A Symphony of Echoes (The Chronicles of St Mary's, #2)

Their eyes were like saucers. ‘What happened? Tell us.’


Tim leaned forward. ‘Well, you need to know she’d had a bit to drink, of course …’ and began to tell the tale. He did embroider it a little, but he got some smiles and then a laugh. Others drew closer to listen. Tension eased. I was actually a bit embarrassed and tried to move away, but Guthrie was blocking my chair and I couldn’t get out. I gave it up and finished my sandwiches. Then Tim’s, as well. Serve him right for talking too much. However, it seemed to have done the trick. They all looked more cheerful when he’d finished. I was scowling at the pair of them when Tim looked over my shoulder and said, softly, ‘Well, I’ll be buggered.’

‘Very probably,’ said Guthrie, dryly and turned to look.

Mrs Partridge was standing in the doorway. Only not our Mrs Partridge. This version had ash blonde hair. Mrs Partridge 2.0. I felt a huge relief. If the Muse of History were still here then not everything was lost.

I looked at the pair of them. How much did they know? How much was I supposed to know? I took the easy way out and said nothing.

Guthrie said, ‘Would you excuse us, please.’ He and Tim crossed the room to her. They talked together and then looked over at me. I was trying to carry on a conversation and watch what was going on at the same time. Because something was going on here. They were talking about keeping the Chief. I just knew it. I was desperate to join them and find out what was happening, but St Mary’s personnel crowded round, all of them seeking reassurance of some kind. I turned my back on the group by the door and concentrated on what was going on around me.

Their basic needs had been met. They were fed, warm, and safe. Now they needed a night’s sleep. Ideally, tomorrow someone would emerge and start putting it all back together again. Not the Chief, obviously. Major Guthrie would be a good choice. Tim could take charge of the trainees, and I could get the history department back on its feet again. I thought I might have a look at their assignment list and pick something simple and easy. Let them get a couple of assignments under their belt, so they could ease themselves back in. They’d need some sort of recruitment drive eventually, but not yet. It could be done. Maybe if we got things organised, they might not need a Director immediately. My heart sank. Yes, they would.

Around me, St Mary’s were still discussing my adventures in the Cretaceous. There were a few laughs. Someone said, quite wistfully, ‘That sounded like fun,’ and I suddenly thought, Fun. That’s what they need. Something silly and enjoyable. Something to put the sparkle back in their days.

I said, ‘Get some sleep, guys. It always looks better in the morning,’ and wandered off into the kitchen to check there were enough people and provisions for breakfast. When I came out, Tim and Ian were waiting for me.

Major Guthrie said, ‘Max, have you got a minute?’

‘Yes,’ I said dismally, unable to think of an excuse. We sat down and I said, ‘Hello, Mrs Partridge. How are you?’

‘Very well, thank you, Miss Maxwell. Dr Maxwell, I should say.’

‘Please, call me Max. So, what can I do for all of you?’

There was a pause. I wondered who had been elected spokesperson. Mrs Partridge stirred. ‘Max, we’ve been talking and we have a course of action to which we hope you will agree. I’m not sure how you’ll take this, but I’d like you to think about it very carefully.’

Yes, my track record for thinking carefully was so good.

‘You might not like it, but I think you will see that it’s the only way forward. In fact, you might even have thought of it yourself.’

Well, I had, but I wasn’t going to make this easy for them. They were going to have to come right out and say it. She cleared her throat.

‘We feel, after careful consideration, that given the current state of disarray it would be better if we were back on our feet before looking for a new Director for St Mary’s. We want to keep this as quiet as possible. The last thing we need is someone seizing on this as an excuse to interfere. Obviously, there’s no one here presently capable of assuming the role, so it has to be one of you. There really is only one person who has the right attitude to guide the unit through its difficulties and so, what I am trying to say, Max, is that we think you should take over as Caretaker Director; at least for the next few weeks. What do you think?’

It didn’t go in at all. I was so fixated on them wanting the Chief that I didn’t actually hear it the first time round. I made her say it all again before I could find my voice.