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“Somewhere in the lower sub-strata there’s a wardrobe hall. I think it’s the first right after the karaoke buses,” the Doctor informed them helpfully.
“What do we need a wardrobe for?” was Graham’s confused response.
Giving a knowing and expectant grin of delight, the Doctor stood aside to let the Fam and O enter the TARDIS, then followed them inside. The others allowed her to lead them through a complex series of corridors twisting and turning impossibly through the ship until she finally stopped at an unassuming door and flung it open with a flourish. Graham poked his head through into the vast room which was empty save for a pair of boots sitting primly in the centre. He looked back at the Doctor quizzically.
“Oh, sorry,” the Doctor muttered. “Boot cupboard.” She opened the door next to it and Yaz gasped in amazement at the sight which met their eyes.
“I’m sure we’ll find something respectable in here,” the Doctor mused. “Think ‘posh party with a rich bloke’ for inspiration,” she instructed them, and they all headed off in different directions to search for suitable clothing.
O meandered slowly along a row of particularly flamboyant outfits, an excess of frills and ruffles dripped from clothing made from all manner of rich and tactile-looking fabrics. He fingered a maroon velvet smoking jacket, an unfathomable expression in his eyes as he shook his head almost imperceptibly. Rounding the corner, he came across an impractically long knitted scarf and tutted aloud. None of these would do. He turned another corner and was faced with a selection of Edwardian dresses. He smirked and wagged his finger in the air before spotting a more sober rail of dark suits. Those would be more appropriate, he felt, though he also picked up a pair of vibrant green socks along with the first of the suits.
A few levels above, Graham was strolling along row after row whilst munching on the cheese and pickle sandwich he’d found conveniently waiting for him at the top of the spiral staircase. He was leaving a trail of Hansel and Gretel-like crumbs behind him as he wandered aimlessly along, marvelling at the sheer variety of clothing he was confronted with. He didn’t consider himself to be an adventurous dresser, mostly favouring comfort over style. But he didn’t suppose trainers and a cardigan would cut the mustard at a swanky do, so his aim was to find something that successfully balanced comfort with respectability. He felt he might have ended up in the wrong place, looking at about a hundred tutus in every shade of pink imaginable stretch out before him, and clambered up a random flight of stairs he spotted halfway along. Ah, this looked more the job. Smart black suits, a variety of bow ties and even a drawer full of cufflinks. He began to root through the drawer, hoping for something to catch his eye.
Ryan was finding it difficult to keep his focus on the task in hand when he kept getting distracted by some pretty amazing and outlandish clothing choices. The first thing he’d chanced upon was a row of suits of armour, and he was sorely tempted to try one of them on. He could just imagine Graham’s surprise if he jumped out from around a corner wearing something like that, though he admitted to himself that it would probably be entirely impossible to jump in full metal armour. Sadly, he turned away from the gleaming metal and headed down an alternative aisle, this time apparently full of regal-looking period clothing of the sort that wouldn’t look amiss on Henry VIII. This gradually gave way to a section of beachwear – shorts and shirts in a wild variety of colours, flip flops lined up on the floor, and even a huge wire cage full of beach balls! Why had the Doctor never shown them this place before? One day, when they had solved the latest crisis, he was totally suggesting a beach trip. He was already tossing up between two different pairs of shorts when something black and smart caught his eye. Oh yes! Barton’s party! He pulled the black item out and discovered a stylish, slim black suit which he fancied would suit him just nicely.
At the same time, a few aisles further back, Yaz was in too much amazement to consider what she might choose to wear. The sheer scale of this cavernous space in the TARDIS had taken her breath away and the unending clothing possibilities were mind blowing. At that precise moment, her wandering feet had taken her to a section filled with the most glorious ballgowns made from sumptuous textiles. A bold scarlet dress caught her eye, and she touched the flowing fabric, imagining herself swishing around in it. Next to it was a more form-fitting emerald green affair, and further along still, a dress in such a shade of blue that it was like looking at the sky on a summer’s day. She pondered absently on why the Doctor had all of these clothes, which led her train of thought to wonder if the Doctor ever came in and tried some of these things on, an image of her in the sky blue dress making her breath catch and she cleared her throat, as if caught doing something embarrassing. The Doctor had mentioned once that the TARDIS was telepathic, and Yaz sincerely hoped her current thoughts had not been intruded upon. She took a deep breath and resolved to find something practical for the inevitable running that was bound to ensue whenever the Doctor was involved, and settled on a shimmering black jacket which caught the light and some smart but sensible looking black trousers.
Whilst the others were searching in wonder for their party outfits, the Doctor found herself submerged in old memories, walking down a distant and dark passage lined with shelves and shelves of odd trinkets and paraphernalia. Her fingers trailed across a gold star badge, a purple airline hostess hat, a necklace of roughly carved wooden beads, a sporran and a soft but jaunty leather cap, her mind elsewhere, her eyes seeing something other than the dim and dusty corridor she was physically occupying. On a higher shelf she tentatively reached out to touch a baseball bat, an elaborate gold brooch, a wide, brown leather belt and a brightly coloured hair scarf that made her hearts hurt. She cast her eyes around and they fell sadly on a red leather jacket, a pair of red and white striped dungarees and a Union Jack t-shirt hanging nearby. At the terminus of the passage was a lone shelf holding simply a wedding ring.
She felt sure the TARDIS had led her down here for a reason, but she wasn’t very appreciative of it and curtly turned on her heel with a sour expression on her face, and headed elsewhere, passing a very long, brown trench coat, a fez, and a large panda costume. None of those would be appropriate choices, she was sure.
She was uncertain what might serve as an apt alternative to her usual clothes – after all, they had served her well on many occasions – but even she was forced to admit they probably wouldn’t be conservative enough for mingling with the extremely wealthy and powerful. Reluctantly, she pulled off her coat, laying it reverently on top of a chest of drawers, and then smiled broadly in delight as she saw hanging in front of her a long, black jacket with an impressive blood red lining which, whilst not her usual coat, was similar enough that it pleased her greatly. “Well done, Old Girl,” she muttered happily, regretting her previous grumpiness. Hanging with the coat was even a pair of black, three-quarter length trousers, with some black socks and boots on the floor below. The Doctor’s smile grew wider, and then she saw the selection of bow ties in a box by the boots and her grin became so big she thought the top of her head might fall off.
Graham was the first to find his way back to the doorway, tugging at his cuffs. O followed closely behind, sure that the return journey had been considerably shorter than the distance he had actually wandered. Ryan crept up behind Graham and thrust a stuffed lizard over his shoulder, causing the older man to clutch his chest and exclaim in fright.
“You doughnut!” he reprimanded his grandson, who doubled over in laughter. The Doctor rounded a corned and greeted them all with her delighted face, prompting Graham to comment, “Looking sharp, Doc!”
Finally, Yaz trotted down the nearby stairs, and the Doctor noticed her smile falter just a little as she saw the rest of the group. A line of concern formed between her eyebrows and she looked questioningly at the dark-haired woman. Yaz looked away, to the Doctor’s consternation.
“Are you OK, Yaz?” she asked, worried. “You look amazing!” she added with feeling.
“I’m fine, Doctor. It’s just…” she hesitated, feeling silly. Ryan, Graham and O were all comparing elements of their outfits, so she had the Doctor’s full attention. “Everyone else has bow ties, even you. I know it’s just a meaningless thing,” she shrugged off her disappointment and gave a wry smile.
“Hold it right there,” the Doctor put her hands on Yaz’s shoulders for just a moment, as if to fix her in place, and then ran off down a random gap between some rows of clothes. The others had noticed this and stopped their chatter, looking in confusion at Yaz who could only shrug apologetically. She had no idea what the Doctor was doing or where she was going, and they all looked awkwardly around at each other.
And then the Doctor burst back through the gap, triumphantly holding a small, black box aloft. She ran straight up to Yaz and presented it to her with a nervous smile.
“You were sad you didn’t have a bow tie,” she said quietly. “Can’t have a sad Yaz.”
Yaz gazed into hazel eyes and for just a moment, it felt as if the universe stopped and held its breath, stars exploded around them and nothing else existed. She dragged her eyes down to look inside the box as she opened it, to see a beautiful necklace with a delicate silver bow pendant. She gave a tiny gasp of astonishment.
“Doctor, it’s beautiful!” she breathed, the softest smile lighting up her face. The Doctor gently lifted it out of the box and reached around Yaz’s neck to fasten it on, bringing their faces so close they almost touched. Yaz lifted her hair out of the way, the warmth of the Doctor’s breath intoxicating her. She closed her eyes for just a moment, inhaling the heady scent of the woman in front of her, and felt soft lips press against her cheek so tantalisingly briefly. When she opened her eyes, she saw an uncharacteristic pinkness colouring the Doctor’s cheeks, and then Graham cleared his throat and the world swam back into existence around them.
“Shall we go to a party?” the Doctor asked, holding out her arm? Yaz nodded, taking the proffered arm, and they all strode out of the door, leaving the wardrobe hall filled with only it’s silent secrets once more.