It Came Upon the Midnight Clear

A Doctor Who Christmas Story

The roar of the TARDIS engines ceased and the glowing circular panels above the console stopped moving. 

‘There you are.’ The Doctor leaned back and indicated the door. ‘Back in time for your little afternoon club at Coal Hill. Because obviously, that’s far more thrilling than the once-in-a-thousand-lifetimes sunrise on Gearrth, afternoon tea with Ada Lovelace, or an expedition to the edge of the known universe. Right where you absolutely wanted to be dropped off.’

‘You’ve got a time-and-space ship,’ Clara said. ‘We can do all this whenever we like. But I promised to fill in for our music teacher Mrs Blakesley while she’s ill and make sure the choir’s practising. This Christmas performance was partly my idea, so I’m absolutely helping with the preparations.’

‘Oh, yes, nothing says adventure like photocopying sheet music.’

Clara looked at him sharply.

‘And with this very time-and-space ship,’ the Doctor added, flinging his arms wide in a gesture that included the whole control room, ‘I can drop you off at exactly this point in time whenever you want. There’s so much to see out there, a whole universe, and yet you prefer something so dull—and Christmassy, too!’

‘Come on, Doctor, don’t be such a grump.’ 

‘Well, I am a grump. It’s in my DNA.’

‘It’s in your current DNA, obviously.’ Clara crossed her arms. ‘Your predecessor would’ve been delighted to help out with the children’s Christmas carol event. He’d have been singing backing vocals, with a Santa hat on!’

‘Regeneration—it’s a lottery. And now I’d be delighted if you could spare me from all this Christmassy stuff.’

‘Pff, yeah, a lottery. I wonder why, out of all possibilities, we’ve got Scrooge this time.’

‘Humbug! I simply don’t do Christmas carols. At most, I criticise them. And you really don’t want me to criticise these children right now.’

Clara grimaced. ‘No, I really don’t want you to. Ever.’ She turned and made for the door. ‘Fine, then stay in here or pop straight over to Gearrth and watch the sunrise. I’ll do the dull thing and look after the kids and have a good time with them.’

She opened the TARDIS door and took a look back over her shoulder, but the Doctor wasn’t following her. He stood at the console, staring at a tiny screen, brooding. 

‘You know, you can join us anytime. That would do you plenty of good, too.’

‘Yeah, yeah. Off you go. Chop chop!’ the Doctor said without even looking up from the screen. He waved. ‘I’ll see you when I see you.’

‘All right, whenever it suits you,’ Clara huffed, and left.

The Doctor frowned. There was a tiny anomaly, a localised spatial disturbance that the TARDIS had picked up. It could mean anything, really, or nothing at all. Probably nothing to worry about. Nothing ever was—until it was. 

He went around the console, checking a few readings and making a couple of calculations.

It was nearby, too, a hundred yards away, maximum.

‘You know, I really don’t want to,’ the Doctor said to the air. He sighed. ‘So here we go.’

He grabbed the essentials and was out of the door.

*

‘It came upon the midnight clear, that glorious song of old…’

There was soft music drifting through the deserted school corridors, together with children’s laughter and a hustle and bustle coming from the school hall. 

‘… from angels bending near the earth to touch their harps of gold …’

A Christmas carol, of course. 

The Doctor grimaced. 

Having checked everything in the vicinity without finding anything unusual, the only place left to look was the school hall.

The smell of paint, gingerbread, tea and dry heated air greeted him. Near the double doors, a few chairs were neatly stacked. In front of them stood a table with flasks of tea and a tray of snacks. Across the hall, a group of eleven-year-olds had spread out all kinds of materials and tools and were busy making props. Silver and golden glitter dusted the floor. A few of the children were humming along to the Christmas carol playing from a boombox that sat on the small stage. Above it, a single cardboard angel in a white dress and a golden halo swayed in a breeze. 

Clara was standing in the middle of the room, explaining to a girl how to cut a large piece of cardboard into shape without turning the Christmas event into an accidental Halloween special. When she noticed the Doctor, she came straight towards him.

‘Listen, Scrooge, this is one of the songs we’re rehearsing for the Christmas event. Lovely that, isn’t it?’

‘A carol’s a carol,’ the Doctor grumbled. ‘They just make you sentimental and festive, and Father Christmas isn’t half as keen on them as you humans always think. We’re both more into rock music.’

Clara rolled her eyes. ‘And still you’re here. What made you change your mind?’

‘Oh, nothing.’ The Doctor tried a quick smile. ‘I just wanted to… get a better impression. You know, of everything.’

‘Hard to believe you can see anything in these shades,’ Clara remarked. ‘Why do you even wear them?’

‘They’re cool!’ the Doctor said. ‘I look cool with them, don’t I? Plus, the kids will be more relaxed if they can’t see me staring around. You see? I’m making an effort.’

‘Not sure if an old grump in shades wouldn’t unsettle them even more,’ Clara said. ‘Anyway, it’s great that you decided to give it a try after all.’

She turned to the children, who were busy crafting and painting things. ‘Listen up, everyone. This is the… caretaker. Doctor John Smith.’ 

Most of the children eyed the Doctor suspiciously. 

Maisie, a red-haired girl with curious eyes, put her brush down on the white paint bucket, and stood up. ‘Why is the caretaker a doctor?’ she asked bluntly.

‘Deep cov—’ Clara’s elbow landed unerringly in his ribs. ‘… choir interest. Super deep choir interest. In this choir particularly. Just call me the Doctor and ignore me. I’ll be hanging around here, watching you little ones do your little things and—’

‘He also came here to help with your rehearsals,’ Clara finished the sentence for him. She didn’t need a sideways glance to know that the Doctor was staring at her wide-eyed.

‘How’s a caretaker going to help us with rehearsals?’ Nicky, a boy in black dungarees, piped up. He had come closer, scissors and half-cut cardboard star still in hand, but remained at a distance from the old man in shades.

‘He doesn’t even look like a caretaker,’ said Robin, whose face was covered in speckles of golden paint.

Before the Doctor could come up with an explanation that would totally make things worse, Clara hurried to add, ‘Well, because he’s a senior caretaker and… a doctor of music. Might not look like it, but he’s a fairly musical chap and a decent teacher, so he’ll be able to give you a few pointers as long as Mrs Blakesley’s ill.’

‘Really doesn’t look like it,’ Maisie said, squinting. Then she shrugged, picked her brush back up and continued painting the cardboard angel in front of her. Nicky, Robin and the other kids resumed their work as well and that was that.

Clara turned to the Doctor, grinning. ‘See? That went pretty well, didn’t it?’

He still gasped at her. ‘I never volunteered for music lessons! I’m the cool uncle—watching from the sidelines, cheering on the young ones, against my better judgement. Besides, it’s a children’s choir! Have you ever listened to a children’s choir?’

Clara wasn’t having any of that. She patted him on the shoulder and said, ‘You came here to get a better impression of things, didn’t you? So you can make yourself useful until choir practice and get your long legs up on that ladder over there. There’s an angel and a few stars ready to be hung above the stage. Come on, off you go! Chop, chop!’

‘Being the caretaker was supposed to be a cover, not a career,’ the Doctor muttered. But he picked up the ladder anyway.

*

The Doctor stood on the top rung of the ladder and hung up the cardboard angel that Clara had handed him. As he was about to put up the stars right next to it, he discreetly tapped the edge of his sunglasses. They whirred, so softly that only he could hear them up on the ladder. He looked around. 

Some of the readings were slightly off and most definitely not human. The signals had at least a seven-dimensional origin and caused minor disturbances in the local reality, like overlapping ripple marks. However, the Doctor was not yet able to pinpoint the exact source. Which could also be due to the Christmassy background noise from the boombox, which was already starting to turn his thoughts to mush.

‘Do you want to put down roots up there?’ Clara asked. She stood below, holding two more cardboard stars in her hand. ‘Or have you completely blocked out your surroundings with those shades?’

‘Neither,’ replied the Doctor. ‘I have an excellent overview of everything, and the only thing I really want to block out is this music.’

‘Lovely as ever,’ Clara said dryly, handing him the stars. 

He tacked them crudely onto the bracket above the stage.

‘Hey, do it properly!’

‘Mind you, I’m the caretaker, not the interior designer.’

He quickly took another look around the room, tapped the side of his sunglasses and came back down.

‘And now excuse me, I have to save my remaining brain cells from this racket and do a few calculations.’

‘No way, Doctor.’ Clara grabbed him by the sleeve of his coat. She leaned closer to him so no one else could hear. ‘You’re acting strange. I mean, even stranger than usual. Is something wrong?’

‘Oh, there’s always something wrong. It’s just that you humans don’t usually notice and go about your daily—’

‘No, Doctor, I mean right here, right now. Specifically.’ She stared at him urgently.  ‘Are these children in danger?’

‘No. Not at all.’

‘Last time you said that you had lured a Skovox Blitzer into the school and nearly got it destroyed and a hundred people killed.’

‘I had everything perfectly under control until “P.E.” decided to ruin the precise positioning of my generators!’ He paused under Clara’s sharp gaze. ‘Just leave it to me and keep out of the way, then there won’t be any danger to anyone.’

‘Take off your shades, look me in the eye and then say that again.’

The Doctor pushed his sunglasses up, looked her in the eye, and remained silent.

A child appeared beside them and asked Clara where to put the unfinished decorations, interrupting their discussion.

Clara explained to the child what to do, then turned back to the Doctor. ‘You stay close by,’ she said firmly. ‘Whatever it is you’re on to, you’ll make sure it doesn’t harm anyone at this school.’

‘Right. So I’d better go back to the TARDIS and let her—’

‘You’re not going anywhere. You’ll stay right here during choir practice and keep an eye on the situation. You know, that’s your punishment for not telling me.’

The Doctor grunted in annoyance as Clara shepherded the children into something resembling a choir. He crossed his arms and refused to get involved. But he stayed.

*

The Doctor stood at the back of the hall, arms folded and scowling. Still his eyes kept drifting back to Clara, the children, the chaos in the hall. He could feel something was not right. He just wasn’t able to pinpoint it yet. On the outside, he was just his old grumpy self while he kept racking his brain for any clues, any explanation for what the TARDIS and his sonic sunglasses had picked up. 

At least, during the rest of choir practice, nothing too troublesome happened.

Except, of course, for the moments when several children tried to drag the Doctor into helping them harmonise, which he flatly denied knowing anything about before putting his shades back on and pretending to study the lighting fixtures. Or the time when he declared the boombox a ‘weapon of psychological torture’ and tried to unplug it.

Over the next few days he remained a constant, if begrudging, presence at rehearsals. He kept staring around in his shades, tightening bolts no one asked him to tighten, scanning innocent props for multidimensional interference and avoiding Clara’s scrutinising glances. He helped with backdrops, corrected any child too far out of tune for his taste, poured tea and glowered at every cardboard angel as if daring it to misbehave.

Between rehearsals, he pondered away in the TARDIS, making calculations and checking database after database to find a match for the signals he’d detected.

Nothing. 

Clara came by a few times to ask if he had found out anything yet, if the children were safe, what the threat was.

‘Working on it,’ he said simply.

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

But of course she didn’t want to cancel all the Christmas nonsense and fly with him to Gearrth or to afternoon tea with Ada Lovelace. Figures.

Nothing really moved forward. In fact, everything was almost disappointingly normal.

No more ripples, no shifts in realities, no angry aliens attacking for acoustic torture—which at this point would have been the right of any alien race, really.

The days passed—boringly, frustratingly from the Doctor’s point of view—with no incidents. Only the readings remained elevated, peaking near the school hall.

Best to be prepared. For whatever was coming.

*

The day of the dress rehearsal came and everyone was extremely excited.

The props were finished mere seconds ago, of course. Now everything was a blur of last-minute adjustments, loud voices and utter chaos. Children dashed about in their costumes for the first time, Mrs Blakesley tried to hand out freshly printed sheet music, and someone hastily stapled a deep crack in a stage prop back together. Nothing seemed to be in the right place.

The Doctor, meanwhile, kept a low profile—by his standards. For this evening, Clara had imposed a strict non-interference ban on him, which he ignored. He prowled along the back of the hall, distinctly calm, oiling the double doors’ hinges, checking the integrity of the lighting rig, strengthening the rail above the backdrop ‘just in case’ and discreetly placing five small quantum ray emitters in the corners of the room and below a front row seat. He’d recalibrated the fire alarms already—twice— and slipped a few protective devices in a few places, this time hidden well from ‘P.E.’ and any other nosy person. 

Clara had given him a few meaningful looks and tried to stop him from ruining this important, already chaotic evening. But the Doctor had pretended not to notice and carried on. 

His one, five, a hundred sweeps for anomalies during the last couple of minutes had all produced the same result: there were anomalies. They became denser by the minute. Yet nothing revealed itself.

Until the moment the final cardboard angel was hung up.

‘Well done, everyone!’ Clara praised them, including the Doctor, who was climbing down the ladder, as she took a step back to look at the finished stage decoration.

The children had gathered on the stage, surrounded by a lovingly crafted and barely windswept cardboard winter wonderland. Spotlights bathed them in silver light, making their self-sewn costumes sparkle. Mrs Blakesley stood in front of them, smiling at the excitedly chattering children.

‘Quiet,’ she said and raised her hand. ‘Let’s go through the programme from start to finish.’

She nodded to Clara, who started the music on the boombox. 

Once they heard the first notes of It Came Upon the Midnight Clear, a concentrated silence fell over the choir. They gripped their song sheets more tightly and all eyes turned to Mrs Blakesley as she raised her hand to conduct the choir.

All eyes except the Doctor’s.

The Doctor had seen and used enough visual tricks to know that this wasn’t one. With perfect timing for the line ‘from angels bending near the earth’ one of the cardboard angels bent down towards the stage.

The Doctor tensed up. He took a cautious step towards the stage, then another, his eyes fixed on the angel. He tried to appear relaxed, but he had that grim look on his face that never boded well.

Clara noticed him moving and turned. When she followed his gaze upwards, her stomach lurched. One of the cardboard angels above the children was bending. Not swaying. Bending. Slowly, deliberately, dipping towards the stage.

‘Doctor?’ she breathed. 

He only waved his hand discreetly. Stay calm.

His eyes were fixed, sharp and alert in a way that made her mouth go dry.

But she couldn’t just stand there, she had to protect the children.

On stage, Maisie frowned and tilted her head questioningly. This prompted Mrs Blakesley to turn halfway around. She noticed that Clara and the caretaker looked tense and mouthed, ‘Is everything—?’ before catching  a movement above her in the corner of her eye.

She gasped. But her teacher’s reflexes kicked in immediately.

She raised her hand to stop the singing. The children fell silent at once, startled by the abrupt interruption. 

‘Move back, everyone, just a little back,’ she said as calmly as she could manage. 

They looked at her, puzzled.

‘I think one of the stage props came loose and—’

Confused faces turned upwards. Several children yelped at the sight of the descending angel. They shuffled away from the edge of the stage, bumping into one another. 

‘It’s falling!’

‘Oh no, it’s moving!’

A few children backed away, clutching their song sheets and holding them up like shields.

‘I’m scared!’

Clara threw out her arm to steady Michael and Yuki who were instinctively stepping down from the riser. ‘It’s all right, it’s all right—everyone stay calm,’ she said, though she felt her own heartbeat quicken. 

Mrs Blakesley had positioned herself between the edge of the stage and the children in the back, utterly bewildered. ‘What on earth is happening?’ she whispered to Clara.

‘It must have come loose,’ Clara said firmly.

‘But, it moved!’ Nicky shrieked.  

The angel hovered in its position, unmoving since the choir had fallen silent. Had its painted smile become a bit dim? Were its coal black eyes looking for something in the children huddled together between the props? 

Meanwhile, the boombox kept playing the festive melody, unperturbed by the impending chaos.

‘It didn’t,’ said the Doctor, apparently just as unperturbed. 

He had pulled out his sunglasses and strode purposefully towards the stage, eyes fixed on the swaying figure. He climbed up, placing himself between the humans and the angel, and lifted a hand sharply. 

‘Still, nobody touch it. Nobody go near it.’

Clara stood beside him. ‘Didn’t intend to,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Doctor, what about the children?’

‘Get them out,’ he said in the same low voice. Then he continued louder, ‘Everyone, get off the stage. I’ll fix this. Because I’m the caretaker.’

It was as if the children had been waiting for this signal. Mrs Blakesley and Clara barely managed to get them down the stairs in a reasonably orderly fashion before most of them scattered. Only Maisie and Robin remained standing in the centre aisle at a distance, watching with interest what the caretaker was doing. 

Clara turned off the music.

‘Didn’t you hear?’ she said. ‘Out you go.’

‘We’re off the stage,’ Maisie replied.

‘And we’re not near it,’ added Robin. 

‘Oh dear, alright.’ Clara sighed. ‘Then at least take another step back.’

The Doctor was already moving deeper into the set, slipping between cardboard trees and painted snowdrifts. He tapped a big red button on a remote he’d pulled out of his overalls, and a soft glow enveloped the hall. It faintly resembled a translucent glass dome. Then the shimmer vanished, leaving only a faint hum vibrating in the air.

‘Doctor, what are you doing?’ Clara hissed, standing right in front of the stage.

‘Keeping whatever that is from leaving.’ He shot her a glance. ‘You didn’t want it to harm anyone at school, did you?’

Then, facing the bowed angel, he lifted his voice just enough: ‘All right. I know you’re in there. Talk to me.’

Nothing happened. 

Maisie, Robin and Clara exchanged a look.

The Doctor seemed to strain his ears, though, and tapped his shades twice. 

‘Mh-hm,’ he said suddenly. ‘Yeah, thought so.’

‘You thought what?’ Clara asked.

He ignored her. ‘Ah. Oh. Ooooh, that’s… complicated.’

‘Doctor, what is it?’

‘Certainly not an angel. And thankfully not a Weeping Angel either, so we’ve been lucky there, trust me. Be glad that you only encountered them very briefly. With a Weeping Angel, this would be a whole different story. More of a Halloween special.’ He caught Clara’s impatient expression, so he got straight to the point. ‘Based on what it said and the readings I’m getting, I’d say we have a visitor—or visitors—from the seventh dimension. Or even higher; I need to ramp up the processing power of my sunglasses in the next version.’

‘A what?’

‘An alien. An at least seven-dimensional entity, possessing the cardboard angels up there,’ the Doctor explained. Then he listened again. ‘Ah yes. They have no body, so neither me nor them are certain if they are only one entity or several. Let’s settle for “they”.’

‘And… are they a threat?’ Clara asked.

‘Well, let me tell you, their language is extremely complex and they do speak a horrible dialect. So either they come in peace or they’ll tear our reality to pieces. Let’s find out which it is, shall we?’

‘Has the caretaker lost his mind?’ Maisie whispered.

‘I’m communicating telepathically!’ the Doctor said as if explaining the obvious to a child. Which he did. ‘Not all species in this universe communicate by saying stupid things with their mouth and getting upset about it.’

Robin shrugged. ‘Seems like it to me.’

Clara was caught between stifling a chuckle and being worried for everyone in this room, in this school or in this part of the city. Encountering aliens had so far involved a great deal of hostility, fighting and running, so she remained on her guard, even though the cardboard angels looked like nothing more than that at the moment: cardboard angels.

‘Doctor, can you find out what they want and, well, convince them this isn’t the right place to get it? And,’ she added, ‘try not to make them angry.’

‘When have I ever done that?’

Clara raised an eyebrow.

The Doctor faced the alien angels again. He didn’t say anything out loud anymore, but it was obvious he was talking again with them. 

At one point, he turned, staring in the direction of Maisie and Robin, who were still observing from the centre aisle. He pushed up his sunglasses, his direct gaze becoming even more penetrating and making the two children shuffle their feet nervously.

Then he turned back.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ he said out loud. There was a pause. ‘Oh good, you like the children. That’s a start. Much better than option B.’

‘What’s option B?’ Maisie asked.

‘Never mind.’ 

There was a pause again. Finally, the Doctor locked eyes with Maisie and Robin for a long moment. He listened silently. And then he nodded.

‘Hey, you two. You look brave and, much to my chagrin, a little reckless. But that’s exactly what we need right now. Come here.’

‘Absolutely not,’ Clara cut in.

‘Oh, Clara, don’t you trust me?’

‘That’s why I’m saying it.’

‘When did I ever…? —Never mind.’ He motioned for the children to come closer.

They hesitated, glancing suspiciously at the cardboard angels. 

They edged towards the stage. 

The Doctor crouched down. ‘Maisie and Robin, you know the carol you’ve sung by heart, don’t you?’

They nodded. 

‘I want you to sing it.’

‘What, right now?’ asked Robin. 

‘No,’ said the Doctor, drawing out the word. ‘When this alien entity decided to shatter your dimensions and the other two, so this world gets a nice requiem.’ 

‘Doctor!’

He quickly put on a smile. ‘Yes, of course right now.’

‘Remember your second cue card?’

‘“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. We’ll all get out of this unharmed. I just need you to help me”,’ the Doctor quoted. 

Maisie and Robin exchanged a reassuring look. Maisie counted quietly to four—and they sang.

‘It came upon the midnight clear, that glorious song of old, from angels bending near the earth to touch their harps of gold.’ Their voices didn’t carry the same power as a choir. However, their a capella version was all the more intimate and heartfelt.

‘“Peace on the earth, good will to men, from heaven’s all-gracious King.” The world in solemn stillness lay, to hear the angels sing.’

Suddenly, they looked up. Clara also looked around in confusion. The boombox was still turned off. Nevertheless, they could hear soft harp music. Robin and Maisie began the second verse, a few notes slightly trembling, and it was as if someone was adding a second voice, soft and ethereal, giving the song a whole new dimension.

The Doctor stood up, smiling. 

‘Hear that?’ he said. ‘That’s them.’

He pointed upwards, where the painted smile of the first angel broadened. Other angels also bent down, their wings creaking softly as they fluttered. The cardboard stars seemed to shine with a genuine golden starlight.

‘Before, the music from your loudspeakers drowned it out, but even then… they just wanted to join in,’ added the Doctor. ‘Listen. Listen to how beautiful it is.’

Maisie paused to listen while Robin finished their line, ‘and ever o’er its Babel sounds the blessed angels sing,’ before pausing, too, and staring wide-eyed to the stage decorations. 

‘As I said, this is an alien species that lives in seven or more dimensions. They communicate through oscillations and chemistry and all the little reactions that trigger feelings.’

He looked into three blank faces. 

‘Pudding-brains,’ he sighed. ‘They use sound waves and a lot of chemistry. You’ll do it in year nine.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know how they found their way into your world, but all this festivity and the children’s voices must have attracted them. They’re simply responding to the harmonics—to the children. I think they like what they hear and are simply enjoying it all.’

‘And what?’ asked Maisie. ‘I mean, what do they want?’

‘They’re not attacking. I think this is a cultural meeting. Maybe they just want to listen,’ the Doctor said.

‘Can’t you just ask them?’ Robin said. ‘Telly partially. Or whatever it’s called.’

‘Of course I can,’ said the Doctor. 

He paused again, eyes closed. 

‘Either they fear the waste bin. Or they want to join in.’

‘Like just now? Wow, that would be wild!’ cried Robin. 

‘Honestly, that would be totally cool,’ Maisie agreed. 

The two of them seemed to have completely lost their fear and at the same time accepted that aliens existed and were having fun participating in their class performance.

Clara had climbed onto the stage and nudged the Doctor. ‘How do you think that would go down? Just imagine the angels bending down and starting to sing during the performance the day after tomorrow. There would be an uproar among the parents and guests.’

‘I have an idea about that,’ said Maisie.

*

The choir performance was a huge success. This was primarily due to the grand finale, which was rewarded with loud cheers and thunderous applause.

Beforehand, Maisie and Robin had gathered Mrs Blakesley and all the children to tell them that the angels were a special effect they had designed and built together with the ‘new cool caretaker’. Maisie and Robin, as well as Clara and the Doctor, thought it best not to mention anything about aliens. Some children remained sceptical. Until they got to see it for themselves. The ‘new cool caretaker’ pressed a button on his remote control in a particularly dramatic manner. As—after a brief telepathic conversation—the angels detached themselves from their anchors and flew around the room singing, a mixture of shouts and cheers erupted. Even Mrs Blakesley was impressed, once she had recovered from her initial shock. 

It was decided that Midnight Clear would be moved at the end of the set and all the children should tell their parents and other guests that the choir had something very exciting planned for their performance.

As a result, the school hall was filled not only with the scent of Christmas incense, mulled wine and pine branches, sparkling fairy lights and cosy warmth, but also with the anticipatory murmuring of the audience. All the seats were taken.

The first songs were typically Christmassy and festive, creating a contemplative atmosphere. Thanks to the Doctor’s persuasion, the alien angels listened impassively, even though some of them smiled wider or their wings glistened more brightly. But as soon as Mrs Blakesley gave the cue to start singing It Came Upon the Midnight Clear, there was no stopping them. The angels bent down and joined in with the choir. The music was deliberately turned down so that the audience could hear the ethereal singing and the delicate harp play mingling with the children’s voices. 

The Doctor, neatly dressed in his coat and a festive suit, pretended to activate a function on his remote control again, and the angels fluttered through the hall. There were many ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ and surprised gasps, but then the first person cheered and others joined in.

At the end of the song, the entire hall sang together, ‘and the whole world send back the song which now the angels sing,’ and the angels picked up the song and sent back waves of harmony that made everybody feel warm inside.

After the final applause, there was even an encore, and long after the piece had ended, families and other guests stood together with mulled wine, tea and biscuits, repeatedly emphasising that this had been the best school performance at Coal Hill ever.

*

‘You know, you can’t stay here,’ said the Doctor. 

As the caretaker, he had stayed behind after the event to get rid of the ‘special effects’.

Clara watched him collect props and arrange all the cardboard angels in a semicircle. ‘Are you actually… tidying up?’

‘Containment. That’s completely different.’ 

He placed his quantum ray emitters around the assembled angels and tweaked a dial on his remote control. ‘Hey, stick to these dimensions, will you? And don’t fray the edges, I don’t fancy any more overtime. In fact, I’d really like to call it a night.’ 

‘You still talk so funny,’ said Maisie. Robin and she were still hanging around, each with a cup of tea and a biscuit in their hands. ‘So, they really are aliens?’

‘What do you think?’ The Doctor raised one of his thick eyebrows.

‘I thought maybe it was just special effects after all and you’re just a bit strange.’ Maisie shrugged and popped a biscuit into her mouth.

He wrung his hands. ‘You were there when I explained everything to you! How can you still think it’s not real?’

‘But if they really are aliens,’ Robin interjected. ‘Why aren’t you surprised? Or scared?’ Robin paused. ‘Neither of you. Miss Oswald just accepted it too.’

‘So did you,’ the Doctor replied.

‘So, are aliens really real?’ asked Maisie. ‘And you’re not just a madman taking the mickey out of us?’

‘Tried to take the Mickey out of things. Twice.’ The Doctor shrugged. ‘Didn’t work.’

‘Well,’ said Clara, interrupting the babbling. ‘We’ve seen some weird things that definitely weren’t of this world. But before we get into that, caretaker, I’d appreciate it if we could finally clear the air here. So?’ 

‘Right.’ The Doctor put his sunglasses back on and tapped their side. He turned to the cardboard angels. ‘Yes, I know you’d like to keep singing. But not here.’

He went around the room and collected more devices he had placed ‘just in case’. 

Clara thought it best not to comment on that.

‘You’re not bound to this world,’ the Doctor continued. ‘You can go on travelling. Have a listen. Sing your songs in other places. Christmas happens everywhere, all the time, in every corner of the universe.’

He paused, tweaking the dial on his remote an inch to the right. The quantum ray emitters hummed softly. 

‘Yes, I heard you, but that’s still a “no”.’

‘You could come back next year,’ Robin suggested.

‘Yes, the singing and the literally living backdrops were really cool!’ Maisie agreed.

‘Heard that? You’re invited. Now, off you go.’ 

Clara stared at him. ‘You’re not seriously encouraging alien Christmas visits.’

‘Why not? It’s tradition,’ said the Doctor. ‘And this time they’re invited. They’re quite nice, too. It’s a nice change, isn’t it?’

It was as if a soft bell tone was floating through the air. It mingled with the sounds of harps, so delicate that no one present was sure whether they were really hearing it or just imagining it. Then waves washed over them, gratitude, warmth, bliss.

‘What’s that?’ asked Robin.

None of them could help smiling.

‘A farewell gift,’ the Doctor said.

Then they were gone. The cardboard angels were mere cardboard angels again.

The four of them blinked as if waking from a dream.

The Doctor took off his sunglasses and picked up his stuff. 

‘Okay, that’s it. See you. Off to bed with you, or whatever you’ve got planned.’

‘Wait—will they really come back next year?’ Maisie asked. 

‘You’ve invited them, haven’t you?’

Robin and Maisie looked at each other. ‘Cool!’

‘What are you going to do now? Except tidying up,’ Robin asked.

‘Definitely not tidying up,’ the Doctor said, already walking out through the large double doors. ‘Guess it’s finally time for our trip to Gearrth.’ He looked at Clara. ‘Are you coming?’

Maisie and Robin wouldn’t be shaken off. ‘Can we come too?’

‘Definitely not,’ Clara said, at the same time as the Doctor said, ‘Yes, why not.’ 

He grinned impishly. ‘Finally someone who wants to see the most spectacular sunrise in the entire galaxy.’

Clara stared at him. ‘I didn’t— you can’t—’ She sighed. ‘I would say, you explain it to the parents—but that’s not a good idea.’

He just walked down the corridor, hands buried in his trouser pockets, smiling to himself. 

The two children followed them down the dark school corridors, curious. 

‘Whatever you’re about to see,’ Clara said to them, ‘promise me it will stay between us. No telling your friends, and definitely not a word to your parents. Agreed?’

‘Can’t promise anything,’ said Maisie, grinning.

‘Depends on what’s coming,’ Robin added.

‘Why do I ask anyway?’ Clara said. Then she leaned closer to the Doctor. ‘Just make sure I don’t have to explain anything unpleasant to their parents.’

‘Of course. I’m the caretaker! I take care.’

The Doctor unlocked the door to the workshop. In the far corner stood a man-sized blue wooden box. He walked straight towards it. 

‘Right then, you pair. Come along,’ he said, tapping the TARDIS door. ‘But I warn you: don’t go inviting any more aliens to your next Christmas party.’