‘I keep seeing … that moment … replaying it in my head…’ Time for the truth. ‘Sir, I froze. I did nothing.’
He started with the files again. ‘Traditionally, in a crisis, there has always been the choice of fight or flight. I have always maintained that there is a third option. Freeze. I believe that in such circumstances as you found yourself yesterday, when there is no time for rational thought, a person follows their instinct. Your instinct was to freeze. The alternatives were either to run away – and I don’t suppose that thought even entered your head – or to fight. I’m sorry to say this, Max, but Helen Foster was doomed the moment she stepped out of that door. Nothing you could have said or done could have saved her. And had you, at that moment, made any sort of move, then he would have shot you as well. Which means that, at the end of the day, Matthew would still have been carried off, and Leon would be mourning the loss of his wife as well as that of his son. You may not have thought it through, but you did exactly the right thing.’
‘Sir…’
‘Dr Peterson, when he is able to think more calmly, will realise this. It is unreasonable to expect that degree of clarity from him at this moment.’
I nodded, aligned a few files myself, and then said, ‘Will there be anything else, sir.’
‘Not at the moment. You are, at present, my only functioning senior officer and so I shall be leaning on you quite heavily over the next few days.’
I nodded. He was keeping me busy. Not giving me any time to fret.
‘My next task is personally to inform Dr Peterson about our new member of staff. I would not like him to hear it from anyone else.’
‘Will he leave us, do you think?’
‘I hope not. Thank you, Dr Maxwell, that will be all.’
As I passed through Mrs Partridge’s office, she said, ‘Please let me know if there is anything I can do, Max.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Partridge. That’s very kind.’
Just as I was opening the door, she smiled and said, ‘You are not alone.’
Miss Lee and I worked quietly in my office for the rest of the morning. I clung to the familiar routines like a drowning man to a lifebelt. I was beginning to think that my two days of waiting might go more quickly and more easily than I had thought, when Markham stuck his head around the door.
‘Come in,’ I said.
He looked tired. ‘I thought I’d come and see how you’re doing.’
‘I’m fine. How’s Peterson?’
‘Sleeping. Evans is with him at the moment. Listen, I know it’s a bit of a bolting the stable door thingy, but Dr Bairstow has asked me to do a survey and look at upgrading our security measures. Can I have a quick squint out of your window? You know, lines of sight and whatnot.’
‘Go ahead.’
I don’t know whether there was some sort of unseen message, but Rosie Lee casually picked up her bag and said if it was all right with me she’d go for an early lunch. Since she normally didn’t bother to ask, I was too gobsmacked to answer.
Markham closed the door behind her.
‘What?’ I said, alarmed. I really didn’t need any more bad news.
‘Nothing,’ he said hastily. ‘I have a message from Hunter.’
I felt guilty. She’d been Helen’s head nurse, ally, and long-time friend, and I hadn’t given her a thought.
‘You can’t do everything,’ said Markham, always disconcertingly cleverer than he looked. ‘You’ve got other stuff on at the moment. I’m looking after Hunter.’
‘She’s a lucky girl.’
‘You wouldn’t like to tell her that, would you? She never believes me when I say it. Anyway…’
He looked uncomfortable.
‘What?’
‘She has Matthew’s stuff. From when he was … in Sick Bay. His blanket. His teddy bear. Other things. She asked me to mention it because she’s not thinking very clearly at the moment, and she doesn’t want to do the wrong thing and make everything worse. Do you want them back or should she keep them there? Until Matthew comes back.’
I had a sudden heart-searing picture of Matthew’s little teddy bear. Made for him by Miss Dottle. Last year, on the day I’d departed on maternity leave, she’d shyly handed me a little, pale blue teddy she’d made herself. Matthew loved it and it went everywhere with him. I really wasn’t sure I could handle seeing it now. Or the beautiful, soft lemon-yellow blanket that Helen herself had knitted…
‘It’s OK,’ said Markham, getting up to look out of the window again while I pulled myself together. ‘I’ll get her to hang on to them until Matthew comes back.’
I nodded, even though he had his back to me.
He turned back. ‘I wish I could do something for you, Max.’
‘You are. You’re making the building safe. So that when we get him back it can never happen again.’
‘Yeah. Well, I must crack on. I just dropped in … you know.’
‘I do know. Thank you.’
He headed towards the door and as he passed me, he put his hand on my shoulder, just for a moment. Then he was gone.
Rosie Lee brought me some sandwiches. Another first. She plonked them down in front of me with her ‘Don’t get used to this’ expression and I responded with the corresponding ‘Don’t worry, I won’t’ look.
After lunch, desperate to keep myself occupied and remembering I had departmental responsibilities, I called a meeting of the History Department. Normally, I’d hear them coming long before they arrived, clattering down the corridor and bickering about something or other. Today, they entered quietly, seated themselves around the briefing table, and looked at me expectantly.
I had a moment when I wasn’t sure about my voice. The first few words were very wobbly and everyone had the good manners to pretend not to notice.
‘Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for coming. Situation update. I am expecting Chief Farrell to return with Matthew sometime tomorrow, and Dr Bairstow has advised me that our new doctor, Dr Stone, will be arriving very soon. Either today or tomorrow. Please give him time to become acclimatised before presenting him with the traditional St Mary’s medical mayhem.’
Helen, crumpling to the floor…
My voice still wasn’t quite steady. I took a moment to rummage through my files, carefully laying what I needed in front of me.
‘So – our forthcoming assignments. Miss North, I believe you have prepared a briefing?’
She nodded and rose to her feet. If she was disappointed at not being able to preside over the entire briefing herself, she was hiding it well and, to do her justice, I don’t think such a thought had entered her head. She was ambitious and single-minded, but she wasn’t completely heartless.
Sykes sat back and stifled a yawn. I frowned at her and she shrugged. They really didn’t like each other. These days, I was rather well endowed with historians and it had been easy either to keep them apart or include them in a group so large that they could safely ignore each other, but the day would inevitably come when they would have to work closely together. Sometimes I wondered whether to get it over with and just despatch the two of them to somewhere, and wait to see which, if either of them, came back. But not just now. There was enough trauma around the place at the moment without adding the Sykes/North conflict as well.
I underestimated North. I always do. She briefs better than anyone. Alone out of all the History Department, she never allows herself to get bogged down in unnecessary details, or distracted by passing comments, or lost in her notes.
‘Four assignments altogether,’ she said, ‘and two months in which to complete them, which shouldn’t be a problem.’
Yes, typical North. Grieving colleagues, murder and kidnap weren’t even a blip on her radar. On the other hand, bracing unsentimentality was just what we needed.
‘The first is the shipwreck of Harold Godwinson and his house arrest under Duke William of Normandy. The second will be the oath-taking ceremony at Bayeux when he swears to support William’s claim to the throne in order to gain his freedom. The third is the Battle of Stamford Bridge against Tostig and Harald Hardrada, and the last is the big finish at Hastings.