‘A “limited communication repertoire”! I think that’s nonsense,’ Grace said. ‘You talk to people for a living.’
‘No, I listen, and I ask questions from behind a very crisp boundary. I’m ideally suited to my job.’ Ruby propped herself up on an elbow. ‘Does your job never frighten you – with how dangerous it is?’
‘When I was a little girl, I expected to do dangerous work.’
‘Really? Why ever did you think that?’
‘I’m from a mining family, in the Midlands,’ Grace said. ‘My mother pulled iron nuggets out of the banks of Tipton. That would have been my fate, too, only I was evacuated during the war, and the woman I stayed with offered to pay for my education. She said I was intelligent, which was true, but I think that really she liked the idea of rescuing me. Manual labour horrified her – so did manual labourers – and she enjoyed being horrified. I became a pet project that she could tell people about and they’d praise how generous she was.’
‘That’s horrible.’
‘Hm? Yes. Still. I went to boarding school. When I’d finished, I felt out of place at home, but it didn’t matter any more. I could go to university; I wouldn’t be dead by forty, like my grandparents, or lose my livelihood through mine closures, like my cousins. The risks of time travel seem quite manageable in comparison. Particularly when you think of the benefits. I’ve always loved it. When we invented time travel, I stopped noticing how I didn’t fit in any place. Because time travellers were a new thing, they didn’t have a particular accent, and you didn’t do it because that’s what your mother and grandmother did. I know that changed. People have an idea by now of what time travellers are like—’
‘Mad,’ Ruby said. ‘People think time travellers are mad.’
‘They do,’ Grace said. ‘But I can live with that.’
‘It’s your turn to tell a secret.’
‘I practically have. Everyone’s forgotten I should have been a miner.’
‘Tell me another.’
Grace sat up. She reached for her dress and pulled it back on.
‘How about something from the future?’ she said finally.
‘Ugh. No.’ Ruby shuddered.
Grace didn’t reply. She was looking at the clock on the wall, which read half past eleven.
‘I didn’t mean to be rude,’ Ruby added. ‘It was a kind offer – to tell me about the future. The idea just makes me nervous, that’s all.’
‘No, it’s fine. Ruby…’ Grace tapped her fingers against her mouth, as if trying to raise her words to the surface. ‘Ruby, I think you should go now.’
‘Oh. Have I done something wrong?’
‘No. I just hadn’t realised it was this late. I think it would be best if you went home.’
‘I’m sorry. I knew I’d put my foot in it.’
‘Please, go back to your flat. I can arrange a Conclave car, it’s no problem.’
Ruby put her clothes back on. She felt cold now, even when she was fully dressed. Neither she nor Grace spoke again before the chauffer pressed the buzzer, and then Grace only said goodbye, with no farewell kiss. She watched from the doorway until the lift took Ruby away.
*
Breno greeted Ruby at the door, but Bee was already in bed. The flat smelt strongly of time machines, meaning Bee must have been playing with the Candybox again. Ruby took a shower and brushed her teeth. She slumped over the sink with tiredness, yet she doubted she’d sleep. She was upset by Grace’s sudden haste to be rid of her. Ruby must have misread the situation. She’d foolishly thought tonight was the start of something. Whereas Grace had clearly got what she wanted, and couldn’t wait for Ruby to leave.
And was Grace being unreasonable? What could exist between them beyond a few hours? You couldn’t get involved with someone who spent most of their life in a different time period from you. What would such a relationship look like? Just thinking about it made Ruby’s head hurt. She put her toothbrush back in its mug and turned off the bathroom light.
On her way past Bee’s open door, Ruby heard her grandmother stirring.
‘Tony?’ Bee mumbled, her voice slurred with sleep.
‘No, Granny,’ Ruby said. ‘It’s me.’
‘Oh, Ruby… come in. Let me see you.’
Ruby did as she was told, and sat on the edge of the bed.
‘I was so sure Tony was here. I must have been dreaming about him.’
‘Does that make you sad?’
‘No. No, not at all. It’s like seeing him again. A chance to catch up. I never fancied remarrying, you know. He was the only man I wanted.’
‘For all that time?’
‘A little time with him was better than all my life with anyone else. I still had Dinah, and you.’ Bee patted Ruby’s cheek. ‘Remember that. When you go, you want to have people you love to think about. You need enough money to feed yourself, and a sense of purpose is nice. But the rest is superfluous.’
Breno leapt onto the bed and curled round Bee’s feet. Ruby kissed her grandmother on the forehead.
‘I love you,’ Ruby whispered – unheard, because Bee had already fallen back to sleep.
Those were the last words they’d exchange. Bee didn’t wake up again. She died, asymptomatically, of a blood-borne infection. It was contracted from Margaret’s bullet.
Ruby knew something was wrong as soon as she opened her eyes the next morning. Not because of a sixth sense, or anything as silly as that. She knew because Bee was usually an early riser. While she’d stayed in the flat, her chatter with Breno and quiet singing and clinking of breakfast cutlery and pots were the soundtrack that roused Ruby. So when Ruby’s eyes focused on her bedside clock, which clearly read ten twenty, and the flat was silent, she knew Bee was gone. She pretended, for the last few minutes, that her grandmother had overslept. But when Ruby entered the other bedroom she picked up Bee’s hand and it was quite cold. Ruby thought over their conversation, and wished she could know that Bee heard that Ruby loved her. She wanted to talk to her again – to make sure she’d received the message. The certainty that would never, ever happen made Ruby weep.
44
SEPTEMBER 2018
Robert and Odette
As soon as Robert entered the kitchen and placed his trilby on the table, Odette gave him a watery smile and announced she was going to bed. He assumed the tears were because the Conclave had rejected her application. They must have done; he had told them about her therapy.
‘Bad news?’ he asked Claire, once Odette had left.
‘She says she got it, but she has cold feet.’
Robert glanced over his shoulder, to check if Odette was really out of earshot. He was sure she had lied to Claire. She wouldn’t want to admit the Conclave had turned her down. Or perhaps they did offer her something. But it wasn’t the prestigious job she imagined. A support role, safe for people with fragile mental health, that didn’t involve use of the machines. That would make sense.
‘Did she say what put her off?’ Robert asked. He took a seat at the table.
‘Some woman made her feel unwelcome. I tried to persuade her she should take the job anyway. She shouldn’t give up on an opportunity like that.’
‘Don’t lean on her too hard,’ Robert said. ‘Maybe the place is a bad fit for her.’
His guilt had lessened. Odette had wanted this job so much, and it hurt him, of course, that she should be distressed. Yet he was convinced his action was the right one. No job was more important than Odette’s health, and the Conclave clearly thought a history of trauma made you unfit for service.
‘I thought she was more resilient,’ Claire said in bewilderment. ‘She applied herself so well at school and university.’
‘She hasn’t been herself since finding that body,’ Robert said. ‘Since then she’s been… vulnerable. We need to watch over her for a while. And perhaps be a little gentler than we have been.’
Claire removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. ‘You think we’re putting too much pressure on her?’
‘From the best of intentions, my love.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘But now it might be time to pull back.’