1: I Am Margaret*
2: The Three Most Wanted*
3: Liberation*
4: Bane’s Eyes*
5: Margo’s Diary*
6: The Siege of Reginald Hill*
7: A Saint in the Family (Coming Soon)
The YESTERDAY & TOMORROW Series
Someday: A Novella*
1: Tomorrow’s Dead (Coming Soon)
The UNSPARKED Series
BREACH! (A Prequel)*
1: DRIVE!*
2: A Truly Raptor-ous Welcome
3: PANIC! (Coming Soon)
STANDALONE WORKS
Elfling*
Mandy Lamb & The Full Moon*
Secrets: Visible & Invisible (I Am Margaret story in anthology)*
Gifts: Visible & Invisible (unSPARKed story in anthology)
Three Last Things or The Hounding of Carl Jarrold, Soulless Assassin* (Coming Soon)
The Raven & The Yew (Coming Soon)
*Awarded the Catholic Writers Guild Seal of Approval
***+***
A Note about the Annotations in MARGO’S DIARY
Margo’s Diary has been extensively ‘annotated’ by Bane. Unfortunately, ebooks allow limited fonts and formating, which means that the full effect can really only be gained from the paperback. However, the annotations have been included in the ebook in square brackets [ ] and prefaced with either B for Bane, or M for Margo, as in the Sneak Peek below.
MARGO’S DIARY Sneak Peek
27th October (20 today)
U gave me this nice notebook today for my birthday, so I think I’m going to try to keep a diary! I’m sure I’ll have loads to write about Lucas Mark when he arrives!
19th December (20) [B: What a very Margo-centric way of marking the date!
M: Oh shut up, Bane! I just find it easier to keep track!]
Bane’s Birthday! We had a lovely romantic dinner together, enjoy some uninterrupted time together while we can! Not long now. Little Luc is due in January.
30th December (20)
This diary is not going very well! [B: (It’s really not, is it?)
M: Bane!]
12th January (20)
Luc born today! More or less bang on time! What a good baby! The less said about the ‘arriving’ the better; now he’s out, I don’t care! Pope Cornelius is going to be his Godfather. What a lucky baby he is. Anyway, I’m putting this down because I want to cuddle our baby again. Sorry diary, you cannot compete.
[B: Thought I was going to pass out. So glad to be a guy, today!
M: Er... YOU’RE complaining? Seriously, Bane?
B: I’ll have you know, it was highly traumatic. :) Actually, I thought you were amazing. xxx
M: xxx]
4th March (20)
Unicorn told me some interesting things today. So did Fox. I must write them in here some time. Haven’t got time now. All about how Snakey got his nickname. It’s not what I thought!
[B: Are you sure about that, Margo? Asking seriously...]
6th March
Okay, so I was thinking about it, and perhaps I’d better not write about that in here. The stuff about U was top secret, and Snakey didn’t like people knowing about what happened, so it feels wrong to write it all down, even if it is a private diary. [M: Look up this word, Bane!!!
B: Means: do not read—unless it’s left open on my chair, desk or pillow!]
It’s not the sort of thing I’m likely to forget.
14th May (20)
Okay, so something happened today that I really wanted to record. But it was obviously going to be a really long entry and I couldn’t face handwriting it, so it’s the old print, cut and stick. Because I was typing this, it’s ended up sounding pretty much like one of my books, actually, but that’s okay, it just means I’ve put more detail down.
[B: More fun to read, too!]
Anyway, I was walking along the side aisle of St Peter’s when I noticed the man balancing a proCamera on his twisted, claw-like left hand while he took a shot of the main basilica. I stopped dead—looked more closely... and it was...
[B: Dum, Dum, Dah!
M: Bane, stop it!]
When I waved a hand behind my back, a guy who’d been drifting along behind, apparently admiring the paintings, and another who’d knelt to pray at a side altar as soon as I stopped both seemed to lose interest in what they were doing and headed towards me. I hastily made another gesture, the one that meant, ‘I think it’s fine, just pay attention,’ and their interest in art and prayer returned to them. [B: Does Eduardo know they were SO obvious?
M: Bane, just STOP, or I’m going to get Tippex from the store.]
I went a few steps closer to the man with the camera. “Watkins...?”
The camera slipped from his hand, landing safely on the end of the carry strap around his neck, and he spun around. “Margaret?” He sounded astonished.
I couldn’t help laughing. “You must know I live here, surely?”
“Well, of course, but... it didn’t occur to me I’d run into you.”
I’d not thought about it before I approached him, but suddenly I felt awkward. After all, the last time I’d seen him I’d shot him with a nonLee, stripped him to his underwear and left him to face the music. [B: Hahahaha!]
He didn’t seem to share my awkwardness. “How are you, lass? And your wee lad? And your bigger lad, come to that.”
“We’re all very well. Bane’s looking after Luc, I was just having a break. Uh... how are you?”
He was out of a job partly because of me, as well...
He seemed to follow my train of thought this time. “I ended up retiring slightly early—along with everyone else. And very happy I was about it, I assure you.”
“The retiring, or the everyone else retiring?” I couldn’t help asking.
“Both,” he said cheerfully. “You’ve done a helluva good thing, Margaret Verrall.”
“Me and the voting population of the EuroBloc,” I pointed out quickly.
“Including me,” he grinned.
I grinned back, delighted. Even EGD Security had voted against Sorting! Some of them, anyway... “Er, how’s Sally?” Watkins’ equally nice, female, colleague...
He pulled a slight face. “Well, she’s living with her brother’s widow. She takes care of the kids so her sister-in-law can work longer hours. The boys don’t really see enough of their mum, but Sally tried for ages to get a job with no luck. Sally’s got a bit of pension, and so has David’s widow, so they’re comfortable. Sally voted no, too, you know, and she’s not sorry, but she gets a bit down, thinking she’ll never work again. But I reckon she will. Thanks to you. I’m glad of an opportunity to thank you for those posts you put up about giving people like us second chances.”
I shrugged, blushing. “So I pointed out that they’d all been paying your wages for decades. It’s the truth.”
“Sometimes it helps if people hear it.” A less pleasant smile curled his lips. “Did you hear about Finchley?”
“The bit about having to go into protective custody to escape a mob or the bit where he confessed to goodness knows what in order to stay locked up?”
“I think most of it was true, you know.”
I shrugged. Finchley’s confession had covered everything from drugs possession to the one charge I knew was true. “It was you who told Lucas what he did, wasn’t it?”
Watkins shrugged. “That woman was a fool to let something like that go. He’d only have tried again.”
“Yeah, I bet he would.” Only he’d probably have chosen someone like Sarah the next time... I swallowed bile and tried to push down the fury that still surged up inside at the thought of Finchley. Forgiveness. Forgiveness.
“So, uh, what are you doing here?” I asked.
“Oh, well, I have that hearty pension of mine so I’d no need to go begging for another job. I thought I’d go round the bloc, see the sites while I’ve still got a bit of use of the old hand.” He displayed it to me matter-of-f
actly. It looked like he could hardly straighten his fingers now. “Couldn’t miss St Peter’s, could I? And...” he hesitated. “Well, to be honest, I was quite curious to see where the old man ended up. Who’d have thought it would be here?”
It took me a moment to realise he was using ‘old man’ as slang for a respected superior... that he was talking about Lucas, easily twenty years his junior.
“He was very happy here,” I said, swallowing a lump in my throat. No tearing up, Margo, it’s been almost a year... “Uh, would you like to... pay your respects?”
Watkins looked startled. “You mean... visit the grave?”
“Umhmm.”
“Would I be allowed?”
I had to smile. “If you’re with me. I live here, you know.”
“Well... yes. I would.”
“Come on, then. Though... you may get a black mark from the EuroGov for entering the Vatican Free State.”
“Only a little one, seeing that I’ll be leaving again.”
I led the way down the side aisle, and the VSS agents drifted casually after me again, sticking a bit closer than usual. I didn’t really think Watkins was going to try and hurt me, but I’d got in the habit of being particularly careful whilst Luc was inside me.
We went through the doorway that provided the main access from the basilica to the rest of the state and stopped in front of the security desk.
“Hi Snail, can I get a visitor’s pass for Mr Watkins, please?” It was only as I said it, that I realised I didn’t actually know Watkins’ first name.
“Of course.” I’d spoken in Latin automatically, and Snail replied in the same, then switched to Esperanto. “Could I see your ID card, please, Mr Watkins?”
Watkins handed it over and Snail made a show of checking the image and information before casually putting it down on the desk—or rather, onto a concealed flat card reader. He began filling something in on the computer screen, sneaking a look at Watkins’ ID database entry while he was at it. Almost at once a hint of a frown crossed his face. He hit a couple more keys—pinging Eduardo, no doubt—and smiled politely at Watkins. “Length of planned visit?”
Watkins looked at me.
“A day pass will be fine. That’s anything less than staying overnight,” I explained to Watkins.
Snail took his time filling in the simple form, and was running out of ways to stall when, surprise, surprise, Eduardo came prowling up. He began to rootle in the desk drawer as though he’d simply come to get something—he tried very hard not to advertise to the EuroGov that he could access their system—but he did glance at me and at Watkins. “Friend of yours, Margaret?”
“Er... well, yes, basically,” I said, and gave my eyebrows a slight waggle—yes, Eduardo, I do know he’s ex-EGD Security. Snail was only doing his job.
Eduardo accepted my non-verbal communication and turned to Snail. “Have you seen the rotas?”
“Jack took them earlier,” said Snail.
“Right.” Eduardo gave me a polite nod and headed off again.
Snail handed Watkins a visitor’s pass and locked the ID card in a little box on the wall. “We do a swap when you come out,” he informed Watkins.
Watkins clipped the pass to his collar happily enough. Snail glanced at his camera. “Oh, I must inform you that your photos will need to be reviewed before you leave. Alternatively, you can leave the camera here.”
Watkins put a hand to the camera rather protectively. “I’ll hang onto it. I won’t point it at anything security-related.”
“Well, as long as you understand we’ll have to check.”
“Oh, I understand about security concerns.” With a smile and a nod to Snail, he followed me past the desk.
As we headed along the stone corridors, Watkins was too busy staring around to talk, beyond an occasional mutter of, “No one is ever going to believe where I am right now!”
“Take a picture,” I suggested, amused.
“I don’t want my memory card wiping.”
“They wouldn’t do that. They’d just delete individual photos.”
“Well... Will you tell me if you think I’m pointing it anywhere I shouldn’t?”
“Of course.”
Watkins was soon snapping away happily. “There’s so much history here,” he enthused, photographing a pair of motionless Swiss guards. “I thought about coming when the EuroBloc had it, you know—they were showing behind the scenes, for a price—but I didn’t really want to encourage them, it being bare-faced theft, and everything. But this is fantastic. Much nicer to see it occupied in time-honoured fashion. Huh, there’s a real nun...” He pointed the camera eagerly.
“A religious sister, actually,” I remarked. “But I won’t bamboozle you with the distinction. But you can photograph sisters at home, now, surely?”
“Well... in theory. I’ve only seen one, since the permanent lifting of the Suppression. And I didn’t have my camera with me.”
Watkins went on clicking away as we came out of the network of buildings and headed for the gardens cum graveyard. The sun was shining and it was a lovely day. Perhaps Bane and I could take a walk later, give Luc some fresh air.
But Watkins’ photography became more hesitant as we got in among the flower beds and gravestones. “This is a bit weird,” he said after a moment or two. “It looks just like some grand old formal garden... until you look closely.”
I shrugged. “There’s not a lot of space to waste, in here. Anyway, we don’t think of graves as scary, the way nonBelievers do. They’re only sleeping.”
Watkins merely grunted in response to that. I couldn’t say why, exactly, but I’d always had him pegged as an atheist. The kind who would probably call himself a humanist. But we’d hardly been able to discuss such things in the Facility.
“Well, here we are.” I turned into a secluded dell and stopped by one of the pair of graves there. The purple fuchsia was flourishing, almost tripled in size since I’d planted it the previous summer. The white one on the other grave was equally spectacular. I brushed the gravestones with my fingers, murmuring my customary, “Hello, Lucas; hello, Father Mark” under my breath so as not to freak Watkins out.
Watkins was standing rather awkwardly by the grave, looking a little bemused as he read the headstone. It just said:
Lucas James Everington
Sinner
+
And the years he’d lived.
“That’s a bit... brief,” said Watkins. ‘Harsh’ was probably the word he’d swallowed. “I thought you lot had forgiven him.”
I looked at the stark words and sighed. “We did and we have. He still didn’t entirely like himself, though. He told me that’s all he wanted, just the day after his baptism—I can’t even remember how it came up. When only a few days later, he... Well, I felt I should honour his wishes.”
‘And only the years, for pity’s sake,’ he’d said. ‘No one is ever going to care whether I was born in March, April or May, let alone what day. I don’t care myself.’
Had he been laying his plan even then, knowing how it might turn out?
“Did you want to say anything?” I asked Watkins, to distract myself from the bad memories.
“There’s nothing left but mouldering bones, lass.” But after a long, long silence, he spoke anyway, very softly. “Well, sir, I couldn’t have imagined when you arrived that you’d end up in the ground before me. Such a nice young man. I don’t suppose I’ll ever know what happened that changed you so much, but I’m glad you found a home here, even if it wasn’t for long.”
He gave a firm nod, and it was clear he’d said what he wanted to say. His words sparked a storm of curiosity in me, though. He’d known Lucas for so long.
“Is this his fuchsia?” Watkins asked. “I think you mentioned it on your blog.”
“Yes, this purple one grew from his seeds. They were in the parcel you sent for him.”
Watkins’ head swivelled to look at me. “That was for you? But why? The cha
rges against him were false... What else was in it?”
I hesitated. The vote was won, and we’d kept the pressure turned well up on the EuroGov so far to combat any attempt at regression on their part. But. If the EGD ever managed to reopen the Facilities, they might revise their security procedures—but they might not.
“The charges were certainly false,” I said guardedly. “But he did do one thing to help our cause—but only after the escape. When he was sure he was doomed.”
Watkins sighed. “Yes, I sensed that. I felt so bad for him I didn’t ask as many questions as I might have done. You’re not going to tell me either, are you?”
“Sorry. It’s still rather valuable information.”
“Information...” I meant the identity of what had been sent, but Watkins’ hands rose, tracing the shape of the remembered parcel in the air, a look of sudden intentness on his face. “He did burn all his documents. That was the only charge that was true. All the Facility paperwork, records, the lot. I thought he was just getting his own back—though it seemed foolish to give them hard evidence for so little gain, and he was not a foolish man. But that wasn’t the revenge, was it... He sent you his security manual. That’s why you were able to go through all those Facilities like a knife through butter. You had every scrap of information, the works. He sent it. Chairman’s innards, I sent it to you. If they’d found it...”
He looked a bit green at the mere thought. “Well,” he went on, after a moment of silence. “I’m not sorry you ended up with it, but I’m none too sure I’d have dared do it if he’d told me. Though I remember what he said when he gave it to me. He said, ‘If anyone asks, I ordered you.’ So I did know there could be trouble. I just didn’t realise I was... bringing down the EGD!”
The Siege of Reginald Hill Page 21