ashes ➝ Doctor Who²

XVI

"You should never meet your heroes."
- Martha, The Shakespeare Code

The streets were absolutely filthy. And these cobbled streets were hell for her heels. And yet Penelope couldn't help the rising glee in her chest.

She was a time traveller again and it felt amazing.

The sun had just set over the west of London and it was gorgeous. It also meant the play was starting soon.

With it being the 16th century she hadn't become a Dame yet so she couldn't use that as an excuse to get into the higher stalls. Although that wouldn't stop her from trying.

Walking up to the man letting everyone in, she smiled at him, and watched - with just a tick of anger - as his eyes rapidly darted from her face to her body. Presumably it was her clothes being out of place, and if it was anything else she was going to murder this man right here.

"I'm so sorry, my husband went up into the stalls without me. I'm afraid I was so busy with our washing that I hardly noticed the time. Would I be able to go up and join him." The man stuttered slightly, unable to form any comprehensible words. Side stepping - and not looking away from her at all - he opened the door for her.

"Yes." She was glad that he was actually able to get over being unable to talk to her.

"Thank you so much. Have an enjoyable evening." As she walked up the stairs, she could still feel the stare on her back. It did make her a little uncomfortable but she understood why.

Firstly she was in trousers, which was not ever expected of women in this time period. Not to mention her light pink shirt might show a little more than was allowed.

All Penelope was hoping for at this point is not to be called a witch. Sure that's the next century, but she's a little close for comfort.

Walking up into the stalls, she could see an almost miraculous line directly to the front where no one was standing. Taking her chance she darted forward, almost going over the top of the barrier when she got to the front.

A man behind her coughed and grumbled something. She turned to glare and of course this meant he could say something.

"I don't really think what you're wearing is appropriate, young lady." Honestly Penelope has had enough of old, fat and rich men in her life.

"My husband laid out these clothes for me tonight. Who are you to judge his authority?"

"I might have very good authority over your husband. Who is he anyway?" Without even a second to think, Penelope smiled at the man.

"Surely you know Sir Francis Walsingham. I'm his wife." The man went a pale white and began to stutter. Luckily for him, however, the play started. So she hushed him and turned to watch something she once only dreamed about.

And it was amazing. The men playing women were stunning and made the whole thing even better. Granted it was because women couldn't perform, but that didn't stop it from being brilliant.

The audience was so reactive as well; it bought her straight back to seeing pantomimes when she was younger.

At the end of the play, everyone was cheering and all of the actors on stage were bowing and throwing their wigs around.

Penelope was whistling and cheering along with everyone else in the stalls. She was sure she was going to split in half from laughing. Seeing the play was far better than reading it.

Someone from below her started shouting for the author and she frowned, no one said that.

But as the rest of the audience joined in, she had to rethink that. And in the good spirit of the theatre, Penelope joined in. Eager to see Shakespeare somewhere other than his painting.

As he ran out Penelope cheered. Giddiness had taken over her. Jasper was right, this was a better place to bury her grief.

She was almost frozen with anticipation, waiting to hear a historical icon address his crowd.

"Ah, shut your big fat mouths!"

The giddiness wore off and she suddenly remembered that tales of history are usually the kindest version of that person. It's not often they add the things that make them human, just the things to make them a legend.

Although Penelope still walked out of that theatre giggling, astounded that she had seen one of her literary heroes in person.