I could see him tensing his muscles. Getting ready to run. I could probably take him with one hand behind my back. In what world was that good?
‘All right, Helios. Cards on the table. I was wrong. I apologise. I’m an historian but we should never lose sight of the fact that History is just that – his story, her story, everyone’s story. History is about people as well as events. There’s a saying, somewhere – always err on the side of life. That’s what Leon did. That’s what I should have done, too. I’m sorry.’
The silence just went on and on.
‘I think,’ he said hoarsely, ‘we could both do with a drink.’
I held up my tonic water.
‘No, a real drink.’
He crossed to the door and shouted down the corridor.
He reappeared a minute later with a tray, glasses, and something fiery. I don’t know about him, but mine never even touched the sides. I could feel my feet starting to get warm. Always a good sign.
‘Do you want to know what happened?’ he said, without looking at me.
‘Yes.’
He sighed and topped up his glass. ‘He carried me around the back, through the smoke, into the olive grove, and out the other side. I didn’t want him to put me down because he was warm and safe. He covered my eyes with his hand.
‘A few minutes later I felt a hot wind in my face. Dust and smoke swirled around us. When I could see again there was another of your small shacks. I was puzzled because this one hadn’t been there before. He put me inside and everything went white.
‘When I opened my eyes the whole world had changed. For me, it was terrifying. For two days, I wouldn’t let go of him. They were very kind to me but I knew they didn’t want me. There was more shouting. In the next room. They decided that taking me back to Troy would do more harm than good.’
‘You were at his St Mary’s?’ I interrupted.
‘Yes. Not yours. He – persuaded them to take me in and there I stayed. They looked after me well. There was a lot to learn but I was a kid. Kids are adaptable.
‘This next bit is difficult. He was an older man when he took me to St Mary’s. When I next saw him, years later, when he joined the unit, he was much younger. He didn’t know me. I was hurt. They had to explain it to me several times. I’m not sure I get it even now.
‘And then he got his big assignment – to jump back to this time, to your St Mary’s, and I came with him. Between us, we took this pub. I’ve been here ever since. It’s in my blood, after all.’
Yes, his father had kept a tavern, back in Troy.
‘And, I suppose, I’m a first line of defence down here in the village. A kind of early-warning system.’
‘When we first met,’ I said, ‘when I was a trainee, I used to come down here all the time, with Sussman and Grant. Did you recognise me?’
‘Soon as you walked in through the door. You’ve hardly changed at all.’
‘You knew – all these years you’ve known that I would have left you in Troy? To die?’
He shrugged. ‘I survived. The timeline survived. Everyone survived.’
Except Leon. Leon hadn’t survived.
He nudged my glass towards me. ‘Drink.’
I needed no urging. It had been a pretty shitty day.
‘And you never said anything – to anyone?’
‘I was just grateful to be alive. I wasn’t going to say anything to rock the boat.’ He shrugged again.
I drank again.
‘I wonder,’ he said, hesitantly. ‘Can I ask you something?’
Oh, God. Now what?
‘Perhaps,’ I said, cautiously, not wanting to commit myself in any way.
‘Well, I wondered, if it’s possible – I’d like to see his memorial stone, you know, in your graveyard. To pay my final respects, if I may. If I’m not breaking any more rules.’
‘Of course. What’s today?’
I got the ‘typical historian’ look that he’d obviously inherited from Leon. ‘Thursday.’
‘Come tomorrow. About ten thirty. Come to the front door and ask for me. We’ll go together. If you want that?’
‘That sounds fine,’ he said. ‘Do you want another drink?’
‘Thank you, no,’ I said, standing up to go. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr Nelson.’
‘Joe.’
‘Joe.’
He nodded. ‘Are you all right to get home?’
‘Absolutely fine,’ I said, shook his hand and staggered out into the night.
I had a very, very careful report to write.
I couldn’t show Joe the Boards of Honour, on which are inscribed the names of all those who had died in the service of St Mary’s, but when he turned up the next day, smartly dressed and still rather pale, I took him into our little churchyard and for a long time he stood looking at Leon’s memorial stone. I sat quietly on a nearby bench and looked at all my friends buried there.
He joined me on the bench and we sat for a while in silence.
‘You do know he’s not here?’ I said, at last. ‘They sent him back to the future.’
He nodded. ‘Do you miss him?’
Now there was a question.