Martha stayed in the doorway while Craig finished his apple core. "He's funny that way, Martha," he laughed. "Wait till you hear all the other stuff."

"Should we discuss this or not?" asked Martha raising an eyebrow. Craig's arrival was a happy accident. But this new stranger looked like he might be a heavier burden altogether.

"Maybe not," replied the Doctor. He looked a little uneasy. "Your traveling friend isn't with you, is he?"

"No," said Martha. "How do you know that? Did you meet the angels too?"

The Doctor turned to Craig. He looked anxious. "Don't worry," Craig said with a wink. "She's perfectly safe."

"I'll be the judge of that," said Martha quietly.

"Her friend's off burning DVDs or something. You should meet him. He sounds 'interesting'; like you." Craig winked at Martha.

"Do you know The Doctor then?" Martha asked arms clasped across her chest again.

"Yes," said Craig. "But I thought you said you didn't know him." Craig stopped. He realized that Martha was not talking to him. She was staring at his friend. "You said you didn't know this guy. Is this the Doctor you're talking about? No?"

The Doctor straightened the fez on his head and fiddled with his bow-tie. "Hello, Doctor Jones," he smiled.

Martha put her hands up to her ears in a childish impression of not listening. "Oh. I don't think I want to know this." She stepped back from the doorway and into the apartment.

:::

Martha stood by the window. The market square was temporarily in total darkness and total quiet. She had also left the lights of the apartment switched off.

"So, you're him?" she asked.

The Doctor stood in the little doorway in the dark adjusting his hat and bowtie. "Yes. But I could go if this is getting difficult. I think maybe I should."

From the darkness of the hall, Craig piped up. "Don't be daft, Doctor. We've just met again. It's great. I've only just arrived myself. We can have a kick-about in the morning."

"Are you him, like now?" Martha asked. The faint moonlight lit the side of her face. "You didn't get some other crazy idea while you were talking to the publisher? Change your face?"

"Oh, I see. Good point. No, I'm him, but at a different time. It never even occurred to me what year it was. This sort of thing rarely happens. Usually for the best."

Martha looked back into the room and looked this Doctor up and down. "How do you know me? My friend's older. You must be from some time ago." She squinted her eyes. "But you don't even look like him."

The Doctor stepped forward. "No. No, I'm much older. I remember you." He pointed at her. "But you never mentioned me."

"I don't know what I'm going to say. So we escape from all this then? I'll keep quiet."

"No." The Doctor stepped forward to face her directly. "I would know. And I can't tell you what happens. What if you had told me? No. Let's just have some tea and a biscuit and go on our way."

Martha thought for a second. Maybe the Doctor had escaped the trap of the angels. But he had not confirmed if she had escaped.

Craig flipped the light switch. "Sounds like a plan, Doctor. I'll pour the tea."

:::

The Doctor paced up and down by the window of the first floor apartment. It was still dark, but there was still a lot of activity with municipal cleaning carts, and couples on their way to the theaters and restaurants on The Strand.

"You're not making sense. How are you going to get to Mexico, Craig? Do they even have commercial air travel in this age?"

"Don't be stupid, Doctor", Craig replied. He was savoring the corner of a piece of toast spread with real butter. "We've had planes for a hundred years. I'm saving up for the ticket. It'll take me about three months, but I won't eat much and this flat is free while I work here." He winked at Martha.

"Then what will you do?" asked the Doctor quietly. "Watch the football and work for a year to fly back again? I know I always tend towards the optimistic, Craig, but that sounds a bit vague. Even to me."

Craig licked his fingers. "Maybe I'll use the ring. I'll have seen what I want by then."

"What are you not telling me, Craig? This seems like a lot of effort to watch a football match. You could stay here and watch it on the telly box."

Craig sighed. "Look. I missed, Doctor. I wanted to be here in London in 1966. I wanted to see England win at Wembley. But I missed the date. I'm here three years later."

"Don't worry, Craig," said the Doctor. "I've managed to muddle by somehow. You get used to it." He patted Craig on the arm.

"But I don't know how to make it work again. It's stopped working. It's alright, I'll live with it. London in '69. That's still pretty exciting."

:::

"I'm off to see Ronnie Scott. What about you two?" asked the Doctor. He pulled on a raincoat over his suit jacket. He looked thoughtful.

"I'm not into jazz clubs. How about we go to a local pub, Martha?" asked Craig.

"I'm not sure a woman in a bar would get the reception you'd expect, Craig." Martha shook her head.

"We can go to a bar in Soho," offered the Doctor. "Ronnie knows the best ones. All very accomodating."

"Ah. Not the club then," said Craig. "Is Ronnie Scott a personal friend?"

"Well, there was a thing with a piano. I helped a little. You know what I mean, Martha?" he raised his eyebrows hopefully.

She laughed briefly. "It almost passes me by now, Doctor. This person and that person. Name-dropping is too small a word for it."

"Let's all go then," suggested Craig. "The buses run by on The Strand. I'm dying to jump on the back of a Routemaster."