Her aunty had bought rhubarb again, it was lying on the kitchen table. Amelia wrinkled her nose. She hated rhubarb, it made her teeth feel all funny, and it was sour and aunty never let her put enough sugar on it. Aunty said it was healthy, but, thought Amelia, it was rubbish how the things she said were healthy were all nasty as well.
She didn't carve faces on apples, either; she said Amelia was a big girl now and ought to behave like one. She said Amelia was too old for playing make-believe, too, and if Amelia didn't stop, aunty said, she'd get into trouble or maybe have to go and see a special doctor.
That was even more rubbish than rhubarb all the time. There was only one doctor Amy wanted to see, and aunty didn't know him.
Rhubarb was rubbish, but it did look sort of cool before it was cooked and spoiled, Amelia thought, and pulled one of the stalks out of the bunch. She swished it around experimentally, and then pointed it at the door, pretending it was the Doctor's magic screwdriver and that she could open the door with it.
She tiptoed over to the back door, and opened it carefully, so that any monster on the other side wouldn't hear her.
She wouldn't really have the Doctor's screwdriver if he was there, though, he'd have it and be in charge.
Unless he needed her to rescue him, of course. That would be weird, but cool in a scary sort of way.
Clutching the rhubarb firmly in her hand, Amelia sneaked out into the garden. There was still ages until aunty would want to cook the rhubarb, and anyway, she'd never notice one was gone.
And even in a game, rescuing the Doctor was more important than rhubarb.