Empyrean Intellect || Tenth Doctor x OC

2. The Idiot's Lantern: Part 2

Isabelle had been in her room working for hours. Tea time was approaching and she had been up since the crack of dawn, hand sewing repairs on tablecloth's, scrubbing stains out of the family's best linen napkins and shining the Lord and Master's shoes.

She had not stopped for lunch since she had been too busy sorting the final decorations for the coronation; threading bunting and sticking down paper chains, and lost time to the commotion hours earlier.

All the while she had not been able to stop thinking about those words something...someone had spoken to her. Perhaps it was her own mind trying to tell her she was not getting enough sleep? Perhaps she should stop dreaming and lying awake jotting down nonsense and actually rest. Or perhaps it was simply a side effect of a silent migraine, all of the stress was getting to her; not to mention the fear of what was happening all around her. The stress she absorbed from the family alone was enough to drive any normal human mad.

It being time for tea and therefor decorating, Isabelle dropped her needle and tread onto the small desk with a frustrated sigh and started climbing down from the attic wearing a line of Union Jack's as a sash. She was only half way down the ladder when she heard Mr Connelly scolding Tommy.

"Don't think I've finished with you." Mr Connelly hissed and turned to spot Isabelle stood behind him. "And you! Downstairs...Both of you!" They both followed the man of the house down the stairs and into the living room, or the television room as most people were now calling it.

"All the warnings I've given you, and every time, every time, you disobey me." He started to yell, standing up, a regular trick he used to intimidate them.

For a long time Isabelle thought he spoke to her that way because she was not his blood. But the older Tommy became and the taller he grew the more she realised it wasn't solely that. She doubted that man was able to speak to any living thing with respect, apart from his own reflection perhaps, it was just how he was built.

"We can't just lock her away." The young boy spoke up in defence of his gran.

"Excuse me, sunshine. I am talking!" Mr Connelly spat the words into the young boy's face. This was no way for a father to treat his family, surely. Of course she had no experience on the matter, but that didn't mean she was ignorant to the obvious and lacked common sense. "You can forget that college nonsense. You're going to come and work alongside me. Get your hands dirty for once." Another thump sounded from above them.

"Oh lord, won't she ever stop?" The sounds were sending Mrs Connelly into madness. Barely a week had passed and she still remained tied to her chair downstairs, rocking intermittently between weakly sorting the home alongside Isabelle and preparing the dinner with blatant disregard. To first see her mother like that and then be told to just ignore it, Isabelle could only imagine what was going on inside her head.

"There, there, Rita, my sweet. Business as usual. Now let's get these up all over the house in honour of Her Majesty." He spoke and gestured towards the three metres of flags piled up on the table Isabelle normally sat at, before raking his eyes over the numerous rectangles hanging from her arms.

"But Eddie, what if she's dying?" Rita panicked. All the woman wanted was comfort from her husband but it never came. Instead, she received cold eyes and anger.

"I am talking!" Isabelle had learnt the hard way but she had learnt none the less. Be silent. "That's better. A little bit of hush." Only a second later, the doorbell interrupted Mr Connelly and without another word he went to answer the door. In his absence Rita looked to Isabelle, be it briefly, and all the younger woman could do was smile reassuringly.

"Not bad. Very nice. Very well kept." A voice which was not Mr Connelly's sounded and came closer; closer and closer until that same man from the street rounded the corner of the hallway and entered their living room. He appeared forward and confidently direct in an instant, strolling through their home as if they should have been expecting him. Following him was the girl from before too, still pretty and dressed up. "I'd like to congratulate you, Mrs?"