"Are you going to buy that?"
Bill looked up from the magazine she was holding. Its title was 'Posh Poultry Monthly'. On the cover was a photo of a hen with a blue ribbon draped around its neck, and headlines such as: 'Exhibit Your Cream Legbars With Style!'; 'How to Deodorise Your Coops'; and 'Do You Need a Chicken Whisperer?'.
"Um… maybe," she told the man behind the counter.
"You've been standing there for twenty minutes reading it. Either buy it or move on. I'm not running a library here."
Bill in fact hadn't been reading the magazine. Rather, she'd grabbed it at random, using it as an excuse to stay inside the nice, dry newsagents while she scoped out the diner across the road. It beat hanging around in the rain outside. Just as well. Nearly half an hour, and no sign of Ozzy yet.
Now the man's attitude grated.
"Look, mate. I'm a customer. Why don't you show a bit of respect and-"
A flurry of moment outside caught her eye. Ozzy – now wearing a cardigan over a polka-dotted dress – stepped out of the diner. Bill watched as she opened an umbrella, and set off down the street.
"Uh oh. Gotta run." She dumped 'Post Poultry Monthly' back in the rack and hurried out the door.
Raindrops hit her face. She shivered a little, pulling her denim jacket tightly around her body. Ozzy didn't seem to have any idea she was being followed. Bill tailed her down to the main street, where Ozzy turned left, and walked for a further five blocks, past restaurants, cafes, and clothing boutiques.
Where the bloody heck was Ozzy going?
Ozzy crossed the road and headed down a laneway, Bill still following her at a distance. Then, abruptly, Ozzy stopped (Bill quickly ducked into the doorway of a nearby office building) and opened a low gate set into a hedge. Bill peered out. The gate led to a paved courtyard, behind which stood a square white building with green guttering. She watched as Ozzy pushed open the door and entered.
Cautiously, Bill crept out from behind the doorway, and approached the building. The sign above the door read: Animal Shelter.
What was Ozzy doing here? Bill hesitated for a split second, then legged it across the courtyard, and dropped down beneath one of the front windows. Thankfully, she was shielded from the street by the hedge. She raised her head as much as she dared, and peeked in the window.
Ozzy was smiling and talking to a middle-aged woman, who was holding a clipboard. Bill pressed her ear against the glass, but couldn't make out the conversation.
"Spaceboy! You're sleepy now!"
Oh cripes. Her phone. Bowie's 'Hallo Spaceboy'. Bill had downloaded it for her ringtone the other week – the song had reminded her of the Doctor. Now she grabbed the phone from her pocket. Caller: Shireen. She stabbed at the screen, swiping right to answer the call.
"Hey girrrl! Looking forward to our Thrones marathon tonight!"
"Shireen, this is not really a good time."
"Why are you whispering? Are you still at work? Is your boss still blowing smoke up your-"
"Ask me later," hissed Bill. "I'm kind of in the middle of something right now." She looked inside the window again. Neither Ozzy nor the woman seemed to have heard her phone go off. Thank god. The woman was now leading Ozzy down a corridor. They disappeared from Bill's view.
"Woah, what's with the tone, girl? I was only calling to see whether you'd prefer Pringles or Doritos for our snack. I can get some of that new raspberry cider too."
'Yeah, listen. I don't think I'll be able to make it tonight. Sorry."
"What? But we were gonna watch Season Five, remember? Don't you want to see 'that scene' in the first episode with Dany and Daario? One for each of us to drool over!"
"I'm really sorry. This… thing's just come up." Faint sounds of barking came from inside the building. Rain dripped down the back of Bill's neck, and she sneezed.
"What thing? Why are you being so mysterious?" Shireen's voice lowered. "This doesn't have anything to do with your Doctor, does it?"
"No, I told you-"
She heard Shireen gasp. "He's back, isn't he?"
"Look, I'll call you later, ok? We'll reschedule for another time, yeah?" Bill swiped left, then turned her phone to silent mode. Then she sighed.
If only the Doctor had come back. Investigating weird events wasn't much fun herself. At least the rain had stopped. She was damp to her bones, though. Minutes ticked by. Bill was considering going home – perhaps it wasn't too late to call Shireen back and say-
Voices. The door opened. Bill flattened herself against the building, heart hammering.
"… take good care of him," Ozzy was saying.
"So kind of you to choose him," replied the woman. "Most people just want the puppies. Lovely when they're young and cute, but once they grow up, the novelty wears off."
Bill blinked. Ozzy walked to the gate, holding a dog leash. Attached to the other end was the oldest dog Bill had ever seen. It was a Pomeranian; grey around the muzzle, and eyes clouded over by cataracts. As Bill watched, it quivered on its hind legs. Ozzy opened the gate and scooped the animal up, carrying it down the street.
Ok. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Ozzy simply felt inspired by Jason's love for Forty-Nine, and wanted a pet of her own? Bit weird that she chose one so… ancient, but perhaps she felt sorry for it?
After a couple of moments, Bill snuck to the gate and onto the street. Dusk fell as she followed Ozzy and the dog back to the diner. She hung back in the doorway of the now-closed newsagents and watched, as across the road, Ozzy flipped on the lights, and set the little dog down. Ozzy then strode down the back room, with her new pet wobbling after her.
Now what?
Less than two minutes later, Ozzy stepped out again. She carried… Bill squinted in the darkness… a rather bizarre assortment of objects. Cat carrier in one hand. Or rather, a canine carrier, since it now contained the dog. Butterfly net tucked under her arm. Something that looked like a remote control sticking out of her cardigan pocket. And in her other hand was an enormous semi-automatic! Bill's eyes bugged out. Oh. Wait. Ozzy passed underneath a street lamp, and Bill saw that it was actually a water pistol. Fully loaded.
Either Ozzy had a very strange idea of what to bring to a water fight, or something weird was about to happen.
This time, Ozzy didn't go far. Only around the back, to the alley that ran behind their diner. Ozzy stopped. Bill ducked down amid a group of rubbish bins, trying not to breathe through her nose.
Ozzy opened the cat carrier, and clipped the leash onto the dog. Then to Bill's shock, she moved back several paces towards the bins, only a couple of metres from where Bill was crouching. Ozzy was facing the other way, but any moment she could turn around…
"I know you're close by."
Bill jumped. Then realised Ozzy appeared to be talking to someone else.
"So, come on. What are you waiting for?"
Something flickered in the darkness, down the other end of the alley. The dog strained at its leash, whining. Ozzy clapped a hand to her chest; the odd device in her pocket was vibrating.
A dark shape took form, growing closer, levitating. Were those wings?
The dog let forth a series of short, sharp yaps. Ozzy grasped the butterfly net in one hand, and raised the water pistol with the other. Then Bill stifled a gasp. Little puffs of flame were coming from the… the thing, whatever it was. Like it was snorting fire.
Ozzy took aim.
"Spaceboy! You're sleepy now!"
Oh god! She thought she'd turned her phone to silent!
Several things then happened almost simultaneously.
Bill stood up. Ozzy spun around, and squeezed the trigger. A blast of icy water shot up Bill's nostril. She sneezed violently, losing her balance, tumbling back against the bins, knocking them over and scattering rubbish everywhere. Dazedly, she watched the creature rise, flapping hard, before disappearing into the night. She was vaguely aware of Ozzy shouting. At her, or the creature, she wasn't sure.
"Moon dust will cover you, cover you, cover you…"
Unfortunately, the only things covering Bill were chicken bones, greasy wrappers, and potato peelings. She fished her phone – still ringing – from her pocket. Moira. She thumbed left, to reject the call.
Ozzy stood over her. "Bill! What the hell are you doing here?"
Her. Ozzy was definitely shouting at her.
"Are you completely stupid? Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"Um," said Bill. What could she say? But Ozzy hadn't finished.
"How long have you been here?"
The little Pomeranian emerged from behind Ozzy's legs. After contemplating Bill for a second, it wobbled over and gave Bill an enormous lick, right across the cheek.
Bill struggled to her feet. "Just a few minutes."
Ozzy narrowed her eyes. "What did you see?"
"I saw that thing. What was it?"
Ozzy paused. "A bat."
"Seriously? But what about the…?" Bill pointed at her nose and attempted to mime the fire breathing.
Another pause. "Must have been a trick of the light. Or fireflies."
"Fireflies!" exclaimed Bill. "You've got to be joking. You know what that bloody looked like? That looked like an-" She was about to say "alien", but Ozzy cut her off.
"Enough! You've ruined everything tonight. I don't know what the hell you're playing at, but I want you to keep your nose out of my business. I have… stuff going on that I need to do, and which doesn't concern you."
"Maybe I could help?" suggested Bill hopefully.
"You can't," Ozzy replied bluntly. "Now, go home, Bill. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Right," muttered Bill. She turned to go.
"By the way," said Ozzy. "That's the stupidest ringtone I've ever heard." She scooped the dog into the carrier, picked it up, along with the butterfly net and water pistol, and strode off, back to the diner.
Bill trudged down the laneway, disconsolately.
"Spaceboy! You're sleepy now!"
Oh for Pete's sake. It was Moira again. This time Bill answered.
"Hello Bill. You're slow to pick up, aren't you? Listen, I'm at the local, having drinks with Barry. Can you put the bins out?"