by Jodi Taylor
‘Leon?’
‘Shh. Don’t wake Peterson.’
I said, exasperated, ‘Have you ever tried to wake Peterson? What are you doing here?’
‘Just a minute …’
He drew back the curtains and a little moonlight fell into the room. He groped his way to the bed and sat heavily. ‘Ouch. What’s that?’
‘My feet. Where have you been?’
‘With Edward.’
‘No, I mean …’
‘I know what you mean. I can’t tell you. I’ve jumped back to report and receive fresh instructions. I can’t stay long. I shouldn’t be here at all.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘I can’t say.’
‘Then why are you here?’
‘I wanted to see you.’
‘We’re in the dark,’ I said, exasperated.
I felt him move, the little bed light clicked on, and there he was – drawn and haggard, with a half-healed cut over the bridge of his nose that was going to leave a scar. He wore light body armour, had a blaster slung over his shoulder, and two handguns on a sticky patch on one thigh. He looked tough, competent, and completely worn out. Once again, I had the feeling that big things were happening and I was only a very small cog.
We looked at each other and I said, accusingly, ‘You went off with all the Jaffa Cakes.’
‘The word on the street is that you’ve been rummaging in Peterson’s groin.’
‘If it makes you feel better, neither of us enjoyed it very much.’
‘You can’t have been doing it properly. Didn’t you used to have hair?’
‘It’s the new post-plague look. Talk to me.’
‘I’ve been back to the future. Things to do. People to see. I should be there now.’
My throat closed. With some difficulty, I said, ‘Will you stay there?’
He put his hand over mine. ‘Nothing will keep me from coming back to you.’
I blinked to clear my eyes.
‘How long can you stay?’
‘I shouldn’t be here at all.’
‘It’s … good to see you.’
‘You too.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I … um … I brought you something.’
He passed me a small cardboard box. It was very light.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s for you. Now I must go.’ He stood up.
‘Wait. Please. Stay a little longer …’
‘I can’t.’
‘Just while I open …’
I pulled open the flaps and peered inside.
I couldn’t move. Not a finger. I think I forgot to breathe.
A small, brown face smiled up at me.
I lifted him out so very gently. I know that these days, teddy bears are designed to survive the attentions of small children – or a thermo-nuclear blast; the two are not dissimilar in terms of destruction – but I was terrified of breaking this precious object.
I remembered the circumstances under which I last saw my Bear …
And Leon, who knew it all, and to whom none of it was important, said softly, ‘This is Bear 2.0. A gift to you. From me. No more looking back, Lucy.’
I stroked the velvety fur. Touched his soft leather paws. His smile tore at my heart.
I mumbled, ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t have to say anything.’
‘Thank you.’
‘It’s an honour and a privilege.’
‘No. No, it shouldn’t be. When I think of what I’ve done … the mistakes I’ve made. I condemned when I should have shown compassion. I wiped Leon out of my life for what he did. I can’t help thinking – would he still be alive if I hadn’t …? Did he literally die of a broken heart?’
‘No. You can’t die of a broken heart. Trust me.’
‘When we talked about Helios – that night in the pod – you were going to say something.’
He hesitated. ‘You know, don’t you, what the other Max did?’
‘I do now.’ I didn’t mention it was Barclay who told me. ‘Did you blame your Max – as I blamed my Leon?’
‘No, of course I didn’t blame her. Nobody did. No one was safe in Troy. Terrible things would have happened to that little boy and, when he was no more use to anyone, the Greeks would have cut his throat and moved on. She saved him from that and I loved her for it. I will never forget that you forgave me freely when you thought I’d done it, and I forgave her, too.’
I nodded, though he could barely see me in the dark.
‘Will the Time Police come here?’
‘Not if I have anything to do with it.’
‘Can you keep them out?’
‘I’m trying. Many people are trying. And knowing that you’re here … Believe me, if they come here, it will be over my dead body. But that won’t happen.’
‘Why are you here?’
‘To report to Dr Bairstow and get further instructions.’
‘Report what?’
He hesitated.
‘Leon?’
‘The date.’
‘What date?’
‘The date they have scheduled their attack.’
‘So they do come here?’
‘Not if I can prevent it.’
I reached for him in sudden panic.
‘Leon … you must take care. Nothing must happen to you.’
His hands covered mine. ‘Sweetheart, I have to say this. I know we agreed to take things slowly – to get to know each other, but time has run out for us. So I’m telling you now, in case we never … in case anything happens to either of us. I know we said … but I can’t bear the thought you might never know how I feel. About you. About us. It’s all right – you don’t have to say anything. If you don’t … I mean, I understand … ’
I couldn’t stop crying.
‘Leon … take me with you. Let me fight with you. If we fall, we fall together.’
‘I can’t do that, sweetheart. But it won’t come to that. I’ll keep them out, I promise. I promise you’ll be safe.’
I pushed back the bedcovers and stood up.
‘Leon …’
I put my arms around him.
He stood motionless for a moment and then I was not just held, but crushed against him. His armour was painful. There would be bruises to explain away in the morning, but none of that mattered now. There didn’t seem anything to say so we didn’t. Time was short and I don’t think either of us could bear to waste it saying goodbye. We stood together a long time. The window-shaped patch of light travelled slowly across the room and neither of us noticed. Neither of us moved. Or wanted to. I breathed him in. He rubbed his hand gently up and down my back. I reached up and touched his cheek. He kissed my palm and folded my fingers over to keep it safe.
‘I must go,’ he said, softly. ‘Try not to lose any more hair.’
‘Bring Jaffa Cakes next time.’
Something feather light brushed my cheek and then he was gone.
I switched off the light and sat in the dark, trying desperately not to wake Peterson and I was completely unsuccessful, because I heard him move and the next minute, he was sitting beside me on the bed.
He said, ‘Hey,’ and put his arm around me.
I struggled not to make foghorn noises.
After a while, I wiped my nose and said thickly, ‘Do you think Leon will come back?’
‘God, I hope not. I’m practically in bed with you. I’m wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. You’re only wearing a T-shirt and you’re decent by less than an inch.’
I opened my mouth to reply but at that moment, Hunter came in to see what all the noise was about. We had to endure another of her all-purpose bollockings, and after that, I curled myself around Bear 2.0 and tried to sleep.
Chapter Fourteen
The next day we were allowed visitors. Markham, Schiller, Van Owen, and Roberts were the first through the door, bearing gifts. I wasn’t forgotten – they’d brought chocolate, which was kind of them.
They wanted to hear everything. Schiller and Van Owen sat on Peterson’s bed. Roberts bagged the only chair and Markham leaned against the foot of my bed.
‘So, tell us how you got the pox.’
‘Plague,’ shouted Peterson. ‘It was the bloody plague, I tell you. I’ve never had the pox in my life.’
No one was listening.
‘Did Max really have to chop off one of your testicles? Which one was it?’
‘The one nearest the window – what do you think?’
‘Don’t tease him,’ said Schiller. ‘He’s faced great peril.’
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ said Peterson, rummaging in the box of goodies they had brought him. ‘Trust me – you don’t know what peril is until you’ve had Maxwell come at your groin with a Swiss Army knife and that look in her eye.’
They all looked at me.
‘Well, there’s gratitude for you. Next time you get a swelling in your groin, you can handle it yourself.’
There was a thoughtful silence.
‘Yes,’ said Markham. ‘The other Maxwell never knew when to shut up, either.’
* * *
We were released back into captivity a couple of days later. Peterson was white and wobbly, but plague free. And pox free, too. Hunter had done him a certificate to that effect, which he proudly displayed to everyone who asked. And everyone who didn’t.
I think they gave up waiting for me to fall sick. As usual, I’d completely failed to live up to people’s expectations.
On our last morning, they brought our clothes. I came out of the bathroom to find a complete set of blues laid out on my bed. Not greys – real, proper, historian blues. I touched them gently.
Peterson stood behind me, saying, quietly, ‘Have I thanked …?’
I turned and smiled at him. ‘An honour and a privilege, Dr Peterson.’
He stretched out his hand. ‘Tim,’ he said. ‘The name’s Tim.’
My heart sang. I was as proud then as the day when I was awarded my first set of blues, back in that other world.
They gave us a round of applause when we went for lunch. Tim proudly flourished his certificate.
‘Pox-free, ladies. Please form an orderly queue. No pushing.’
I sat with him and Dieter for lunch, and we were just finishing when someone said Dr Bairstow wanted to see me.
I sighed. Now what?
And finally, there she was, sitting demurely behind the desk in Dr Bairstow’s outer office. Just when I’d given up all hope of ever seeing her again.
I stopped dead. Peterson walked into the back of me.
I said cautiously, ‘Good afternoon.’
She inclined her head, regally. ‘Good afternoon.’
I stared. She continued calmly to stack assignment files.
‘Um, I believe Dr Bairstow wanted to see us …’
At that moment, the Boss himself opened his door.
‘Ah. Good afternoon to you both. May I introduce Mrs Partridge, my new PA?’
‘Oh my God,’ said Peterson. ‘Did Colonel Albay shoot Miss Lee on his way out?’
A very real possibility.
‘Miss Lee is to return to her old position as assistant to the Chief Operations Officer.’
The Chief Operations Officer paled. ‘What?’
I felt a twinge of sympathy for him. Been there – done that – got the scars.
‘All this is for later discussion. Mrs Partridge, may I introduce Doctors Maxwell and Peterson.’
‘Hello,’ said Peterson, who had obviously never been brought up not to talk to strangers. ‘I’m Peterson.’ He held out his hand.
She rose gracefully. Her manicure was exquisite. ‘How do you do. I am Mrs Partridge.’
‘Nice to meet you, Mrs Partridge. Welcome to St Mary’s.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, smiling at him. Everyone smiles at Peterson. He beamed back.
She looked at me.
Sometimes I just can’t help myself.
‘Yes. Welcome to St Mary’s. Nice to meet you, Mrs Peacock.’
‘Partridge,’ she said, expressionlessly.
‘Really? Are you sure?’
‘Almost certain, yes.’
‘Partridge?’
‘Yes.’
‘Not Peacock?’
‘No.’
‘I could have sworn …’
‘No.’
‘Oh. Well. Nice to meet you, Mrs … Partridge.’
‘And you too, Dr Murphy.’
I opened my mouth, but Dr Bairstow had disappeared back into his office and Peterson pushed me in after him. Mrs Partridge followed us in and shut the door behind her.
We seated ourselves at his briefing table. Major Guthrie, Professor Rapson and Dr Dowson, Dieter, and Dr Foster were already present.
No Barclay.
Just for a moment, I wondered …
‘Miss Barclay is not attending this afternoon’s meeting?’
‘Miss Barclay has been called away today, but she is already fully integrated into all my plans for the future.’
We sat down.
‘Dr Peterson, how are you now?’
‘Refreshingly plague-free, sir.’
‘Remain so.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He regarded me.
‘The 14th century having proved inadequate for our purposes, Dr Maxwell, I propose to keep you here for the foreseeable future.’
‘For how long will that be, sir?’
His face set grimly.
‘Not for very long, I fear. However …’ he sat up straighter and rearranged his papers, ‘we are not finished yet. According to information received from a reliable source,’ (he meant Leon), ‘the situation is not good. St Mary’s is under attack. Every version – every incarnation. We must defend ourselves, too. Possibly to the death. I know we have expected this. That we have been preparing for it for some time, but now the moment has arrived. An armed force will attempt to take control of St Mary’s in the very near future.’
‘But they’re a police force,’ I said, sounding stupid even to myself. ‘Aren’t there guidelines they have to adhere to?’
‘Once, yes, but this is a fight to the finish. Only one organisation will survive. They’re being attacked up and down the timeline. They will defend themselves. If they’re not stopped – sooner or later, they will get to us.’
I said, ‘Surely they can’t kill us, sir. To them, we’re contemporaries.’
He smiled sadly. ‘It might already be written that we were all killed in the famous Battle of St Mary’s and therefore they would have no choice.’
‘Sir, I think I should give myself up.’
‘Oh, I don’t think I can allow that, Dr Maxwell. Of everyone here, you’re the only person who didn’t actually connive at removing a contemporary from his own time. Besides, surrendering you, or any of us, will not serve our long-term purpose, which is to dismantle the Time Police. Colonel Albay is an unpleasant and ruthless man who lets nothing stand in his way when executing his duties and those who come after him will certainly be even more ruthless and unpleasant. It is the duty of all of us to prevent that ever being allowed to happen.’
‘But, sir …’ I said. When had I started calling him ‘sir’?
‘At various moments in the future, St Mary’s is fighting to throw off Time Police control. Fighting for its independence. Fighting for its existence. The least this unit can do is put up a good show. For Leon.’
I caught my breath suddenly, remembering what he had said. If the Time Police came back, then Leon was dead.
‘Yes, this is about more than us, Max. If they do turn up then we don’t stand a chance. But we’ll go down fighting.’ He sighed. ‘They’ll have to rename the unit, of course, because it won’t be St Mary’s any longer.’
We sat silently around the table. He roused himself.
‘We all have important roles in this. After our people and our pods, knowledge is our most important asset. Professo
r, please work with Doctor Dowson. Start packing everything up. Absolutely everything. If this goes south, I’m not leaving anything behind for these people and we can’t send anything to Thirsk. That’s the first place they’ll look. Therefore, everything is to be stored in the pods and the pods themselves will be sent to our remote site with two or three caretakers. I want this place cleared in a week.
‘All non-essential personnel will be evacuated. I have a high regard for every member of this unit. I will not risk them unnecessarily. They are to be removed to a place of safety.
‘The building is to be fortified and made defendable. Major Guthrie, you have plans for just such a contingency, I believe. Please let me see them after this meeting. Doctor Foster, I imagine I don’t have to tell you what arrangements to make. Requisition whatever you need. Mrs Partridge, there will be an all-staff briefing tomorrow at eleven. Everyone is to attend. Any questions, anyone?’
We do our best, but it’s fair to say things don’t always go according to plan. We all assembled promptly for the briefing the next day. The Boss made his appearance to total silence. A bit of a first.
He went through everything, slowly and clearly. I looked around. People’s faces were serious. There was no fidgeting. He had everyone’s attention. When he started issuing instructions to pack up, there was much activity with scratchpads, but when he moved on to evacuation instructions, it was immediately apparent that he had lost his audience.
He started on specifics and that was when he faced his first mutiny. Frankly, I always thought it would be me, but this came right out of the blue. He was working his way down the list of names to evacuate, when little Mrs Enderby from Wardrobe stood up and the whole thing crashed to the ground.
‘No,’ she said.
He actually read two more names before it registered. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said, no.’
‘No what?’
‘No, I won’t go.’
He rallied valiantly. ‘I’m sorry if I inadvertently gave the impression this was a discussion.’
‘I won’t go.’
He seemed dumbfounded for a moment and I’m guessing this was another first. ‘Mrs Enderby …’
‘I’m sorry, Dr Bairstow, but I won’t go. St Mary’s is my home. I have lived here for as long as you. I was one of the founder members. I won’t go off and leave St Mary’s and you to face whatever is coming. I believe in what we do here and I will fight for it with all my might.’