“Rose!” Tony cried in exasperation. “The building has exploded! You can’t touch it!” He looked a little annoyed at her fingers trailing the jagged Lego wall where he had just torn off the roof to make the building explode.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, snatching her hand away. “Shall we get in the fire brigade then?”
“Them,” Tony said, “and Captain Jack.”
Rose rolled her eyes. Why Mum had told him about Jack was still beyond her. Tony loved the stories about him, and he had built his very own version of Torchwood. It was very lucky that there were Lego aliens in this universe, otherwise, things might have become a little tricky.
“We wouldn’t want to have him stay at home, would we?” Rose said. For some reason, however, there was no Doctor in Tony’s world. Jackie had credited Jack with most of the heroics. It was a notion, Rose knew, the Doctor would like. He’d never been one to bask in everyone’s attention and gratitude, quite on the contrary. For such a cocky man he could be very modest.
“Rose?” Tony asked, stopping in the middle of the rescue mission.
“Yeah?” she said, extending the ladder of the fire engine and pointing at the upper storey window.
“Are you going away again?” he asked.
Sometimes Tony was too clever for his own good. “Yes, but I’m going to come and see you lots. And you can come and stay with me if you want.”
Tony looked relieved. “Good.”
Had he sensed, she wondered, that until a month ago she would have done anything to leave the universe and go back to her original one? If that was the case, and he’d been scared of losing her... Rose ducked her head and studied the nubs of the Lego plate. “I’m not going to leave you, yeah?” Rose said, looking up.
“’s okay. Can we look for the alien artefact now?” he asked, looking at her with huge, light-brown eyes.
“Artefact? Sure.” Just where he picked up his words she had no idea.
-:-
“Hey. It’s Rose,” she said, drawing her legs up beneath her as she curled up in the window seat of her suite. Dusk was settling on the garden, deepening the shadows. She tugged at the thick wool of her socks and settled back against the generous pile of cushions.
“Rose! Rose,” Dave said. He sounded surprised and relieved.
“Is this a bad time?” Rose asked.
“No, it’s... I’m sitting here with Rita’s diaries and photos, and...” Dave exhaled deeply.
Rose wrapped her fingers around her left foot, rubbing it. “Oh, I...”
“No, it’s all right. I’m glad you called,” Dave said. He sounded a little brighter, but still there was that teary edge to his words. “Takes my mind off things.”
“Yeah, but... you’re grieving, Dave,” she pointed out.
“No, no, not now, I’m not. There are some things I need to sort through, and they have nothing to do with grief,” he said.
“Well, in that case, if you need someone to bounce ideas off of, I’m listening.” Rose bit her lip. She was practically throwing herself at him. What was she thinking? Her offer must make him feel awkward at best. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry. It’s just... a fresh set of ears helps. Sometimes.”
Dave didn’t reply immediately. “I’m not sure if I want to share these things. I don’t even know what to think myself.”
“Yeah,” Rose said.
“I’m glad you called, though. You saved me from a deep hole,” he offered.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“How’s life in London?” he asked.
“Great. It’s lovely, being with my family, making plans...”
“Plans sound good. What kind of plans?” he asked.
“Business plans. I’m to set up shop in Glasgow,” she said, grinning. She hadn’t realised how excited she was about the idea until she’d put word to them. “I’m getting the paperwork done as far as possible, and then I’ll go back to Glasgow to sort things out there.”
“I didn’t know you were a business woman,” Dave blurted. “Sorry. I’m sorry, it was a glaikit thing to say.”
“Glaikit?”
“Stupid.”
“No, it wasn’t. Who’d assume someone like me was a business person?” Rose said, laughing.
“What kind of business?” he asked.
“The Heritage Trust Fund,” Rose said without thinking. She hadn’t thought about which branch of the friendly neighbourhood business to move to Glasgow, but doing administrative work for the Heritage Trust Fund seemed like a good idea, given that most of the sites were located in the north of England and Scotland, including the home of Torchwood. The techies would move with them, or at least part of the tech department to assess the flotsam and jetsam that came through the rift locally, rather than having to send it to London.
“That sounds very interesting. If you ever need a photographer, I’d be willing to help,” Dave said, his voice trailing off at the end of the sentence.
“I’ve got your card. But I’d need to see some of your work first,” Rose said. “I’m sure I’ll like it, though. Mum loves my photo in the rags, by the way.”
“Glad to hear that.”
They were silent for a beat or two.
“I meant it, about needing a photographer. Unless that’s not high-profile enough for you,” Rose said.
“I meant it too, when I offered.”
Rose chuckled.
“I never asked,” Dave said, “how’s your back?”
Rose took a deep breath. It was one thing when her family asked, but it was another entirely when Dave did. He had seen the wounds, and he had helped her. Although he deserved nothing less but the truth, she was a bit loath to tell him, particularly over the phone. “It’s okay. The skin needs a lot of care, and sometimes it’s a bit achy, but, basically, I’m okay.”
“The photos from the roof garden turned out really well,” Dave said. “It was a lovely evening. I really enjoyed you... it. Meeting you.”
Rose’s heart beat faster. “My pleasure.”
“When are you coming back?” Dave asked softly.
“Saturday, the way things look now,” Rose said.
“Oh,” Dave said, breathing out in disappointment. “I’m out of town on Saturday. But maybe we could meet Sunday night? If that’s okay?”
“I’d love that. Shall I come to the studio?” Rose asked.
“Aye,” Dave said, and this time, his voice was filled with delight. “Thank you for calling me. You saved my life.”
“It was my pleasure. After you saved mine. Literally.”
“Let’s not... talk about that, yeah?” Dave asked. The delight was gone from his voice, and Rose kicked herself mentally. She unfolded her legs and wiggled her toes.
“I’m glad I could help you, then. Dave.”
“Thank you. Good night, Rose.”
“Good night.”
Rose hit the red button on her phone and stared at it for a long while. That hadn’t sounded as if he were not interested at all. Her pulse was still a bit faster than it ought to be, and she forced herself to calm down. Just this afternoon she had promised her Mum to be careful, had even tried to convince herself that there was nothing between her and Dave. All that seemed far away now. Too far away.
She retrieved her diary from the bedside table and jotted down the place and time of their meeting on Sunday.
Chapter 7
Dave leaned back in his chair and stared at Rita’s photo on the computer screen. He hadn’t lied or exaggerated when he’d told Rose that her call had been most welcome. The thoughts he had been harbouring could be described as ugly at best, but they were there and he could do nothing about them. He picked up a notepad and the diary and jotted down some notes, then wrote down the children’s birthdays and did some Maths. They didn’t match perfectly, but everything was well within the framework of the possible. Rita had asked one child off Stuart — could she have asked for the same three more times? Would Stuart have obliged her? He must
have been together with Francine by then, and he didn’t strike Dave as someone who’d betray his wife. Also, in his heart of hearts, he didn’t think that Rita would betray him.
Still, he couldn’t quite brush these thoughts off. There had been opportunity, and Rita had always kept things close to her heart; even her diaries were written in code, her intention clearly that they not be read by others, or at least not easily. He shouldn’t have read them, not even to find out about Stuart. What good had come off it? Although his notion that Rita wouldn’t have a one-night stand just to get pregnant had been confirmed — it seemed, at least, that he knew her well enough to know that. Along with that, however, came some very upsetting things, like how often had she been with Stuart before she conceived Lucy? That kind of jealousy was immature, he knew that. But it fostered a host of other nasty suspicions, including that the possibility that he wasn’t their children’s father.
Then there was her six week disappearance and the line in her diary, “Not sure about Dave”. That had been just after they’d started trying for a baby, Paul. He’d always thought that he had helped her through her need to be in control. Apparently, he had made her feel trapped by wanting to have a child with her. Throughout the two years he’d spent courting – no pursuing – Rita, he’d come to love Lucy as if she was his own, but he knew that helping to raise her was not the same as the two of them having a child together. He had been so happy when, after her return, they found out she was pregnant. Happy and very, very grateful. He had never proposed to her for fear of losing her. Instead, they had tightened the knot by having Ewan and Evie. The children bonded them more closely than any ring or slip of paper could.
He had thought, several times now over years, of adopting Lucy, but something had always kept him from talking about it to Rita. He realised that it was that old fear of caging her in too much, ridiculous though it was because of the other three. Unless, of course, the other three weren’t his either. He couldn’t very well adopt one but not the others, and how would Rita have explained herself to him if that were the case? They might have stayed together for the children’s sake, but there wouldn’t have been any love or trust left between them.
Dave propped his elbows on his knees and ran his fingers through his hair. He really had opened a Pandora’s Box in his wish to help Lucy find out who she was. And on top of that, he had made a right pillock out of himself by accusing Stuart of being with Rita when she came to tell him about Lucy — Rebecca. God, she hadn’t even told Stuart the truth; that she wouldn’t mention either him or the other children to Stuart was understandable, but that she didn’t even tell him his daughter’s real name shook Dave.
Retrieving his phone from the desk where he’d dropped it after talking to Rose, Dave scrolled down and tapped 'connect' when he found Sarah's number. His heart was racing while he waited for the call to connect.
“Dave, you sound horrible,” Sarah said after she’d picked up.
“I need to talk to you,” he blurted. “Please. It’s about Rita.”
Sarah didn’t reply at once. “Are you at the studio?” she asked.
“Aye. It won’t take long. I need to ask you something but I cannae do it on the phone.”
“I’m still at school, preparing something for tomorrow. Why don’t you come by?”
The school was a good idea. Safer than the studio, because it was neutral ground. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Drive safely, yeah?” Sarah said. “I’m worried about you.”
“Nah,” he said, rubbing his eyes viciously. “I’ll be fine. But thanks for your concern.”
-:-
He gave Sarah a bashful kiss on the cheek as he stepped into her classroom. It would take them a while to overcome the awkwardness the kiss in the bathroom had created between them, but he didn't want to lose Sarah as a friend, especially for the children's sake. She and Rita had been very close friends which was why he hoped that Sarah would be able to dispel his doubts. Part of him felt ashamed for doubting Rita, but the whole thing about Lucy felt very true to her character, and so he couldn't help wondering. It had probably all been about protecting everyone involved, and Rita had meant well by it, but still a touch of betrayal lingered like the after-taste of one pint too many on the morning after the night before.
"Hi, love," Sarah said. "How are you?"
"I've read Rita's diaries," he said without preamble.
Sarah gestured for him to sit on one of the low children's chairs. Dave felt a little silly, but Sarah sat down facing him and for a moment they just stared at each other before they started to smile.
"I think that I might not only have found Lucy’s dad, but also Evie’s dad, and Ewan’s dad and Paul’s dad," he began once they had sobered. He felt the bitterness of his thoughts spread in him and take on a dangerous life of their own. He propped his elbows on his knees and stared at the tips of his boots. Putting word to his suspicions felt at once liberating and terrifying. It was as if the whole world were about to come tumbling down upon him. Rita’s death wasn’t only about him losing his love but also, one by one, the children he thought were his.
“What?” Sarah asked, her voice tuneless with bewilderment. “Dave, do you know what you’re saying?”
He looked up, his bitterness fuelling a rage he hadn’t known he was capable of, particularly not in that situation. “What am I supposed to think, hmm?” he spat.
“Dave, Dave,” Sarah said, covering his tightly laced fingers lightly. The gesture helped to bring him back to himself, and he drew in a deep breath, leaning back.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know... what I’m thinking, what I’m supposed to think.”
“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Sarah offered.
Dave drew in another breath and told her what he had found out at the studio, going through Rita’s diaries.
“She wouldn’t have done that to you,” Sarah said calmly after he had finished. “And you know that.” The last words sounded like a reprimand, and although he felt his hackles rise he clenched his jaw and ducked his head. Sarah was right. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that Rita would never have betrayed him. She might have been a bit manipulative at times, but she’d never have betrayed him.
“The dates were just very convenient, I suppose. Without you around she had a chance to nip off to Edinburgh with no questions asked. Without lying to you,” Sarah said, reasonably.
“That’s exactly what you need when you want to meet someone else, innit?” Dave muttered despite himself. Where was all that bitterness and distrust coming from? If it was part of his grief he felt ashamed to see what it reduced him to. This was worse than breaking down on the hard shoulder of the M8. “I’m being a pillock, aren’t I?”
“I wouldn’t say that. You’ve just discovered one of Rita’s dark secrets,” Sarah offered.
He looked up, not knowing what to ask first. Did she know anything about this? What other secrets lay there in store for him? Did he even want to know the full extent to which Rita had kept things from him? “Did you know about Stuart?”
“No! No, I didn’t,” she protested.
“And I suppose you wouldn’t...”
“I’m her best friend, Dave. I wouldn’t betray her like that.”
“Yeah, right,” he said, bitterness washing over him again and pulling him under in its treacherous undercurrent.
“I’m not sure how I can help you,” Sarah said, stiffening a little. Her voice became cooler, and he knew that if he said the wrong thing now he’d succeed in the one thing he didn’t want to happen: losing Sarah as well.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Rita and I were very good friends, but you know as well as I that she wasn’t very forthcoming to anyone. I just don’t think that she would have betrayed you like that. I don’t. She didn’t mention either you or the kids to Stuart because she didn’t deem it necessary that he knew. I agree with her on that. It’s not about dis
missing you or the kids. It’s... just something Rita did. And she was very particular about Stuart not coming too close. As soon as he began to ask more, she withdrew. He told you so himself, didn’t he? And that sounds very much like the Rita we both know and love,” Sarah said.
Dave averted his eyes and looked at the children’s drawings displayed in the wall. Sarah did have a point. “Aye,” he said. He was so mortified he wished he could just vanish into thin air.
Bigger on the inside: Space, Time Travel, Alien Criminals (A Space Time Travel Mystery Book 1) Page 7