There was a stone seat outside the church, tucked into the corner between the bell-tower and the main building, hidden under the branches of an ancient yew tree.  It was one of Aboetta's favourite places, and there she sat now, staring into the night.  It was fully dark, the sky as black as tar.  Bright beacons of fire marked the boundary of Totterdown as the Watchkeepers kept their endless vigil.  Inside the settlement, soft yellow lights burned at the windows of the houses, and off to the left she could hear sounds of drunken merriment at the Henry.

Aboetta watched the dancing flames of the braziers on the Watchtowers and munched on an apple.  She had gone back to Morgan Foster's house, where he had served her a plain but welcome meal of bread and a delicious turnip and swede stew which brought back in an instant memories of the past.  She had been saddened to discover that Morgan's wife Anne had died some years ago, and the Chief Elder now lived alone.  He hadn't yet taken a new wife, but Aboetta knew that he must do so soon, to produce an heir.  The Fosters had been rulers ever since Year 3 and if Morgan didn't produce a son, the Citizens' Council would call for the election of a new Chief Elder and the family's unbroken rule of Totterdown would be at an end.

Things had moved on so much.

Aboetta threw the apple core out over the churchyard, where it vanished into the shadows between the gravestones.

Footsteps approached, from around the front of the church.  Aboetta stood.  Probably Robin, come to plead with her again.  A part of her hoped it was him, as she had known him, tall and strong and handsome.  If only she could roll back time.

A figure resolved itself out of the darkness.  A man.  The Doctor.  He nodded politely when he noticed her, then sighed and stared out towards the beacons on the Watchtowers.

Aboetta stayed on her guard, not yet ready to trust these strangers.  The method of their arrival still bothered her.  She hadn't told anyone about it yet, mainly because she didn't know what to say.  That blue box arriving out of nowhere - an impossibility.  Another impossibility.

'I came out here to talk with you, Aboetta,' said the Doctor at last.

'You did?'  Perhaps he was going to explain himself.

He turned his face towards her.  He had something of the bearing of Mr Malahyde, a gentlemanly way about him, and his voice was cultured and accentless, almost clipped.  The voice of a man who knew what he was about.  'Something's happened to you which you can't even begin to rationalise.'

She never liked talking about her feelings to anyone, but with a shock she realised that something about the way this Doctor spoke, the look in his eyes, made her trust his words.  'Yes.'

'Something to do with time,'  The Doctor kept his eyes fixed on hers, watching her carefully.

'Yes,' said Aboetta again.  'I don't understand it.  It's impossible, surely?  Unless I've been asleep for ten years.'

'There could be a number of explanations.  You could as you say have been asleep or in some form of suspended animation - but no, you'd know about that.  Or you could have been caught up in a temporal anomaly.'

The sound of breaking glass from the Henry.  A raucous chorus of cheers.

`So you believe me?  That I have only been gone as long as I say, not what others believe?'