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surname? Michael what?’
    ‘Oh. Michael Smith.’
    ‘Ah!’ The Doctor’s face cracked into a sudden smile. ‘I’m a Smith myself. Doctor John Smith, well sort of. Us Smiths have to stick together, you know. Good act, by the way. Maybe work on your presentation a bit. Develop some patter to keep people interested.’
    ‘Yes,’ Michael the Strong Man said. ‘Thank you, sir.’
    The Doctor turned away. ‘No problem. Oh,’ he said, looking back for a moment, ‘and try to make it look difficult.’
    ‘I have never been more embarrassed in my entire life,’ Clara told him as they walked away, ignoring the stares of the crowd.
    ‘Yes you have.’
    ‘Yes I have,’ she admitted. ‘But I was probably with you at the time.’
    The last tent they visited, right at the back of the enclosure, advertised ‘The Most Magickal Shadowplay.’
    ‘If it was that impressive,’ the Doctor said, ‘they’dbe able to spell “magical”.’
    ‘Don’t be so grumpy and come and enjoy the show,’ Clara told him.
    The show was already in progress, so they made their way to the nearest seats at the back of the darkened tent. Across the tops of the heads of the rest of the audience, Clara stared transfixed at the screen. The principle was simple. A light was shone from behind the thin screen, and cut-out puppets between light and screen cast shadows as the show unfolded. There didn’t seem to be a story as such, not in this part of the show anyway. It was more of a display, a dance of animals, of flights of birds, of figures so lifelike and so well animated that it was easy to believe the shadows were real, were
alive
.
    ‘It’s good, isn’t it,’ the Doctor whispered. It was a refreshing change to find he was actually impressed. ‘Is it just me,’ he added, ‘or is it actually impossible?’
    ‘What do you mean?’ Clara hissed back. ‘Can’t you just enjoy it?’
    ‘Oh I can, I am. But …’
    ‘But? But
what
?’
    ‘But, they’re puppets.’
    ‘Obviously.’ She turned back to watch the show. A butterfly fluttered delicately through the air, chased by a child with a net. Her mind had no problem filling the dark shadows with imaginary texture, detail and colour.
    ‘So,’ the Doctor whispered right in her ear, ‘where are the strings, or the rods? If they’re puppets – what keeps them up and makes them move?’
    Clara frowned. Actually he was right. ‘Well, they’re hidden, that’s all,’ she decided. ‘Or the wires are extremely thin. It’s very clever.’
    ‘I wouldn’t argue with that.’
    The show ended to a riot of applause. The screen rose into the air, to reveal a figure standing behind. A young woman wearing a red cloak. The hood was folded back, so that her long hair spilled down the back – black as shadows. Her features were delicate, almost childlike, as she took a bow.
    She was still standing there as the tent emptied. Clara turned to go, and found that the Doctor was already hurrying the other way, down to where the woman stood.
    ‘How do you do it?’ he was demanding as she arrived.
    ‘Sorry,’ Clara said before the woman could reply. ‘What he meant to say was: “That was really impressive and we enjoyed it very much.” ’
    The woman shook Clara’s hand, and smiled. ‘I’m glad my show entertained you.’
    ‘It did,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘So, like I said, how do you do it?’
    ‘This is the Doctor, by the way,’ Clara said. ‘And I’m Clara.’
    ‘I have always had a talent for shadow puppetry,’ the woman said. ‘For bringing shadows and shapes to life. You’ll forgive me if I don’t share all my secrets with you. My skill is all that I have.’
    ‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ the Doctor said. ‘But like Clara said – impressive. Thank you. Oh,’ he added as they turned to go, ‘you didn’t tell us your name.’
    The woman pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head, so that her face fell into shadow. A striking red figure standing stark against