by Jodi Taylor
Tim stood with his back to us, staring out through the window into the dark beyond.
Markham looked from him to me and said uncertainly, ‘Max?’
I pushed past him to get to the door.
‘Max, wait.’
He followed me into the corridor. ‘Whatever he said, he didn’t mean it.’
‘Yes, he did.’
‘He doesn’t know what he’s saying just at the moment.’
‘Yes, he does.’
‘He’s in no fit state to talk sensibly and you’re in no fit state to listen. I don’t know what he said, but give him twenty-four hours and…’
I shook my head. ‘He’s right. Every word was true. He didn’t say anything I haven’t already said to myself. Several times over. It was just a bit of a shock that he should be the one to say it out loud.’
I walked away.
And that was the end of the worst day of my life.
Leon and I were up most of the night, packing up his gear, and drawing his kit and weapons from stores. Well, he packed – I sat on the bed and watched him and tried to come to terms with everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
Matthew held out his little arms to me.
When he was finished, we sat and talked a little, heads close together, holding hands, taking and giving comfort. I struggled hard to appear calm and positive, because Leon needed to concentrate on the job in hand and not be distracted by me going to pieces.
Just before dawn, he went off to see Guthrie, and I, finding the silence of our empty room quite unbearable, went down to my office.
I stared out of the window and watched the pre-dawn glow as the sun had a think about putting in an appearance, and then someone tapped at the door. I had just one quick moment to wonder if, somehow, it could be Peterson, when Miss Grey walked in.
Even in my state of self-absorbed misery, I could see there was something different about her.
Elspeth Grey was yet another victim of Clive Ronan. He’d snatched her and her partner, Tom Bashford, and then dropped them into Roman Colchester, only one hour before Boudicca and her hordes swept down upon the town, leaving nothing standing, and no one alive. She’d struggled ever since, unable to rid herself of the fear that it would happen again, and that this time there would be no one to save her. To give her her due, she’d tried really hard to overcome her fears, but her one and only subsequent assignment had been a bit of a disaster and I was pretty sure this would be the final straw. For her, today’s events had come too close to home and she was here to give in her notice. Now, of all times.
I braced myself.
‘Max, how are you?’
‘Absolutely fine,’ I said, the traditional St Mary’s response to any sort of catastrophe. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Chief Farrell sent me. I want to volunteer and he said that as you’re Head of the History Department, I had to clear it with you.’
Whatever I’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. To cover my confusion, I sat at my desk and invited her to sit down as well.
She was different. Everything about her was different. She sat straight in her chair. Her grey eyes were clear and direct. Given recent events, she seemed surprisingly calm.
‘Say that again.’
‘I want to volunteer to join Major Guthrie’s team. To hunt down Ronan and bring back Matthew.’
I was at a loss. She’d done everything she could to avoid getting back into a pod and now, here she was, volunteering not only to do that very thing, but to go after the man who’d abandoned her to a nasty death as well.
My confusion must have shown because she smiled sadly.
‘I don’t blame you Max, but this is something I must do. I’ve been mooning about, frightening myself to death, thinking about what could happen to me, and it never once occurred to me that it could happen to someone else. This bastard is a danger and a menace and he must be stopped. I want to help stop him. I must do this. I must go with Chief Farrell and Major Guthrie. I must get him out of my life. And everyone else’s as well. You’ve kept me on here and I appreciate it; you’ve given me every chance to be an historian again, but we both know I’m not making any sort of contribution. Now though, I think I can. May I have your permission to go with Guthrie and Farrell?’
I couldn’t think of anything to say except, ‘Subject to Dr Bairstow’s approval, yes. Thank you.’
She smiled and got up to go. ‘We’ll get him, Max. You just wait and see.’
Leon’s goodbye was brief. We stood outside Hawking in the early morning sunshine. Two black pods stood at the edge of the pan, doors open, ramps down. Waiting for our people.
He took my hand. ‘I hate to go off and leave you looking so broken.’
‘Bring him back. And stay safe yourself. That’s all I ask.’
‘Two days Max. Just two days.’
‘I know. Take care.’
He kissed my hand and my cheek. ‘See you Friday.’
‘I’ll be waiting.’
I stood with everyone else as they set off. I watched Leon, Guthrie and Grey walk across the pan together, and enter the nearest pod. Leon turned briefly and raised a hand to me. Then the ramp came up behind them, the pods blinked out of existence, and they were gone.
All around me, people were dispersing. Getting on with their day. I looked down at my feet and wondered what to do with myself now.
He held out his little arms to me.
Turning to go, I saw Peterson standing some little distance away, staring at the spot where the Time Police pods had been. He looked around, saw me watching, and turned away.
I know that in popular romances, the suffering heroine is always too distraught to eat, thus arriving at the end of the book having not only triumphed over adversity, but gained the hero and a stunning figure as well. I’d never believed it myself. How could anyone ever forget to eat? But now I realised I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten anything. Lunchtime yesterday, I think. Before jumping to the Egyptian desert. This time yesterday. When I still had a family.
I had a sudden memory of Leon, years ago, telling me how he’d lost his first family. ‘I started the week with a happy, healthy family, and by the end of it, I was the only one left.’ Tragedy is that sudden. That unexpected. This time yesterday, I too had had a happy, healthy family. And now they were both gone.
He held out his arms to me…
I went for some food.
When I returned, Miss Lee was in my office, head down, working away. I stood in the doorway and looked at her. She was actually working, but this was not the moment for sarky comments.
She looked up. ‘Max? Any news?’
I shook my head. ‘Not yet. They’ve only just left.’
‘There will be, I’m sure. What can I do?’
‘Actually, I don’t know. Nothing, I suppose. I can’t do anything. Not at the moment, anyway. Thank you for coming in so early.’
‘I can stay late, as well, if you need me. David is taking care of Benjamin.’
David Sands was a former historian with whom she lived and Benjamin was her son. Who must be doubly precious after yesterday’s events.
I sat at my desk and pulled out a mission folder, centred it carefully on my desk, took a breath and opened it.
Two days. Just two days. I could do that.
I don’t know about anyone else, but when confronted with personal tragedy, I’m always slightly affronted that the world seems to carry on as if nothing has happened. I never know whether this is a good or bad thing. True, it can sometimes help to keep things in perspective, but it doesn’t make things easy. The world didn’t stop for me and it certainly didn’t stop for Peterson who remained alone in his room, seeing no one except Markham.
Dr Bairstow sent for me.
‘Good morning, Dr Maxwell.’
‘Good morning, sir.’
‘Thank you for coming.’
‘No choice, sir. In the absence of any other senior staff, we see
m to be stuck with each other.’
‘A burden,’ he said gravely. ‘I wonder which of us will crumble first.’
I knew who my money was on.
‘I’ve sent for a new Chief Medical Officer.’
I caught my breath and experienced, once again, the shock of Helen’s loss.
He was watching me carefully. ‘It seems callous, I know, but we cannot afford to be without full medical support.’ He laid a file in front of me. I opened it. The photo was on the inside cover.
A twelve-year-old boy with a bony face, large ears and heavy eyebrows stared back at me. I know I was at the age when policemen and doctors were beginning to look young, but even so … Was he some sort of infant prodigy?
‘Dr Nathaniel Stone,’ he said. ‘He will be with us possibly later today or, more probably, tomorrow. He will certainly be in place before our next assignment.’ He paused expectantly.
‘1064, sir. The shipwreck of Harold Godwinson.’
He knew that. He was just giving me the opportunity to ease myself back in gently and I was grateful.
‘I would appreciate your reassurance that none of you intend actually to participate either in the shipwreck or the rescue.’
‘Happy to give it, sir. Observe and document only.’
‘Excellent. Let us hope then that it is some time before we need to put our new doctor’s skills to the test.’
He paused again and began to align the files on his desk. ‘Dr Peterson…’
I kept myself calm. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘I am grieved to hear that you and Dr Peterson do not find yourselves able to support each other during this time.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Without looking at me he said, ‘I would not, if I were you, assign any importance to anything Dr Peterson does or says over the next week or so. He is, naturally, very shocked and distressed. He has not yet even begun to grieve. There are, I believe, certain stages to be worked through. I am certain that he will prevail, and when he returns to us – as I am sure he will – it will be good for him to find his colleagues ready and willing to offer him the support and understanding he will certainly need. I always think that true friends should never allow a few words, hastily uttered, to sever the ties of strong and longstanding friendships.’
I don’t know how he knows these things. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had the entire building bugged. But then, if he did, he would have seen what was happening in Sick Bay. In time to prevent…
He held out his arms…
‘And you, Max, how are you?’
‘Absolutely fine, sir.’
‘I’m very pleased to hear that. How are you really?’
I hesitated.
‘How are you, Max?’
‘I…’
He waited.
‘I keep seeing … that moment … replaying it in my head…’ Time for the truth. ‘Sir, I froze. I did nothing.’
He started with the files again. ‘Traditionally, in a crisis, there has always been the choice of fight or flight. I have always maintained that there is a third option. Freeze. I believe that in such circumstances as you found yourself yesterday, when there is no time for rational thought, a person follows their instinct. Your instinct was to freeze. The alternatives were either to run away – and I don’t suppose that thought even entered your head – or to fight. I’m sorry to say this, Max, but Helen Foster was doomed the moment she stepped out of that door. Nothing you could have said or done could have saved her. And had you, at that moment, made any sort of move, then he would have shot you as well. Which means that, at the end of the day, Matthew would still have been carried off, and Leon would be mourning the loss of his wife as well as that of his son. You may not have thought it through, but you did exactly the right thing.’
‘Sir…’
‘Dr Peterson, when he is able to think more calmly, will realise this. It is unreasonable to expect that degree of clarity from him at this moment.’
I nodded, aligned a few files myself, and then said, ‘Will there be anything else, sir.’
‘Not at the moment. You are, at present, my only functioning senior officer and so I shall be leaning on you quite heavily over the next few days.’
I nodded. He was keeping me busy. Not giving me any time to fret.
‘My next task is personally to inform Dr Peterson about our new member of staff. I would not like him to hear it from anyone else.’
‘Will he leave us, do you think?’
‘I hope not. Thank you, Dr Maxwell, that will be all.’
As I passed through Mrs Partridge’s office, she said, ‘Please let me know if there is anything I can do, Max.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Partridge. That’s very kind.’
Just as I was opening the door, she smiled and said, ‘You are not alone.’
Miss Lee and I worked quietly in my office for the rest of the morning. I clung to the familiar routines like a drowning man to a lifebelt. I was beginning to think that my two days of waiting might go more quickly and more easily than I had thought, when Markham stuck his head around the door.
‘Come in,’ I said.
He looked tired. ‘I thought I’d come and see how you’re doing.’
‘I’m fine. How’s Peterson?’
‘Sleeping. Evans is with him at the moment. Listen, I know it’s a bit of a bolting the stable door thingy, but Dr Bairstow has asked me to do a survey and look at upgrading our security measures. Can I have a quick squint out of your window? You know, lines of sight and whatnot.’
‘Go ahead.’
I don’t know whether there was some sort of unseen message, but Rosie Lee casually picked up her bag and said if it was all right with me she’d go for an early lunch. Since she normally didn’t bother to ask, I was too gobsmacked to answer.
Markham closed the door behind her.
‘What?’ I said, alarmed. I really didn’t need any more bad news.
‘Nothing,’ he said hastily. ‘I have a message from Hunter.’
I felt guilty. She’d been Helen’s head nurse, ally, and long-time friend, and I hadn’t given her a thought.
‘You can’t do everything,’ said Markham, always disconcertingly cleverer than he looked. ‘You’ve got other stuff on at the moment. I’m looking after Hunter.’
‘She’s a lucky girl.’
‘You wouldn’t like to tell her that, would you? She never believes me when I say it. Anyway…’
He looked uncomfortable.
‘What?’
‘She has Matthew’s stuff. From when he was … in Sick Bay. His blanket. His teddy bear. Other things. She asked me to mention it because she’s not thinking very clearly at the moment, and she doesn’t want to do the wrong thing and make everything worse. Do you want them back or should she keep them there? Until Matthew comes back.’
I had a sudden heart-searing picture of Matthew’s little teddy bear. Made for him by Miss Dottle. Last year, on the day I’d departed on maternity leave, she’d shyly handed me a little, pale blue teddy she’d made herself. Matthew loved it and it went everywhere with him. I really wasn’t sure I could handle seeing it now. Or the beautiful, soft lemon-yellow blanket that Helen herself had knitted…
‘It’s OK,’ said Markham, getting up to look out of the window again while I pulled myself together. ‘I’ll get her to hang on to them until Matthew comes back.’
I nodded, even though he had his back to me.
He turned back. ‘I wish I could do something for you, Max.’
‘You are. You’re making the building safe. So that when we get him back it can never happen again.’
‘Yeah. Well, I must crack on. I just dropped in … you know.’
‘I do know. Thank you.’
He headed towards the door and as he passed me, he put his hand on my shoulder, just for a moment. Then he was gone.
Rosie Lee brought me some sandwiches. Another first. She plonked them down in front of me with her ‘Don’t get u
sed to this’ expression and I responded with the corresponding ‘Don’t worry, I won’t’ look.
After lunch, desperate to keep myself occupied and remembering I had departmental responsibilities, I called a meeting of the History Department. Normally, I’d hear them coming long before they arrived, clattering down the corridor and bickering about something or other. Today, they entered quietly, seated themselves around the briefing table, and looked at me expectantly.
I had a moment when I wasn’t sure about my voice. The first few words were very wobbly and everyone had the good manners to pretend not to notice.
‘Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for coming. Situation update. I am expecting Chief Farrell to return with Matthew sometime tomorrow, and Dr Bairstow has advised me that our new doctor, Dr Stone, will be arriving very soon. Either today or tomorrow. Please give him time to become acclimatised before presenting him with the traditional St Mary’s medical mayhem.’
Helen, crumpling to the floor…
My voice still wasn’t quite steady. I took a moment to rummage through my files, carefully laying what I needed in front of me.
‘So – our forthcoming assignments. Miss North, I believe you have prepared a briefing?’
She nodded and rose to her feet. If she was disappointed at not being able to preside over the entire briefing herself, she was hiding it well and, to do her justice, I don’t think such a thought had entered her head. She was ambitious and single-minded, but she wasn’t completely heartless.
Sykes sat back and stifled a yawn. I frowned at her and she shrugged. They really didn’t like each other. These days, I was rather well endowed with historians and it had been easy either to keep them apart or include them in a group so large that they could safely ignore each other, but the day would inevitably come when they would have to work closely together. Sometimes I wondered whether to get it over with and just despatch the two of them to somewhere, and wait to see which, if either of them, came back. But not just now. There was enough trauma around the place at the moment without adding the Sykes/North conflict as well.
I underestimated North. I always do. She briefs better than anyone. Alone out of all the History Department, she never allows herself to get bogged down in unnecessary details, or distracted by passing comments, or lost in her notes.
