No Time Like the Past

by Jodi Taylor

  I stood, entranced. No wonder I’d been confined to my room all day. That they had done all this for us …

  I was gobsmacked. St Mary’s, global capital of noise and disaster and explosions had not only done romance, but done it perfectly, converting our slightly battered environment into a golden world of magic and wonder and fairy-tale beauty.

  Leon’s grip tightened. I turned to face him. He smiled down at me and whispered, ‘Always remember this moment, Max because it won’t always be like this. There will be days when you’re cross and I’m grumpy and doors will be slammed, but that won’t really be us. This is us. This is how we really are, so always remember this moment.’

  I nodded.

  I blinked in the hailstorm of flashes as people took photographs and then we followed the runway of lights around to the front terrace where Mrs Mack had set up the reception area.

  All around us, people were laughing and joking. Markham and Hunter danced past us. Helen and Tim walked quietly together. Helen was smiling. Kal and Dieter held hands. Her eyes were brighter than the thousands of stars in the heavens above us.

  Snowy white cloths covered tables laden with plates. White balloons hung, ghostly in the dusk, ready to terrify the living daylights out of everyone after their fourth drink.

  Dr Bairstow spoke. There were toasts. I remember cutting a cake.

  The fireworks started and we slipped away.

  We had tossed a coin to see who would be the designated driver and I had won. Leon had groaned and rolled his eyes. I told him to suck it up – we were only going forty miles or so. (Actually, we were booked into the Stuyvesant – an international hotel on the coast, famed for its quiet luxury, because, said Leon, when you spend your working days sleeping in the dirt, and peeing behind a rock, indoor plumbing is a pearl beyond any price. I would have been happy with any establishment that just provided soft toilet paper, but this was Leon’s choice and I was happy to agree.)

  In a further effort to ally his fears, I’d added that the roads would be quiet, and my driving was much improved and I hardly hit anything these days. He had said nothing in a way that said everything.

  I was a little taken aback when I discovered the Boss had loaned us his Bentley. We had history with that car.

  I pulled very slowly down the drive and looked back as we waited for the gates to open.

  I could see a small fire. Probably, one of the Professor’s fireworks had exceeded expectations. It was only a small fire, but there was a disproportionate amount of shouting.

  ‘Nothing to do with us,’ said Leon, as I nosed the car cautiously through the gates and pulled more or less smoothly away. We drove slowly down the twisty lane, the headlights picking out glittering eyes in the hedgerows. A rabbit, caught in the headlights, stared panic-stricken as disaster bore down upon it before dashing for cover. I knew exactly how it felt.

  ‘Challenging times ahead,’ he said.

  I agreed. ‘Yes, but I think it’ll be fine if we just take it slowly. Baby steps, you know.’

  ‘Yes, as you say, baby steps.’

  ‘The most important thing is to get them out there on proper assignments as soon as possible, but without frightening the living daylights out of them.’

  He sighed. ‘It may be possible we’re talking about two entirely different things.’

  ‘Why? What were you talking about?’

  ‘Have the events of the last few hours faded from your tiny historian memory already?’

  ‘Sorry. I was talking about something important.’

  ‘You’re winding me up, aren’t you?’

  I grinned at him. ‘So easy.’

  ‘Just concentrate on your driving, please.’

  ‘I told you not to have that third glass of wine.’

  ‘Half an hour into the marriage and you’ve turned into a nag.’

  ‘Yes, I’m amazed it took so long, too. Be prepared for years and years of mental and physical abuse.’

  His voice came out of the darkness. ‘Could we start now?’

  He turned towards me and touched my breast. Very, very gently at first, and then increasing the pressure, moving his fingers in the way he knew I liked so much. The car’s interior was suddenly very dark and very hot. I gripped the steering wheel as if my life depended upon it.

  We hit a tree.

  Not very hard, thank God. We sat in silence for a moment, listening to the metal tick. Miraculously, both headlights were undamaged and by their light, I could see a shower of autumn leaves, dislodged by the impact, slowly fluttering around us. It was quite pretty.

  ‘Well, for God’s sake,’ he said, climbing out of the car and going to inspect the damage.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I said, anxiously, not wanting to figure in the tabloids as the bride who killed the groom even before the honeymoon had begun.

  He pulled open my door and helped me out. ‘I’m fine. Are you?’

  ‘Of course. It takes far more than a minor bump to …’

  I got no further. He backed me against the car and kissed me hard. He tasted of wine and Leon, and my little heart, already pumping like a piston, went into overdrive. I could feel him against me.

  ‘Leon …’

  He held my face between his hands.

  ‘Right here,’ he whispered. ‘Right now. Across the bonnet of this car. We’ve done it before. For old time’s sake.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, breathlessly, remembering. ‘Oh God, yes.’

  He growled under his breath, twisted his hand in my hair, and pulled my head back. Every sense I had kicked up a gear or two. I reached down for him. This was going to be good.

  A brilliantly blinding light enveloped everything and a female voice said, ‘Is everything all right here?’

  What?

  ‘Behave yourself,’ whispered Leon. ‘The Force is with us.’

  I made a huge effort to look normal.

  ‘Good evening,’ he said, calmly. ‘As you can see, we’ve had a small bump. I was just checking this lady for whiplash.’

  The light turned on me.

  ‘Are you all right? Do you require an ambulance?’

  ‘No,’ I said, blinking. ‘I’m absolutely fine, thank you.’

  Sadly, this cheerful reassurance did not speed her on her way. In fact, now the other policeman emerged from the car and began to inspect our stricken vehicle. ‘A very nice car, sir. Is it yours?’

  ‘No,’ said Leon, always inconveniently truthful. ‘We borrowed it.’

  ‘With or without the owner’s consent, sir?’

  ‘Oh, with,’ I said. ‘Definitely with.’

  ‘Well, there’s not too much damage,’ he announced. ‘But you won’t be going anywhere in this tonight. Do you have someone you can call?’

  Leon sighed and pulled out his phone.

  ‘Dieter! Dieter, can you hear me? … Well, move away from the music, then … Can you hear me now? … Crank up the low-loader, can you? … Yes, we’ve had a bit of an accident … On the Whittington road … No, we’re fine … Yes, the police are here. (This was Leon-speak for “For God’s sake, find someone not entirely insensible with drink.”) … Yes, OK. Thirty minutes then.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said the female sergeant, ‘you could tell us what happened? Who was driving?’

  ‘I was,’ I volunteered. ‘I’m awfully sorry. There was an animal in the road and I swerved to avoid it.’

  ‘What sort of animal?’

  ‘A rabbit,’ said Leon.

  ‘A deer,’ I said, simultaneously.

  They regarded us suspiciously. God knows why.

  ‘Have either of you been drinking?’

  ‘I have,’ said Leon.

  ‘I haven’t,’ I said, virtuously. ‘You can’t drink and drive.’

  ‘You can’t drive at all,’ said Leon, a little unkindly I thought.

  ‘I can,’ I said indignantly. ‘It was the rabbit’s fault.’

  They pounced.

  ‘I thought you said it was a
deer.’

  Bollocks.

  ‘It was a rabbit that looked like a deer,’ I said, making things worse with every word and any minute now I was going to be commanded to blow into this, please.

  ‘Stop talking,’ said Leon. He turned to the police people. ‘The best thing we can do is go back to St Mary’s with the low loader and start again with another car.’

  ‘You’re from St Mary’s?’

  There was no point in denying it. On this road, where else could we have come from? I sighed. Sometimes, our credibility with the police is not very high.

  ‘I think you had better accompany us back to the station, sir and madam.’

  What?

  Leon pulled out his phone again.

  ‘Dr Bairstow? … Yes, good evening, sir … Ah, you’ve heard. Only minor damage … Yes, I know, but that was a long time ago … No, we’re both fine, but we’ve been arrested.’

  ‘Not yet,’ interrupted the sergeant.

  ‘Sorry – apparently, we’re still assisting the police with their enquiries. As it’s your car, perhaps you could have a word? Thank you, sir.’

  We sat in the back of the police car while Dr Bairstow talked at the policeman and the sergeant prepared whatever it was I was going to have to blow into.

  ‘We’re never going to live this down, are we?’

  He shrugged. ‘Just building the legend.’

  ‘What legend?’

  ‘My legend, of course. You’re probably not aware of this, but I’m generally reckoned to be awesome.’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘You’re just a catastrophe. Different type of legend. You’re more a kind of horrible warning.’

  I peered through the window to see what the police were doing. ‘So what happens now?’

  ‘Well, unless they have conjugal cells – not a lot.’

  ‘I can’t believe I’m spending my wedding night in gaol.’

  ‘Good job they didn’t turn up thirty seconds later.’

  ‘Seriously, you would have lasted that long?’

  ‘A special effort for my wedding night.’ He sighed. ‘It’s always going to be like this, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well I hope so. I like exciting, unexpected, and slightly dangerous.’

  ‘And that’s just your driving. Don’t get me started on your cooking.’

  ‘Well, if you’d been able to control yourself …’

  ‘Hey, I’m not the one who hit the tree.’

  The policeman stuck his head into the car. ‘They’re on their way.’

  ‘They? Who’s they?’

  He shrugged. ‘All of them, as far as I can tell.’

  Oh, no.

  Leon leaned forwards. ‘Arrest us now. Take us away, I’m begging you.’

  The policeman straightened up and looked back up the road. A dazzling array of headlights was bearing down on us. Red and orange lights strobed from the low loader. A variety of horns sounded a fanfare. Somewhere a sound system was thumping out ‘Livin’ La Vida Loca’. Which wouldn’t have been too bad if what sounded like a small army hadn’t been singing ‘Dancing Queen’ at the same time. It was not an harmonious duet.

  ‘Dear God,’ said the policeman. ‘Get out of the car.’

  I stared up the road at the advancing cavalcade. ‘What? No. You can’t leave us here.’

  ‘It would seem your guvnor’s had a word with my guvnor. I said – out.’

  We climbed out. They started their engine.

  ‘Take us with you,’ I wailed. ‘I have vital information, I know who killed Sennacherib.’

  They put the car in gear and drove away. They were laughing their bloody heads off. What happened to ‘Protect and Serve’?

  Our doom bore noisily down upon us. There was no escape.

  A figure stepped suddenly out of the darkness, giving us both a minor heart attack.

  ‘Here. I think you might need these.’

  He handed me a set of car keys and Leon a torch. ‘Just down that track. Go now.’

  I stared at him, amazed. He must have moved like lightning to get here ahead of the others.

  ‘Ian …’

  He held my gaze. ‘One good turn deserves another, Max.’

  ‘There is a place in historian heaven reserved especially for you.’

  ‘God, I hope not. The only thing that keeps me going is the thought of an historian-free afterlife. Both of you – get out of here. I’ll deal with this.’

  I took his hand. ‘Thank you.’

  I caught a brief flash of his rare smile.

  ‘An honour and a privilege, Max.’

  THE END

  Published by Accent Press Ltd 2015

  ISBN: 9781783759040

  Copyright © Jodi Taylor 2015

  The right of Jodi Taylor to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Accent Press Ltd, Ty Cynon House, Navigation Park, Abercynon, CF45 4SN

  The Chronicles of St Mary’s Series by

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