Chapter Five

The curtain is pulled quickly to one side, the small metal hoops clattering against the rail, to reveal Amy Pond striking a pose: one hand pushing her hip outwards, the other pressed against the wall of the small booth she is standing in, one leg slightly bent, with the tip of her shoe touching the floor, and her lips pouted. She wears a tight-fitting, navy blue shift dress that sits extremely high on her thighs, revealing the majority of her long legs, with matching blue high-heeled platform shoes, whilst clutching a small black leather bag.

'So?' she asks her husband, whilst relaxing her pose and sliding a large pair of black plastic sunglasses off of her nose and onto the top of her head. 'What do you think?' She looks down at herself before looking over her shoulder at the mirror in the booth behind her to admire the view of herself from behind. Amy looks back at her husband, who still remains silent.

With his brow furrowed with confusion and his mouth hanging open, Rory is somewhat reluctant to answer, and hesitates for slightly too long.

'I look fantastic!' Amy corrects him; again she looks over her own shoulder to admire her reflection in the mirror.

'Y-yes, you look fantastic' stammers Rory, attempting to feign a convincing tone. Amy glares at him.

'Are you just saying that because I'm saying it?' Amy questions.

'Yes.'

'I thought so,' she replies. Amy skips forwards, places one hand on her husband's cheek and places a soft kiss on his lips. 'You're adorable' she tells him, before spinning around, entering the small changing room and whipping the curtain back across. 'So why don't you like it?' asks Amy from behind the curtain.

No longer under his wife's fixing stare, Rory sits down on a bright green plastic chair outside Amy's booth and attempts to come up with an acceptable answer. 'Well...' he starts, 'it's quite a short dress.'

'It's supposed to be – this is the sixties,' argues Amy from within the booth. 'They'll all be wearing mini-skirts soon.'

'Okay, well – what about the colour?' Rory asks. There is a metallic rattling of hoops as Amy's head and a shoulder appear from behind the curtain.

'It's TARDIS-blue,' she says condescendingly before disappearing again. Rory sits silent in defeat, looking around at the brightly coloured striped dresses and the knee-high leather boots on display. Apart from Amy and him, there is only one other customer in the narrow shop: a short-haired blonde woman talking to the woman behind the counter at the front of the store. From the eager look on the shop assistant's face, Rory assumes that the short-haired woman is more of an acquaintance than a customer, as the couple engage in a lively discussion. Despite the shop being empty of any other customers, the sound of the conversation does not carry to the rear of the shop.

Out of curiosity and boredom, and not wanting to contradict his wife too many more times, Rory stands and slowly manoeuvres his way around the rails of striped skirts and shelves of stiletto shoes towards the front of the shop, and towards the hushed conversation. As he creeps forwards, he takes items of clothing at random from the displays, pretending to be picking them out for his wife, in an attempt to keep a low profile. Engrossed in their conversation, however, the nattering women are not aware of Rory lurking behind a one-armed mannequin that is sporting a floral-print blouse with white, flared trousers.

'...shouldn't be back till late, what with all this funny stuff happening over in Cropley Street. Apparently my Gary was the first one that found him,' says the short-haired woman, speaking so quickly that it takes Rory a second to catch up.

'Oh, Debbie, that must have been awful!' the woman behind the counter exclaims with her eyebrows raised, staring intensely at her friend over the top of her glasses.

'Yeah, but hopefully that means he'll be down the station until late,' suggest the blonde woman, with a cheeky smile spreading over her face.

Without understanding a word the gossiping women have said, and suddenly becoming aware of his blatant eavesdropping, Rory turns around with the intention of creeping back towards the rear of the shop to wait for his wife. As he turns, however, he comes face to face with Amy, startling him and causing him to let out an involuntary gasp.

'What are you doing hiding over here, Stupid Face?' she asks, now dressed in her regular checked shirt and tight jeans. Amy looks down at the clothes draped over Rory's arms. 'I hope these aren't for me,' she tells him in disgust; picking out a particularly hideous knitted floral jumper from his collection and holding it at arm's length before throwing it back into his arms.

'No, these are just... erm,' Rory replies, before dropping the bundle of clothes onto another bright green plastic chair sitting against the wall.

'Well you can make yourself useful and buy me this dress,' says Amy, holding up the navy blue shift dress that she had just been trying on.

'Do you have any money?' Rory asks.

'No. Do you?'

Rory shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans in search of money, but instead pulls out and holds up a credit card. The pair share a quizzical look for a moment before both turning their heads towards the shop counter.

'Erm... excuse me?' Rory says to the woman behind the counter, not wanting to interrupt her conversation with the short-haired woman. 'Do you... take credit cards?' he asks slowly, whilst holding up his small plastic card.

'I'm sorry,' says the woman behind the counter, she looks away from her friend and presses her cat-eye spectacles further up the bridge of nose, 'what did you say?'

'Credit card?' Rory repeats.

'I'm very sorry,' she replies, 'I'm afraid we only sell clothes here, sweetie.' The woman behind the counter turns to look at Amy and spots the blue dress in her arms: 'would you like that dress, dear?' she asks, 'it'd look lovely on a girl with your figure.' She drags her glasses to the tip of her nose and looks over the top of them, her eyes scanning Amy from her red hair down to her brown boots.

'Oh – no, I haven't got any money,' says Amy, looking nervously at her husband, 'but it's a very nice dress.' She places it on the counter, grabs Rory by the arm and moves him towards the exit of the shop, leaving the two gossiping women too engrossed in their own affairs to feel anything other than indifference towards Amy and Rory's strange behaviour.