Best of all, Kal was still there. She was leaving the next day but I hadn’t missed her. I was so glad. She, Tim, and I had a last lunch together. Tim shot off to terrorise his trainees, Kal went to finish her packing and I went back to work. David had set up a series of meetings for me. First off were Miss Schiller and Miss Van Owen. I was setting them to work on The Play.
Our genuine Shakespeare play. From the hand of Shakespeare himself, as attested by Dr Bairstow who stood over him while he wrote it, and then buried it here. Under our fourth step, actually, where it had been discovered along with the collection of sonnets which were now being used for the benefit of the future St Mary’s. We owned a manuscript beyond price. Except we couldn’t use it because, for some reason, in this play, they executed Elizabeth, not Mary Stuart.
I said, ‘We need to get this sorted. This is your immediate priority. I want an in-depth study. Somewhere in this play, there must be a point where the histories diverge. A kind of tipping point, if you like. I want you to find it. Somewhere, our history goes one way and the play goes another. Cross-reference every event in the play against actual events. Find me a starting point. Let’s ascertain what we’re dealing with and when. It’s going to be detailed and painstaking – you’ll have to check everything against reputable sources and there’s always the possibility that Shakespeare has been flexible with actual events, so keep that in mind as well.’
They nodded, heads bent over scratchpads. Although I had the Tudors as one of my secondary areas, Schiller’s main specialty was Tudor and Stuart England and Van Owen was the go-to person for detailed work.
‘Is there a deadline?’ she muttered, still tapping her scratchpad.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m off on leave for fourteen days. Accuracy is more important than speed. We have to get this absolutely right. Requisition whatever you need. See Dr Dowson if you have any problems. Any questions?’
‘No,’ they said calmly and disappeared with no fuss. When I came back, I was going to make them Senior Historians.
David updated me on who was where and when. Clerk and Spencer were in Regency Bath.
Yilmaz and Travis had gone off to see Drake singe the King of Spain’s beard at Cadiz and Roberts and Morgan were writing up their last assignment.
‘Anything else I need to know?’
‘No, everything here is fine. Professor Rapson has completed his catapult and called for volunteers.’
‘What?’ I was suddenly wary.
‘He plans to see how accurately he can fling plague-ridden bodies over the walls of a besieged city.’
‘Not this time,’ I said. ‘Mannequins, sacks of flour, car tyres – yes. People – no.’
‘But the entire department has volunteered,’ he said, tragically. ‘They’ll be very disappointed. It’s quite safe – he was only going to toss them into the lake, and many of them planned to make themselves up with pustules and bleeding sores.’
Not so very long ago I would have been one of the volunteers. In fact, Tim and I would probably have been top of the list. Suddenly, I felt very old. I definitely needed a holiday.
‘I’d rather they lived with disappointment than multiple fractures. Definitely not. Any problems from them, see Major Guthrie. Tell him if he can’t sort them out then he has my permission to shoot them.’
‘Yes, Max,’ he said, grinning.
‘Anything else?’
‘Knock, knock.’
‘Shut up.’
I was up at dawn the next morning to see Kal leave.
In defiance of regulations, Dieter had brought her car round to the front door. We reckoned it was so early that no one would ever know. He was just opening the boot for her last bits and pieces when the front door opened and Dr Bairstow emerged.
Whoops.
Kal walked up the steps to meet him. They talked quietly for a few minutes. I don’t know what he said, but if you knew her you could she was moved. He put out his hand. She ignored it, stepped forward, hugged him, and kissed his cheek.
And lived.
She stepped back. He swept us with a look that promised later retribution and disappeared back into the building.
She sniffed and rejoined us. I watched her say goodbye to Helen and Leon. She wasn’t finding this easy. I myself was conscious of a horrible cold feeling inside. She was going. She was actually going. Then she turned to me. I had nothing to say. There were no words. We hugged for a long time. Neither of us was going to let go. Behind me, Leon said gently, ‘Max …’
I couldn’t watch her say goodbye to Tim. They’d been partners for so long. They were both in tears. Dieter had to push her into the car. Slowly, she drove away. I looked at Tim. He wasn’t going to have a good day. Leon and I were away after breakfast, and he would be alone. I looked at Helen. Her people skills were minimal and I wasn’t sure she would realise what this meant to him, but she was already talking gently to him. Well, what do you know? Personal growth.