by Jule Owen
“How?”
“Come with me. I’ll take you to see Mathew.” She reaches out her hand.
Lestrange flashes them forward to the office building in London. Older Clara barely has a moment to take in her surroundings when she is hurried through the door and into the white corridor.
“These must be the best drugs ever taken,” she says to her younger self. “Who is he?” she asks Clara, looking at Lestrange suspiciously.
Clara says, “It’s a long story.”
“Let’s say I’m your guide for today,” Lestrange says.
“She has to know,” Clara says. “I have to know.”
“She will.”
Along the corridor, they pass through the door leading back into the Darkroom and they find themselves sitting in chairs in a row. Lestrange helps them remove their Skullcaps. Older Clara looks around. “This is an antique!” she says.
“It’s only thirty-six years old, relative to your time.”
“Still.”
Lestrange goes to the door, holding it open for the two Claras. “This way.”
“What is this place?” older Clara asks. “It looks a bit like Mathew’s old house in London, when he was boy.”
“It’s Mr. Lestrange’s house,” young Clara says. “He lives next door to young Mathew.”
“Are you telling me we are in the past?”
“We’re in 2055,” Lestrange says.
“So am I going to meet a young version of Mathew? Is that what this is about?”
They climb the stairs. Lestrange says, “It’s your husband you are going to meet again.”
Lestrange opens the door to a bedroom where Mathew lies asleep on the bed. Older Clara rushes to him. She sits on the bed.
“He is alive,” Lestrange says.
Sure enough, older Clara watches her husband’s breath, rising and falling steadily.
“How can this be? He was dead. I’m sure he was. His body was destroyed in the fire in the lab.” Her voice breaks.
“We rescued him,” Lestrange says, “and brought him here.”
“Is he alright?” Clara leans over him. She takes his hand, touches his face. Her hands are shaking. “There’s not a mark on him. It’s amazing.”
“He’s in an induced coma right now while his body repairs.”
“But he will wake at some point? And speak to me again?”
“Yes,” Lestrange says.
“How did you do this?”
Young Clara says, “Mr. Lestrange is a descendent of Hoshi and the Yinglong. He’s from the future. He helped me break into my future, your time, to rescue Mathew from his own death.”
Lestrange says, “Your younger self here found out about what was going to happen to her in later life and insisted we rescue him,” Lestrange says. “You shouldn’t think this was my idea.”
“But if you can do all of this, why not rescue him in his own time?”
“Do you think the Accountants, the Edenists and the new government would have left Mathew alone had he lived?”
Older Clara turns and looks at Lestrange and says, “No. They would have hunted him down.”
Lestrange nods.
Older Clara says, “But he can’t stay here.”
“No, he can’t,” Lestrange agrees.
“So where will he go?”
“He can go anywhere but the future. He will be free to choose himself when he wakes. Perhaps he will choose to wander.”
“But I will need to go home again?” older Clara says.
“Yes, you will. You have a life to live and important things to do.”
“So I will never see him again?”
“I didn’t say so. You can see him pretty much any time you want to. When you come here, time stops for you. You can spend hours, weeks, months here and go back to your own time at the precise point you left it.”
“How?”
“Through the portal. We’ll arrange doors and passageways, places you can find each other safely.”
“But not how we were.”
“No.”
Young Clara says, “But he won’t be dead, do you see?”
Older Clara looks at her younger self, her long willowy frame, large hands, thin wrists, long hair, smooth, impossibly young skin. Then she says to Lestrange, “I haven’t changed at all, have I?”
Lestrange smiles, “Not one bit.”
“What happens when he wakes? I don’t want him to be scared.”
Lestrange says, “I’m sorry we scared you.”
Clara nods, accepting the apology. “You should be here when he wakes. You should tell him what has happened and you’ll need to explain to him that he can never go home.”
“But I don’t know what has happened,” older Clara says.
Lestrange goes to the door. “Do you both want to join me downstairs? I can provide refreshments.” He says to younger Clara, “I think you have a story to tell your older self.”
27 The Allowed List
DAY THIRTY-EIGHT: Wednesday 29th December 2055
Craig Buchanan takes Mathew to see his father at night. They both have headlamps, but there is a bright moon and the snow reflects what light there is, making their way easier. The path ahead is clearly visible. Mathew is glad of Craig’s presence. The woods cast strange shadows in the moonlight.
“Won’t we attract attention doing this?” Mathew asks.
“Possibly. Although, if they are tracking us, they will only see your chip. If they send a drone after us, they will follow us to the cabin and see three hot bodies. Given they aren’t looking for your father, it won’t mean anything to them. Tomorrow your father will move his base. We’ve found him somewhere else to go. We thought it best, given the traffic to his current cabin.”
Mathew stops in his tracks. “The last thing I want to do is expose him,” he says. “If you think there’s a risk of that, we should go back.”
“He wants to see you, Mathew. He’s willing to take the risk.”
They trudge on through fresh snowfall from the morning, although now it is still and dry. The smoke from the cabin hails them on the moors and soon they are at Soren’s cabin, kicking snow from their boots and taking off their heavy outerwear in the warmth of Soren’s cabin. Mathew’s father heartily shakes Craig’s hand.
“Good to see you,” he says. “I have a pot of water boiled for tea.”
Soren has found a third chair from somewhere, and they all take seats around the fire. Mathew and Craig explain the situation with the scholarship and with Panacea, warming their hands on hot mugs.
“That’s a hard choice, Matty,” Soren says, looking gravely at his son.
“I’ve only just found you again,” Mathew says. “I don’t want to go.”
Soren nods. “I don’t especially want you to go either,” he says.
“Then I won’t go.”
“It’s your choice. But if you stay, we won’t see much of one another for a while anyhow, not as long as Cadmus is here. We’d have to rely on Fitzackerly rigging something for us to be able to chat, the same as we would if you were in London. You’d see a hologram of me in whatever shack Craig here can find for me in the mountains. Maybe you’d get to visit me once in a while, but you know this trip and your last one means I have to move on again.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
Soren shakes his head. “I’m not sorry, but it’s not something we could do a lot even if you were here. Your grandmother is another matter. But I’m willing to bet how she’d feel about taking the money.”
Mathew says, “I’ve an idea about how I can say sorry about Mum.”
Soren drinks his tea looking thoughtfully at Mathew. ‘That sounds like the sort of thing Craig and I shouldn’t know about until it happens. Is it?”
Mathew dips his head, “Yeah.”
“You should do what you think is right. Trust yourself.”
DAY THIRTY-NINE: Thursday 30th December 2055
“It’s only two years and then I can t
ry and get a place in the Highlands University to continue my studies,” Mathew is saying to Ju Shen. They are standing in the lobby of the hall, waiting for Shepcutt and Jain.
“Inverness is over a hundred miles away.”
It’s better than six hundred. Plus, I won’t be tied to campus in the way I’m tied to the classroom in London. I can spend weekends and holidays here.”
“You’ll never come back here to live,” Ju Shen says. “Not permanently. But I’m glad you didn’t take the Panacea money.”
“I couldn’t. Not even for Da…”
She puts her finger on his lips. “Don’t say that word. And he most of all didn’t want you to take the money.”
“I know.”
“We are here, all of us, any time you want to come home.”
“I know. Thank you.”
“I spoke to Gen,” she says. “She seems like a nice woman.”
“She is.”
“This is what you want?”
Mathew nods, “I don’t want to leave you and… and all of this, these people, everyone here. If I had a choice, I would stay, but I don’t have a choice, not if I want to respect myself.”
“Sometimes I wish you and I were both a little less moral,” she reaches out and touches his face.
“I don’t,” he says. “Not at all.”
He looks across the lobby and sees Isaac talking to Lea.
“Is he still not talking to you?” Ju asks.
“He is, but only in words of one syllable.”
“He’s angry now, but he’ll come round.”
“He’s had enough of losing people. I promised I wouldn’t leave him.”
“You couldn’t have known. Besides, you’ll be friends forever, you two.”
Lea catches Mathew’s eye and she comes over, dragging Isaac with her. “Bionic boy has come to apologise for being a grumpy ass,” she says.
“No he hasn’t!” Isaac says.
“It’s okay,” Mathew says to Lea. He looks at Isaac, “I’m sorry I have to go,” he says.
Isaac looks at his feet and mumbles, “You should have taken the money from that company. I don’t see why you didn’t.”
Lea sighs, “I’ve explained this, Isaac,” she says.
“I still don’t understand. You could have stayed. You’re choosing not to.”
Lea looks at Mathew and pulls an ‘I tried’ expression.
Ju Shen says, “How’s your eye, Isaac?”
Isaac's face brightens, “It’s amazing,” he says. “I have infrared vision. I can see at night. And I can see far away things in detail.”
Through the window Mathew watches Shepcutt and Jain approach. Craig Buchanan walks out to greet them with Isla. They all turn to Mathew and his grandmother.
“I’m so glad you’re coming back to complete your studies,” Shepcutt says, beaming. He offers Mathew his hand to shake and Mathew takes it.
“I hope you are going to be better at getting him back to London than the other lot were getting him here,” Ju Shen says. “I want hourly reports.”
“We have extra security travelling with us, Mrs. Shen. Trust me, Jain and I also want to get back down in one piece and we’re not taking any chances.” He turns to Mathew, “Do you have luggage you need to take back with you?”
Mathew points at his pile of boxes, stacked against the wall, mostly unpacked since his arrival. Shepcutt calls for some help to get the boxes out to the car. Two burly security guards, come into the lobby and help Jain take the boxes out. Buchanan grabs a box and follows the men out to the car park.
Shepcutt says, “Mathew, you should say your goodbyes. When you are ready, meet us in the car park.” The two Hermes Link men turn to leave, shaking hands with Isla as they go.
Isla asks Mathew, “Ready?”
“Yes,” he says. “Just about.”
They all go out into the cold. There are three large armoured all-terrain vehicles in the car park, shining black, thick-tyred, their windows moulded into the body of the car.
Mathew turns to Lea, “How are we doing?” he says.
“We’re all ready to go. Tune in at six.” She grins. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.”
“Stay in touch or I’ll hack into your home system and fry it.”
“In that case…”
She hugs him.
“You too, Isaac,” he says, when he is finally released from Lea’s formidable grip. “Lea will get you set up to chat on the Blackweb or you can always call me using the Nexus.” Isaac is still angry and holds back when Mathew hugs him. “C’mon Isaac. Friends?” But Isaac's face is set. He turns away.
Mathew glances at Lea.
Craig, Isla and Ju Shen are waiting to say goodbye to him.
He shakes Craig’s and Isla’s hands, thanking them both, and turns to his grandmother.
“I want to hear from you all the way down to London and then I want a daily call once you’ve settled in,” she says.
“You got it.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you too.”
She kisses him sloppily on his cheek. “Don’t you dare wipe it off,” she says, watching his hand go up. “It is a special protective kiss. Fends off all known adversaries.”
Craig shuts the door on him. He winds down the window, so they can see him. Shepcutt nods to the guards who are standing around the three cars and then gets in to the car in front of Mathew’s with Jain. They pull away slowly.
The car is a different model to the Panacea cars he is used to travelling in. Spending some minutes familiarising himself with everything, he works out that this car too has a panic room at the back of the mini-fridge. He is relieved that the two Hermes men decided not to travel with him. Finding a drink, he settles back to a holofilm on the coffee table, watching it absently, waiting for the six o’clock news, occasionally gazing out of his window at the lochs and the mountains as they pass through the countryside.
At three o’clock a strange call comes through on his X-Eyte, booting Charybdis. Two tiny figures appear on the table. It is Lea and Isaac.
Mathew laughs, “I’ve only just left.”
“We know. How’s the car?”
“Pretty cool.”
“Is there any alcohol in the mini-bar?”
“No. Lots of Coke, though.”
“Yeuk,” Lea says. “Rots your insides. It’s like drain cleaner.”
“To what do I owe the honour of this visit?” Mathew asks.
“Did we interrupt something?”
“He’ll be watching a film,” Isaac says.
“I was.”
Lea says, “Sorry to interrupt your important work, but Isaac wants to speak to you. I’m going to go now and give him some privacy. Speak later Mat, after the news.”
Lea’s tiny figure disappears, leaving Isaac alone. He says, “Lea said I should apologise.”
“Lea said?” Mathew says.
“I wanted to apologise. I was an idiot. I didn’t want you to go.”
“I know. I didn’t want to go myself. You do understand why I have to, don’t you?”
“Not really, but Lea says she’s going to get Oli to explain. I also wanted to say thank you, for everything you did for me.”
“Anyone would have done the same.”
“No they wouldn’t. I will never forget what you did for me. I owe you.”
“Don’t be crazy.”
“I mean it. I hope we’ll always be friends.”
“Of course we will. And now Lea has shown you how to call me, we can chat whenever you like.”
“Can I call you on the Nexus? I’m not sure about this Blackweb stuff.”
Mathew laughs, “Sure you can. What’s your last name? I’ll add it to my allowed list.”
“Hathaway,” he says. “My name is Hathaway.”
28 Home Coming
DAY FORTY: New Year’s Eve December 2055
Clara hits a wrong note and stops playing. T
his is something that never happens and it makes Gen Lacey turn around. She is standing in the window of her front room, half listening to her student and half watching the road through her voile curtains.
Clara is staring at her hands as if they have betrayed her, as if they are no longer her hands.
“Nervous?” Gen asks.
Clara flushes from her neck to the roots of her hair. “I’m fine,” she says brusquely and starts to play again, deliberate, precise, without finesse, but also without error. Her concentration is shot and her thoughts are a muddle. The part of her brain that is playing is the the part that could play with her entire body on fire, which in a way, it is.
She wonders if it makes it better or worse knowing that this boy, who she met only a few weeks ago, but that she already has such strong feelings for, is destined to be her husband, and in some future world, already is. Thus far, her conversations with the remarkable Mr. Lestrange, about her future life with Mathew, have felt abstract. Mathew himself, when he was hundreds of miles away in Elgol, was a dreamlike notion. Today, however, the real flesh and blood boy is returning. He will live in her music teacher’s home and she will see him every day.
He is likely to turn up any moment now and she is in turmoil.
Will she be awkward with him? Will she do or say the wrong thing and somehow change the way he feels about her and then change history? Will she even feel the same way about him?
She tries to return her full attention to the music and remember the aim of the lesson. Then just as she starts to feel some equilibrium, just as she manages to pull her head and her heart back to the piano, she hears the car pull up outside.
He is here.
She doesn’t know how she gets to the front door or how it opens or if Gen comes with her. As she stands in the front garden, the world spins and darkens at the edges. For a moment she thinks she might pass out. Why do I feel like this?
He is getting out of the car. He sees her. It is an extraordinary thing to love a particular face, she thinks. Why that face of all faces? He moves at the same time she does. She registers him dropping his bag on the floor; just let it go.