‘Are you ever coming out?’ And I could hear the smile in his voice.
Still with my head buried in his chest, I shook my head. He smelled of hot metal and sweat and Leon, and I was never going to let him go. I could feel the melting snow seeping through my T-shirt and clung more tightly. I had been convinced it was me who had died. It wasn’t supposed to be Leon. It was never supposed to be Leon.
‘I can’t stay, Max. We’re closing in on him. Any day now. His pod’s shot and he must be nearly finished. We’re all rendezvousing in an hour and then we’ll make one final push to corner him. I just came to tell you – it’s over. I’ll be home by this time tomorrow.’
No, he wouldn’t. He’d never come home again. Tomorrow they’d catch Ronan and he would kill them all. I clutched at him, gripping so tightly that it hurt my hands. Every part of me wanted to tell him not to go. And why. But I couldn’t. In my personal timeline, it had already happened. And it was about to happen in his as well and there was nothing I could do about it. Not unless I wanted to bring catastrophe down upon us all.
I remember thinking it was such a good job he was already wet. He wouldn’t feel my tears soaking through his clothing.
He was already picking up his pack. ‘I have to go. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have come at all, but I wanted to let you know it’s nearly over. I’m just going to stick my head around Matthew’s door and then I’ll be off.’
He gently moved my hands away and crossed to Matthew’s room. He opened the door and looked in, stood still for a moment or two and then softly closed it again.
‘How is he?’
I was proud of my voice. ‘Absolutely fine. He rarely drinks from the toilet now. On the downside, he has taken to peeing in the shower.’
He laughed. ‘There’s always something, isn’t there. Don’t worry, I’ll sort that out when I get back.’
He shouldered his pack and looked around. ‘That dead dog on the wardrobe is going to have to go. I’m really not sure I can live with that.’
He was moving towards the door. He was leaving.
I ran after him and seized his arm. ‘Leon …’ and stopped. What could I say? What could I possibly say? If I threw myself into his arms, sobbing and begging him not to go, then he’d want to know why and I couldn’t tell him. I mustn’t do anything to change my past. His future. He was going to his death and I couldn’t say a word.
This is the downside to time travel. Yes, you get to see wonderful things. But not all knowledge is good. Especially knowledge of events you can’t change. Leon’s death had already happened. There was no way I could save him. All I could do was ensure his last memories of me were happy ones. In that moment, it occurred to me that time travel was an absolute bitch.
He smiled and said, ‘You have to let go of me so I can go. If I can’t go then I can’t come back again.’
I hung on even tighter.
‘It’s only one day, Max. Just twenty-four hours.’ He put his hands over mine and gently pulled them away.
I could only hope he put my distress down to his imminent departure. ‘Leon, please – you have to take care.’
‘I always do,’ he said, gently. ‘I have a family to come back to. Make sure you’re both here when I do.’
I nodded.
He smiled down at me, his blue eyes very bright. ‘This time tomorrow, Max. Be ready for me.’
Leon died thinking he’d be home this time tomorrow.
I found a dreadful cold strength from somewhere.
‘I will,’ I said, without a tremor. ‘We’ll have a quiet evening. Just the three of us. And a special dinner. With your favourite wine. And you’ll be home again.’
He grinned at me. That’s what I always remember. That last, tired, triumphant grin. He kissed me, oh so gently, and before I could say anything else, he was out of the door. I heard his footsteps clattering down the stairs.
The whole encounter had taken only a few minutes. No more. I’m still not entirely certain I didn’t dream it.
For Leon, there was no tomorrow. He was already dead. I knew he was dead. I’d seen him die.
I spent the next day alone. I couldn’t bear to have anyone near me. I sat in my room, straining my ears for his step on the stairs. In the evening, even though I knew it was futile, that there was no hope, that I was only hurting myself by doing this, I put Matthew to bed early. If there was even the slightest chance, then I was going to cling to it. Even though I knew that what I’d seen last night was little more than an echo, I showered and brushed my hair. I put clean sheets on the bed. I lit a few candles and then I sat down to wait.
He didn’t come.
More time passed. I went into Rushford for my new glasses. I chose horn rims, telling Peterson they made me look both intelligent and sexy. He patted my shoulder and told me he’d always admired my capacity for self-delusion.
We had developed a routine to get us through the days. We would lunch together, just as we’d done last year, when he, Markham and I had got ourselves into a little trouble and been ostracised by the rest of the unit. The three of us had stuck together like glue – mostly because no one else would have us – and even after we were reinstated, we’d continued the tradition of eating together whenever we could. Now, with Markham dead, it was just the two of us.
We didn’t do anything mawkish like always setting a third place at the table – Markham would have wet himself laughing over that one – but I don’t think he was ever far away from our thoughts.
We worked closely together, in and out of each other’s offices all day long. I tried hard to persuade him to swap Miss Lee for the lovely Mrs Shaw and all three of them shrieked with laughter over that one. He and Mrs Shaw adored each other. He gave her flowers and she brought him chocolate biscuits with his tea. They had the sort of relationship Miss Lee and I could only aspire to. Well, I could aspire. She couldn’t bloody care less.
I was dictating one morning when I became aware she wasn’t paying attention. She was staring out of the window. I opened my mouth to demand she do at least a little work before knocking off and going home when she said, ‘I think the Time Police are here.’
‘Why?’
‘How should I know?’
A second later, my telephone rang.
Both Miss Lee and I looked at it.
‘Well, answer it,’ I said.
‘It’s your phone,’ she said.
‘It’s your job,’ I said.
‘You’re the closest,’ she said.
‘You’re the assistant,’ I said.
How long we could have gone on like that was anyone’s guess. And it’s not as if we didn’t both know who would be answering the bloody thing no matter who had the last word. As it was, however, it stopped ringing. She fixed me with a look of triumph. I fixed her with the look of a defeated employer.
Dr Bairstow spoke in my ear. ‘Dr Maxwell, are you in your office?’
‘I am, sir.’
‘You do not appear to be answering your telephone.’
‘I was temporarily unable to do so,’ I said. ‘And my assistant was unable to recollect the series of actions needed to perform this complex function.’
Or indeed, any function at all.
‘Please report to my office at your earliest convenience.’
‘Yes, sir. Do I need to bring anything with me?’ Which, I’ve discovered is a great way of asking what it’s all about without actually asking what it’s all about.
He said, ‘The Time Police would like a word with you,’ which was enough to wipe the smile off anyone’s face.
Mrs Partridge was waiting for me. ‘This way please, Dr Maxwell.’
Sitting at his briefing table were Dr Bairstow, Commander Hay and Captain Farenden. Again.
The Commander opened the batting. ‘Dr Maxwell, may I express my regret over Chief Farrell’s death. And that of Major Guthrie and Mr Markham.’