Just One Damned Thing After Another (The Chronicles of St Mary's, #1)

‘What is it all about, then?’


‘You’re happy here, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ I said, surprised. ‘Why do you ask?’ I sat up suddenly. ‘Are they cancelling the mission? Are we looking at redundancies?’

‘No, no,’ he said quickly. ‘For heaven’s sake, don’t panic.’

‘It’s an historian thing. And it’s not just any old panic. It’s highly trained panic. It’s taken years of hard work and practice. Please don’t mock.’

‘My apologies. Speaking as your primary trainer, it’s gratifying to see my poor efforts bearing fruit.’

‘So when historians are rioting in the streets, you must be absolutely over the moon.’

‘To drag the conversation back on track …’

‘Yes, sorry Chief. You wanted me.’

He looked taken aback for a moment before pulling himself together. ‘Do you remember when we met?’

‘Yes, on my first day here. You were coming down the stairs.’

He said, ‘You’ve come a long way since then. You stood in front of me, radiating attitude and defiance and now look at you, heading up the most important assignment we’ve ever had. I’m very proud of you.’

No one had ever been proud of me before. No happy, smiling family at my graduation. He stared out over the gardens. I wondered what on earth was going on.

‘Chief, is there a problem with the assignment?’

‘No, everything’s fine with the assignment. Are you all right?’

‘Yes, we’re getting there slowly. Not long now. I can hardly believe it.’

‘The experience of a lifetime?’

‘No, that will be Troy.’

‘Apart from Troy, do you have any plans for the future?’

‘Oh, yes. Thermopylae. Agincourt. Ramses the Great. Don’t get me started.’

‘No, I mean plans that do not actually involve St Mary’s.’

‘Well, no, not really.’

‘Do you see yourself doing this for ever, then?’

‘That’s a bit unlikely. I mean, none of us make old bones, do we? Look at poor old Kevin Grant.’

‘And yet you still …’

‘Well, as either Achilles or Kurt Cobain would probably have said, “A short life but a merry one.”’

‘Do you really mean that? Don’t you see yourself moving into a more – conventional line of work? Or what about a family?’

‘Oh God, no. Families are the invention of the devil. I’m never doing that.’

‘They’re not all bad, you know.’

Something in his tone of voice stopped me pursuing this line of conversation. And it was true, for some people families could be a source of strength and security. Just not for me.

‘My family is at St Mary’s.’

‘You mean Sussman?’

‘What? No!’ Where did that come from? Suddenly, it was vitally important to get this straight. ‘He’s my partner. That’s all.’

He nodded and shifted round to face me. ‘The thing is, Max … I wanted to say …’ and stopped again.

Good God Almighty, he was worse than me. I had no idea what he wanted to say. A corner of my mind remembered the conversation I’d overheard in the paint store. A treasured memory I’d tucked carefully away and took out occasionally to relive and hug close to me. And the Trojan Horse. And the photo. But looking at him now, I had no clue. I knew what I wanted to hear, but he was shy, I was wary, he was a senior officer – seriously, what were the chances? And how much of this was just wishful thinking on my part? Imagine if I said something and he didn’t …

I turned towards him and caught him smiling down at me with such a look of – and then the sodding, bloody football thudded against the wall beside us and I nearly jumped out of my skin. A voice shouted, ‘Can we have our ball back please?’

I threw it back to Dieter. When I looked back he was eating his sandwiches with one hand and typing on his scratchpad with the other. Thank God I hadn’t said anything.

I felt really stupid. ‘I have to get back,’ I said, getting up.

He nodded. ‘Max …’ I looked back at him. ‘After this assignment …’

I nodded and walked away before I became even more confused.

I met Kal at breakfast one day soon after.

She handed me her newspaper and grinned. ‘What do you think?’

I peered at an ad for a local hotel and their next event.

‘Look,’ she said. ‘Spa, beauty treatments, massage, Jacuzzi, and ta-dah, the big finish: dinner, cabaret, and disco. They’ve got that illusionist off the TV. We book in for one night, spend the day making ourselves even more beautiful (always supposing that’s possible), drink too much, dance till dawn, have a bit of a lie-in, a very careful late breakfast, and be back here before anyone notices we’re gone. What do you think? It’s just what we need. Come on, when did you last get away from this place?’