The Thief of Time

by John Boyne

  ‘A couple of weeks,’ she said heartily. ‘I just hope he or she isn’t born on Christmas Day, that’s all. Before or after, I don’t mind. But not Christmas Day.’

  ‘As long as he’s healthy,’ I said, as people do.

  ‘Or she.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, as if there was any chance of that happening.

  Caroline was becoming the bane of my life. Although she worked hard, she was too eager to please. She had an opinion on everything and in spite of being new to the industry, she didn’t mind sharing every single one of them at the board meetings. Sometimes there was a naive charm to what she said – to be fair, she had an ability to cut through industry jargon and tended to take me to task for the wide chasm between what the public wanted to see and my perception of what they should actually be watching (which was nothing) – but more often than not her lack of experience shone through and she succeeded only in infuriating those colleagues who saw her as arrogant and incompetent. I had made a mistake in hiring her in the first place, at least at such a high level in the station, but in fairness I had been left with little alternative at the time. After all, she controlled her father’s shares and P.W. remained an important member of the board as well as one of the owners of the station. Whether I liked it or not, she was there to stay. Unless I could persuade her father to return, of course, although that still wouldn’t necessarily see her off.

  I was working late on some scheduling problems and thought I was alone in the building when she came into my office, standing at the door and staring at me with a curious smirk on her face.

  ‘Caroline,’ I said, surprised and not entirely thrilled to see her there. ‘What are you still doing here? I thought everybody had gone home.’

  ‘What have I got to go home to?’ she asked quietly, a smile flickering around her lips. I thought about it. I didn’t know. We had never shared any personal information with each other.

  ‘Matthieu,’ she said then, biting her lip and disappearing back outside. ‘Can you just stay here for a moment? There’s something I want to get.’

  I put down my pen and rubbed my eyes. I was tired and not in the mood for games or even for business discussions. Whatever she wanted, I hoped she would get off her chest as quickly as possible. I considered packing up my papers and taking them home with me instead but I have a golden rule that I work in the office and I live at home and even the possibility of a long conversation with Caroline was not enough to force me to change that.

  She reappeared with a bottle of champagne and two glasses and kicked the door shut behind her with her heel. ‘What’s this for?’ I asked in surprise, for it was the last thing I had been expecting.

  ‘You mean you don’t know?’ she said, smiling at me as she laid them down on the desk before me.

  ‘Are we celebrating something?’

  ‘It’s our anniversary, Matthieu. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.’ I thought about it. I was certainly no spring chicken but my memory was fine and I knew that while I had married a few duds in my day she had not been one of them. I shook my head and smiled awkwardly.

  ‘I’m sorry ...’ I said. ‘But ...’

  ‘It was five months ago today that we first met,’ she explained. ‘The day you talked me into coming to work here, remember?’

  ‘And that qualifies as an anniversary?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ she said, opening the bottle and pouring two glasses. ‘We don’t need an excuse to have a drink together, now, do we? We’re friends.’

  ‘Indeed,’ I said hesitantly, accepting the glass and clinking it against hers. ‘Well, here’s to another five wonderful months,’ I said dryly.

  ‘And longer,’ she said, slapping my arm. ‘I see a big future for us here, Matthieu. You and I. I have so many plans for this place, you know. There’s so much I can do here. I’m an extraordinary woman, you know. If you took the time to get to know me better, you’d realise that.’

  I nodded slowly. Now I got the idea. Strange how after 256 years it still takes me a few moments to realise when someone is flirting with me. In this case it was probably because I suspected a subtext. Caroline was not the kind of woman who gave anything away without wanting something back in return.

  ‘Look, Caroline,’ I began, but she cut me off.

  ‘Did you speak to Tara Morrison?’ she asked and I nodded.

  ‘Yes, yes. We had lunch a few days ago.’

  ‘And did you offer her the job?’

  ‘As directed.’

  Her eyes opened wide. ‘So?’ she demanded. ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She said she’d think about it. She wasn’t going to give me an answer on the spot, now, was she? But I think it’s safe to suppose that we probably have her. She’s changed, I think. She’s still ambitious but in a different way. A better way.’

  ‘We’re all ambitious, Matthieu.’

  ‘Yes, but she wants ... what is it ...?’ I tried to think of what it was about Tara that had most impressed me upon our meeting; what it was that made her different from the Tara I used to know. ‘She wants to feel proud of what she’s doing, you know? She wants to be ...’ I laughed.

  ‘Well, she wants to be really good at it. I think she wants to achieve a little self-respect. Do something she can feel proud of

  ‘Good,’ said Caroline. ‘I’ll start working on some ideas for her.’ ‘Don’t,’ I replied firmly. ‘I’ll look after Tara. We’re still in the delicate stages of negotiation. Don’t jeopardise that, you don’t even know her.’ ‘I just think if I put some programme ideas together for her -’ ‘Listen to me, Caroline,’ I said firmly. ‘I want you to stay out of this one. Just leave it to me and all will be well. Tara could eat you up and spit you out and you have to know how to handle her.’ She sat back in her chair, looking a little miffed. I knew that she wouldn’t interfere. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said eventually. ‘I wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want me to do, of course.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s just that I want to be proud of my work too. And I want you to be proud of me.’ I glanced down at my desk and within a moment I felt her palm stroking across my cheek. ‘I don’t think we’re as close as we could be, Matthieu.’

  I pushed the chair back a little and held up both hands in protest. ‘I’m sorry, Caroline,’ I said. ‘I really don’t think that this would be a good -’

  ‘I don’t think you realise just how fond I am of you, Matthieu,’ she continued, getting up and coming over to me now, her seductive manner forced and imitated from TV. ‘I’ve always been attracted to older men.’

  ‘Not this old, you haven’t,’ I said. ‘Believe me. Now really, I -’ ‘Just try it,’ she whispered, leaning forward to kiss me. I dodged out of her way.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, touching her arm lightly. ‘Really, I am.’ She brushed herself down and composed herself. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘I’m fine. I’m going now.’ And with that she stormed towards the door, turning back for one final shot. ‘Just remember I’m still a major shareholder here, Matthieu, and if I want to involve myself in things, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.’

  I sighed and turned back to my work.

  A few days later, the phone rang. It was Tara, eager and willing to take up my offer of employment. ‘And the Beeb?’ I asked her. ‘They’re willing to let you go?’

  ‘Not quite,’ she said. ‘My agent’s had some discussions with them. Lack of commitment on their part to my career and so on. He threatened to sue them and after some negotiation I’m basically out of a job right now.’

  ‘Well, let’s end that situation right here and now,’ I said, delighted. ‘I really am pleased that you’ll be coming back to us.’ I hesitated for a moment before adding, ‘I’ve missed you.’

  Now it was her turn to hold back. ‘I’ve missed you too,’ she said eventually. ‘I’ve missed our friendship. Not to mention our arguments.’

  ‘Well, things will be different this time. The station’s going to be different. You can have a certain autonomy over
what you’re doing. I trust you.’

  ‘The only thing I’m worried about’, she said, a certain tension creeping into her voice now, ‘is exactly who’s going to be leading the station.’

  ‘Well, I am for the time being,’ I said.

  ‘You said you wanted to leave.’

  ‘The day to day operations, certainly. I need another James Hocknell to run the place but I’ll still be a shareholder and board member.’

  ‘Right,’ said Tara. ‘But when do you think that will be? Have you started looking?’

  ‘No,’ I admitted. ‘But like I said before, I have an idea what I’m going to do. I just haven’t found the right opportunity yet to make the offer. Plus I have to be sure that I’m doing the right thing. Leave it with me. Whatever I do, I’ll do it soon.’

  ‘I should tell you’, she said, ‘I spoke to Alan and P.W.’

  ‘You did?’ I was surprised. Even I hadn’t spoken to Alan in a while and I hadn’t heard from P.W. since he left the country. ‘Where did you track P.W. down?’ I asked.

  ‘I have my sources,’ she laughed. ‘He’s getting married in Bermuda, did you know that?’

  ‘Good God, no. I bet she’s some seventeen-year-old belly dancer, am I right?’

  ‘Well, she’s sixteen, but the age restrictions are a lot less severe there.’

  Now it was my turn to laugh. ‘I wonder what she sees in millionaire P.W.,’ I said sarcastically.

  ‘I wonder indeed. But, anyway, I felt I should speak to both him and Alan before coming back on board and it was all right except for something that P.W. said.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘It turns out he wants to sell his shares altogether. Did you know that?’

  This took me by surprise. It was the first I’d heard of it. ‘No, I didn’t,’ I said. ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘Well, according to him, he’s only recently made the decision but he hasn’t done anything about it yet. Wants to wait until he gets this whole new marriage thing out of the way before selling up all his interests over here. Apparently they’re going to start a radio station in Bermuda from the proceeds.’

  ‘A radio station!’ I said, intrigued. ‘How quaint. But tell me, Tara, do you happen to have his number about you anywhere?’

  ‘As a matter of fact I do,’ she said. ‘Do you have a paper and pen handy?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I think you’d better give it to me before anyone else hears this latest piece of intelligence.’ I wrote down the number and placed it beside the phone for use in a moment’s time. ‘You’ll come in tomorrow and I’ll have the contracts drawn up?’ I asked her.

  ‘Yes, not too early though. I’m planning on sleeping in for once.’

  ‘Well, let’s say mid-afternoon then. Now, can I trust you with something?’

  ‘Of course. Haven’t I just trusted you with that piece of P.W. gossip?’

  ‘That’s exactly why I’m going to ask your advice on something. It’s about who’s going to take over James’s job when I go. Listen to this idea, but hear me out before saying anything. It’s got a lot more going for it than you might initially think.’

  The first meeting. Tommy arrived promptly in my office at 11 a.m. and I was pleased about that as I had a busy day ahead of me and wanted to get all these problems resolved before Christmas. For a moment, I didn’t recognise him. I hadn’t seen him in about a fortnight, since the afternoon that I had spoken to him in his apartment, and we had only enjoyed a couple of quick phone calls in the meantime. He’d taken a week’s holiday, if that’s the right word, at a health farm and had enrolled in a drug rehabilitation programme on an outpatient basis, which made me proud of him.

  ‘Tommy,’ I said, looking up at him as he strolled into the office, having seduced his way past my secretary without having to be announced. ‘What have you done to yourself?’ His hair was cut short into a dark, tufty French crop. His contact lenses were gone and he wore an elegant pair of circular glasses with a pale thin shell outer rim. He was dressed in a light, casual suit and he looked healthier than I had seen him in quite some time.

  ‘I decided to make myself a little less obvious in the streets,’ he said. ‘Not that it’ll be that long before I’m forgotten anyway.’

  ‘Well, it’s certainly made a difference,’ I said, impressed by his new, mature look. ‘You look a lot better. Is it for a part?’

  ‘No, it’s for me,’ he said smiling. ‘Like I could get a part right now. Do you have any idea what the insurance premiums on me would be like?’

  ‘Well, not off hand, no,’ I said, indicating the chair opposite me. ‘But I take your point. Sit down anyway. I’ll order some coffee.’

  ‘Tea for me,’ he replied as I buzzed the intercom and asked for some refreshments. ‘Well,’ he continued looking around him casually, ‘this place doesn’t look very festive. What are you, some sort of Scrooge or something?’

  ‘I’m the Ghost of Christmas Past,’ I said. ‘But I haven’t had time for Christmas decorations. It hardly seems worthwhile to me. The years all go by so fast. They’re blending into one.’

  ‘And there are so many of them too, right?’ he asked with a grin. I could tell that he was still sceptical about what I had told him, but I also knew that he vaguely believed me because he was maintaining a certain nervous distance from me which was unlike him.

  ‘There’ve been a few,’ I acknowledged. ‘So how’s Andrea?’ I asked, changing the subject; I figured that having gone through the whole story once with him I didn’t want a repetition of it. He had been the only person I had told in 256 years and I guessed that it would be a while before I spoke of it again. He could believe or not; it was his choice.

  ‘She’s enormous,’ he said, laughing. ‘But she’s due any day. She’s terrified it’s going to come tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes, she mentioned that to me before,’ I said. ‘Well, time will tell.’

  ‘We’re thinking of getting married, you know,’ he said and I looked at him in some surprise.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Just thinking about it. She’s stood by me pretty well over these last couple of months. We’ve said that if we decide to get married we’ll wait for one full year between making the decision and doing the deed. Just in case. We don’t want to do it just for the baby’s sake.’

  ‘That sounds sensible,’ I said. I picked up a paperweight off the desk and examined it carefully, hesitating slightly before getting down to business. It was one of those rare possessions that had travelled with me everywhere; I had stolen it in Dover around 1759 and it had been all around the world with me since then. ‘Tommy,’ I said, suddenly changing the subject. ‘I wanted to talk to you about something.’

  ‘I figured that,’ he said. ‘Your summons sounded pretty urgent.’

  ‘Well, it’s not that urgent,’ I said. ‘But it’s something I want to sort out. First of all, what exactly are your plans for the future? Or have you yet to decide?’

  He exhaled loudly and looked around as if I had just asked him for the meaning of life. ‘I don’t know,’ he said after a long pause. ‘I honestly don’t know.’

  ‘The show isn’t going to take you back? Now that you’re cleaning up your act?’

  ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘definitely not. The public don’t care any more so I’m out. I’m contracted to two further weeks of work within the next couple of months so they’re giving me the testicular cancer after all. They’re going to kill me off. It’s going to be quick and painful.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I said, feeling a bizarre urge to comfort him and ask him whether there was anything I could do to make him more comfortable.

  ‘Well, there was always a chance that it would come back,’ he said sadly. ‘We were prepared for that. So what can you do? It’s going to strike quickly, so I’ll be coming back from my three month holiday in America and straight into hospital where I’ll linger just long enough to learn that Tina is going to have my baby and to have a quick a
ffair with a hospital nurse who’s going to get sacked a couple of weeks later and become a barmaid in the local pub, the way people do. They’re hoping to groom her as the next Sandy Bradshaw.’

  ‘That a fact?’ I said, only barely listening. ‘Well, there we are. End of a chapter I suppose.’

  ‘Nine long years.’

  ‘A novel then. Never mind. Every good novel has an epilogue and so will you. What does your agent say? Are there any parts for you? Can you surprise us all and rise from the ashes like a phoenix?’

  He laughed and shook his head. ‘There won’t be any parts for me for a long time, Uncle Matt,’ he said. ‘I’m virtually unemployable. I’ll be lucky if I can get a job in pantomime this year and anyone with a glove puppet can get one of those. Which is so fucking irritating because I’m good at what I do.’

  ‘I’m sure you are,’ I said.

  ‘And I know that business like no one else does. You can’t spend half your life doing something and not pick up on every aspect of it,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders. ‘I don’t know what I’ll do.’

  ‘Well,’ I replied, putting my cup down on the table and leaning across towards him, ‘that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. A job. I think I might have something for you.’

  ‘I don’t need charity, Uncle Matt,’ he said and I couldn’t help but laugh inside, considering the thousands of pounds I had already given him over the last few years, idiotically funding his drug habits. He hadn’t known such high-minded principles then.

  ‘It’s not charity,’ I said. ‘I need someone and I think you might be the man for the job. I think so anyway. I’m taking a bit of a risk but you’re the one who’s always saying how he knows the television industry inside out. Tell me this, Tommy. Do you really want to be a star, or do you just want to work?’

  He shrugged. ‘Like I said. I’ve been a star. It doesn’t interest me or attract me at all.’

  ‘Good,’ I said, smiling and leaning back. ‘Then it’s time to get to work. How would you like to run this place?’

  He blinked and looked around, as if he wasn’t quite sure what I was referring to. ‘What place?’ he asked. ‘You mean here? The station?’