Car Park Life

Donna Noble stepped pulled into the car park of the office and spotted the yellow car sitting in the third from the right spot. Her spot. The one she had been assigned by Security. Typical!

Infuriated, she found somewhere further back and unassigned to park and then stormed over to the interloping vehicle. 'WHO 1' the number plate said. A private one, obviously.

Knowing her luck it probably belonged to one of the executives of UNIT, or whatever this place was called. It began with 'Unified' but after that she was hazy. It all sounded like it was invented by Ikea. Anyway...

Now on an angry roll, she grabbed a piece of paper from her pocket and hastily scribbled a note on it.

  "Dear WHO 1,

  This space is assigned to YD56VHG. Please be more considerate"

In next to no time, she had shoved the note under the wiper of the offending yellow vintage car.

Never mind.

That should do it, she thought; right up until she trudged back to her car that evening. A penned reply was sitting there.

  "Dear YD56VHG,

  Sorry, there was a crisis"

That needed a reply; practically begged for it. So she penned one and stuck it under the window wiper again.

  "Dear WHO 1,

  What happened? Did you have to substitute Brum for the day? Sorry Noddy wasn't available     instead. Hope Big Ears got rescued alright.

  YD56VHG x"

She thought that had been it, especially since her parking space was free the following morning, allowing her to park in stress-free relief. But on her windscreen was a note, flapping about for all it was worth. Cautiously, she freed it from where it had been tethered, and read it before a broad grin broke out across her face.

  "Dear YD56VHG,

  Rescue accomplished and not a finger laid on Big Ears. Might have to make it up to Brum,   though. You know how these TV stars can get.

  WHO 1 x"

Looking around, she soon spotted the Edwardian kit car within easy walking distance. It was only polite to leave him another note, wasn't it? Of course it was, she told herself; so she sauntered over to the yellow car as she considered what to write this time.

  "Dear WHO 1,

  Nice to know danger was so easily averted, even if Brum's precious ego took a battering. Can't   imagine Fireman Sam being such a diva, and he's the hero next door.

  YD56VHG x"

Smiling to herself, she hoped he (whoever 'he' was) appreciated the joke; and made her way home.

The following morning she kept a look out for the vintage car and was saddened not to see it. It wasn't there for the next three days either. Donna could hardly keep the disappointment from her heart, but she bravely carried on. Oh well. It was fun while it lasted.

And then on the fourth day, she got back to her car to find this message:

  "Dear YD56VHG,

  Been a little delayed by the latest invasion attempt. Just shows that you can't trust a garden   gnome. Then again, you never could. If you ever see one, don't let it sneeze on you.

  WHO 1 x"

"You are bonkers!" she muttered to no one in particular when she read it. She wasn't going to admit out loud that he might be adorably so. Not to anyone.

At least it gave her a good excuse to write him a note. She'd missed carrying on this surreal conversation that included harmless children's TV characters.

  "Dear WHO 1,

  I never did like our garden gnome, so it shall be no effort at all to avoid it; sneeze or no sneeze.   What I now need to know is – do I have to worry about its fishing rod?

  Careful, this is almost a relationship. I'll have to give you my real name soon. Assuming, of   course, that you want to know. You'd need your brains testing if you do. Ignore that. Good luck   with the next invasion. Hopefully it'll be something equally small and kickable.

  YD56VHG x"

As she read the note through, she scrunched her nose up in disgust. Would he think she was a right idiot for putting that bit about her name? At this rate she should have been even more honest and asked for his name, his life history and his phone number.

Already, the voice in her head, the one that also sounded distinctly like her mother, was criticising her for being interested, and it insisted that he would only be using her to practise his charms. Bugger off, she grumbled at it. It was only a bit of fun, after all. Nothing would come of it.

Nevertheless, she sought out the vintage yellow car and left her note on it.

The following morning she was completely surprised to see a man, similar to her in age, standing by her parking spot as though he was waiting for her to arrive. Surreptitiously eyeing him up as she parked, she didn't think he looked too bad. A bit thin for her tastes but he had a nice face. He was smiling broadly at her as she climbed out of her Peugeot.

"Hello," he cheerily greeted her.

"Hello," she replied. "Were you waiting for me?"

"Yes. Yes I was," he confirmed; and then gave a point towards the other side of the car park. "I got here early today in Bessie."

She looked where he had indicated and saw the now familiar yellow car. "You call it 'Bessie'? Nice. I like it."

"She is." He nodded and then spouted, "Oh! I've forgotten my manners. I haven't introduced myself."

"That's alright. I haven't either," she consoled him. "I'm Donna. Donna Noble."

"Lovely to finally meet you, Donna," he enthused. "I'm John Smith but you can call me the Doctor."

Her eyebrows shot into her hairline in shock. As if she would call him something as daft as that! Not without any evidence that he actually was a doctor; that was for sure. "And you can call me the Queen."

To her relief, he laughed heartily at that. "How do you feel about Barney the Dinosaur?"

"Always wanted to flatten him," she answered honestly. "All that cheerfulness was highly suspicious."

"In that case, Donna Noble," he began to say as he held out a hand to guide her away, "I might have a proposition for you. Come with me..."