And now it really was crunch time. What exactly did I tell him? The answer, of course, should be – absolutely nothing. If I said or did one tiny thing that changed his future, then that would change my past and then we’d have paradoxes dropping out of the skies like a sumo wrestler whose jetpack has suffered a malfunction. Shortly followed by Mrs Partridge, the Muse of History, resolving the situation in her own very unique and usually terminal style.
‘I’m on assignment. Just me. Please don’t let the fact that I can’t tell you about it make you think I’m not extremely pleased to see you. Do you have a name?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Well, you’ve switched off the power. I’ve been in the Cretaceous before – it’s practically my second home. These storms can go on for days. We can’t do anything. We can barely see each other. That just leaves talking. So, what can I call you?’
Reluctantly, he said, ‘Leon. What do I call you?’
He’d always called me Lucy. I never knew why. Whenever I asked, he just said, ‘The girl with kaleidoscope eyes.’
‘Lucy.’
He looked startled. ‘What did you say?’
‘Lucy. You know, the girl with kaleidoscope eyes.’
‘I do know,’ he said slowly, ‘I was just thinking … nothing.’
‘Well, that’s nice.’
Our little conversational well dried up.
I had a hundred thousand words rattling around inside my head, precious few of which I could actually say. It seemed so desperately unfair. How many people in the world have hoped and prayed for a second chance like this one? Yearned for an opportunity to tell someone the things we only realise are important after it’s too late? I couldn’t let this opportunity go. I just couldn’t. This was a gift from the gods. I could talk to him. Explain. Apologise. Make everything right with him. Talk with him one last time.
No, I couldn’t. I mustn’t. The slightest wrong word could bring catastrophe. Although, looking at the state of him, I suspected he was more than halfway to catastrophe already. The wounds of his family’s deaths were still very recent. I could only guess at the effort it must take for him to get up in the mornings. When every day must be even more full of pain than the last.
I stopped thinking about myself.
I could tell him to hold on. That he had a wonderful future ahead of him. That he was loved and would love again. That all this would pass.
No, I couldn’t.
I began to wonder if, instead of a golden opportunity – a second chance – this was some sort of punishment.
‘Do we have enough power for some tea?’
‘I’m afraid not. I can offer you some water, though.’
‘Thank you.’
Nearly being killed always makes me thirsty.
He passed me a mug of tepid water.
I sipped and thought. I couldn’t be that reckless. If I said or did anything to change his future, the whole of reality might just roll up and disappear. I’d been given a second chance. A chance to say goodbye to the man snatched from me with so much unsaid and I couldn’t take it. Life’s a bastard.
The wind roared again, or it might have been thunder. It was hard to tell the difference in here. The noise outside only emphasised the silence inside.
Well, if I couldn’t talk to him, at least I could look at him. I opened my eyes. He was looking directly at me. To find myself staring into those familiar blue-grey eyes was disconcerting. I tried to smile politely.
‘You seem familiar,’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen you at St Mary’s. Have we met?’
Not yet .
‘I don’t recall,’ I said, evasively. ‘Perhaps we’ve met in another time. Have you been on many assignments?’
He shook his head. ‘One or two. I’m only recently qualified.’
I looked around. ‘No wingman?’
‘No. I came alone.’
‘Well, I’m very grateful.’
‘I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything better than water. With luck, this will soon pass.’
‘Sorry to have to tell you this, but it probably won’t. I’ve been here before. This could go on for days.’
He looked startled.
‘Is that a problem for you – Leon?’
‘No, it’s just …’
The words, What am I going to do with you for days? hung unspoken above our heads.
I didn’t dare smile.
I was slowly beginning to get myself back together again. The shock of his sudden appearance was subsiding as training and instinct took over. I told myself it was enough just to see him again. I should just accept whatever gift had been given me and be grateful.
A particularly loud crash of thunder made us both jump.
‘So, Leon, tell me about yourself.’
He met this invitation to chat with silence. I should have remembered he wasn’t good with open questions. I tried again.
‘Have you been qualified long?’
‘About six months.’
‘What’s your speciality? Mine is Ancient Civilisations.’
‘Engineering.’
‘Oh. That’s – unusual.’
He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving.’
Oh, no. No, no, no. That wasn’t good. Never mind me changing his future – it looked as if he was about to do that all by himself.
‘Don’t you like it?’