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Plan for the Worst

Page 1

by Jodi Taylor




  Copyright © 2020 Jodi Taylor

  The right of Jodi Taylor to be identified as the Author of

  the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the

  Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First published in Great Britain in 2020 by

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  First published as an Ebook in Great Britain in 2020 by

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  1

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may

  only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior

  permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in

  accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication – other than the obvious historical figures –

  are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

  ISBN 978 1 4722 6680 4

  Ebook by CC Book Production

  Cover design and illustration by zoedrawsthings.co.uk

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  An Hachette UK Company

  Carmelite House

  50 Victoria Embankment

  London EC4Y 0DZ

  www.headline.co.uk

  www.hachette.co.uk

  About the Book

  I would have trusted this man with my life. Until a couple of days ago, anyway.

  You know what they say – hope for the best, but plan for the worst.

  Max is quite accustomed to everything going wrong. She’s St Mary’s, after all. Disaster is her default state. But with her family reunited and a jump to Bronze Age Crete in the works, life is getting back to normal. Well, normal for St Mary’s.

  And then, following one fateful night at the Tower of London, everything Max thought she knew comes crashing down around her.

  Too late for plans. The worst has happened. And who can Max trust now?

  About the Author

  Jodi Taylor is the internationally bestselling author of the ­Chronicles of St Mary’s series, the story of a bunch of disaster-prone individuals who investigate major historical events in ­contemporary time. Do NOT call it time travel! She is also the author of the Time Police series – a St Mary’s spinoff and gateway into the world of an all-powerful, international organisation who are NOTHING like St Mary’s. Except, when they are.

  Alongside these, Jodi is known for her gripping ­super­natural thrillers featuring Elizabeth Cage together with the enchanting Frogmorton Farm series – a fairy story for adults.

  Born in Bristol and now living in Gloucester (facts both cities vigorously deny), she spent many years with her head somewhere else, much to the dismay of family, teachers and employers, before finally deciding to put all that daydreaming to good use and write a novel. Nearly twenty books later, she still has no idea what she wants to do when she grows up.

  You can sign up to the Jodi Taylor newsletter to be the first to hear about books, events and releases here: https://www.headline.co.uk/landing-page/jodi-taylor-newsletter/

  And visit Jodi’s website here: www.joditaylor.online/

  By Jodi Taylor and available from Headline

  TIME POLICE SERIES

  Doing Time

  The Chronicles of St Mary’s series

  Just One Damned Thing After Another

  A Symphony of Echoes

  A Second Chance

  A Trail Through Time

  No Time Like the Past

  What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

  Lies, Damned Lies, and History

  And the Rest is History

  An Argumentation of Historians

  Hope for the Best

  Plan For the Worst

  Short-story collections

  The Long and Short of It

  Long Story Short

  The Chronicles of St Mary’s digital shorts

  When a Child is Born

  Roman Holiday

  Christmas Present

  Ships and Stings and Wedding Rings

  THE VERY FIRST DAMNED THING

  The Great St Mary’s Day Out

  My Name is Markham

  A Perfect Storm

  Christmas Past

  Battersea Barricades

  The Steam-Pump Jump

  And Now For Something Completely Different

  When Did You Last See Your Father?

  Why is Nothing Ever Simple?

  Elizabeth Cage novels

  White Silence

  Dark Light

  Frogmorton Farm Series

  The Nothing Girl

  The Something Girl

  Little Donkey (digital short)

  A Bachelor Establishment

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  About the Book

  About the Author

  Also by Jodi Taylor

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Dramatis Thingummy

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  Acknowledgements

  For all my lovely readers

  ‘Sometimes I just sit with my head in my hands and wonder why I’m not in a loony bin. Then I look around St Mary’s and realise I already am.’

  Excerpt from Thoughts of an Overworked Chief Technical Officer After a Long Day

  Available from any bookshop that can be persuaded to stock it.

  Dramatis Thingummy

  St Mary’s Personnel

  Dr Bairstow

  Head of St Mary’s. Always reso­lute in his determination to protect his people. Until now.

  Mrs Partridge

  PA to Dr Bairstow. Muse of ­History. Not above the occasional intervention herself.

  Dr Peterson

  Deputy Director. Inching his way towards an understanding with Miss Lingoss. Think continental drift with the brakes on.

  Thirsk’s new representative

  Not sure there’s any more to say.

  History Department

  Dr Maxwell

  Head of the History Department. Hopes for the best but plans for the worst. Major protagonist in the Malevolent Mug of Tea crisis.

  Mr
Clerk

  Senior Historian.

  Miss Prentiss

  Senior Historian.

  Mr Sands

  Newly returned historian, bestselling author, shacked up with Rosie Lee. Living dangerously.

  Mr Roberts

  Another newly returned historian. Victim of an unexpected passion for Miss Sykes. Another one living dangerously. What is it with historians?

  Miss Sykes

  Historian. Apparently no longer willing to share her man with a gender-neutral chicken and ready to move on.

  Mr Atherton

  Historian. Normal. A bit of a contradiction in terms but definitely normal. Within the standard St Mary’s definition of the word ‘normal’.

  Miss Van Owen

  Another newly returned historian. Eagle-eyed readers will have noted the absence of Miss North.

  Rosie Lee

  PA to Max. The other protagonist in the Malevolent Mug of Tea trauma.

  Security Section

  Mr Markham

  Apron-wearing Head of Security. Imminent father. Might be in serious trouble. Of course he’s in serious trouble. He’s always in serious trouble. Only the depth varies.

  Mr Evans

  Security guard.

  Mr Cox

  Security guard.

  Mr Keller

  Security guard.

  Mr Gallacio

  Security guard.

  Mr Scott

  Security guard.

  Mr Gregg

  Security guard.

  Mr Irving

  Security guard.

  Technical Section

  Chief Technical

  Guilty or not? He can’t remember.

  Officer Farrell

  Mr Dieter

  Technician. Unexpectedly reunited with his soulmate. Not sure the world is quite ready for this.

  Mr Lindstrom

  Small, shy technician.

  Adrian

  New arrival. Former fugitive. Part-owner of the most dangerous piece of equipment in the universe.

  Research and Development

  Professor Rapson

  Chicken-flinging maniac.

  Miss Lingoss

  The nearest thing to normal in this reality-challenged department.

  Mikey

  New arrival. The other owner of the most dangerous piece of equipment in the universe.

  Others

  Dr Dowson

  Head Librarian. Reluctant chicken recipient. He’s reluctant – not the chickens. Just to be clear. The chickens’ views were never known. Earthquake enthusiast.

  Mrs Mack

  Kitchen Supremo.

  Mrs Enderby

  Head of the Wardrobe Department.

  Mrs Brown

  Ah yes . . . Mrs Brown.

  Angus

  Small brown chicken. Averse to being flung over the banisters.

  Matthew Farrell

  Making progress.

  Professor Penrose

  Utter lunatic. In an organisation famed for utter lunatics he’s up there with the utterest.

  Dr Stone

  Not half as green as he’s cabbage-looking. Max is beginning to listen.

  Nurse Hunter

  Married? Not married? Rendered moot by the end of the book. There are other things to worry about.

  From the Future

  M Bernard

  Head concierge. Seventeen Rue St Jean.

  M Caron

  Another concierge.

  The Time Police

  Commander Hay

  Head of the Time Police. Not Max’s favourite person.

  Captain Farenden

  Commander Hay’s adjutant.

  Captain Ellis

  Another unfavourite person.

  Various other Time Police officers – including a probably very reluctant rescue team.

  Future St Mary’s Personnel

  No – that’s not clear. Personnel from a future St Mary’s.

  Director

  He didn’t give his name.

  St Mary’s rescue team

  Yes, another rescue team. There’s a lot of rescuing in this one.

  Historical Persons

  Eleven Vikings led by Rolf

  Or possibly Hrolf. Excessive beard growth makes communication difficult.

  Edward V

  A prince in the Tower.

  Richard, Duke of York

  Another prince in the Tower.

  Sundry Tower of London personnel

  Sinister figures seen only after dark

  Citizens of Mechelen, Burgundy

  King Minos of Crete

  High Priestess to the Mother

  Three other priestesses

  Intent on having their wicked way with a certain Head of Security.

  Citizens of Knossos, Bull-leapers, bull handlers, bull worshippers, bull stable hands, escaped bulls. There’s a lot of bull in this one.

  Firefighters

  Magnificent in any age.

  Clive Ronan

  The clock is counting down . . .

  1

  I’ve always been vaguely aware of the existence of Duvet Days. I know Dr Bairstow ranks them alongside Atlantis, unicorns and competent politicians in the scheme of believable things, but I was believing in them now. In fact, I was on my sixth.

  My recent secondment to the Time Police had left me so drained – physically and emotionally – that even the phrase ‘absolutely fine’ had failed to secure my release from Sick Bay. I’d tried to get out of bed, swayed in what Nurse Hunter had declared to be an unnecessarily dramatic manner and been commanded to climb back in again.

  Dr Stone turned up with a syringe – there was a small prick – I really couldn’t be bothered to do the jokes all over again – and I suddenly felt better. Much better. Much, much better.

  ‘Wow,’ I said. ‘That’s really good stu . . .’ and fell heavily asleep for the rest of the day.
And for much of the day after that, as well. I’d opened my eyes a couple of times, looked at the rain dribbling down the windowpanes, decided I couldn’t be bothered and closed my eyes again.

  Now, however, it had been more than a week. Time, in the words of Dr Stone, to take up my bed and walk.

  On doctor’s orders, I took it easy to begin with, spending the mornings in our sitting room with my feet up, reading to Matthew, half-heartedly watching holos on TV and generally not doing very much at all. In the afternoons the three of us – me, Matthew and Leon – would go for a stroll around the lake, peering into the water looking for fish, avoiding the swans, and in Matthew’s case, mostly not falling in.

  In the evenings, when Leon and I could finally get a moment to ourselves, there were long moments when he just held me and that was fine because he was solid and warm and I could feel his slow, steady heartbeat. We would stand for a long time, not saying anything to disturb the moment. He would rub my back, gently, up and down, and slowly my jangled nerves would subside. Occasionally I’d bring up a bit of wind, as well.

  There were big meals and a lot of resting. It wasn’t unpleasant. Everything was absolutely fine. Well, they were during the day – the nights were slightly different.

  We’d have our evening meal together, watch a little TV and then Matthew would get ready for bed. There would be the usual washing and brushing teeth battle – he really didn’t see the point of cleaning himself up just to go to bed – and then Leon and I would settle down, sometimes with a glass of wine. Sometimes he’d work and I’d read a book, or he’d watch the football and I’d definitely read a book, and then it was time for bed. Everything would still be absolutely fine. We’d snuggle down for the night and I’d fall asleep almost immediately.

 

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