A First Impression Thing
Jackie Tyler wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the man currently sitting in her lounge. Rose hadn’t lied when she’d said he bore a shocking resemblance to her second Doctor; he was a dead ringer, physically. But there was something unsettling about seeing the man with the Doctor’s face behave so…differently.
He should have been chattering away a mile a minute, clad in brown pinstripes and plimsolls and a blue shirt of some varying type. He should have been sniping about humanity and grinning wildly and tinkering with the telly.
Instead he sat on the sofa; dark, dour, silent. Rose gazed at him with affection-affection the likes of which Jackie hadn’t seen since they’d been on the Powell Estate, a lifetime ago-and held his hand and beamed like the woman in love she was.
It was just that Jackie couldn’t quite see what her daughter was so in love with.
He sat there, clad in black trousers of middling quality, the wrinkled collar of his oxford poking out from underneath his muddy-coloured jumper, saying little but watching everything. The very little he had said had been so very droll, Jackie had to wonder at Rose’s ability to converse with him at all.
This was the man who had finally drawn her daughter out of her shell? Who had won her daughter’s heart?
He was polite enough, certainly. He was plainly intelligent, you could see that as soon as you looked at him. And he was attractive, to be sure. But she would have guessed that, because the Doctor-both incarnations of him-had always been, among many other things, attractive. It was just that she couldn’t see what the big deal was about Peter Carlisle.
Jackie shook her head, returning her attention to the tea tray. Rose had rung earlier in the week, her voice filled with happiness as she said he was coming to London and wouldn’t tea be lovely? The staff had been given the day off weeks before, but Jackie hadn’t wanted to miss the chance to finally meet Peter Carlisle. She had been desperate to meet the man for months-ever since her daughter had sat on the sofa, confused and terrified about ruining any chance she might have had with the man who looked like the Doctor but so clearly wasn’t. The man who her daughter had holidayed with; who her daughter was moving heaven and earth to visit at weekends, to the point where it had been weeks since they’d had dinner as a family.
This was that man?
The kettle wasn’t quite at a boil yet, and she quietly made her way over to the door to the lounge. She’d heard a soft laugh followed by the murmur of voices from through the doorway, and she couldn’t resist sneaking a peek at what Rose and Peter might be doing in her absence. The two of them were still sat on the sofa, hands still clasped; Rose was holding her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. Peter was looking at her, disapproval evident in the hard line of his mouth, the crinkle of his eyes.
Just as she was about to walk out, to see what was going on, Peter’s expression suddenly changed. Like sunshine coming from behind a storm cloud, a smile overspread his features; not the manic grin, tight at the edges, that the Doctor had been so fond of, but a genuine, heartfelt grin of pleasure. The lines at the corners of his eyes were suddenly revealed to be those of laughter, and she watched as he began to giggle with Rose.
Giggling?
She hastily pulled back from the doorway as she watched Rose bring her hand up to cup Peter’s face; curious Jackie might be, but even she didn’t want to intrude on what clearly was an intimate moment between her daughter and Peter.
The kettle chose that moment to click off, and she spent the next few minutes bustling around the large kitchen, warming the pot before making the tea. Jackie snugly tucked the tea cosy around the pot of steeping liquid, did one last check of the items for tea, and carried the tray to the lounge.
Peter’s dark, dour facade had returned as they worked through tea, but Jackie’s curiosity was piqued. As Rose and Peter had left, having to meet with James and Susan for dinner, Jackie invited them for lunch-or, indeed, tea or even supper-the next day. Pete was out of town on business, but John would be back from a visit with his gran. Rose had beamed, thrilled to know her little brother would be back and she’d have the chance to see him for the first time in many weeks.
There was also the possibility that Rose had been thrilled with the thought that the visit had gone well. Jackie wasn’t sure if she would have termed the visit as going well-why could Rose never bring home a man with natural, easy charm? Why did she seem to love challenges so much?-but she did think the visit had been revealing. Peter Carlisle was not a man she was going to get to know over a quick tea. She had decided, though, that she wanted to get to know him. She trusted Rose, knew that Rose saw something there; Jackie had the feeling that a bit of patience would reward her with a glimpse of it as well.
And so it was that Jackie found herself experiencing a strange sense of déjà vu the next day as she stood in the kitchen. She had waved Helen, the cook, away from helping her with the tea; Helen had smiled indulgently, and allowed Jackie to set to making tea uninterrupted.
She had just finished filling the kettle when John barrelled into the kitchen, a blur of energy and muddy clothes. Jackie sighed in resignation. She’d tried to keep John clean, but he simply wouldn’t stop playing outside when the weather was fine…or even when it wasn’t.
“John, love, what have you been into?” Jackie leaned down, wiping a smudge off of her son’s fair cheek.
“There’s a squirrel in the back garden! And I wanted to hold him but he ran off across the lawn and then he ran up a tree and I tried to get him but he wouldn’t let me!”
Jackie sighed. John’s love for making new animal friends was going to be the death of her. “Maybe he’ll be back tomorrow.” She stood, turning to set the kettle on the counter.
“’m hungry!”
Jackie smiled. “Why don’t you go wash your hands? If you’re good, you can join us for tea.”
John smiled happily, and ran out of the kitchen into the lounge. Helen was trying not to laugh, and Jackie smiled. She’d not expected to have a child-certainly not so late in life, and definitely not with the man who looked like her first husband-but found she couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to not have him.
She clicked the kettle on to boil, and went about collecting the items for the tea tray. The water still hadn’t boiled by the time she’d laid things out, and so she snuck over to the kitchen door; she was curious to see if the man she’d caught a glimpse of the day before had made a return.
She pushed the door open slightly, and felt her breath catch. John had not made it to the washroom to clean his hands; instead, he was sitting on the floor of the room. He was eagerly chatting to a very attentive Peter Carlisle, who was sitting cross-legged next to him. Rose was nowhere to be seen.
She couldn’t tell what it was John was talking about, but she saw him grin at Peter as he finished talking; saw Peter smile in return, lean down, and start to tell him something in return. John nodded emphatically, and Peter began to gesticulate, the first and second fingers of one hand moving upwards along the flat palm of his raised hand. John nodded excitedly, and began to talk once more.
Jackie watched the interplay between her son and her daughter’s lover, and was once again amazed by the difference she was seeing. Peter had resumed speaking, hands waving as he made sound effects, and John was looking at him rapturously. He was an entirely different man from the one Jackie had been speaking with before she had come into the kitchen, and she began to wonder if perhaps his reticence was due to shyness.
“Mum?”
Jackie was startled from her snooping by the sound of her daughter’s voice, and she silently closed the door the lounge before turning to face Rose. “Sorry, love. Wanted to see where John had got to.”
Rose didn’t believe her, she could tell, but let it go. “He was distracted by Peter. I promised to get him a snack.”
“He needs to get washed up first.”
“That he does,” Rose replied, wryly. “Should have seen him screech to a halt when he saw Peter, though. I became chopped liver.”
Jackie was surprised. “Really?”
“Well, yeah. Peter’s got this...knack, with children,” Rose said, a small smile pulling at her lips. “I think it’s because he’s one himself.”
Jackie couldn’t keep the look of disbelief from her face.
Rose saw it, and sighed. “Mum...”
“He seems so...quiet,” Jackie blurted out.
“He doesn’t know you, Mum.”
“Does he know how to laugh?”
“’course he does! You saw him do it yesterday!”
The only time she’d seen him laugh the day before was when she’d spied on Rose and Peter. She should have known Rose would have caught her.
She moved to the kettle, noting it was near a boil. “In company, Rose.”
“Mum...he’s...” Jackie watched as her daughter searched for the words to describe the man she loved, idly noting the click of the kettle. “He’s not the Doctor, Mum. He’ll not come in here and talk your ear off about nothing. He’s not going to be bouncing off the walls. He’s Peter.” She didn’t say it, but Jackie could hear Rose complete the thought. And I love him.
“He isn’t just Peter, he’s your Peter. And I know that means he must be the best bloke in the universe, because those are the only kind that ever catch your eye. Well, if we ignore Jimmy Stone. So I’m sure he’s wonderful.” Jackie paused. “It’s just…has he got to be so quiet?” Jackie grabbed the kettle, moving to pour hot water into the teapot to let it warm.
Rose laughed. “Give him time, Mum. He was nervous about meeting you, you know. The Great Jacqueline Tyler, Vitex Wife and Hostess Extraordinaire.”
“Oh, piffle,” Jackie said dismissively, pouring the water out of the teapot.
“’s true-”
“It isn’t. Or it better not be. If he’s nervous about meeting me, it ought to be because he’s nervous about making a good impression on the mother of the woman he loves, no matter whether I’m Vitex Wife or Jackie Tyler of the Powell Estates.”
“He does want to make a good impression,” Rose said, earnestly. “He’s just…he’s not terribly good at them. He’s brilliant at the second and third impressions, so just give him time, yeah?”
Jackie finished making the tea before she replied. After she put the lid on the teapot, she turned to her daughter, cupping her cheek. “Sweetheart, if he keeps making you as happy as you are right now, I’ll give him all the time in the world.” She dropped her hand and smiled. “Now, then. Let’s go see what it is you love about Mr. Peter Carlisle.”
Rose grinned, sliding the tea tray towards her so it could be carried into the lounge.
The door from the lounge flew open, startling them both and causing the china to jangle on the tray. John blew into the room, hands still dirty and face still smudged, a bundle of energy even after a full day of play.
He was followed by a rather embarrassed-looking Peter, who had his hands tucked into his trouser pockets. “Sorry,” he said, looking to Rose. Jackie saw how her daughter’s face lit up, how her smile softened as she looked at him. She didn’t miss how Peter’s face relaxed as Rose smiled at him, how his lips curved slightly upwards at the corners.
Jackie felt very much like an interloper in her own kitchen.
It was John who brought them all back to reality. “Muuuuuum!” He was standing in front of her, tugging at the hem of her shirt.
“Yes, dear?” Jackie shifted her gaze to her son.
“Rose promised me a banana!”
“Did she, love?”
John nodded firmly.
“Are you going to wash up?” She kept her voice stern, even as she noted Peter moving to stand next to Rose.
John looked crestfallen at the prospect of having to expose his dirty hands to soap and water. “I told you, love, you’d have to wash up if you wanted tea. That goes for bananas, too.”
John tucked his chin down, shuffling his feet. Jackie was just about to encourage him that washing wouldn’t be so bad, when Peter spoke.
“I’d help you, if you like.” He leaned forward, adding in a conspiratorial whisper, “Your mum’s going to make me wash, too.”
Jackie was startled into silence at the unexpected ally. John raised his head, looking hopefully at Peter. “She is?”
“Oh yes. She did it to me yesterday, you know. It was awful. ” Peter’s expression was grave, but Jackie noted the twinkle in his eye.
John glanced up at Jackie, before moving to stand next to Peter. The man removed a hand from his pocket, and reached down to take John’s hand. “Will you have a banana, too?”
Rose choked, and Jackie watched as Peter wrestled with his answer. “Perhaps,” he finally said, leading John to the doorway to the hall.
“I love bananas. They’re the best ever. Don’t you think so?” John’s voice, and Peter’s answer, faded as they walked down the hall to the washroom.
“Well,” Jackie said, turning to her daughter. “I suppose we’ll have to set out two bananas with the tea.”
Rose finally laughed. “I wouldn’t bother. Peter hates bananas.”