I shook my head. ‘He couldn’t get into the pod to save himself. I killed him.’
‘No, you didn’t.’ His voice sounded crisp and authoritative. ‘You need to be very clear about this, Miss Maxwell. His death was the result of his own actions. And if his plans had not gone wrong it would have been you in that clearing, not him.’
‘But why did you go back? You couldn’t interfere. What was the point?’
‘After we saw the tapes, the Boss sent me back to do some checking. Initially, we thought Sussman was just being … well, Sussman. We were wrong. We think it’s starting.’
I shook my head again, too distressed by all this to speak.
‘I don’t want to leave you alone here, especially when anyone can barge in. Would you like to come with me?’
‘Where to?’
‘To the place I go when I need a little peace and quiet. Come on.’
I remembered what Mrs Partridge had said.
Unsure, but not up to argument, I followed him along corridors and down stairways, through the paint store to his pod. I sat quietly in his seat while he punched in some co-ordinates and then the world went white.
I don’t know why I expected rest and relaxation. I suppose I thought I was entitled to a little gentle cherishing. Was I buggery!
It started well. The door opened on to a sparkling turquoise sea and cloudless blue sky. Fragrant pines marched down to the shoreline and cast dark pools of shadowy purple. Their apple-green foliage clashed beautifully with the brick red rock. I’d never seen such colour and light.
‘Where is this? When are we?’
‘A small island in the eastern Med, about five thousand years ago.’
I hesitated, still in the doorway. Old Cretaceous habits die hard.
‘It’s quite safe. There won’t be people here for a thousand years or so yet. What’s the problem?’
I stuck my chin in the air. ‘No problem,’ and stepped outside. The light on the sea dazzled and I was allowed to admire it for very nearly a whole second.
‘Can you get some wood?’
‘What sort of wood?’
‘What do you mean, what sort of wood? Why do historians always have to overthink everything? Wood wood.’
‘I mean dry wood? Wet wood? Firewood? Building wood?’
‘Building wood?’
‘Well, it’s you. Are you going to knock together a hotel? Build a suspension bridge? Install a spa? Will there be grouting?’
‘What?’
‘Isn’t that what men do? You know, grouting, sawing, sitting in sheds. Men things.’
‘Just wood for a fire.’
‘A fire? It’s warm. Even I’m warm.’
‘To cook lunch.’
‘We have to cook lunch?’
‘No, first we have to catch lunch.’
I shifted uneasily.
‘Is there another problem?’
‘I’ve just come from a time when lunch catches me.’
‘Well, this is your chance for revenge.’
‘Don’t we have rations?’
‘Yes, but you’ve eaten rations for the last three months. Don’t you want fresh food?’
‘Well, the way I look at it there’s some poor little fish out there having a nice lazy day and making plans to meet its mates down the pub tonight and I don’t want to be the one getting the reproachful stare as I knock it on the head.’
He stared at me.
‘I’m just saying,’ I said defensively. ‘I don’t like killing things.’
‘You eat fish. And meat. And eggs.’
‘I know, but I don’t actually go out and club a baby lamb when there’s already a pack of chops in the freezer, do I?’
‘All right, point made. Go and get wood.’
‘But we don’t need a fire now.’
‘But we will later.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s cool at night.’
‘We’re sleeping outside?’
‘Is there yet another problem, Miss Maxwell?’
‘No,’ I said in the voice which means ‘yes’.
He sighed even more heavily than usual. ‘We’ve been here ten minutes. No wood, no fire, no lunch. Remind me again how you survived three months in the Cretaceous.’
‘No fires, no cooking, and no sleeping outside.’
There was a long, long silence.
‘What?’
‘Just go and get some wood!’
The reason I can’t deal with sympathy is because I never bloody get any.
I sat beside him on a blanket, leaning back against the warm rock. Ahead of me, the sea flashed and sparkled like a giant glitter ball. I closed my eyes and heard a glass clink.
‘Here.’
‘What’s this?’
‘Slivovitz.’
‘What?’
‘Plum brandy to you.’
‘What?’
‘Think of it as a kind of fruit drink.’
‘Great. I’ll put it towards my five a day.’
I sipped, got my breath back, and listened to the enamel on my teeth erode. Actually, it wasn’t that bad. I said so.
‘Just don’t get it near any metal; and for God’s sake don’t spill it on the console.’
We sat sipping and silent.
‘How are you feeling?’