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She started picking up her things. She could feel him watching her coolly as she scrambled around for clothes and possessions, trying to push them back where they'd come from. She could feel herself getting flustered.

Each time she righted a bag, another fell over.

Russell burst out laughing. 'I'm sorry,' he said.

Cynthia stood up, leaving the scattered shopping bags, to switch on a table lamp. 'I'd be, too, if I were you,' she said.

The lamp made little difference to the room's lighting, serving only to throw the shadows into sharper relief, making them more definite. Russell raised an eyebrow, creasing the scarring on his forehead, and offered her a supercilious smile.

'I think you made a mistake, earlier,' he said. 'You know. When you told me to leave.' She glared at him, said nothing. 'I think you should make amends.

She closed her eyes, relief mingling with her resolve. He wasn't scaring her, he was just making her angry. 'I think you should just shut up. I've really got to be going.'

'That's very rude,' Russell eluded. 'Aren't you even telling Dr Roley?'

'I already have,' she lied. But Russell shook his head and started tutting again. She'd had enough of this. 'Get out of my way,' she said.

Russell paused, then moved aside. Ignoring him ostentatiously as she pushed past, she tried the front door. Then she stopped in her tracks. How come the door was back in place? And how come it wouldn't budge no matter how hard she pulled on it?

She turned at the sound of Russell laughing at her. Behind him, Lucy, Watson and Mrs Kreiner had stepped out into the hallway.

***

Roley was staring into space as Maria came into his office. He was sitting at his desk, and she could see tears that were still fresh and wet on his face. He was trembling.

'Oh, Charles,' she whispered, wiping at her own tears.

'Would you mind if we discussed this later, Maria?' Roley asked, clearly pretending nothing was wrong. 'Only I've got this deuced headache and -'

'I think we need to talk now, Charles,' she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

'I don't think we two have anything to discuss, do we?' he said, trying to act all lofty and indifferent. It was his professional voice. She'd heard him use it so many times, and wondered how many had been convinced by it.

'It's Watson...'

'Leave it.'

'Face up to it, Charles!' she implored. 'Please, don't think I'd... I mean, I don't know how they did it, but they made us -' She was painfully aware how desperate she sounded, which was crazy, because it was true, wasn't it? She started again. 'It was as if they were making us perform -'

'I have nothing whatever to say on that subject, Miss Bulwell,' he snapped, looking down at the papers in front of him.

'Miss Bulwell?' she repeated, dully. She paused, as the words rolled around inside her head, knocking down the other thoughts there like skittles. 'Are you talking tome ?' she hissed, anger welling up. 'Because if you are talking to me you can bloody well look at me and call me by the same bloody name you've called me for the last four years.'

'You're acting very commonly," Roley said, still unable to look at her.

Maria laughed, a harsh, staccato sound. 'Am I, now?' She deliberately broadened her Yorkshire accent. 'I'm acting common, am I?' She stormed over to his desk. 'Seems I can be a nurse, or a partner-in-crime, or an emotional crutch as often as you like, but God help me if I ever bloody well act like a woman with you... Is that it, Dr Roley?' He didn't answer. 'After all these bloody years?'

'Er... I really hate to interrupt.'

She spun round, speechless not only with anger but with embarrassment. It was Fitz. For a moment she was taken aback. He looked something like she felt.

'Like I say, sorry and all that, but I think my mum wants to destroy the world.' He looked at Roley. 'You got a posh name for that sort of thing, Doc?'

***

The Doctor had listened to Sam's story in silence. When she'd finished, she'd expected some comment or other,