Lies, Damned Lies, and History

by Jodi Taylor

  ‘We used to, but they made the boys cry.’

  ‘I know the feeling,’ said Leon.

  He shrugged. ‘One sprained knee, one swollen tongue, one dislocated thumb – considering St Mary’s past record, I think we got off lightly this time.’

  Chapter Twenty-five

  I’ve never slept so much in my life. It was as if a lifetime of disturbed nights, broken sleep patterns, and bad dreams suddenly teamed up and presented their bill all at the same time. If I so much as leaned back and closed my eyes for a second, I would fall asleep, opening my eyes some time later, smiling groggily at Leon or whoever happened to be present, before falling asleep all over again. Leon claimed I once nodded off in the middle of lunch, which didn’t seem very likely, but I wasn’t awake long enough to argue.

  I missed large chunks of Matthew’s first week, but since, like me, he was out like a light himself for a lot of the time, so did he. Helen refused to worry, telling Leon bluntly that his life was never likely to be this peaceful again, and to make the most of it.

  For the three of us, the days drifted by in a little pink bubble of peace and happiness. I had no idea what was going on outside of Sick Bay – what was happening with Ronan, the Time Police, whatever – and neither did I care enough to ask. People dropped in to say hello and were gone again when I woke up. Dr Bairstow called to offer his congratulations and, as he said, to inspect the latest member of his unit. Seen close together, I thought I saw a certain resemblance – they certainly had the same amount of hair but, possibly fortunately, I fell asleep before I could point this out.

  On the fourth day, Markham danced into the ward, eyes alight with mischief and grinning his head off.

  Leon, sitting with Matthew in the window seat, enquired placidly what was going on.

  ‘Just a heads up,’ he said. ‘There’s going to be shouting. I didn’t want you to be too alarmed.’

  ‘What have you done now?’

  ‘As at this moment – nothing at all. However, I’m about to sacrifice myself for the common good. Well, Peterson’s good, actually. This could be the last time you ever see me.’ He posed dramatically. ‘Farewell, my friends. It is a far, far better thing that I do …’

  ‘When did you ever read A Tale of Two Cities?’ demanded Leon.

  ‘Chicken pox.’

  We waited, but that seemed to be it.

  I could hear Hunter approaching, talking to someone.

  He drew himself up. ‘Here goes. Never let it be said a Markham flinched in the face of peril …’ and slipped out of the door.

  Staggering artistically towards the nurses’ station, he called hoarsely for help. Sadly, far from relinquishing her post to go to his aid, Hunter merely sighed and enquired what was the problem this time.

  He opened and closed his mouth a few times, apparently unable to speak.

  She looked up, irritated. ‘What?’

  He uttered a few disjointed words in a croaky sort of voice.

  She put her hands on her hips. ‘What are you supposed to be? The Hoarse Whisperer?’

  Wisely, he gave that up and staggered again. ‘I think I’m going to faint.’

  Still she showed no signs of moving from the station. ‘Put your head between your legs.’

  ‘You’d think she would have learned by now,’ murmured Leon.

  Markham grinned angelically. ‘I’m sure I’d feel so much better if I could put my head between …’

  She was out from behind the desk in a flash, but this was Markham and he was already accelerating away. I could hear the sound of her shouting dopplering away into the distance and then a door slammed.

  Leon and I looked at each other. ‘What was that all about?’

  We were about to find out.

  Peterson appeared, paused by the empty station, and looked around him, a picture of furtive unease. Actually, a picture of well-dressed, furtive unease. He’d ditched his blues and was wearing a smart jacket and trousers. I would swear he’d had his hair cut. Squaring his shoulders, he smoothed down his hair, straightened an unfamiliar tie, and entered Helen’s office.

  I sat stunned. Oh my God – Tim’s Special Question. This was it.

  Leon turned to me. ‘Is this what I think it is?’

  I nodded.

  ‘What are his chances of success do you think? Or even his chances of survival?’

  I shrugged. ‘I honestly have no idea. I suppose it depends on whether she’s had a cigarette recently.’

  ‘Which reminds me …’ he said, handing me a sleeping Matthew and climbing up on the table.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Checking the batteries. The two most precious things in the world are here in this room at this moment. In the very likely event of St Mary’s going up in flames, I want as much warning as possible.’ He began to inspect the smoke detector.

  Matthew and I watched with equal levels of disinterest: he because he was asleep, and me because the silence from Helen’s office was far more interesting. I went to get up.

  ‘You’re not going out there,’ said Leon, without even looking. ‘Just because our proposal was a public event doesn’t mean theirs should be too.’

  I was going to argue but at that moment, out of nowhere – I don’t know how he does it – Markham slithered back into the room.

  ‘Hey,’ he said breezily and then blinked at the sight of Leon standing on the table. ‘Am I interrupting a suicide pact? What’s going on?’

  ‘I was about to ask you the same thing,’ I said.

  ‘Do you two want to be alone? Should I leave?’

  ‘Not before you tell me what’s happening.’

  ‘Can’t tell from here. They have the door closed. There’s no shouting though, which I usually find is a Good Thing.’

  ‘And a bit of a Rare Thing in your case, I should imagine,’ said Leon, replacing the cover to the smoke detector. ‘What have you done with Hunter?’

  ‘Laughing her head off in the rest room.’

  ‘Really? What did you do?’

  Markham ignored him, pulling over my fruit bowl, and helping himself to my tangerine.

  I took the tangerine off him in exchange for Matthew.

  ‘Wait,’ he said, holding him like an unexploded bomb in a nappy. ‘Is it safe to touch him? Is it like terrapins?’

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ said Leon, from up near the ceiling.

  ‘You know – you mustn’t touch them because of giving them germs. Or possibly the other way around. I forget.’

  Leon shook his head. ‘The thinking processes of the Security Section never fail to baffle and bemuse me.’

  ‘Says the man standing on a table,’ he replied, jiggling Matthew up and down. ‘Who’s a pretty boy, then?’

  ‘He’s a baby – not a parrot.’

  He sniffed. ‘What’s that awful smell? It’s not me is it?’

  ‘He’s filling his nappy,’ said Leon, jumping down, apparently satisfied that should St Mary’s ignite, we would at least have a fighting chance of escaping. ‘He’s only four days old and he’s already been more times than his mother has in her entire life.’ He removed Matthew from Markham’s arms and took him away.

  The continuing silence worried me. I stared through the door towards Helen’s office. ‘Do you think she’s shot herself? Has she shot him? What’s going on in there?’

  ‘Of course she hasn’t shot herself,’ said Markham scornfully. ‘She’s a doctor. It’s far more likely she’s shot someone else. Halcombe would be my first choice.’

  I settled back down with a sigh of relief. ‘Good for her. Sometimes the medical profession really comes through.’

  ‘Nobody’s shot anyone,’ said Leon, voice of reason, dispeller of happy fantasies and nappy changer. ‘Although I can understand the necessity for desperate measures at the thought of spending the rest of your life shackled to an historian.’

  ‘Pity,’ said Markham with regret. ‘Shooting Halcombe would have solved so
many problems. I’m sure doctors shoot their patients all the time. We could all swear it was an accident.’

  I nodded. ‘And help bury the body afterwards. Well, not me, obviously, because I’m on light duties, but I’d be happy to urge the rest of you on with word and gesture. We’d have to do it behind Leon’s back of course, because he never lets me have any fun. Husbands!’ I threw him a scathing look.

  He grinned amiably, seemingly ignorant of the lowly position of husbands in the scheme of things.

  ‘You do realise,’ I said, ‘that with Leon and me shackled together until the end of time, and if Helen does say yes and Tim survives the shock, then that just leaves you and Hunter. Can we expect a happy announcement any time soon?’

  We both looked at him expectantly, but without a great deal of hope. The precise nature of his relationship with Hunter was a mystery to everyone.

  He put his hands in his pockets, looked out of the window, sighed, and turned back into the room again – mischief written all over his face.

  ‘No need, really. We’ve been married for years.’

  And then he was out of the door before either of us was able to utter a word.

  THE END

  Jodi Taylor

  The Chronicles of St Mary’s

  Also by

  Jodi Taylor

  The Nothing Girl

  A Bachelor Establishment

  For more information about Jodi Taylor

  and other Accent Press titles

  please visit

  www.accentpress.co.uk

  Published by Accent Press Ltd 2016

  ISBN 9781910939017

  Copyright © Jodi Taylor 2016

  The right of Jodi Taylor to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the author 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