Chapter 3

Clara said very little during the car ride to the restaurant.

"What's the occasion?" she had asked when he had told her to put on something pretty. But in answer to her question he had only shrugged and smiled.

Now they were sitting in the back of a cab in awkward silence. Clara now and then caught the Doctor looking at her. She couldn't tell whether his gaze was mesmerized or worried or confused. Probably a bit of everything and it worried her even more. Should things get uncomfortable she could always open the watch, Clara knew that. That's why she always kept it close to her. But opening it prematurely could put them all in danger, so she decided to sit this one out as long as possible.

"School went fine, by the way," she said to break the ice.

"What?," apparently she had broken the Doctor's train of thoughts, "Oh, right. Isabel was fine, you say?"

"Yes," Clara smiled. She already loved the sweet little girl, "She was braver than me on my first day. I remember I cried when my mum left me there on my first day."

"Really? You never told me," the Doctor took her hand and looked deep into her eyes. Clara had to force herself not to flinch.

"Well, it's not exactly something you brag about," she laughed off her uneasiness and started straightening her skirt.

"You're a great mother to Isabel. I don't know where we would be without you."

Luckily the car stopped just as the Doctor had finished his sentence because Clara had no idea what she should have replied.

The Doctor jumped out of the car and over to her door to help her out. He paid the driver and both entered the fancy restaurant.

"Smith," he told the waiter at the entrance, "A table for two."

The waiter nodded and lead them through the dining area out on a candlelit patio with a single table and two chairs. Clara was in awe. No man had ever taken her to a place this beautiful.

"Do you like it?" the Doctor asked as he held her chair.

"It's perfect. But I wish you had told me we would be eating outside. I would've brought a jacket," Clara said.

The Doctor turned around and walked over to a small stand to fetch a blanket. He carefully wrapped it around her shoulders. "I had the waiter prepare a blanket for you. I know you're always cold."

Clara swore to God that if the situation was any different and the man any other than the Doctor she would've indeed married him.

"Thank you. Now it's really perfect," Clara said only half-heartedly, "Now, what's the occasion?"

The Doctor cleared his throat and tried very hard to hide his smile. "Well, as you know, I met my editor today. And he said my column was so popular that he wants to move it from the Sunday Telegraph to the Daily Telegraph. Yes, yes, I know it will be a bit more work, but also considerably more money. We could rent that little cottage in Wales again at the end of summer, you know, the one from our honeymoon that you loved so much."

He took her hand and gave her a big smile. Clara tried very hard to give a convincing smile back.

"That sounds. . . great. The cottage, yeah, I remember. Lovely," she said nervously and suddenly it hit her. To her this was just a story to play. She knew the truth. For the Doctor, however, this was reality. He loved her with all his heart. At least for now until the watch was opened again. Clara started feeling nauseous.

Pull yourself together, she told herself. This is the Doctor. You like him. Now suck it up and pretend you love him.

"Is something wrong?" he asked suddenly, "You've been weird all day."

"No, no, I'm fine. I'm just a little scattered. That's all. This was a lovely idea. And the cottage is, too. I'm happy your work finally paid off."

"Good. I was beginning to think it was something that I did that you chose to ignore our anniversary," he shot her an inquiring look.

"Oh no. That was today?"

"Kind of."

"I'm so sorry. I, I just. . . I'm sorry," at least her surprise and apology sounded sincere.

"It's alright, darling. Don't worry. You're here and we've got all night."

All night. ALL NIGHT. Clara's brain felt like it was about to explode as she desperately looked for a way to get out of this one. She didn't have to use her imagination too much to realize what "all night" meant in this context. He was very much looking forward to sleeping with her and as far as she was willing to go to protect them all, that was not part of it. What could she tell him? Clara had no idea.

Luckily at exactly this moment the waiter arrived with a bottle of what looked like expensive wine and provided her with what appeared to be the best way to dodge this bullet.

After the waiter had taken their order, Clara excused herself. "I'll be right back. Just need to powder my nose."

She caught up with the waiter not far from their table, but still out of sight.

"Excuse me, sir," Clara said and the waiter turned around.

"Yes?"

"See my husband over there?" she pointed to their table, "Could you make sure his glass is never empty? I'd really appreciate that."

The waiter eyed her suspiciously but nodded.

"Thank you," Clara said and headed for the bathroom.

Now that she was in there, she thought she could just as well wash her hands. When Clara looked into the mirror she saw a woman standing behind her, watching her.

"Can I help you?" Clara asked.

The woman only now moved towards the sink and began washing her hands, too, but said nothing.

Their dinner went on without further complications. The food was fantastic and they talked about uncomplicated subjects like Isabel or his work. They talked about maybe adding a swimming pool to their back yard next year and what colour they thought was best for the downstairs bathroom. Clara noticed with relief that the Doctor indeed drank every glass of wine he was poured.

"By the way, a colleague of mine is getting married next month. We're both invited," the Doctor mentioned.

"Oh, that's nice. I will go looking for a new dress," Clara said, doubting, and most of all hoping they wouldn't be here that long.

The entire evening Clara hoped the Doctor never noticed when her mask slipped and she forgot for an instant to play the loving wife. But she could tell that he did. As soon as her thoughts wandered off he would reach for her hand, as if to pull her back into what to him was the real world.

"What do you think? Shall we go home?" he suggested at some point.

"Already?" Clara asked, taken aback.

"What do you mean already? We've been here at least four hours."

"I just, well, I mean we haven't really celebrated yet. Shouldn't we order a bottle of champaign or something?" she asked nervously, not waiting for his response before calling the waiter to their table. He silently took her order and walked off.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" the Doctor asked jokingly when the waiter was gone.

Clara stared at him in shock for a second before putting on her mask again. "What? Nooo. But your job – that's a really big deal. And it's our anniversary."

Clara smiled at him, praying to every God in the universe for her plan to work.