A Trail Through Time (The Chronicles of St Mary's, #4)

He leaned on his cane and extended a hand. ‘How do you do.’


Which told me everything I wanted to know. I returned the greeting. ‘How do you do.’

He was not going to commit himself over my identity and neither should I.

He indicated a chair opposite. ‘Please sit down.’

Colonel Albay realised, too late, that control of the interview had just passed out of his hands.

‘I am Edward Bairstow. I trust my people have made you comfortable.’

‘Very, thank you.’

‘Have you completely recovered from your injuries?’

‘Just about. I –’

We were interrupted. Albay had realised that unless he wanted to shout from all the way over there, he would have to join us. Some people think it’s the big desk that confers the power, but there are people like Dr Bairstow who could sit on an orange box and still be the most powerful person in the room.

Albay pressed his intercom.

A voice squawked, ‘What?’

I caught Dr Bairstow’s eye, just for a very brief moment, and then he looked away.

‘Tea.’

‘What?’

‘Tea.’

‘Tea what?’

He gritted his teeth. ‘I would like a cup of tea.’

‘I would like a cup of tea what?’

‘I would like a cup of tea now,’ and wisely closed the connection before she could reply.

I hid a smile and then gave Colonel Albay my full attention because although he was a pillock, he was a dangerous pillock.

‘So, you can speak?’

I said nothing, just to annoy him.

‘What is your name?’

I said nothing.

He turned to Dr Bairstow. ‘Who is this woman?’

He shrugged his shoulders and said clearly, ‘I have no idea. We have only just met.’

‘She claims she is Dr Maxwell.’

‘So I heard.’

‘Dr Maxwell is dead.’

‘Quite so.’

‘So who is this woman?’

‘Asked and answered.’

He turned to me.

‘Last chance. Are you Maxwell?’

‘You just said she was dead.’

He stared for a moment and then shrugged.

‘I summoned you to tell you a hearing to determine your true identity and to advise you of possible charges against you will be held tomorrow at 4 p.m. You will prepare yourself to jump to a destination of my choosing.’

Dr Bairstow stirred. ‘No. That will not happen. The Charter clearly states that all investigations should be carried out in their own time. You yourself said this is only a preliminary hearing to ascertain this person’s identity and decide whether or not to press charges. No useful purpose can be served by removing her from her own time.’ He smiled nastily. ‘After all, isn’t that what this is all about?’

For a second, it all hung in the balance. The silence lengthened as they stared each other out. I sat as still as a mouse and then …

The door crashed open and Miss Lee entered, complete with tea tray. If I required any more proof that this was not my world, this was it. She’d never brought me tea in my life. If anything, it had been the other way around.

She dumped the tray on the desk and began to pour. Dr Bairstow received a cup and saucer. I recognised the best china. A mug reflected my social standing. Colonel Albay’s tea remained in the pot.

She handed Dr Bairstow a folded note and turned to go.

He unfolded it and glanced at the colonel who was pouring his own tea.

In large, red letters, she’d printed:

DO NOT DRINK THE TEA.

I watched him spirit the note away and struggle. The chances were that she’d only spat in it. On the other hand, this was Rosie Lee, and who was to say she hadn’t purloined something from Professor Rapson’s skull and crossbones cabinet. Two sips and the colonel might be stretched out, lifeless, on the carpet. Would Dr Bairstow take the chance? And what could he possibly say?

He sighed. ‘I wouldn’t drink that if I were you, Colonel. Miss Lee, while possessing many admirable qualities,’ his tone led us to believe he hoped, one day, to discover one, ‘does not always allow the kettle to boil quite sufficiently. I believe this to be one of those occasions.’

The colonel wasn’t stupid. He pushed the tea away from him and said to me, ‘You will present yourself tomorrow at sixteen hundred hours. I advise you to give some thought to your defence. Officer, you may remove this person.’

I spent the evening in Sick Bay, ostensibly deep in Jane Eyre, while I thought things through. Occasionally, I remembered to turn a page.

That night, I slept just long enough to experience a dream that drove me not only from my bed, but out of the room and downstairs as well. If this was to be my last day then I intended to get my money’s worth out of it. Starting with an early breakfast.

Time Police patrolled the corridors, but no one challenged me.

Mrs Mack was on the early shift and bustling around. I paused. I’d hoped for gentle Jenny Fields who would let me make myself a bacon buttie.

She saw me standing in the doorway and maybe the remains of my nightmare were still written on my face because she stared for a while and then said, ‘Come in, if you’re coming.’