I nodded. ‘I always thought it would be me, too.’
Hunter sighed. ‘I always knew it would be him.’
There was a small gathering afterwards. I can’t begin to say how kind everyone was, and it really didn’t help at all. The worst moment was when someone said, ‘You’ve had a really shit year, Max.’
And someone else said, ‘Yes, a real annus horribilis,’ and we waited for Markham to make some comment about a horrible anus and there was a sad little silence, because the hole left by his death – all their deaths – was unfillable.
That evening, after the service, I was in my room with Matthew. I asked him to tell me about the movie he’d seen that afternoon and he managed to outline the entire plot in about four words. We’d done half an hour on the jigsaw, watched a programme about a boy who had adventures with his robot, which I suspected was giving him ideas I wasn’t going to be able to cope with later on, and we’d had the book at bedtime. I’d told him to clean his teeth – something he couldn’t see the point of at all, and he’d stumped into the bathroom in a bit of a mood.
He emerged from the bathroom. I wiped the foam off his mouth.
‘Where’s Daddy?’
‘I’m not sure. Bed now.’
‘Not sleepy.’
‘You can have the Time Map for half an hour.’
He played for a while. I watched him whizzing great lumps of Time Map around the room while I put his clothes away. By the time I’d finished, he was asleep.
I had a long bath and decided against pouring myself a stiff drink because that wasn’t a road I wanted to go down. I stood looking out of the window into the dark. It occurred to me that this was exactly what Peterson had done. I sighed, wondering whether I would be able to put my life back together this time. And actually, did I want to?
Someone knocked at the door. Initially, I ignored it, hoping whoever it was would take the hint and go away. Fat chance. This is St Mary’s. Hint-taking is something that happens to other people. Whoever it was knocked again.
I opened the door. Peterson stood in front of me. He’d changed from his formal uniform and was wearing an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
I swallowed my surprise and held the door open for him.
He sat on the sofa. I softly closed Matthew’s door and sat alongside.
‘How are you, Max?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Can I do anything?’
I looked at my lap. ‘Does it ever go away?’
He said quietly, ‘No, but it does become easier to bear.’
I nodded, still not looking at him.
‘Max, this too will pass. You’ll rebuild your life.’
‘I’m not sure I want to. It seems to me that every time I build it up then someone knocks it right back down again. Every time. The moment comes when any sensible person says, “Enough. Leave it. It’s just not worth it any longer.”‘
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘I think I do. I’m lost and alone, and I’m not sure I have the strength to pick myself up again. And why would I want to? It’s not as if I’ve ever…’
‘That’s not true. Listen. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. Bashford and Grey would be dead in Colchester. You saved Dr Bairstow at the Crystal Palace. You gave young Hoyle something to die for. You’re part of the framework on which this organisation hangs, Max, so don’t try to tell me you’re not worth anything. You’re the most important person in my life, and it terrifies me to hear you say such things.’ His voice wobbled. ‘And what about that little boy next door? What will he do if anything happens to you? For God’s sake, Max, you must stop thinking like this. You and I are the only ones left. Please don’t you leave me, too.’
We were both crying now and perhaps it was what we both needed. I wondered if he’d cried over Helen, or had he kept it all deep inside. I buried my face in his shoulder. He put his arms around me. I could feel his tears in my hair.
After a long time, I pulled back, kissed his cheek and said quietly, ‘Give me a minute.’
While I was in the bedroom, he’d put the kettle on. When I came out, he somewhat shakily handed me a mug of tea. We sipped quietly together.
‘I forgot to ask you, why have you come to see me?’
‘What? Oh, no particular reason – I just came to see how you were and to say – well, if you don’t want to be alone tonight then I’m happy to stay – on the sofa, obviously – not that I meant – I mean – will you stop looking at me like that.’
‘Oh, Tim – smooth as a cheese grater. No wonder Helen was so drawn to you.’
I stopped. I hadn’t meant to say that. I hadn’t meant to bring up Helen. There was a long silence, and then he said, ‘What do you think of our new doctor?’
I wondered if he wanted to change the subject.
I said cautiously, ‘He seems OK. What do you think?’
‘He wants to syringe my ears. I wasn’t keen.’
I couldn’t help laughing. ‘What are you so afraid of?’
‘That’s what he said. He asked me if I’d had it done before and I said yes, but the way Helen did it, it was like waterboarding but with clean ears afterwards.And then he looked at me a long time and told me to talk to you about Helen.’
I suddenly realised our new doctor was a very clever young man. Because Tim wanted to talk about Helen. Finally, he wanted to talk about Helen.
We did. We talked about Helen for hours. And then we talked about Leon. We talked all night, sitting together, drinking tea, remembering, and watching the moon move across the sky, and when the sun came up the next morning, it was the beginning of a new day for both of us.
They slung tarpaulins over Hawking and we carried on. We’d get Hastings out of the way and then effect permanent repairs. We had no choice really. We had to keep going. We’d only just reinstated ourselves in Thirsk’s good books and presentation dates were looming.
I took the Hastings briefing myself. I didn’t want to. I wanted to sit quietly in my room, but I had to come out sometime, and the longer I left it, the harder it would be.
I decided to hold it in my office, rather than the Hall, requested refreshments from Miss Lee, made sure we had enough chairs, requested refreshments from Miss Lee, distributed briefing notes, and informed Miss Lee that if tea and biscuits were not forthcoming right now then I’d transfer her to Professor Rapson and see what she made of that. She crashed around for ten minutes but at the end of it we had tea and biscuits. I would have gloated, but she seated herself at her desk, ready to take notes with such a grumpy expression that I let it go. There was enough conflict in my life.
Present were Clerk, North, Sykes, Atherton, Bashford, Evans and Keller from Security, with Dieter and Lindstrom representing the Technical Section. Mr Lindstrom – for whom the word sapling could have been invented as a description – was famous for his nervousness around women. With both North and Sykes in the same room as him – equally terrifying in their own, separate ways – Dieter was acting as an enormous buffer zone and Mr Lindstrom was sheltering gratefully in his shadow.
I began. ‘Good morning, everyone. Thank you for coming. Firstly – as you’ve guessed, notwithstanding recent events, we are proceeding with the Hastings assignment as normal. Mr Dieter informs me he can have Pods Eight and Six ready for next Monday. After the completion of this assignment, Hawking will be shut down while permanent repairs are effected and the pods rebuilt.’
‘Do we have a completion date?’ asked North, managing to sound critical as usual, but she was only a squashed insect on the windscreen of Dieter’s good nature.
‘Months,’ he said, stretching his long legs in front of him.
‘Can you be more specific?’
He thought for a while and then turned to consult Mr Lindstrom. The two of them held a whispered conversation, and then Dieter turned back again.
‘Many months.’