‘I wouldn’t bother zapping me if I were you,’ he told the Angel. ‘You feed on the energy of the time I would have had in the future. Well, I’m still going to have it. I’m not human, you see. I’ll just live out a few decades and then pop right through that door.’ He paused for a second, hoping to hear the door open. It didn’t happen. Of course, he couldn’t turn up and rescue himself before he’d been sent back in time. If that happened, he wouldn’t have got sent back in time after all and so couldn’t rescue himself. It was confusing, even for a Time Lord.

‘I’m almost looking forward to it,’ the Doctor said. ‘Bit of a break. Chance to catch up with a few old friends as I go through the years. Winston Churchill. Agatha Christie. The Beatles.’

He knew the Angel was stone at that moment, but could’ve sworn it glared at him.

There were footsteps outside the door. Could this be it? Was the future him about to walk into the room? Meeting himself was always odd.

Beep beep beep beep. That was the correct sequence of numbers being entered onto the keypad. The door opened...

‘Hey, what’s this?’ said a gruff voice. In the mirror, the Doctor saw a thickset man in blue overalls. It didn’t take him long to decide it wasn’t himself – not even in a new body.

A second man came in. ‘Star said that Angel statue might be out of its box,’ he said. ‘He didn’t say anything about a bloke tied to a chair, did he, Ted?’

‘Yes, hello,’ said the Doctor, not taking his eyes off the Angel. ‘Speaking as the bloke tied to the chair, could you untie me please?’

The first man, Ted, laughed. ‘Not likely! Star’s always saying we’re not to touch a thing in here unless he tells us to. You’ll be one of his magic friends trying out a trick.’

If the Doctor could have turned his head, he would have given the man a hard stare. He had to be content with glaring at the mirror instead. ‘I’m not one of Sammy Star’s magic friends. I’m not even one of his non-magic friends. You have to believe me that we’re all in great danger. Please let me go.’

Ted laughed again. ‘Nah, it’s all a trick, isn’t it? Come on, Larry. Let’s get the statue back in its box.’

‘No!’ the Doctor almost screamed at them. ‘Don’t go near that thing! It’s a monster!’

Larry nodded. ‘You’re right, it’s not very pretty. Dunno how he gets it to move around like that. There again, if I knew his secrets, I’d be the one about to go on telly.’

‘Telly?’ cried the Doctor. ‘What telly? Who’s going on telly? DON’T BLOCK MY VIEW!’

Ted had moved in between the Doctor and the Angel. To the Doctor’s relief, either Ted or Larry had still got their eyes on it. It remained a statue.

The two men picked up the Angel and carried it back into its lead-lined box. The door closed on it. The Doctor thought he heard a movement inside at the very instant it was hidden from view.

‘Got to get it on stage,’ Larry told the Doctor. ‘Mr Star’s graveyard trick’s going to be on telly. The film crew’s already setting up upstairs. Good luck with your trick, mate.’

‘I’m not doing a trick!’ the Doctor told them. ‘I’m tied to this chair so I can’t stop Sammy Star doing a very bad thing. A very bad thing indeed. I can’t really explain it to you because you won’t believe me. You just have to trust me. Let me go now!’

‘Ha ha, good one, mate,’ said Ted. ‘Come along, Larry.’ They carried the box out of the door, and shut it behind them.

The Doctor was left to struggle with his bonds again. He knew as well as Amy did what would happen if the Angel was shown on TV. It could be the end of the world.

‘We have to warn the Doctor,’ said Amy. ‘There’s got to be a way of getting back inside the theatre.’

Rory nodded. ‘There is. I’m just going to walk in.’

‘Er, yeah, right!’ said Amy. ‘I don’t think that’s going to work.’

‘Why not?’ Rory was sure of himself for once. ‘Only one guard saw me, and he didn’t really look at me. I don’t stand out like you. You know, tall, pretty, red hair,’ he said in a hurry as Amy frowned at him. ‘Not to mention dressed in a one-piece silver catsuit. It’s a look people notice. They won’t look at me twice. I’m going to say Mrs Collins or Mrs Hooper left a bag under a seat last night and can I go and get it.’

‘We’ll come with you,’ said Mrs Collins. ‘They’ll believe you then.’

Amy turned to her. ‘Are you sure? It might be dangerous.’

The old woman smiled. ‘For the past few years I’ve barely known my own name, dear. Today I feel young again. If I can help stop Sammy Star, I’m going to.’

Mrs Hooper didn’t say anything. She was staring at Amy. ‘It was you,’ she said.

‘Er, no, it wasn’t,’ said Amy. ‘Really.’ She quickly turned back to Rory. ‘Every second could count. You’ve got to get in there and find the Doctor.’

‘Right.’ Rory and the two old ladies headed off for the theatre.

Amy watched as they spoke to the man at the door. To her relief, they were let in. It wasn’t in Amy’s nature to stand around waiting for other people to do the work. She knew she couldn’t get into the theatre by the front door. That didn’t mean she couldn’t find some other way in.

She thought back to the time she’d climbed onto the stage. Sammy Star had thought she wanted him to sign her programme. He’d told her to wait at the stage door. Perhaps it would be easier to get in there.

She made her way to the back of the theatre. There were no neon signs or grand entrances here, just dustbins and pigeons. Even the sun stayed out of the gloomy alley.

Amy grinned despite the gloom. She’d spotted something that made her very happy. A lorry was parked beside the alley. Men were lifting down heavy cameras and lights and carrying them to the stage door. It was the TV crew.

She waited until the last man was out of the lorry, then jumped inside. Someone had left a denim jacket lying around, and she put it on. It didn’t hide all of her silver catsuit, but might fool someone at a quick glance. There was a handheld camera on the floor. She picked it up. Carried on her shoulder, it hid her face. Then, trying to look very sure of herself, she walked straight through the stage door.

‘Down there on the left,’ a voice called. She thought she’d better do as it said. To her surprise, she found herself near the side of the stage. The Graveyard Ghost set was already in place. Sammy Star and the other judges were still sitting at the front of the stalls. Amy hurried towards the back of the hall in case they turned and saw her. The cameras and lights were being set up nearby.

At the back of the theatre sat a girl. A girl with long black hair, dressed in a white nightie. All of a sudden, Amy knew what she had to do. There was no sign of the Doctor or Rory. This could all be up to her.

The denim jacket had a pass clipped to a pocket. It read CREW. Amy went over to the girl and waved the pass in front of her nose. ‘Excuse me, you’re needed in make-up. Can you come with me, please?’

The girl followed Amy out of a side exit. Above the door was an arrow pointing to LADIES.

‘Just in here,’ Amy said, at the end of the passage.

‘The dressing rooms are downstairs,’ said the girl, puzzled.

‘Not today. They’ve taken over the ladies’ loos,’ said Amy, and shoved her inside. ‘Come on, come on, let’s have that nightie off you.’

‘You what?’ said the girl.

‘Costume check,’ said Amy. The girl didn’t look convinced, but took it off. She was now dressed only in T-shirt and leggings.

‘I’ll have the wig too, please,’ Amy said. She plucked it off the girl’s head, revealing blonde hair underneath. ‘Bet it feels better without it. Wigs really make your head sweaty, don’t they?’

The blonde girl frowned. ‘Are you really with Wardrobe? I’m going to go and check with Sammy.’

She tried to get to the door, but Amy held her fast. Amy realised she had a scarf in her shoulder bag. On her first attempt she pulled out the bunch of silk flowers, but she searched further and found the scarf. She whipped it out and tied the struggling girl’s hands to a pipe. There was a hankie in her borrowed jacket’s pocket, and she used it as a gag.