Thank you all so much for your comments - you're just plain lovely, the whole lot of you. I've decided to have the rest of the chapters showing Amy telling the Doctor about the psychiatrists - as then we can have two Amy's - the Amy with the Doctor, and the Amy as a young girl growing up without him. Please keep leaving your suggestions as to what you'd like to see next, as they are very helpful. Thanks. x
Psychiatrist 2
"So, what was the second one like?" The Doctor asks me three days later, when we're sat in a pizza parlour in 1998 New York. He's half way through the cheese pizza we're supposed to be sharing, and stares over at me expectantly with his warm spaniel eyes.
I lean back in my uncomfortable plastic chair and pretend to be fascinated by the napkin holder, and the menu that is stained with remnants of ketchup and old forgotten meals.
"He was… Scottish."
Dr. MacDonald is a funny man, and he's Scottish, so I liked him right away. Instead of the solar system, he has a poster of the Lake District because that's where he goes camping sometimes. I remember when I last went camping. Me, Mum and Dad crammed into a tent in the back garden, eating jam tarts and giggling and giggling as if it was the funniest thing in the world. We didn't stay in the tent the whole night; it had started raining, and by about one o'clock in the morning the tent was flooded, and the sleeping bags were soaked. Mum took me inside to get dry, whilst Dad battled with the tent; eventually he gave up trying to take it down, and abandoned it until morning. Even though it was cold, and wet and I got no sleep at all that night, I remember it as being one of the happiest nights of my life - well, except for when I met the Doctor of course, but not much can compare to him.
Dr. MacDonald was really nice the first time I met him. He chatted to me about school, and my friends and about what kind of music I liked. He gave me biscuits and a glass of orange juice and had seemed so friendly and funny.
But today he is different; today he is angry. He's been watching me for the past ten minutes - he thought it would be a good idea to get me to do some drawings of 'my special Doctor friend'. It was the drawings that started all of this in the first place.
Usually I keep them hidden in a drawer, stuffed out of sight so Aunt Sharon can't see them. But she found them. And then she got really mad.
"I thought you'd put all of that Doctor nonsense behind you, Amelia." She kept on saying "You really are getting much too old for imaginary friends…"
I shouted at her then, and she shouted at me and I spent the night shut up in my room. It was okay - I didn't want to talk to her anyway. She's so nice to me sometimes, and then I have moments when I really properly hate her. Like the time we were in Marks and Spencer's looking at clothes, and the lady behind the counter had thought Aunt Sharon was my Mum. Aunt Sharon hadn't even said anything, she'd just smiled and put her arm around my shoulders. I pulled away from her right away and I didn't speak to her for three days. She's not my Mum. She'll never be my Mum; the sooner she realises that, the better.
Dr. MacDonald is holding up my drawing excitedly. It's a picture of me and the Doctor stood in the garden; he's got a big lopsided grin to go with his big lopsided haircut and is holding my hand.
"Amelia, it really is time for you to stop all of this." Dr. MacDonald says suddenly "You're a grown up girl now; in a few years you'll be starting secondary school, and we really can't have all of this nonsense then, can we?"
I don't know why he keeps asking me questions; it's not like he expects me to answer him anyway. Aunt Sharon is nodding her head - she thinks it's about time someone 'put me in my place'.
"I know it feels like this Doctor man is real-" He starts
"But he is real!" I say hurriedly. He smiles at me. This sad, weak little smile as if he feels sorry for me (which he isn't).
"I think you dreamt him Amelia." He says softly. "And that's okay. There's nothing wrong with having an imaginary friend… but you are not a little girl anymore."
"He's not imaginary!" I cry "He's real!"
He turns away and looks at Aunt Sharon impatiently.
"I think that Amelia might be better off in group therapy." He says slowly.
"Yes, I see." Aunt Sharon replies. My face burns - they're talking about me as if I'm not even in the room!
"She can be with other children like her, and talk over her problems…" Dr. MacDonald smiles at me falsely, and pats my hand.
"What do you mean, children like me?" I ask him. My blood is pounding in my ears. Everything begins to sound like it's far away. I know what is coming.
"Well… children who are especially disturbed and- OW!"
That shut him up. Before the stupid, horrible man could even finish his sentence I had kicked him hard in the shin. And to think, I had liked him because he'd been Scottish and had given me biscuits. Aunt Sharon was apologising to Dr. MacDonald over and over, whilst he hobbled around the room and got as far away from me as possible. He was staring over at me as if I was a monster ready to jump out and attack him.
"She's obviously got some anger issues to." He says sounding harassed "Perhaps I could recommend some anger management classes-"
"Shut up or I'll bite you." I snap crossly "I bit the last one, you know." I added.
"Amelia!" Aunt Sharon cries "Say sorry to Dr. MacDonald this instant, young lady!"
"No!"
"AMELIA!"
"No!"
Aunt Sharon tried everything she could to guilt me into saying sorry. She even mentioned Mum and Dad, suggesting that they would be so disappointed to see me acting so silly. In the end I mumbled an apology, just so I could get out of there.
In the car, Aunt Sharon turns up the radio and keeps her eyes fixed on the road.
I wish I had Mum or Dad to talk to. I think they'd understand somehow - but they've been dead for two and a half years now.
The Doctor is real. I know he is; but I'm getting tired of everyone telling me he doesn't exist. Aunt Sharon gets angry whenever I say his name, and even Rory is fed up of playing our 'raggedy Doctor' games. He says he'd rather play football, even though he's rubbish at it. No one believes me anymore. Even Jeff from next door says I'm crazy, but he doesn't say it in a nasty way. He says it in the same way you might say "you're very tall" or "you have very long hair". He says he's glad I'm crazy, because he's always wanted a nutter for a friend. I punched him on the shoulder for that; but I didn't really mean it.
I'm still waiting for the Doctor to come back. He said he'd only be five minutes. Perhaps he changed his mind. Perhaps he doesn't like me anymore. Perhaps he'd lied, and he'd never wanted to take me with him in the first place; who wants to go around with a little girl? A little girl would get in the way, especially when you were doing something as exciting as time travelling. He's left me…
"But I didn't leave you." The Doctor says, reaching across the table and lacing his fingers through mine "Well- I sort of did, but I came back. I was just a bit late."
I observe him, eyebrow quirked with mock irritation, and then laugh at the face he's pulling: for a moment there, I think he believed I was still angry with him. And I sort of am… but it's easy to forget about all of those years of loneliness when you're sat in a dingy diner in New York City, holding hands with the only person you've ever wanted to be with. And he is the only person - he really is. I love Rory, of course I do - but it's an easy love, a love between friends. I'd never want to see him sad and I'd never want to let him down. But deep inside I suppose I've always known that the only person I could feel anything for was that mad man in a box, with his hair askew and his grin ridiculously wide, holding out his hand to me and telling me to come with him. And I've sort of felt that feeling since I was 7-years-old. I haven't put a name to it. But I think I know what it is; I wonder if he knows too?
I look over at the Doctor who has been sneaking pizza off of my plate for the last five minutes without me even noticing. His eyes dart up - caught in the act, and when he smiles at me with a mouthful of stolen pizza, I think I've never seen anyone look so dumb and infinitely wonderful all in one moment.