that night, as Dave and Clara Oswald wept in each other's arms, unable to comprehend what the police officers who'd come knocking with grim faces had told them. At that same time, the man who called himself Tomasz Wrench felt stronger than he had in a long time.

Note: I don't own Doctor Who, I'm not getting paid to do this, etc etc.

Just to clarify, Ellie Oswald is a real character, as is Dave Oswald - both appeared in series 7.

Thanks for reading the first chapter, hope you all enjoyed it.