‘What happened to your hair? Again.’
I said, with dignity, ‘There was an explosion.’
‘Why weren’t you wearing a helmet?’
‘I took it off to make it easier for Barclay to shoot me.’
He smiled, but it was an effort.
I looked at his worn face. ‘For how long have you been gone? In real time?’
‘About six months. I gather it’s been about three weeks here.’
I nodded. He’d seen some wear and tear in those missing months. I was no longer the one with the most scar tissue. But he was here now.
There was so much to say. Too much. But sometimes, you don’t need words.
I reached out my gloved hand and he took it between his own, cradling it like a broken bird. We said nothing. There was no need. Someone’s tear plopped down onto the glove. He gently wiped it away with his thumb.
The door opened and someone called his name.
Without looking taking his eyes from me, he said, ‘On my way.’
The door closed. Silence fell again.
Without opening her eyes, Mrs Mack said, ‘Oh, for God’s sake, just give the girl a kiss, will you.’
I asked to see Peterson and was trundled into the other ward the next afternoon. I had to take a couple of breaths to steady myself. Dieter was in the bad bed nearest the door, but it had to have been a toss-up between him, Peterson and Guthrie. I’ve never seen so many wound dressings in so few square feet. As in the female ward, there weren’t enough beds. Sands and Roberts reclined on mattresses on the floor, trying to play cards. Markham lay nearby, his eyes and face heavily bandaged.
My heart broke for him. If he was blind, there was no future for him here. I noticed how Guthrie watched him without seeming to. They all did. Even as they scoffed at his efforts to find his water jug, one of them would gently slide it within his grasp.
I told Markham he looked like the invisible man.
Roberts said, ‘If only …’
Leon offered me his chair, but I preferred to sit heavily on Peterson’s bed, which served the dual function of breaking Sick Bay rules and crushing his feet at the same time.
‘How come you’re up and about?’ said Guthrie. ‘Were you hiding at the back? Typical bloody historian.’
‘We always stand the Security section at the front,’ I said. ‘Cannon fodder.’
‘Have you noticed,’ said Markham, plaintively, ‘only senior officers get beds? The true heroes have to pig it on the floor.’
‘It’s disgraceful,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you come back to the female ward with me? ’
He cheered up immediately.
‘Oh, yes. You’ve no idea how I suffer, Max. The snoring. The grunting. The farting. The smell of feet.’
‘Don’t worry – we can supply all of that. And you can have my bed.’
‘Great.’ His little battered face brightened hopefully through his bandages. ‘Will you be in it?’
‘No,’ said Leon, severely. ‘She will not.’ He turned to Guthrie. ‘He’s in your crew. Why don’t you do something about him?’
Guthrie closed his eyes. ‘So long as he’s not in bed with me, I don’t really care.’
Chapter Seventeen
For some reason, the ceremonial signing of the Charter was to be held at our St Mary’s. Ours had been the final battle, apparently therefore, ours was to be the honour – the honour of signing the Time Police out of existence.
We’d survived SPOHB – a feat in itself. The main building was shored up with scaffolding and wreathed in plastic. St Mary’s wasn’t beautiful but it was safe – a statement that could not have been truthfully uttered at any point during our occupancy.
Most of us had been medically discharged, but I still lived in Sick Bay. Anywhere was better than the concrete room to which Barclay had assigned me.
Now, over the next few days, strange faces appeared and disappeared. Conferences were held. There was a great deal of noise and bustle and commotion.
And then everything stopped. We wondered why.
‘Getting things done at St Mary’s is a bit like elephants mating,’ explained Peterson. A remark that caused some mystification.
‘You know – there’s frantic activity at high level. There’s screaming and stamping. A lot of dust is raised. Nothing happens for two years and then you’re crushed by the result.’
Three long tables had been pushed together in the Great Hall. There were seven seats down one side for the Time Police and eight down the other for representatives of St Mary’s. I couldn’t help laughing. All that effort and they hadn’t needed me after all. Now that Leon was Caretaker/Director, they actually had their seven directors.
I said as much to Mrs Partridge.
She gave me a very strange look. ‘You should not underestimate the importance of your presence here today, Dr Maxwell,’ and with that typically enigmatic statement, slipped away before I could ask.