‘Yes. Yes, I am.’
I sat silent in the darkness, regretting every word. Telling people things is never a good idea. A trouble shared is a trouble quadrupled.
‘But not with you, sweetheart. I’m not angry with you. I’m angry for you.’
‘You won’t tell anyone about …’
‘No. I’ll never tell anyone about … Bear.’
‘When I was little, I used to hope that someone nice had found him and that he was happy even if that meant he’d forgotten me. But that was OK, if he was happy. When I got older I realised that afterwards, my father had just picked him up off the floor and tossed him into the bin.’ I smiled in the dark. ‘I was a lot angrier and a lot less trusting by then.’
‘Are you angry now?’
‘No. Not usually. My teacher at school – you remember Mrs De Winter? – she showed me how to use it. To focus. She helped me to get to Thirsk University and then on to St Mary’s. Maybe losing Bear was the price I had to pay for a better life.’
His voice was bitter in the darkness.
‘A better life? You’re lying in a broken pod in the middle of nowhere, pursued by people who will probably put you down like a dog.’
‘Hey, stop that. It could be worse.’
‘How? How could it possibly be worse?’
‘Well, I could be kneeling by your body, feeling my heart crack wide open and knowing I’ll never, ever see you again. I know that whatever happens to me, nothing – nothing – will ever be that bad again.’
I stopped, exhausted.
‘Are you all right? Can I get you anything?’
‘I’m absolutely fine.’
‘You never complain, do you?’
‘Are you kidding? Deep down inside, it’s just one long, perpetual whinge.’
‘It really will be OK. I promise you we’ll get out of this.’
I patted his hand. ‘I know. Don’t worry about me.’
‘But I do.’
‘There’s no need.’
‘I should look after you better.’
‘I look after myself.’
‘Yeah? How’s that working out for you at the moment?’
‘Work in progress.’
I could feel waves of heat rising. In a minute or so, I’d be off in my own world again. I shifted slightly and was aware I was drenched in sweat.
I felt him stand up. A click and the lights came on. Well, one light. We were still conserving power.
He sat at the console and began to fire things up.’
‘What are you doing?’
‘Taking you somewhere safe.’
‘There is nowhere safe. Not while I’ve still got this stupid thing in my arm.’
‘I’ve had an idea.’
‘You’re not going to chop it off, are you? I’m prepared to take one for the team, but that’s a bit above and beyond the call …’
‘No, I’m not going to chop your arm off. You are not the only one around here who has brilliant ideas. Now, it’s my turn.’
I said, doubtfully, ‘You’ve had a brilliant idea?’
‘Yes. You’re not the only one. I can do it, too.’
‘Really? I thought you worked in the Technical section.’
‘We have more than our fair share. Shut up and listen. I’m going to take you back to St Mary’s.’
I struggled to sit up. ‘No.’
‘I’m taking you back for medical treatment. You might die if I do, but you’ll certainly die if I don’t.’
‘And that’s your brilliant idea? There’s no point. They’ll know where we are as soon as you open the door.’
‘No, my brilliant idea is that we land inside the big transport pod – TB2.’
‘Why?’
He sighed. ‘I’ll keep it simple for the History department. I land inside TB2 and exit this pod, closing the door behind me. I am now inside TB2 and can open that door because this pod door is shut. It will be like an airlock. So long as one door is always closed, the Time Police won’t be able to track you. I get Helen to remove your tag – properly, this time. I’ll take the tag and drop it inside the volcano as discussed. They’ll think you perished in the eruption as we planned. We’ll both be free and clear. Now, hush. I have to do this manually. Let the master work.’
I snorted and then found I did want the rest of my tea after all.
The intended discreet touchdown at St Mary’s went about as well as everything else had up until now. He’d done his best, but he hadn’t got it quite right, and we materialised about a foot off the ground, dropping with a bone juddering crash onto the floor of the big transport pod, TB2.
A sympathetic and supportive companion, aware of what a cracking job he’d done under difficult circumstances, and of how tired and stressed he was, would have chirped reassuringly from her nest of blankets and then kept her mouth shut.
‘Am I the only person in this unit who can land a bloody pod properly?’
He was shutting things down. ‘Are we on fire? Have we cartwheeled across the hangar? Are we upside down? No. By your standards, that was a perfect touchdown. How’s the arm?’
‘Fine. What now?’