by Susan Calman
Bill was tempted to lean down and whisper to the TARDIS how excited she was about her date that evening, but instead she spoke to the Doctor.
‘Thing is, Doctor, you can have too much choice. I could go down there, or up there, or out there, or wherever your rooms full of jackets are … but too much choice means I might not find anything. If I go into town, I’ve got to decide what I like, by myself, in a normal amount of time. Trust me – it’s the best way to pick a perfect outfit for a perfect date.’
‘Perfect dates don’t exist,’ the Doctor snorted. ‘I’ve witnessed many dates on many planets and none of them were perfect. Some have come close, I’ll give you that, but my advice would be to expect imperfection. Embrace it!’
‘Maybe your standards are just too high,’ Bill shrugged.
The Doctor ignored her. ‘I don’t understand why you need anything new to wear. Did you not meet this “perfect date” when you were dressed in clothes? Was she not interested in you then? Why do you imagine that what you choose to put on your body will change in any way what happens tonight?’
‘Oh, come on, I know you’re not fashion-phobic. I’ve seen you wear a hoodie,’ Bill grinned. ‘What you wear changes how you feel. When I look better, I feel better – know what I mean?’
‘But you look fine.’ The Doctor looked over Bill, with her mass of curly black hair tied up in a red scarf, her features as inquisitive as always, her unique smile lighting up her face. ‘In fact, I’d go as far as to say adequate.’
Bill sighed as she headed for the door. ‘That’s the thing about you, Doctor. You understand all this amazing stuff. Time and relative dimension in space! You’ve been to all these different planets and yet, still, when it comes to emotions, feelings … you can be a bit clueless.’
‘I don’t think that’s true.’ The Doctor sounded offended by the suggestion that he might not know everything about human beings. For a wise, two-thousand-year-old Time Lord who had spent a lot of time on Earth, what Bill was saying was quite a big insult.
‘It’s totally true,’ Bill said with a laugh. ‘It’s not a bad thing. Just the way it is, isn’t it? Anyway. Standing here chatting won’t get me any closer to finding a new jacket.’
She pushed open the TARDIS’s heavy door.
‘Bill?’ the Doctor called, just before she stepped outside.
‘Yes?’
‘What you look like tonight really isn’t important,’ said the Doctor seriously. ‘The most important thing is who you are. I may not know everything about emotional stuff, but I do know that. Who you are, the strength of your character … that’s the most important thing.’
‘Yeah. Thanks, Doctor,’ Bill replied with a small smile, before she left.
‘And you wouldn’t be travelling in the TARDIS with me if you didn’t have that,’ the Doctor added, when the door had shut behind Bill and she had no chance of hearing.
‘Well, that looks awesome on you,’ said the sales assistant, whose name badge read ‘Ziggy’.
Earlier, Bill had spotted a shop on a small street on the outskirts of Bristol city centre, mysteriously called O & Ohhh. It looked like there were loads of cool clothes inside, but it had been the gold jacket with buckles in the window that had caught her eye and made her decide to come back.
Inside, Bill had discovered a whole rack of colourful jackets, each as unique as the next. Ziggy had insisted that Bill pick three she loved best and only try those on. ‘You want to narrow it down straight away. You can have too much choice, you know,’ Ziggy had said, nodding sagely.
‘Exactly,’ Bill had replied.
This first jacket was the colour of amethyst, a glorious purple, and when the light hit it, it shone like it had been carved from the precious rock too.
Bill stood in front of the mirror, twisting this way and that, looking at herself in the jacket. Each time she caught a glimpse of herself from a different angle, she liked the look of it even more.
‘It could have been made for you!’ Ziggy said, beaming.
Bill went to her own denim jacket and took out her mobile phone from the pocket. She returned to the mirror and was about to snap a photo when Ziggy stepped in front of the mirror.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But I’m not allowed to let anyone take photos of the clothes – these are exclusive designs, so people come in all the time posing as customers and then they steal the ideas. My boss left strict instructions: no selfies.’
‘Oh,’ Bill said. ‘Okay. No selfies makes it harder to decide, though. I can’t work out which jacket looks best against the others.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Ziggy said, regretfully. Bill looked at her. There was something about her … Bill couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Ziggy was beautiful, there was no doubt – her dark brown skin was smooth and flawless, her large eyes were a deep, hazel brown and her large lips made her look even more stunning whenever she smiled or, as she was doing now, twisted them in worry.
‘I feel really bad!’ Ziggy sighed. After a second or two she seemed to make a decision. ‘Look, don’t tell anyone I did this …’ She nipped behind the counter and bobbed down out of sight for a few seconds before reappearing with an old-fashioned instant camera in her hands and a conspiratorial grin on her face. Placing the camera on the counter, Ziggy ran to the door and switched the sign to ‘Closed’ before she locked it. ‘At least this way you haven’t technically taken any selfies on your phone … but we have to be quick!’
She grabbed the camera again and held it up. ‘Strike a pose!’ she said to Bill with a giggle. Bill smiled, her hands in the purple jacket’s pockets. ‘Perfect,’ Ziggy said. ‘Absolutely perfect.’
Ziggy pushed the button at the front of the camera and the image of Bill was captured. There was a whirl and a slow, soft buzz as a white square sheet came out of the front of the camera. Ziggy took the photo and stared at it, like she was willing it to develop faster. ‘Quick, try on the next one and we’ll get them all photographed before my boss comes back.’
Bill shrugged off the jacket and went to the other she had chosen. It was a rich emerald green with red roses embroidered all over it. As she reached for it, she felt a bit light-headed. Must be the excitement of getting ready for the date, she thought. That and the secret photoshoot.
She slipped on the second jacket and, like the other one, it fitted like it was made for her. She stepped back in front of the mirror as Ziggy gasped. ‘Wow! That looks perfect on you. Maybe even more so than the other one.’ The helpful shop assistant raised the camera again.
Still unsteady, Bill did as she was told as Ziggy took another photo. Again she stared at it, smiling as it developed and placing it carefully on the counter next to the first. ‘One more for luck?’ Ziggy said with a mischievous smile. Bill was starting to really like her – there was something about Ziggy that made Bill think they would’ve spent a lot of time getting into trouble together if they’d met at school.
Bill reached for the final jacket – the gold one from the window. The leather was butter-soft under her fingers, and Ziggy gasped when Bill slipped it on. ‘I’m really, really glad I’m not the one who has to choose between those three,’ she said as she raised the camera again. ‘They all look fab on you. Whoever you’re going on a date with is very lucky!’
When Ziggy had taken the last photo and laid it beside the other two, Bill took off the jacket and another wave of dizziness almost knocked her over. She had to stand very, very still for a moment and squeeze her eyes shut.
‘Are you all right?’ Ziggy asked.
‘Yeah,’ Bill replied. ‘Just didn’t have a proper breakfast, and no lunch. Must just be desperate to get this outfit sorted for tonight!’
‘Hmm. I can tell you need a rest,’ Ziggy said kindly. ‘Why don’t you go get a coffee and something to eat, and clear your head? When you come back, the photos will be developed and you can decide which jacket you want.’
Bill wobbled again, then smiled and nodded. ‘Yeah, I thin
k you’re right.’
Ziggy gently helped Bill to the door. ‘You should take better care of yourself! Come back in a bit and we’ll choose together. Although, have to say, that gold one is definitely my current fave …’
At a nearby café, Bill still didn’t feel better. She was sat outside with a coffee that she couldn’t drink without feeling even more dizzy, and a sandwich that turned her stomach. She wished she’d just kept the photos Ziggy had taken. She could do with looking at something to take her mind off how sick and weak she felt.
Well, if I’m gonna sit here, totally useless, I’ll close my eyes for a sec … she thought. Rest them for just one teeny-tiny moment.
Bill suddenly jerked awake, and sat up. The clock on the face of the building opposite told her that fifty-five minutes had passed since she first sat down. Blinking fast, she tried to get her eyes to focus. That can’t be right, Bill thought, squinting at the clock. I’ve been here five minutes at most.
‘Where’d she go?’ The waiter asked her suddenly, his voice with an angry edge to it.
‘Who?’ Bill asked.
‘The girl who was sitting there about half an hour ago.’
‘I’ve been here for nearly an hour,’ Bill replied.
‘No, the other one.’
‘What other one?’
The waiter tutted. ‘The other girl. You know, curly hair, light brown skin, big smile. Where’d she go?’
‘What was she wearing?’
He frowned. ‘A bit like your outfit, really. Red headscarf, denim jacket, black-and-white t-shirt, nice pair of trainers on her, like yours … but her outfit suited her much better.’
‘Oh, well, thanks. At least you like my trainers.’ Bill rolled her eyes.
‘No, I liked your trainers on her. Where’d she go?’
‘Okay. Big hair, red headscarf, brown skin, sick trainers and big smile? Totally cute face?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s ME.’
‘It’s not,’ the waiter replied, exasperated. ‘And I need to know where the other girl went because she hasn’t paid her bill.’
‘What did she order?’
‘Coffee, fish finger sandwich with chips, juice.’
‘That’s what I ordered!’
‘Fine, good for you! But it’s the other girl who ordered all that and then left without paying the bill that I need to know about!’
‘I didn’t leave! I’m right here!’
He sighed. ‘Look, if you want to play silly idiots, I give up. The manager’s going to kill me for her doing a runner …’
As confused as he seemed to be, Bill felt bad for the waiter grumbling to himself as he walked away. She took money from her pocket and put it down on the table to pay her bill and got to her feet. Why do I still feel so odd? she wondered as she started to walk back towards the shop. She hadn’t decided which jacket to buy yet, but it seemed like a good idea to choose any of them and get back to the TARDIS for a lie-down, fast.
Bill turned a corner towards the shop, stopping for a moment to let a wave of wooziness wash over her. She closed her eyes as she swayed and a barrage of images went through her mind: faces she didn’t recognise, her hands in chains, a man in white shouting at her and then waving his hands to tell guards to take her away.
Bill’s eyes snapped open. Whoa! she thought. What on earth was that?
This day was becoming too weird. Never mind the jackets – she had to go back to the Doctor right now and work out what was up. Strange visions were not a good sign.
Outside the TARDIS, Bill placed her hand on the door and pushed, but it didn’t swing open as usual. She sighed with frustration – the Doctor must have gone somewhere on foot, starting an adventure without her! She reached into her pocket, pulled out her TARDIS key and slotted it into the lock. Nothing. The door still wouldn’t budge. Bill took a step back and looked at the blue box. Why was this day getting weirder and weirder?
A sudden fear clenched her heart and stomach. The visions she’d had … Now the TARDIS wouldn’t open, and the strange waiter had thought she was someone else … What if someone was messing with her mind?
‘Doctor! Nardole!’ Bill yelled, hammering on the door of the TARDIS. ‘Come on! Let me in.’
Finally, the blue door opened and Bill almost collapsed in relief.
‘I have had the weirdest day,’ she said, moving to step inside. ‘You’re the king of weird days, I know, but this one’s been weird even by your standards.’
But the Doctor didn’t move from the doorway. Instead he just frowned, blocking Bill’s way. ‘What do you think you’re doing? Who are you?’ he demanded.
Bill was starting to lose her patience. ‘It’s me, obviously!’ she said. ‘Your friend, Bill?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You look nothing like Bill.’
‘Not funny, Doctor, not today,’ Bill said. ‘Move over. I need a rest.’
‘Well, you’d better go on home then!’ the Doctor replied.
Bill sighed. ‘I know it’s not really my home, but I love the TARDIS like a really fancy, time-travelling second home. And I think the TARDIS quite likes me too!’
The Doctor looked at her with eyebrows furrowed, as though trying to work out where he’d seen her before. ‘How do you know about my TARDIS? Did Bill tell you about it?’
‘I am Bill. Why would I tell myself something? And you know I wouldn’t tell anyone about the TARDIS.’
‘For the last time: You. Are. Not. Bill.’
‘Yes, I am!’
‘Then who’s this?’ The Doctor stepped aside and pointed to the person standing beside the console of the TARDIS. Bill’s mouth slowly dropped open because inside the TARDIS was … Bill.
Bill stared with her mouth open at the girl standing beside the console. Her curly hair framed her face, and she was wearing the gold jacket Bill had tried on in the shop – and she also wore one of Bill’s favourite tops, her jeans and her platform shoes. That’s the exact outfit I was going to wear on my date tonight! Bill thought. She wondered for a moment if perhaps she had a secret twin she’d never known about – but that wasn’t it. This person wasn’t her twin. She was an exact replica, an imposter wearing Bill’s face and body.
‘Doctor, that’s not me!’ Bill insisted. ‘I’m me. I’m Bill.’
‘Just stop talking, okay?’ the Doctor replied. ‘As you can see, Bill is standing right there. Whatever it is you’re playing at, we’re not interested. And DON’T tell anyone else about my TARDIS!’ With that, the Doctor slammed the door.
Okay, Bill thought. Try very, very hard not to panic. She scrabbled around in her pocket for her phone, then took it out and held it up to her face.
In the black screen, she could see that she was … not Bill. She was Bill on the inside, but not on the outside! Quickly, she unlocked the screen, opened the camera and took a selfie. The image froze in front of her – her skin was a darker brown, her eyes were large and pretty but nothing like her own. Her face had become rounder, and her nose was small and flatter. Bill stared and stared.
Somehow, her selfie was not of her self. Her selfie was of Ziggy, the oh-so-friendly and helpful sales assistant from the clothes shop.
‘Ziggy stole my face!’ Bill exclaimed. She whirled back around to hammer on the TARDIS door. ‘DOCTOR! NARDOLE! ZIGGY STOLE MY FACE!’ She banged and banged on the police box, but even as she did it, she knew that the Doctor wasn’t going to open it to her. He thought the imposter was the real Bill! And the fact that the TARDIS wouldn’t let her in meant that even the Doctor’s time machine didn’t recognise her.
Feeling fear rising again inside her, Bill wandered away from the TARDIS in a daze.
What am I going to do? she asked herself, slumping down on to a nearby park bench.
‘What you look like doesn’t matter,’ the Doctor had told her. But that’s so not true, is it? The Doctor didn’t recognise her. The TARDIS didn’t recognise her. Right at that moment, how she looked was the only thing that ma
ttered.
How had Ziggy managed to steal her face and body? And how could she possibly know enough about being Bill to be able to fool not only the Doctor but the TARDIS too? The Doctor wouldn’t believe the imposter was Bill simply by looking at her – he would speak to her, listen. Ziggy, the fake Bill, must be able to act perfectly to get away with it. She had to be an alien of some kind, didn’t she?
Her mind still fuzzy and her stomach churning, Bill realised she was going to need help to convince the Doctor that she was the real Bill – but who could help? As far as she knew, Nardole was in the TARDIS with the Doctor. Anyone else Bill could potentially tell this story to would never believe her – and they probably wouldn’t even speak to her in the first place, because they wouldn’t recognise her!
Perhaps she could convince someone of who she was by sharing a secret – a secret only Bill could possibly know. In fact, what she really needed was someone to whom she could reveal a secret so trivial, that person would know that Bill would have never bothered to share it with anyone else. There has to be someone out there like that, Bill thought, searching her memory. When she’d worked in the university canteen, she’d met loads of people. But none of them had really noticed her. And none of them would help her even if somehow they did believe her.
Her shoulders sagged. It was hopeless. There was no one, except … Of course! Bill jumped to her feet. She knew who would help her. At least, who she hoped would help her …
At the university, Bill ran to the canteen. She hoped she’d got there at the right time. She searched frantically amongst the faces – and there she was! A round-faced girl, sitting on her own, reading.
Bill sprinted over to the table and threw herself down in one of the seats. The girl looked up from the book she was reading in surprise. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked, eyebrows raised.
‘Hi, Lou. Look – this is going to sound really odd, and I don’t have a lot of time to explain it properly. Well, I do have a lot of time – we’ve all got a lot of time, because time is relative and everything is happening all at once – but in real, everyday, me-and-you terms, I don’t have a lot of time. I’m going to tell you something and I’d really like you to listen. Please?’
