Dr Bairstow nodded. ‘I thought you might. Thank you.’
I said, ‘Me too,’ and from the way no one looked at me I knew what they were thinking. Leon had already been accepted. We couldn’t both go. Leon was a soldier. He’d led the rebellion against the Time Police. If I forced a choice, then they would choose Leon. Of course they would. I would choose Leon. No matter how desperately I wanted to go – and I did desperately want to go – I couldn’t. Shouldn’t. I had to remain at St Mary’s and hone my mothering skills.
Still no one was looking at me. No one would say it. I shouldn’t make them.
‘I withdraw my application, sir.’
He nodded. ‘A wise decision, Max.’
I wasn’t the only one not allowed to go. Clerk and Prentiss were both denied. As were all of the Security Section, but Dr Bairstow let them down gently.
‘I thank you for your willingness to volunteer. However, this mission has no end date. I cannot do without two senior historians or the entire Security Section for however long it takes to bring in Clive Ronan. My refusal to accept your generous offer is based on the fact that you are, all of you, too valuable to be absent from St Mary’s for so long. We must continue to function as normal or Ronan has won without even lifting a finger. If it in any way mitigates your disappointment, I would like to pass on my grateful thanks for your offer.’
So in the end, it was just Leon, Guthrie, and Grey. Again.
‘The ones not making any sort of valuable contribution,’ I said to Leon.
‘That’s us,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Always surplus to requirements.’
I felt a sudden wave of desolation wash over me. No matter how cheerful a face we were putting on things, the future was not looking good. I tried again.
‘Leon, it makes so much more sense for me to go. You’re the one who has the connection with Matthew. Let me go in your stead.’
He stopped packing up his gear, pulled me down to sit on the bed beside him and took my hands.
‘No. It has to be me. You know that. They don’t want me just for my military abilities – considerable though they are,’ he added modestly. ‘I’m going as Chief Technical Officer. It’s my job to keep the pods going. We can’t afford to keep returning for routine maintenance, so it’s going to have to be done on the hoof. That’s why I have to go. And if I go, you can’t. Markham has accepted it. You must too.’
I nodded drearily.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t have much comfort to offer. I don’t even know how long we’ll be gone, but I will try and get back to see you whenever I can.’
I nodded again. We both knew that wouldn’t happen often. If at all.
‘Listen,’ he said softly, ‘I’ve had a brilliant idea.’
‘You?’
‘And why not?’
‘Let me count the ways.’
‘Do you want to hear my brilliant idea or not?’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘What rarely happens is always worth waiting for.’
‘Every night – when it’s ten o’clock for me, I’m going to take five minutes to think about you. Where you are, what you’re doing and so on. If you can do the same – at your ten o’clock every night, you stop what you’re doing and think of me – then just for five minutes every day, we can be together. What do you think?’
‘For a bloke who spends his days up to his elbows in machinery and gunk, you’re quite romantic, aren’t you?’
He picked up his pack and threw it onto the floor.
‘Speaking of romance.’
Once, we would have broken the furniture. Well, the bedside light, at least, but now he was gentle and loving and he made me laugh. I knew he was deliberately keeping things light. Because my heart was breaking.
They left at dawn. There was no reason for them to do so but as Leon said at the time, what was life without a little drama?
Two big black pods stood outside Hawking, their ramps down and waiting. I don’t know about anyone else, but they put the fear of God into me. As, of course, they were designed to do. There’s just something about their black, implacable immobility.
All of St Mary’s turned out to watch them go. I stood at the back – Leon and I had said our goodbyes in private, but Captain Ellis sought me out.
‘Max, would you like to walk to the pod with me. There’s someone who wants to say hello.’
Slightly mystified as to who it could be, I followed him. As we approached, a small, slim figure walked down the ramp. She removed her helmet as I drew near. I stopped dead in surprise.
‘Greta?’
It was indeed. Greta Van Owen. Former historian and now, it would seem, a member of the Time Police. Ellis politely wandered off to supervise loading procedures. Which basically consisted of stowing bags in lockers, but I appreciated the thought.
‘Max, how are you?’ Her voice was quiet; her manner reserved. It was hard to believe she’d emptied a gun into Izzie Barclay. Just for a moment, I was back in the barn, lying in the dirt, watching the bullets shred flesh already dead.
‘Fine, thanks to you. And you? How on earth did you of all people end up with the Time Police?’
She smiled a small, sad smile. I had the impression that was the best she could do these days. ‘I was lost for a very long time. Not physically, but … you know.’
I nodded. I did know.
‘And then the Time Police came for me. They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Gave me a purpose at last.’ She paused. ‘It’s so good to see you again.’
‘And you. I’m so glad you’ve found somewhere to belong. I never felt I really thanked you enough…’
‘Yes, you did. You thanked me more than enough. I’m sorry we’re meeting again like this. Maybe one day we can sit down and talk properly. Catch up.’
‘I’d like that.’
Captain Ellis appeared. ‘Time to go.’
I shook his hand. ‘Good luck, Captain.’
He nodded. ‘We’ll get him Max. I promise you.’
‘I know you will.’
I nodded to Leon boarding the first pod. He waved and disappeared. I turned back to Ellis and Van Owen. ‘Look after each other. And good luck.’
I turned away. There was no point in prolonging things. I joined the silent crowd standing outside Hawking.
The two pods just as silently disappeared. And that was it. Leon was gone.
And I was left with Matthew. We stared at each other. It had always been Leon he looked to. I wasn’t sure how he would react to me on my own.
‘Easy,’ said Hunter, to whom I had confided my fears. ‘Let him get him dirty, then clean him up at the end of the day. Give him something to eat and make sure he knows he’s safe when he goes to bed. That’s how I cope with Markham. Seems to work.’
It wasn’t easy to begin with. We’d discovered he had no concept of family life. He had no idea what bedtime was. Or why it should apply to him when he was wide awake and enjoying himself. Equally, he saw no reason why he should have to get up in the morning when he was fast asleep. He wasn’t yet brave enough to defy me, but there were a lot of hard looks. On the other hand, he’d almost stopped peeing in washbasins, so I had to be doing something right. In my darker moments, I wondered if that would be my sole contribution to his life.
We didn’t speak much. I resisted the temptation to gabble away – anything to fill up the silence. We had our routine and we stuck to it.
And then the nightmares started.
I don’t know if this sort of thing is hereditary. I had bad dreams as a child. I still do, occasionally. And so, apparently, did Matthew. I would make him a milky drink and sit with him until he slept again, but it kept happening and I wondered whether to mention it to Dr Stone.