The atmosphere at the Dancys' dinner table that night was unusually quiet. The master of the house ate in silence, his brow furrowed in determination, his eyes never leaving the plate. Mrs Dancy had been worriedly glancing at her sons and husband in turn the whole time and soon gave up trying to keep the conversation going.

"Papa, when are we going to talk about Leander?" the older brother Thomas eventually blurted out, unable to bear the tension. Mr Dancy shot an icy look in his direction and gave no reply. Leander, the man in question, tried to put a brave face on it, but he could feel his hands beginning to shake and dropped half of his peas before they reached their destination.

"Son, if there's anything I can..." Mrs Dancy began, reaching for his hand across the table.

"NO!" Mr Dancy roared, "You can't do anything! Our son is a hopeless case, a failed specimen. I have tried, God knows I have. This was the fourth university in a row to decline because this ungrateful creature CANNOT OPEN HIS DAMN MOUTH! I wash my hands of you. Go then, live as a beggar on the streets, but don't come to my door, because I will kick you out like any ordinary rat. These are the life choices you've made. I don't have the power to change them. That is all." With these words Mr Dancy rose, made for the door and slammed it with an earth-shattering bang.

"My poor boy," Mrs Dancy said through tears as his husband's footsteps faded away.

"I knew it was going to happen, Mother. It always does. I'm so sorry." Leander got up and rushed out of the room, ignoring the lump in his throat and the stinging in his eyes. He sprinted through the hall, out of the front door and into the pine forest until he was out of breath, completely out of view and hearing distance.

Collapsing on an old mossy stump, he stifled a sob. It was obvious he would end up like this, but he had never wanted to accept it. They'd applied for Oxford, Cambridge, Glasgow, now London and he would've got in, judging by his intellectual skills, but every time he'd miserably butchered the interview part, because when having a conversation under pressure, strict order or in any other situation with a stranger, there would be a click in his head and he wouldn't be able to speak. He'd just stare into the distance, open and close his mouth like a fish on dry land and feel terrible about himself. He needed to get in, in order to pursue the career his parents had chosen for him, but now their hopes were crushed and there was nothing he could do about it. Thomas would inherit everything and Leander would be a laughing stock for the rest of his life, because his disability wasn't going to get any better.

The young man sat for about half an hour, absorbed in bitter thoughts, fingers buried in tangly red hair. Suddenly, the light breeze freshened. Chilly wind tore at his jacket and Leander downheartedly got up. He hadn't moved five feet when he came to a sudden stop. The air was filled with a strange whirring sound, very distinct, and there was something vaguely familiar about it, like he had heard it before in his childhood. It felt oddly good and the lad stood for a while, bewitched. A loud crack above his head sent shivers down his spine and he looked up to see the most extraordinary sight. A blue box approached, crashing into treetops, causing huge branches to fall. Leander retreated a safe distance and kept staring. The box poked the bark off another unfortunate pine tree and finally landed with a loud thump.

At first nothing happened. What appeared to be a wooden blue life-size rectangle had "police public call box" written on it. Leander had no idea what that meant, but he didn't flee like he usually did when there was a possibility of a social encounter. Instead, he cautiously crept closer until the doors were in front of him. Before he could do anything, the doors flew open just inches from his face and deep brown eyes looked into his. With a gasp Leander backpedaled and tripped on a branch, landing on his back.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. Here, let me lend you a hand. There's a good lad, that's it." A tall, skinny man in a dark blue suit, his hazel hair even wilder than Leander's, helped him up, brushed pine needles off his jacket and bared his teeth in a wide grin.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor. To whom do I owe the pleasure?"