‘Dieter…’
‘Max, I’m doing you a favour. Don’t make me call Dr Bairstow.’
I trailed back down the long corridor. He was right. It was barely dawn. The security shifts were changing. I looked for Markham but couldn’t see him. Perhaps he was still with Peterson.
I went to my office, pulled my in-tray towards me, and lost myself in the comforting routine of work.
Dr Bairstow bombarded me with emails – all demanding instant responses, and when I next had time to look up, it was past noon. The morning had gone and there was still no message from Hawking. I tried to pick up my work again, but my concentration had fled. I tidied my desk and then went back to my room. I would get Matthew’s things ready for him. His clothes would be dirty. He would need clean stuff. I hesitated a long time over whether to lay out a blue babysuit or an orange one. It should be orange, surely, in honour of Leon who had brought him back safely. I laid out his clean clothes, changed my mind, chose blue instead, and then thought, idiot – he’ll have to stay in Sick Bay for a major check-up, so I put away the babysuits and pulled out his pyjamas. Unable to choose between Superman or Mr Happy, and in the end, gripped by a sudden panic that Leon would return and I wouldn’t be there, I unzipped my old sports bag and shoved in nearly everything Matthew owned. I would choose properly when he was safely in Sick Bay. When I could hold him again. Feel him wriggling on my lap. Feel his strong little back.
He held out his arms to me…
Shouldering the bag, I went downstairs again, walking around the gallery, looking down into the Great Hall.
We were planning our four assignments more or less simultaneously. The Hall – the traditional historians’ working area – was crowded with untidy, paper-strewn tables. There were whiteboards covered in scribbled notes in different colours, with maps, diagrams, and flowcharts pinned to the walls. On the face of it, there was chaos everywhere, but I could see a clear division between assignments. Everything relating to the shipwreck was over by the stairs; the oath-taking ceremony was in the corner by the library; Stamford Bridge was down the middle and Hastings over against the wall. We were very busy and in a week’s time, we were going to be even busier.
I put down the bag and sat on the stairs, watching the History Department trail back from lunch, every one of them clutching a large mug of tea to see them through the rigours of the afternoon. Or until the next official tea break, anyway.
The minutes inched by. I kept checking my com, terrified it had suddenly developed a fault. I imagined Dieter trying to contact me and giving up. Suppose Leon and Matthew arrived and I wasn’t there. I gripped my hands together and tried to remain calm.
Clerk looked up, saw me, and said something to Sykes. She trotted off, returning a minute later with a mug of tea for me. I thanked her because it was a kind thought, and I was a bag of nerves.
She sat down beside me. She didn’t say anything; she just sat beside me. After a minute or so, Atherton put down his file and joined us. North looked up, hesitated a moment, and then she too climbed the stairs and sat in front of Atherton.
One by one, they all stopped working and came to join us. As their department head, I should have something to say about this lack of productivity. As Max, I was grateful for their silent support.
It wasn’t just the History Department. Dr Dowson, with much groaning and assistance from Miss Lingoss, lowered himself and sat down. He was joined a second later by Professor Rapson and his entire team. Astonishingly, none of them were on fire.
Mrs Enderby appeared, trailing the Wardrobe Department behind her. They all joined us and now the stairs were completely blocked. I was surrounded by St Mary’s.
Dr Bairstow, limping around the gallery, contemplated us.
‘Please reassure me you are not all about to start grooming each other.’
It was exactly the right thing to say. I felt my heart lift a little.
And then we all sat in silence and watched the clock.
The afternoon wore on. My focus changed. As the hours passed, I thought of Friday as any time before midnight. Half of me knew that Leon would return. He had said he would bring back Matthew and he would. Leon was a man who kept his word. I knew that. But there was no sign of him and there should be. He was in a pod. He could choose to return at any time he chose. Why was he making me wait? I looked at the clock. Three o’clock. A good time to appear. Three o’clock was exactly the time I myself would have chosen. Lunch over and done with. It was the middle of the afternoon. If anyone ever has an afternoon appointment, three o’clock is always the time of choice. Now would be the perfect time for him to return.
No call from Dieter. I checked my com. It was working perfectly. I looked at the clock. The minute hand moved inexorably on.
I was running through the contents of Matthew’s bag again and wondering if I’d forgotten anything, when Dieter spoke in my ear.
‘Max. They’re outside Hawking.’
I was up and running.
They were already exiting the pod when I arrived. I skidded to a halt and watched as, exhausted and dirty, the Time Police clambered out of their pod, followed by Guthrie and Grey. Dieter had everything organised. They were whisked away to Sick Bay where our new doctor would be waiting.
No one was looking at me. The last of them trickled away and not one of them had looked at me. Not one. Not even Guthrie or Grey. They hadn’t found him. I could see it in their faces. Even worse, there was no sign of Leon.
I stood outside Hawking on the frosty pan, my breath puffing around me and clutching my stupid sports bag. Was it possible…? Was it possible that in addition to losing Matthew I had now lost Leon as well? I stared at the big, black pod. It had been designed to put the fear of God into people and it was certainly having that effect on me.
I could see Dieter waving his people away, leaving me standing alone. I heard the last footsteps. A door banged somewhere. No one had said a word. Why had they left me here?
Of course. My brain was really not functioning today. Leon would wait inside so we could have a few minute’s privacy. To be together again.
I climbed inside.
Leon stood in the middle of the pod, facing the ramp. Facing me.
Alone.
Leon stood alone. No Matthew in his arms. It wasn’t until that moment that I realised how completely I’d believed in him. He’d promised he would bring Matthew back. And now – despite everything he’d said, despite all the promises he’d made – he’d come back without him.
I made myself look at him. He looked terrible. Dirty, grim-faced, worn out.
I wanted to say ‘Where is he?’ but no words would come.
I remember I looked all around the pod. I don’t know why. It wasn’t likely Leon would have left him lying under the console or put him away in one of the lockers.
Still we looked at each other, and then, slowly, he stepped to one side and I saw he’d been standing in front of a small boy.
I stared, first at Leon and then at the boy. Who the hell was this? I don’t know what I thought. That Leon, unable to find Matthew, had brought back some stray kid as a kind of consolation prize?