My toga-clad exertions have gained us entry to that small sanctum above. I approach slowly, and with dignity, and not just because if I step on my hem again the knot's going to pull loose. I'm doing this out of respect, and affection. These are peace talks. Let's call it a practical lesson, some field experience. Especially seeing I'm not sure how much longer she'll have Professor Carling for a tutor.
Jessica has not left the door open for me. A statement of intent. She really has been training…
I knock, once, perfunctorily. There is no wait. She was there to open it.
Over our shoulders, Clara's eyes meet those of Jessica's mate. She, prettily, probably thinking she's helping, "We'll leave you to it."
As one, Jessica and I balk, "No! Stay." Or, in Jessica's case, "Stays."
We need seconds. This is one of the first rules of peace negotiations; you don't just leave the two warring parties in a room. They're likely to turn on each other, to do it all over again. Plus, I just want Clara around. I imagine something similar is going through Jessica's head. But first things first, we all need to know each other. I put out a hand, finally introducing myself to the metal-faced, skin-etched boy who, actually, seems to be defending her.
"I'm the Doctor, by the way, but then you knew that."
The fact that I'm the Doctor, even though I know Jessica's told him all about me, doesn't seem to impress him. He must be impressed, but he's covering it up. Acting unfazed again. His grip is strong, his handshake firm. "Liam."
Jessica is peering past us into the hall. At first, I'm thinking it must be my crowd from outside, some of my more zealous followers. It's not, though. These are new people. Not all of them human, but all of them female. All peering back with unabashed curiosity, and a very mild derision. "Not matters," mutters Jessica, her voice almost below notice, and she steps back out of the doorway. "To be coming in anyway. Closing door, please, Claraperson."
The room is almost the same as any other space Jessica's ever made her own. For the most part, it is how she would have found it; sparse and impersonal. But there are blue paper flowers in a bowl next to the bed. Library books piled next to the messy desk. And tucked in around the mirror there are photographs of her. Of Amy and Rory. Of River. Of me and a scone (don't ask). And some more recent ones, all of herself and this Liam lad. Just enough to make the room hers. Nothing she couldn't walk away from.
I take the chair from the desk and sit down – carefully; that knot's still slipping. Clara leans on the edge beside me. Jessica settles herself on the end of the bed. "Why am Doctor making speechings outside beforetimes?"
"I told you. I was trying to show you it doesn't matter what you say. I thought it would help."
She's smiling when she looks down, "But why others?"
Oh, she's onto me. She's so onto me. Clever, clever girl. "Because we always have good fun when I'm making a fool of myself. We are friends. Nothing that ever happened before or is ever going to happen could change that. I just wanted you to laugh."
That sounds like emotional blackmail… I don't think it really counts as proper emotional blackmail if it's one-hundred per-cent true.
I think she knows that. It takes a nudge in the ribs from that Liam to get a real reaction out of her. "Was being much-angry for him when Claraperson was knowing about old-days Jessica. Was not being for Doctor to be telling her."
Clara, bless her, raises her hand. Tries to say, "That was my fault. Partially, anyway."
"Not was. Doctor was only one who was to have been knowing, and Doctor was only one who was to be telling. Jessica am not being story Doctor tells for companionpersons."
As grateful as I am for Clara's help and support, you really can't fault her logic. And she makes a good point about the stories. I do talk an awful lot and I don't always do a lot of thinking beforehand. I told Clara about Jessica's past because I was trying to impress her. Not once did it cross my mind, what Jessica would think, what it would do to her to know I was talking like that.
On this occasion, however, I have done far too much thinking and not enough talking. In the interests of ending the pause, Clara leans down, whispering in my ear; "You know before, when you didn't know you were supposed to go after her, and I gave you the cue?"
"Yes."
"This time you're supposed to apologize."
"Right," I whisper back. She starts to lean away and I pull her back to whisper, "Thank you."
"Don't mention it. Just get to it. They're about three feet away, I think she can hear."
So I let her stand back this time, I get eye contact with an expectant-looking Jessica and I test the word on my tongue before I let it roll away. "Ssssorry?"
And then I curl up, as far as the chair will allow, because I must have said something wrong, because Jessica is up off the bed and charging. But as it turns out, it's not an attack, it's another hug. Really rather unprofessional of her. I hope she doesn't use this as a case study; she'd have trouble finding critical justification for physical affection during peace talks to put in an essay. "Accepting!" she trills, right by my ear. "Sorrys am being all her was wanting to hear."
"Oh good," I saY, moving her back. "Then maybe we can tell you something you probably don't want to hear."
It's the oddest thing, but when I say that, Liam stands up. He comes to get her. An arm around her shoulders, moving her back like I'm some sort of threat. And he's shaking his head too. Not at me, not telling me to stop, just because he doesn't want bad news. He's holding on to her because he doesn't want her hurt again so soon.
But I've started now. And anyway, it's important. There's only a day and a half until the awards. Believe me, I wish my only imperative now was to wear a tux, show up, and glow with pride at this bright, sparkling girl who never would have gotten a chance to be that way without me. We have more to worry about than that, though. It's like I said. I need Jessica for that as much as I need her because I just need her.
"It's about Professor Carling."
Jessica just watches. Liam is the one who speaks, "The geeky, hippy fella?"
From under his arm, she can't do much, but Jessica flaps back one hand, hitting his shoulder. It'll probably still bruise. "Professor Carling am being friend-professor, thanks him…"
Clara, with incredible tact considering she was the one who watched all the dodginess in the basement, "Maybe not as good a friend as you thought."
She proceeds to explain what she saw. It doesn't take her half as long as it did when she told me. This is all my amazing coaching coming to the fore, by the way. It's because I've already taken her through it that she's able to do this without wasting too much of anybody's time. And it's good that she's the one doing the explaining. That lets me look on, observing the moment I had imagined, when Jessica hears about her second betrayal of the day. Hopefully this one can be considered a graver offence than mine was.
You'll remember, perhaps. I had imagined it as a sort of trigger. She'd hear this and then we'd just get out of her way.
That doesn't happen. All that happens is she goes to her bag, hanging on the back of the door, and fishes out the strawberry laces. Clara flounders, looking at me as if to ask if she should continue. I nod her on. One, two and three laces are quietly, very quickly munched away before Jessica turns back, but she's listening, every word of this.
"And then he was laughing about the Doctor," Clara finishes, "And he told Carling to go, so I had to leave."
Jessica is still at the door. Still hasn't turned. After a couple of seconds, Liam looks round at us. "Leaving's not a bad idea," he says. "Just for now." He starts taking her away from the door, opening it for us in the process.
"No!" Jessica cuts in sharply. Now she turns. "Liam not does. Doctor am being friendperson. But Jessica am knows Professor Carling and is being afraid. Doctor and Claraperson shows her. Then believes."
