A/N - I have this all written, I'm just going to serialise it here because it actually seems to work better like this. I'll post one or two chapters at a time.
River wasn't quite sure why she was here, of all places. She woke up in the only B&B in Leadworth with a feeling she needed to be somewhere, to do… something. Where had she been yesterday? Last week? Ten years ago? She remembered a promise and an invitation. That's right, she had this wedding to attend in the afternoon, her…friends' wedding.
Dreams were really taking an age to seep away this morning. She shut her eyes again and got her story straight in her head. Family friends, wedding, gift, then back home. Yes. That was right, wasn't it? She sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing her face with her hands when the thought struck her: Oh God! I'm having a stroke! She jumped up to the mirror on the dresser and examined her face. No, not falling at either side, she thought, prodding her cheeks. She tested her speech – "Raxacoricofallapatorius" – perfect, definitely not a stroke. Thank heavens for that!
More was coming to her now. The friends of the family were… Amy and Rory who were getting married at half past two. She looked around the room; it was cosy but old-fashioned – like a lost grotto of chintz. Anything that could have a floral pattern did, and each one was different. The cacophony of blossoms certainly wasn't helping the state of River's head. Hanging on a coat hanger on the wardrobe door was a knee length black dress and a black overcoat with a large, furry collar. Wearing black to a wedding, that's so me, she thought, whatever that meant.
She showered and then dressed. She rolled her stockings up her legs and fastened her suspender belt clips, slipped her dress over her head and tied the belt around her waist. Dressing was like a ritual but it also felt like the first time she had ever performed it. She stepped into her shoes, flawlessly applied her makeup, and teased her hair into a pleasing shape.
There was a knock on the door. "Breakfast is finishing at ten, dear, will you be down or do you want me to keep something warm for you?" said the guesthouse proprietor, her voice muffled through the door.
"I'll be down," she called back and heard the floorboards creak as the woman walked further down the carpeted hallway.
River stood up and took a small bottle of perfume from the dresser. She sprayed a cloud in the air in front of her, closed her eyes and walked through it. She put the bottle back on the dresser and left the room.