Isabelle had been in her room working for hours. Tea time was approaching and she had been up since the crack of dawn, hand sewing repairs on tablecloth's, scrubbing stains out of the family's best linen napkins and shining the Lord and Master's shoes.

She had not stopped for lunch since she had been too busy sorting the final decorations for the coronation; threading bunting and sticking down paper chains, and lost time to the commotion hours earlier.

All the while she had not been able to stop thinking about those words something...someone had spoken to her. Perhaps it was her own mind trying to tell her she was not getting enough sleep? Perhaps she should stop dreaming and lying awake jotting down nonsense and actually rest. Or perhaps it was simply a side effect of a silent migraine, all of the stress was getting to her; not to mention the fear of what was happening all around her. The stress she absorbed from the family alone was enough to drive any normal human mad.

It being time for tea and therefor decorating, Isabelle dropped her needle and tread onto the small desk with a frustrated sigh and started climbing down from the attic wearing a line of Union Jack's as a sash. She was only half way down the ladder when she heard Mr Connelly scolding Tommy.

"Don't think I've finished with you." Mr Connelly hissed and turned to spot Isabelle stood behind him. "And you! Downstairs...Both of you!" They both followed the man of the house down the stairs and into the living room, or the television room as most people were now calling it.

"All the warnings I've given you, and every time, every time, you disobey me." He started to yell, standing up, a regular trick he used to intimidate them.

For a long time Isabelle thought he spoke to her that way because she was not his blood. But the older Tommy became and the taller he grew the more she realised it wasn't solely that. She doubted that man was able to speak to any living thing with respect, apart from his own reflection perhaps, it was just how he was built.

"We can't just lock her away." The young boy spoke up in defence of his gran.

"Excuse me, sunshine. I am talking!" Mr Connelly spat the words into the young boy's face. This was no way for a father to treat his family, surely. Of course she had no experience on the matter, but that didn't mean she was ignorant to the obvious and lacked common sense. "You can forget that college nonsense. You're going to come and work alongside me. Get your hands dirty for once." Another thump sounded from above them.

"Oh lord, won't she ever stop?" The sounds were sending Mrs Connelly into madness. Barely a week had passed and she still remained tied to her chair downstairs, rocking intermittently between weakly sorting the home alongside Isabelle and preparing the dinner with blatant disregard. To first see her mother like that and then be told to just ignore it, Isabelle could only imagine what was going on inside her head.

"There, there, Rita, my sweet. Business as usual. Now let's get these up all over the house in honour of Her Majesty." He spoke and gestured towards the three metres of flags piled up on the table Isabelle normally sat at, before raking his eyes over the numerous rectangles hanging from her arms.

"But Eddie, what if she's dying?" Rita panicked. All the woman wanted was comfort from her husband but it never came. Instead, she received cold eyes and anger.

"I am talking!" Isabelle had learnt the hard way but she had learnt none the less. Be silent. "That's better. A little bit of hush." Only a second later, the doorbell interrupted Mr Connelly and without another word he went to answer the door. In his absence Rita looked to Isabelle, be it briefly, and all the younger woman could do was smile reassuringly.

"Not bad. Very nice. Very well kept." A voice which was not Mr Connelly's sounded and came closer; closer and closer until that same man from the street rounded the corner of the hallway and entered their living room. He appeared forward and confidently direct in an instant, strolling through their home as if they should have been expecting him. Following him was the girl from before too, still pretty and dressed up. "I'd like to congratulate you, Mrs?"

He looked around the room, barely glancing at Isabelle and Tommy before finding the eldest lady.

"Connolly." Rita answered quietly.

"Now then, Rita. I can handle this. This gentleman's a proper representative." Mr Connelly reentered the room in a march, fists clenched and shoulders tucked in high. "Don't mind the wife, she rattles on a bit." The man rolled his eyes dramatically towards him, biting his tongue.

"Well, maybe she should rattle on a bit more. I'm not convinced you're doing your patriotic duty. Nice flags. Why are they not flying?" The man asked. He was the first person Isabelle had ever seen talk to Eddie in that way, but that didn't stop the blush instantly spreading across her cheeks. That was her job, her mistake.

"There we are Rita, I told you to get the girl to do it!" He growled almost, glaring at Isabelle. "Get them up. Queen and country." Isabelle jumped in her place, wiping the imaginary dust from her hands onto her skirts before briskly starting to gather the flags in her hands. She pulled them from herself, shaking fingers twisting and knotting the lines rather than untangling them.

"I'm sorry sir." She whispered to Mr Connelly and then curtsied towards the strangers. "Sir." This time the mysterious man who appeared to be running their household frowned deeper than he had on the street but taking it as anger towards herself, she looked down and skipped away.

"Get it done. Do it now." Connelly whispered as she passed him by and Isabelle moved faster, not noticing how the man's eyes were watching her the entire time.

"Hold on a minute." He said and walked over to her, reaching out to push the her hands down, the flags going with them. His hand wrapped around her wrist to do so and with it came that feeling again; the floating, the scratching, the whispers.

'Time Lord. Time War...Doctor...'

There was less pain this time but she still jumped slightly and felt her heart stop for the brief second her skin made contact with his. This time however, he seemed to jump back just as much, most likely startled by her own stupidity, but it was like he had been burned by her.

"I'm sorry sir, you startled me is all." Isabelle rushed out, trying hard to stabilise her breathing, looking down at the table and away from the man's questioning stare.

"Ignore the girl, she's not right in the head I say. Always daydreaming." Mr Connelly laughed slightly, looking between the girl and their visitors.

"I wouldn't say that was any way to talk about your own daughter." The girl who was with the man spoke with a slight sourness in her tone.

"Haha! Her? My daughter? By heavens no!" Mr Connelly laughed cruelly at the accusation. Meanwhile, Isabelle found herself meeting the man's eyes with a matching stare. She had been glaring at Mr Connelly's back in distaste until she felt the stranger watching her and the moment they locked eyes her frustration had melted. She calmed as if she had never been angry and her mind became empty and silent as the Sir carried on in the background. "Nothing but a street rat that girl. I brought her into this house by the kindness of my own heart."

Lies. That's what she wanted to yell as she heard him spew nonsense to guests. Lies! He hadn't done anything of the sort, he hadn't even been in the country. She had been found on the streets by Mrs Connelly and her mother in November 1941, just down the lane behind the butchers, the morning after an air raid. She had hid amongst bins and debris until the sound of engines and propellers had long gone, shaking and hugging her knees tight into her chest as if that would help at all. She couldn't even remember how she got there, it was like she had been pushed out of one of the passing spitfires. She had been terrified stif and silenced by it.

"Almost twelves years ago now it will be. My wife always wanted a daughter you see sir, mind she's as useless as a hat stand. Just standing there watching the stars go by." Isabelle would be lying if she said his words didn't hurt. He was right, twelve years she had been there with them and yet she still felt like a stranger.

It had been alright before he came home. On those dark nights she allowed her anger to take over she wished he hadn't. She wished he had been lost abroad, fallen and forgotten.

She caught herself, un-puckering her lips and righting herself before anyone saw. Just in time too, as the man and his friend turned their attention to her once Mr Connelly finished.

Unbeknownst to her, they were trying to compare the story to the girl who stood in front of them. She looked to be in her late twenties, early thirties? Dark hair hung way past her shoulders and would be half way down her back had it not been tied up with a neat little black ribbon which almost blended into her locks. She wore a blue stiff linen day dress, mid length, with a couple of stains around the collar and hem with uncomfortable looking shoes and thick stockings.

It was all suiting to the time, more so than what they had chosen to wear, but it didn't suit her. It looked wrong, so much so the girl found herself wincing as she looked at Isabelle. She wouldn't have been a child when the woman of the house found her so why had they brought her in? What had been wrong?

"Tell me what is your name? Miss...?" The man trailed off, eyebrows raised, and waited for her to answer but she already appeared lost, her mouth agape as she tried to think.

"Isabelle." She knew that alone wouldn't do when he continued to watch her. "...I...I'm not sure of my surname." Both visitors found it difficult to hear her properly and shifted just that little bit closer.

"Isabelle, lovely name." He nodded, looking up at her brow and inspecting for any old scars or damage before allowing them to drift down to her hands, scruffy and rough. "And where did you come from? London?"

"I erm...I don't exactly...I can't..." She struggled to answer, her mind seemingly going fuzzy like static at the end of the night on the new television set, when she tried to recall the name. "I'm sorry, I am foolish." Attempting to laugh, Isabelle ended up scoffing and frowning with her chin tucked into her chest shyly.

"No no, that's alright." The man hummed, his volume matched her own as he continued to study her. "Don't worry about it. War takes it's toll on the best of us." A moment passed and she gained just enough courage to lift her head and look at him through her lashes. War, eight years and they still couldn't shake it, but it was nice to know she wasn't the only one.

"Like the gentleman says." Mr Connelly spoke up again, seeming very annoyed all so suddenly.. "Now get on with it girl!"

"Hold on a minute. You've got hands, Mister Connolly. Two big hands. So why is that Isabelle's job?"

"Well, it's housework, innit?" He tried to explain with very little success and the argument between the two went on for quite some time but Isabelle wasn't listening, too busy trying to convince herself those voices had not returned inside her head and accepting the fact a complete stranger was sticking up for her. "And are you suggesting the Queen does the housework?"

"No. Not at all."

"Then get busy." Isabelle woke up with a jolt as the man held out his hand, she was right to guess it was for the flags as the second she passed them over they were transferred into the arms of Mr Connelly, a very shell shocked Mr Connelly.

"Right. Yes, sir." She stood agape at hearing his submission, gawking as he turned his back to get on with it. "You'll be proud of us, sir. We'll have Union Jacks left, right and centre."

"Excuse me, Mister Connolly. Hang on a minute. Union Jacks?"

"Yes, that's right, isn't it?" He looked scared, none of them had ever seen him look scared, not even when he had returned from war, not even when he had seen Gran for the first time without emotions. And this was because of a woman, nah that a girl...a strange girl, in his own home.

"That's the Union Flag. It's the Union Jack only when it's flown at sea."

"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, I do apologise." Had he stuttered? Or was Isabelle hearing things? She hoped not otherwise the effort she was putting into not smirking or even giggling under her breath would be undeserved.

"Well, don't get it wrong again, there's a good man. Now get to it!" Once she was done ripping into Mr Connelly this very strange girl sauntered over to the sitting area and dropped herself down onto the sofa where the man had already moved to.

Not wanting to be left unaccompanied with Mr Connelly, Isabelle followed them on tiptoes until she stood behind the girls chair, looking over the television with disinterest.

"Right then! Nice and comfy, at Her Majesty's leisure." The man grinned, setting himself right on the large settee next to Tommy. "I'm the Doctor and this is Rose, and you are?"

'Doctor?' Isabelle's eyes went wide as she thought. A doctor? That's what she had just heard, seconds ago and on the street...wasn't it? She was sure-

"Tommy." He answered, still watching his father follow their orders over his shoulder, briefly noticing Isabelle's worried frown before shrugging it off.

"Well, sit yourself down, Tommy. Have a look at this. I love telly, don't you?"

"Yeah, I think it's brilliant!" Of course he did, he had been glued to the damned thing since it had been carried into the boot by Mr Magpie down the road.

"Good man!" The Doctor smiled but as he too glanced back to make sure the work was still being carried out, his eyes found the young woman again. "And what about you Miss Isabelle? Like a bit of telly?" She looked shocked by the recognition and stuttered a bit, linking her fingers in front of herself.

"Oh, I don't really get the time to watch it sir." She smiled slightly, forcing it.

"Keep working, Mister C!" The man yelled, almost in reply to her comment and then turned forward towards the family, his voice considerably more hush. "Now, why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

"Did you say you were a doctor?" Rita spoke in fear.

"Yes, I am."

"Can you help her? Oh please, can you help her, Doctor?" Close to begging, tears began to fall from the older woman's eyes as the grief hit her and finally flooded out. All it took was one person volunteering to listen.

"Now then, Rita. I don't think the gentleman needs to know." Mr Connelly tutted, nervously peeping over his shoulder.

"No, the gentleman does." The Doctor quipped back, his face looking more serious than ever, whereas the girl introduced as Rose remained calm. In the chair next to him, Grans old chair, she leant forward and watched Mrs Connelly as neutrally and calmly as she could. She acted like a nurse, a real actually nurse at the hospital...and maybe she was? Maybe they were both in the army. A doctor and a nurse come to help in secret.

"Tell us what's wrong, and we can help." By the time she spoke up, her eyes had turned to Isabelle and she was smiling kindly.

She wanted to answer. And she almost did, before the penny dropped.

"Hold on a minute. Queen and country's one thing, but this is my house! What the?" He finally realised he wasn't being the big man anymore and threw the bunting down. Isabelle stepped back instinctually, and ducked out of the way as he stomped forward. "What the hell am I doing? Now you listen here, Doctor. You may have fancy qualifications, but what goes on under my roof is my business."

"A lot of people are being bundled into-" Tommy started to speak before he was cut off.

"I am talking!"

"And I'm not listening!" His voice made Isabelle jump as the Doctor leapt from his seat. He was bouncy, for lack of a better word, up and down more often than a space hopper down the back lane. "Now you, Mister Connolly, you are staring into a deep, dark pit of trouble if you don't let me help. So I'm ordering you, sir! Tell me what's going on!" Suddenly the thumping started again from upstairs and all heads turned up.

"She won't stop. She never stops." Mr Connelly finally spoke.

Her lips quivered and before she knew it the Doctor was in her face, practically pressed up against her while she denied his presence. It was nothing like Mr Connelly's however. It wasn't intimidating or threatening, he didn't breathe down her neck or glare at her until she submitted, the Doctor just watched her until she felt like they were the only two in the room. He knew. He could probably sense her weakness and knew she would be the first to crack. And all it took for him to be right was one small push.

"Tell me." His voice was soft and small, nothing like it had been. "Tell me and I can help." Isabelle lifted her chin just barely enough to peer at him through her lashes and swallowed hard, her tongue sweeping across her lips briefly.

"We started hearing stories, all round the place." She finally spoke, whispering. "People who've changed. Families keeping it secret because they were scared." She looked at the Doctor directly, ignoring the needle pricks started to weakly stab into the back of her head when he looked back at her. "Then the police started finding out. We don't know how, no one does. They just turn up, come to the door and take them, any time of the day or night." He looked at her for a short while, eyes softer but still deadly serious.

"Show me."

One look at Rita and the older woman had stood, leading the Doctor and Rose from the room without another word, but Isabelle stayed put. It wasn't her grandmother, she had no place going up there, so she stayed put and picked up from when Mr Connelly had left off, hanging up the flags along the walls. It was all calm again finally, until the front door got knocked open and two men came rushing in.

"Oi! Who are you?" She shouted after them, the flags once again being dropped to the ground to be trampled over as the strangers pushed her out of the way, ignoring her presence completely to run up the stairs. They were dressed like the police which had been hanging about recently, trilby hats and long trench coats. It only took moments for them to do what they came to do, and they retreated down the stairs with Gran held between them, the upper half of her body wrapped in a blanket just like all of the others.

Mrs Connelly followed close behind, screaming after them, Tommy wasn't too far behind her. But Mr Connelly, he stood at the top of the stairs looking down at the scene totally oblivious to Isabelle who could only see one emotion being displayed; relief.

"Don't fight it. Back inside." He finally snapped to attention, running downstairs and pulling his wife back into the house. She was crying, balling her eyes out but he couldn't have cared less, he didn't even bat an eye when the Doctor ran past a few seconds later, out of breath.

Rose however stopped right in the door way to the living room in front of where Isabelle had become stuck to the floor, and her eyes fixed on the wall behind her. It took a second, but eventually Isabelle realised and turned her head slowly to try and gage what the girl was so engrossed by. It didn't take long though, given the sparks of red lightening coming from the television set lit up the room

"What...is that normal?" She asked naively, but received no answer. Rose was already too invested in the scene and dared to go closer. "Don't...you..." Isabelle tried to speak out when the girl walked over to the TV. "You don't know if it will hurt you." She was ignored but in all honesty she wouldn't have noticed if the girl had answered her, she was too busy watching intently as she pulled the TV out from the wall and inch and took a look behind it.

"You!" The sudden roar made both of them jump to their senses. "Get the hell out of my house!" Mr Connelly screamed once he slammed the front door shut. It had been left wide open, no doubt Isabelle would get a telling off for that.

It made her scowl and shrink, whereas Rose stood up straight with a huff and dusted herself down.

"I'm going. I'm done. Nice to meet you, Tommy, Mrs Connolly, Isabelle. And as for you, Mister Connolly, only an idiot hangs the Union Flag upside down. Shame on you!" Then the girl ran out the house, leaving in her absence a stunned family of four. By the time Isabelle recovered and the Connelly's had moved into the kitchen to recover, the red lights had disappeared and the Telly was...just that, a telly.


It was the day of the Coronation. They had yet to see the Doctor again since last night and nothing else had been heard about the matter at all, which was good...no news was good news is what they all said right? In fact it was like it had never happened as guests started arriving at the Connelly's house, all glam ragged up and ready for a party.

"You've had your fun with your little Doctor, but now you're left with me, Rita. So you'll behave yourself and smile." Isabelle heard Mr Connelly warning his wife as she walked through from the kitchen with a tray of juice.

"Pop?" Isabelle forced a bright smile as guests smiled and thanked her but her smile was false, her head too busy to act proud of being a servant today.

"Here we go, everyone. Here we go. Grub's up, grub's up. Tuck in, everyone. Tuck in. Take a sandwich. Oh, here we go, here we go, it's started. Look, look. Take your places. Sit down, sit down. That's it. There we are." Mr Connelly rushed around everyone before taking his own seat. Isabelle simply stayed standing at the back of the room out of the way, leant against the back wall hugging the drinks tray and cherishing a moment of peace before she had to fetch something else.

"The East front of the palace on which all eyes are..." The television sounded.

She did look gorgeous, the Queen. It did look wonderful, all of the jewels and dressed and coaches and trumpets. It looked like a real celebration. It was warm, deep down in her it made her a little jealous. She wished she could be there, watching, right at the fringe when they all came out into the balcony. She wished she could see the colours and smell the air in big old London Town... but she was here, serving the pop.

"Rita, love. Just look at that telly box then. Ee, innit marvellous. The picture's so clear." One of the guests commented a second before the doorbell rang, jolting Isabelle's attention.

"Get that Isabelle, we don't want to miss any!" Mr Connelly ordered but she was already walking towards the door.

"Doctor?" She spoke without realising as soon as she saw who stood on the other side of the door. He looked panicked, angry even, stood right on the top step making him taller than her and very close. Behind him stood another man, another stranger, he looked like one of those policemen.

"Isabelle, talk to me." The Doctor's sudden demand caused her eyes to jump back to him. "I need to know exactly what happened inside your house."

"I-" The second she opened her mouth the door was ripped out of her grasp violently and Mr Connelly appeared behind her. From the look on his face, steam should have been coming out of his ears as his eyes darted between the men and herself.

"What the blazes do you think you're doing girl?" Eddie asked in anger.

"I want to help."

The Doctor saw the girl shrink in on herself and frowned. Although he had not seen her much, every time he had she had been in that shell; timid, quiet and afraid.

"Mister Connolly-"

"Shut your face, you, whoever you are. We can handle this ourselves." Eddie spoke to the Doctor before turning back to Isabelle. "Listen, you little twerp. You're hardly a respected woman, so I don't expect you to understand. But I've got a position to maintain. People round here respect me. It matters what people think."

Something snapped in her then, whether it be the irritation from the constant name calling bubbling over or due to the realisation that there were bigger problems now; she snapped. Her shoulders went back instead of slouching and she righted her posture so she looked up at Eddie with confidence.

"Is that why you did it, then?" Her words were accompanied with a frown as all of the pieces started to fall into place. It all made sense now. "You ratted on Mrs Connelly's mother. How else would the police know where to look, unless some coward told them."

That's all he was. A coward, just like she herself was. But at least she was standing up for herself now. Isabelle didn't know where her sudden courage was coming from, but it felt good to finally be able to talk for herself.

"How dare you! Do you think I fought a war just so a mouthy little scum like you could call me a coward?"

"You don't get it, do you?" The sound of Tommy's voice behind them made her jump. He stepped past them, daring to go stand next to the Doctor who remained watching them all calmly. "You fought against fascism, remember? People telling you how to live, who you could be friends with, who you could fall in love with, who could live and who had to die. Don't you get it? You were fighting so that little twerps like us could do what we want, say what we want. Now you've become just like them. Isabelle is right, you've been informing on everyone, haven't you? Even Gran. All to protect your precious reputation."

There was an empty beat, a pregnant pause. And then the shuffle of small feet in the hall made them all turn.

"Eddie is that true?" Mrs Connelly gasped.

The man shifted his feet nervously, his mouth gapped for a second before he tried to right himself, failing miserably.

"I did it for us, Rita. She was filthy. A filthy, disgusting thing!"

It hurt all of them to hear him say such things, but Isabelle could only try to imagine what it felt like to hear those words be spoken about your own mother, from the mouth of the man who called himself your husband.

"She's my mother. All the others you informed on, all the people in our street, our friends."

"I had to. I, I did the right thing." Eddie stuttered, the guilt quickly forming behind his eyes clearly for all to see.

"The right thing for us or for you, Eddie? You go, Tommy. Go with the Doctor and do some good. Get away from this house, it's poison. We had a ruddy monster under this roof, all right, but it weren't my mother!" Before Isabelle could say anything, Rita pulled her back inside the house and slammed the door in Eddie's face.

"Rita!" They both heard him call through the door and very soon banging commenced causing them to both roll their eyes.

"I'm sorry, for everything Isabelle." Mrs Connelly apologised. The younger woman's eyes widened in shock before she spoke, her smile turning out genuine this time.

"Oh..no worries Mrs Connelly...it wasn't...it wasn't your fault." The older woman just smiled before going back into the living room to join her guests.


It was hours later, during which Isabelle had kept her own company in the quiet setting of her bedroom, when she heard the calls from outside.

"Oh, it's my grandson, Oh, son!" A far too familiar voice exclaimed from the front yard...but it couldn't be.

As she raced outside, Isabelle shouted of Rita on the way and flung the door open, grinning wide when she saw Tommy's and Gran outside. She looked...fine. It was as if nothing had ever happened. Her clothes were a little dusty but neat, she was unharmed and fine, just fine. Her face was as friendly and as warm as it always had been, ever since the day she had slowly shuffled over to her in that alleyway.

"Isabelle! I'm glad to see you dear! Come here!" Isabelle could only laugh before embracing the old woman. "So glad indeed." She pulled away, brushing Isabelle's cheek with her withered finger and for a moment she actually felt like she belonged. But then Gran was pulled away and into a harshly loving embrace by Rita who could barely see her mother's face through her own tears.

And it was after pulling back, that the feeling didn't immediately dissipate, but there was a feeling of lacking. All around her there was an overwhelming happiness as she saw people returning to their families and loved ones. She too was happy, of course she was, everything was seemingly back to normal; but then she had not really been happy with normal either...

"Come on then, we have a party to prepare for!" Rita laughed as she dragged her mother inside. "Isabelle! Come on, there's a dress upstairs I'm sure will look lovely on you!"

She tried to hide her shock but she ended up stalling on the street with a wide smile.

"Coming!" She moved to follow then but something caught her attention from the corner of her eye.

Looking into the road, Isabelle soon spotted the Doctor and Rose and for a moment she stood watching them smiling widely and waving at smaller children as they skipped by waving flags. They didn't see her, but she returned the smile before heading back inside the house.


Late afternoon and the party was still in full swing and the sun was still shining down on them. Isabelle watched as children danced and laughed and the adults smiled and gossiped no longer having any worries. They were free and they were together, and yet for her that unidentifiable feeling lingered.

Gone were all thoughts of those whispers in her head, but they had been replaced once more by loneliness. It was that hole in her chest, the one she could never fill. Out of everything this should have filled it shouldn't it? She stood there in one of Mrs Connelly's prettiest baby blue sun dresses, surrounded by families and neighbours...but still nothing.

They weren't her family. This wasn't where she belonged.

There wasn't even anyone for her to talk to, no one had even said a single word to her throughout the whole partly apart from Mrs Connelly. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling of being alone, the one she'd felt that her whole life or at least the parts of life she could remember. It was like she was completely detached from everyone else...like no one else was in any way like her.

As she stood pouring out orange squash and lemonade, Isabelle felt a figure come to stand beside her silently. Only after a moment she looked up but her head instantly rang in pain suddenly and unexpectedly as her eyes met the deep brown orbs of the Doctors. She looked down again, wincing out of his view, until she heard him speak.

"Not in the party spirit?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leant back resting on the table.

"Erm..." She glanced at him briefly, noticing for the first time how tall he was and also how small his build was. His hair was swept back strangely and as he watched her, he squinted to keep the sun out of his eyes. "Not exactly, just a lot to take in. I'm sure you understand."

"Oh of course, I mean, it's been quite a day." His mood could change from exuberant to quiet in an instant she noticed as he loudly exclaimed and then switched to watching her closely in silence. He was studying her, too close for her liking, as she delayed pouring out all of the small party cups so she wouldn't have to look at him. "Are you going to be alright? Here I mean? With that family?" The Doctor looked over her shoulder towards the Connelly's house, frowning.

"Of course...now Mr Connelly has left. Maybe I'll actually feel like I live in that house." Isabelle smiled, though could not hold back a scoff as she looked up at the doctor. "Thank you Doctor, for whatever you did. Tommy told me you brought them all back home." The man just nodded with a small smirk on his lips, then suddenly took a large intake of breath.

"That man, Mr Connelly...he said you were fond of the stars." She was surprised he remembered such a small random detail, given the amount things Eddie had said about her in the Doctor's presence, so surprised in fact that she stared up at him wide eyes without thinking and was punished for it with a jolt to her head.

"I suppose." She shrugged minimally. "I...they're fascinating. Although I don't know anything much about them. Just that they...well..."

"What?" The Doctor tried to tempt it out of her when she fell quiet.

"You will think I'm an idiot. But I..." She paused but the Doctor stayed listening. "I sometimes feel as if they're, I don't know...calling to me. It's as if there's something out there calling my name. And if I watch them long enough, it almost feels like I'm sat looking for something. Waiting for something." She looked at the Doctors expression and smiled when she saw him looking down at her amused, with a cheek splitting grin. "You think I'm mad!" She yelled, giggling.

"No, not at all. No." The Doctor smiled and shook his head.

Something about him then made her relax and the pain in her mind even dulled as she indulged herself in having someone listen to her nonsense.

"I have dreams about them sometimes. About unexplainable things." She laid the jug of orange squash down and wiped her hands on a nearby tea towel, absentmindedly nattering away. "Creatures, creatures like tin cans that wander around...a box as well." Since her head was turned, Isabelle didn't notice how the Doctor frowned when she said that, or how he shifted and stood a little straighter. "Not a box physically, not like the cardboard boxes children make into planes and cars, but a..a room. And it's alive." Her eyes had glazed over and she was smiling. "I can talk to it and it, she…" She chuckled, hearing how mad it sounded. "…she understands and takes me anywhere I wish. The Time..." She stopped herself suddenly after she chanced a look at the Doctor and saw him practically glaring at her. She had to force herself to push the pain away to keep looking at him in an attempt to work out what she had said wrong, but the minute he caught her questioning him, he changed and returned to his smiling self.

But she didn't change, in fact her frown deepened before she looked away completely.

"You're a Doctor..." Isabelle sighed. "If I were to say something..would you not judge me?" She didn't know why she was considering asking him all this, but for the first time in her life someone actually sounded interested.

"No. Say whatever you want. Believe me I've probably said worse." He joked with a smile.

"Very well Doctor but...it seems as if every time you look at me, something is trying to get into my head. It burns and hurts...and then, when you touched my arm the other day, I heard things." The Doctor tried to hide his concern as he nodded for her to continue. "It keeps, I keep hearing...Time Lord or something like that anyway. Time Lord...Time War... It swirls around my head ever so quick I-" She was cut off, doing a double take, as the Doctor suddenly stood straight and pulled a pair of glasses from his jacket pocket, putting them on.

"Where have you heard that? Have you heard it somewhere before." Isabelle was surprised and took a step back from the Doctor as his eyes snapped over her full being.

"No! Just those two times. As soon as you step away it stops." She spoke quickly and the Doctor seemed to calm but his brow stayed furrowed, looking overly confused. "I'm sorry, have I offended you?"

"No...no Isabelle." He shook his head but she didn't believe him. "Tell me though, how did you end up with the Connelly family?" He asked.

Isabelle pouted, pulling back a little way to watch the Doctor as he ran his eyes over her again. She debated with herself on whether to walk away or tell him but in the end curiosity got the better of her.

"Mrs Connelly and Gran found me on the street sir, just like Mr Connelly told you. It was after an air raid. They took me in when they barely had enough rations for themselves and they needed help looking after Tommy who was only a baby, too young to be evacuated. I owe them everything, I had no where else to go. Lucky I wasn't dead when they found me to be honest." Isabelle shrugged her shoulders. "They all used to tease me about it, saying I was stupid and lost because I didn't know who I was or where I was from...didn't know what I could do or what I liked."

"You don't remember anything? Nothing at all?" He regret not being able to help her. The Doctor could save worlds and jump forward and back in time but he couldn't make her remember. Even if he showed her, it wouldn't be the same, she would never know all she had lost.

"Not even my name. Isabelle is just what Mrs Connelly wanted to call her daughter...should she ever have one. And all I had on me when I was found was the clothes on my back and a silly old pocket watch that didn't even work."

The Doctor's eyes suddenly snapped up to her, emotion running through them so strongly she could see each of them. Fear. Excitement. Shock. All due to what she had said but she wouldn't think why. "Is something wrong Doctor?"