And the Rest Is History

by Jodi Taylor

  I didn’t think that was quite the agreement, but now was not the time and place. And she had a point. Ronan was still at large. If I was to go on this rescue – and I had a horrible feeling I was only being allowed to go because that would enable them to get their hands on Matthew – then it wasn’t fair to expect others here to look after him. And Dr Bairstow’s responsibility was to St Mary’s. Lingoss had her own job to be getting on with. And Matthew had to start having a proper education sometime.

  If I refused, then I wasn’t sure whether I would be allowed to go and I had to. I just had to go. So – priorities. Get Leon first. Sort out Matthew later. And at least he would be safe at TPHQ while I was gone.

  I nodded my agreement.

  Afterwards, I found myself on the gallery, looking down at the deserted, dimly lit Hall. I leaned on the balustrade and tried to think. I heard someone approach and knew that Tim was standing behind me.

  I turned to face him. He stood before me with his smart jacket and neatly combed hair. The expression on his face made me want to cry. I desperately wanted to put my arms around him and somehow make everything better for him, but that would not be a good idea for either of us.

  I said, ‘Tim…’

  ‘Max, it’s OK. I’m pleased for you. I really am.’

  ‘Tim…’

  ‘And if … well … you know, if things don’t work out for … the best … then just remember I’m here … if you need me.’

  I nodded, my eyes blurring with tears. ‘You mustn’t let go, Tim. You must hold on.’

  His smile was crooked and bitter. ‘I had hoped we would be able to hold on to each other.’

  I couldn’t speak.

  He cleared his throat. ‘You should get off now. Lots to do. You need to talk to Matthew as well. Anything I can do to help?’

  I’ve known Tim Peterson for many years now and I could see how desperately he wanted to be alone. To absorb what had just happened. To come to terms with … events.

  I pretended to think carefully. ‘No, I think I’m OK, thanks very much. Are you around later if I think of anything?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, backing away. ‘Anytime. Just give me a shout.’

  I nodded and somewhat blindly set out to find Matthew.

  He and Lingoss were in R&D, building a dirigible. Of course they were. Just a small one, she reassured me.

  ‘We’re going to pilot it around the building,’ she said, forestalling my inevitable questions. ‘There’ll be a little basket underneath to hold files, scratchpads, memos, bacon butties – that sort of thing. People can use it to send things to each other. Like email, but with physical objects. It’ll be really useful.’

  There were so many things wrong with that statement that I never even bothered to start. I took her to one side and explained briefly.

  She looked at me for a moment and said nothing. Today’s hair made her look like Sideshow Bob, but underneath all that hair and make-up there’s a very bright girl.

  I took a chance. ‘Can you do me a favour?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I don’t know how you’ll manage it, but I don’t think Peterson should be alone this evening. You’re intelligent and resourceful without being obvious. Think of something.’

  She nodded. ‘I will, don’t worry.’

  ‘I knew you would. Go now.’

  She disappeared.

  I turned to Matthew, horribly dirty despite not having set foot out of doors all day. ‘And now, young man, you and I are off on a trip.’

  Back in our rooms, I pulled down my sports bag and, not without a great deal of deliberation on Matthew’s part, packed three of his favourite toys. On top of those I hurled his sweatshirts, jeans and shirts. This not being bath or bedtime, he was wearing his precious trainers. I watched my hands folding and smoothing and, all the time, the same phrase was looping endlessly through my head – Leon might be alive. Leon might be alive.

  I said nothing to Matthew. More than ever, I was glad I hadn’t told him about his father.

  I’d been told to bring only what I stood up in, but I wasn’t going into battle in my only decent top, so I changed into blues. We were running down the stairs when he stopped dead and looked up at me.

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘My teddy.’

  I had forgotten all about it. It must have been buried under the clutter on his bed, but I could hear voices in the Hall. They were waiting for us.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I have to see Dr Bairstow. I’ll get teddy for you later, I promise.’

  He nodded. Sometimes his quiet acceptance of everything going on around him was quite worrying.

  I called in to see the Boss. Time was short but there was something very important I had to say to him.

  I sat Matthew down in Mrs Partridge’s office and said, ‘Wait here a minute.’

  I left the two of them staring at each other with wary suspicion, but I didn’t have the time – they’d just have to sort it out themselves.

  The Boss was sitting behind his desk.

  I couldn’t think of any tactful way to put it, so I just came right out with it. Making sure the door was closed, I crossed his faded carpet and said, ‘Sir, Ronan promised me he would kill everyone in my life. He’s already killed Helen and probably Leon, Guthrie and Markham as well.’ I swallowed. ‘Matthew will be safe at TPHQ, but I would be grateful if you could assure me that you have taken all steps necessary to protect yourself. I couldn’t bear it if I got back and…’

  He limped out from behind his desk and took my hand. ‘I promise you, Max, when you return, I and Dr Peterson and everyone here will be safe and sound. You have my word.’

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  ‘I shall take advantage of this moment to demand that you also, Max, take every care. You are the spirit of St Mary’s and we cannot do without you.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ I turned to go and then looked back. ‘Do you think they’re still alive?’

  ‘I am convinced of it, Max. Now, go and bring back our lost boys.’

  I stood quietly at the back of the pod, holding Matthew’s hand. He didn’t seem particularly alarmed but that meant nothing. Captain Ellis was piloting the pod. He said cheerily, ‘Hey, Matthew. Remember me?’

  Matthew nodded, still not saying anything.

  I squeezed his hand for reassurance although I should probably make it clear the reassurance was for me. We were jumping to the future – well, my future anyway – and that’s enough to make anyone nervous. I’m an historian. I like to know when and where I’m jumping. I like to research the time period so I know what to expect. Jumping into the unknown makes me nervous. And I was jumping to TPHQ which would make anyone nervous at any point on the timeline. And I had no St Mary’s team to back me up. It was just Matthew and me. It did cross my mind that this was all just an elaborate Time Police trap to get their hands on Matthew. I really do need to work on my paranoia issues.

  Someone said, ‘Commence jump procedures.’

  ‘Commencing now.’

  The world flickered.

  That was it. Half of me was a little disappointed. Half of me was quite smug. St Mary’s does it better.

  My disappointment continued.

  We began well, landing in any sinister organisation’s mandatory underground bunker. I knew it was underground because I could hear the fresh-air blowers overhead. Under the pretence of straightening Matthew’s perfectly straight hoodie, I tried, surreptitiously, to have a look around, getting only a very fleeting impression of rows of black pods stretching away into the darkness before a very large officer, deliberately or otherwise, blocked my view.

  Matthew, perfectly aware he hadn’t managed to disarrange his clothing in the four seconds between St Mary’s and here, stared at me reproachfully.

  We were escorted through the bunker, officers on either side of us. It smacked very much of prisoner and escort but I told myself they were the Time Police and probably didn’t know any other way
of doing things.

  As far as sinister organisations go, however, it all went downhill from there. Once out of the bunker we were in a disappointingly normal corridor, clean and well lit, which ended in a disappointingly normal lift. Although it was circular – which did strike me as unusual.

  Ellis grinned at me. ‘You’ll see.’

  ‘See what?’

  He just grinned again.

  Once out of the lift, our escort peeled away – obviously we weren’t going to be shot after all – leaving just Commander Hay, Ellis and Farenden, who was speaking into some sort of coms device.

  ‘Our visitors’ accommodation is ready, ma’am.’

  Hay nodded and turned to us. ‘We’ll take you to your rooms in a moment, but first there’s something I wanted to show you and, selfishly, I want to see your faces when you catch your first glimpse. This way.’

  We entered a small room. I looked around. Desk. Chair. Filing cabinets. Shelves. Files. A couple of screens. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. Even more disappointment. Still, I should set an example to Matthew and be polite.

  ‘Very … nice,’ I said.

  Captain Farenden grinned. ‘This is my office.’

  ‘Mmmm,’ I said, having run out of positive things to say.

  He flung open a door with something of a flourish.

  ‘And this is my office,’ said Commander Hay, leading us into a large room. I’m sure there was the usual impressive commanding officer-style furniture scattered around, but I had eyes only for the enormous picture window behind her desk.

  She gestured. ‘And this is my view.’

  Oh my God, I recognised this place. I knew where we were. So this was the legendary TPHQ. I couldn’t help laughing.

  She laughed too. ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘It’s … amazing. Of course I do.’

  Now I knew why the lift was circular – because Time Police HQ was located inside and under the iconic Battersea Power Station and the lift must have been inside one of the four massive chimneys.

  I couldn’t get my head around it. For obvious reasons, St Mary’s is almost as far from civilisation as it’s possible to get. This place was at the centre of the capital city. I remembered our recent explosion. If this place ever blew…

  ‘We need to be a presence,’’ she said, reading my mind. ‘We need to be visible. Highly visible. A constant reminder of what will happen to anyone – and that ranges from an entire country down to a couple of bored teenagers too clever for their own good –’ She shot me a look which I had no difficulty returning with blinding innocence. ‘– that anyone who takes it into their heads to nip up and down the timeline, will incur our displeasure. Our extreme displeasure.’

  I made no comment. It seemed the safest thing to do. Instead, I peered out of the window. Just down there had been the famous Battersea Barricades. Where the resistance had made its final stand and, against all the odds, had prevailed. When the tide had finally turned. Where Mrs Mack had lost her husband. Somewhere down there had been – and maybe still was – the legendary Flying Duck pub, where Dr Bairstow had begun to assemble his people, prior to setting up St Mary’s. I wondered if I’d have time to take a look. He’d like to know if it was still here.

  We were high up, looking out over the Thames. I could see Barricade Bridge – the former Chelsea Bridge – painted in pink and yellow, like a huge slice of Mrs Mack’s Battenburg cake.

  London spread in front of me. Up and down river. It was an amazing view. I’m not hugely familiar with London even in my own time, but the city itself didn’t look so different. There were the usual eccentrically shaped buildings – because every capital city in the world has to have a skyline like a mouth of broken teeth. I could recognise The Shard – now a national monument. And The Gherkin. And The Cheese Grater. To which we could now apparently add The Pack of Cards, The Folded Napkin and The Startled Hamster.

  Except there was no traffic. There were almost no cars anywhere. There was a great deal of river and air traffic, but vehicles on the ground were few and far between. I stared in amazement, first at the crowded Thames and then at the slow-moving airships, the zipping drones, and the dirigibles either hovering, tethered to various buildings, or chugging majestically past on their way to somewhere else. For a brief moment I was completely disoriented. Now I knew how Matthew had felt in my world.

  ‘This is typical of all major cities now,’ she said. ‘The ground is for people. Pedestrians, emergency vehicles or electric bikes only. Not so long ago, gridlock was common. Cities were dirty and polluted. In London, the air was generally considered to be worse than it was in the 19th century with its famous “pea-soupers”. Something had to be done and then someone realised we had a major water system already in place and running right through the city. Canals were revived or rebuilt, new ones constructed, underground rivers uncovered, and now, as in medieval and Tudor times, people use water to get around. You travel up and down the rivers on public transportation, disembark at the stop nearest to your destination, and either take a bike or a dirigible the rest of the way. Clean, quick, non-polluting.’

  ‘Dirigibles!’ I said. Matthew and I looked at each other.

  ‘Auntie Lingoss,’ he said.

  ‘You must tell her. She’ll be thrilled.’

  I craned my neck further. Oh. My. God. ‘Jetpacks,’ I said in huge excitement. ‘Does everyone have their own jetpack? Can I have one?’

  ‘No.’

  More disappointment, but I rather thought I might have a word with Professor Rapson one day. I was certain he could knock something up.

  ‘There are viewing windows all over the building,’ said Captain Farenden. ‘Please feel free to have a good stare whenever you like. Now, if you’d like to come with me, I’ll show you to your accommodation. Max, there will be a briefing at 17:00 hours this evening. Captain Ellis will collect you. Would you like to come this way?’

  Their visitors’ accommodation was large and characterless. We had two small bedrooms, a bathroom between us, and a living room. Everything was painted in shades of beige or magnolia, with accents daringly picked out in cream. I bet some interior designer somewhere had an award for this. The walls were bare and crying out for a small historian and her paintbrush. Or her son and his crayons. But it was very clean, the furniture was much more comfortable than it looked, and the water was hot.

  Matthew chose the right-hand bedroom. I was impatient for Ellis to appear, but I made myself slow down, because this was important, too. We unpacked his stuff and I let him choose where he wanted to put everything. I kept any comments to myself. I didn’t want Commander Hay accusing me of undue influence. The priority now was Leon, Markham and Guthrie. I wasn’t happy about leaving Matthew here but he would be safe, no doubt of that, and I could sort out his future later.

  There were tea-making facilities but only six tea bags. What? Not even enough to see me through the next hour, let alone the rest of the day. I opened my mouth to complain.

  ‘Rationed,’ said Captain Farenden, before I could utter a word.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You won’t know this, of course, but tea is rationed now.’

  I was gobsmacked. We all imagine the future as being an improvement on the present. Things appeared to have gone full circle. When tea was first introduced to this country it was considered an exclusive luxury. For the upper classes only. ‘Why?’

  ‘Tax makes it too expensive for most people. Six of us gave up a precious tea bag so you could indulge in what is, today, almost a black-market vice.’

  I felt rather ashamed and didn’t know quite what to say. ‘Please thank them and say how much I appreciate it.’

  Our rooms were lower down than the commander’s office. We had the same view out over the Thames, but being on a lower floor, we could see some rather pleasant public gardens between us and the river. Matthew and I stood at the window, watching people lying on the grass, chucking frisbees for their dogs, eating sandwiches and gener
ally relaxing. I was surprised. I never really equate the Time Police with enjoyment. As I mentioned to Captain Ellis when he came to collect me.

  ‘I thought the Time Police would be more comfortable with minefields and razor wire.’

  ‘It’s our public side,’ he said. ‘When Commander Hay took over, as part of her “The Time Police are really nice people, honestly” policy, she commissioned the gardens and opened them to the public. It was meant to be a nice gesture. We’re encouraged to go down there occasionally, to eat our lunch and smile at the children.’

  ‘And do you?’

  ‘Good God, no. Nasty, sticky little things,’ he said, grinning at Matthew who grinned back. I sighed. He really did like men better than women. And he liked everyone better than me.

  Two officers, one male, one female, came to sit with Matthew. They didn’t look much older than he was but, as I had to admit to myself, everyone was beginning to look young to me. They brought pizza and were armed with a box of goodies. I caught a glimpse of some sort of 3D jigsaw, some Harry Potter holos – both the classics and the new ones – toys full of flashing lights, and things that buzzed.

  I thought he’d be thrilled and I would be able to slip away while he wasn’t looking, but it didn’t work like that. He looked at me over the box and I could see the questions in his eyes.