The Defender of Time

Thirty-One

Alessia was back in the graveyard when a slice of sun shone through her window and through her eyelids, awakening her quickly. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, pushing the image of the nightmare out of her mind. Today marked day ten in London, and still the nightmare had kept her from going to see her mother's headstone. It was getting scarily close to the two week mark, as well, and she was constantly weighed down with the intruding thoughts of what on earth could be keeping her parents for so long.

Nonetheless, she swung her legs out of bed and took a dress from the closet. Today's was blue, with a satin ribbon cinching the waist. She pulled her hair back half-heartedly and slipped her feet into her boots before making her way down the stairs. The clock on the landing must have struck 6:15 just before she'd woken up. Jenny would be down in the kitchen fixing something, and Strax was probably fussing over something unimportant.

Jenny ended up being in the parlor flipping through a paperback. There was something simmering on the stove, and Alessia figured she must have been waiting for it to finish. She looked up from the pages and smiled when Alessia entered the room, using her finger as a bookmark. "Good morning," she said sweetly. "Sleep well?"
   
"Another nightmare," said Alessia. She fell into the sofa across from Jenny and focused her attention out the window.

"Same one?" Asked Jenny. "Graveyard?"
   
Alessia nodded. She gazed at the street for a moment longer before turning back to Jenny. "Do you suppose they're alright?"
   
Jenny smiled, almost pitifully. "'Course they're alright. Your father'll make sure of that."
   
"Perhaps you're right." Alessia stood up again and began to pace the room.
   
As she passed Jenny for the fourth time, she said, "Fancy a trip to town? We need some groceries."
   
Alessia stopped and faced Jenny, relief melting her features. "Oh, I would love that."
   
"Get your mind off of all the nasty things." Jenny slipped a real bookmark into her paperback and made her way to the kitchen. With one hand, she began to stir whatever was on the stove, and in the other she reached for a list which was scrawled on a ripped piece of parchment. "You can take the basket by the backdoor. Make sure you put something over your dress. It's cold." She took her hand from the stove and pointed to the coffee table in the parlor. "There's some coins on the table. Should be enough for everything, plus something sweet for you."

"Thank you, Jenny," Alessia gushed. She glanced down at the list as she made her way to the basket; celery, onions, a loaf of bread; the normal stuff. Once she had reached the basket, she slipped the list in and decided on a scarlet cloak. She'd worn this one around with Madame Vastra the most frequently, which is why it was hanging by the door. A straw hat might have been a nice idea, since it was sunny, but children wore those.

When the cloak was tied securely around her neck, Alessia swung back for the bag of coins and slipped out the front door.
   
It was a lovely morning indeed. With the basket tucked in the crook of her elbow, Alessia took off into the city. Paternoster Row sat in the center of London, in an area that was void of the cabs thundering down the cobblestone streets, which were characteristic of the rest of the city. Although it was not yet seven o'clock, there was already an argument brewing in the market, which Alessia could already hear. In an adjacent alley, she spotted a group of three or four teenagers lingering suspiciously, and she thanked her forethought quietly for dressing in something less extravagant. Perhaps she could out-pickpocket the pickpockets, but she didn't want to try her luck. They were older than her, and bigger, and they outnumbered her three to one.

She hurried on and didn't let go of her breath until she'd rounded the corner. The last of the sound barrier provided by Paternoster Row's rooftops dropped as she neared the market, and her ears were filled with the bustle of the people on their morning runs. "Good morning," she said hurriedly as a homeless man bumped her side. It was an obvious attempt to nab her bag of coins, but he had failed. Perhaps she could have faced the teenagers in the alley.