3. A Second Chance (22 page)

‘Well,’ I said, finally. ‘Nice to have met you, Leon.’

He said nothing.

I put out a hand. ‘And again, thank you.’

He took my hand very slowly in a strong, warm clasp, never taking his eyes from mine. I had to look away.

I thought he was going to speak, but he said nothing.

I took my hand back, drew a deep breath, and, still not looking at him, said, ‘Look after yourself, Leon.’

Just as I was stepping past him … Just when I thought I might be able to do this after all, he said, ‘Come away with me.’

I stopped dead.

‘What did you say?’

‘Come away with me. I don’t want to go back. You don’t have to go back. We have a pod. We can choose somewhere peaceful and quiet and make a life for ourselves. You didn’t think I was going to let you go, did you?’

I’d survived his death by feeling nothing. By shutting down. It’s what I do. And so the huge, hot, jagged pain coming from nowhere just about finished me. I couldn’t speak. Which was just as well, since I would have said yes. I had a brief vision of a life together. Laughing. Loving. No need for me to go back to old age and loneliness. We really could have the rest of our lives together.

I stared at the floor and shook my head.

‘Lucy …’

I shook my head again. I should have died in the Cretaceous. Nothing could be worse than this.

‘Lucy. Please.’

I couldn’t do it to him. I couldn’t deprive him of his future. I had to walk away and take the chance that he would survive this, stay at St Mary’s and – I hate this phrase – fulfil his destiny.

So I shook my head for the third time and stepped out of the pod. Back into my own time.

Without looking back at him, I started across the clearing.

‘Don’t leave me.’

I couldn’t bear the pain in his voice.

I had to do something or he wasn’t going to make it. He’d been at the end of his rope when I met him and I’d just made things even worse.

I turned back to him, clutched at his greens, shook him slightly and said harshly, ‘Listen to me, Leon. Listen to me now, because this is the most important thing you will ever hear. I will always come for you. No matter how bad things seem, I always come for you. Remember that.’

My words rang around the clearing.

For a long time nothing happened. If he’d heard me, the words hadn’t gone in.

He covered my hands with his own and we looked at each other for a long time.

‘You really are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’

And that was the moment I took, pinned over my heart and wore like a badge to the end of my days.

Gently, I took back my hands, walked away, and stood at the edge of the clearing with my back to him. After a long while, I heard the door close.

I turned around and stared at the pod, small and squat at the edge of the clearing. The pod stared back. Nothing happened.

I knew what he was doing. He was watching me through the screen. I put one hand on a tree trunk for support and stared back.

Around me, birds sang and golden sunlight filtered through the trees. Still the pod didn’t move. Neither would I. I wouldn’t leave until he did.

We stared at each other across the clearing.

I woke up. For God’s sake, what did I think I was doing? We could be together. Neither of us ever had to be alone again. Sod the time continuum. Sod History. Sod everything. We were two people who’d suffered enough. Let someone else take the strain. I would do it. I would go with him.

And then, just as I took a step towards the pod, just as I raised my arm to wave, just as I drew a breath to call out, to tell him I’d go with him, that I would be with him for ever, the pod blinked out of existence and I was alone.

The next hour was not good.

The evening shadows were lengthening as I made my way back to St Mary’s, very carefully not thinking about certain things. I’d made the right decision. I’d nearly made the wrong decision and if he turned up right now and asked me again, I’d probably nearly make the wrong decision again. I’ve broken shedloads of rules throughout my life, but never come so close to catastrophe before. And who would ever have thought it would have been at Leon’s instigation? He was – always had been – so quiet, so law-abiding, so conventional …

I woke up.

No, he wasn’t.

He’d helped me cheat in my Outdoor Survival Exam. He’d brought a Maglite to sixteenth-century Edinburgh – which, admittedly, had been a big help, but nevertheless – He’d thrown me across the bonnet of his car and right there and then, in public … And at Troy, he’d tried to break the biggest rule of all. He was quiet, but he was passionate and he’d loved Helios like a son … 

I was once in eleventh-century London, observing Westminster Abbey being built and a ten-ton block of stone had dropped out of the sky, missing Peterson and me by inches. I felt exactly the same way now. Something huge had fallen on me. An enormous revelation. How could I ever have missed it?

And now, what was I going to do about it?

I didn’t run, because I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. I let myself into St Mary’s and, using the backstairs, made my way to my room. My instinct was to get to the pub as soon as possible, but that was ridiculous. I made myself slow down, shower, and change into civvies.

It was a lovely evening and on any other occasion, I would have enjoyed the stroll down to the village.

Reaching The Falconberg Arms, I walked into the bar. There were only a few customers. I got myself a drink and then said to the barmaid, ‘Is Joe in?’

She nodded over her shoulder. ‘In his office, doing his accounts.’

‘Oh.’

‘No, go on in. He always welcomes distractions when he’s struggling with his spreadsheets.’

I walked slowly down the passageway. His door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open and stood on the threshold.

Joe Nelson was bashing away at a calculator. He looked up.

‘Dr Maxwell – good to see you again. Can I help you? Come in.’

I pushed the door shut behind me, crossed to his desk, and sat down.

‘Hello, Helios.’

Chapter Nineteen

I don’t know how I could ever have missed it.

Joe Nelson. Short, stocky, thick dark hair, Dumbo ears and – for heaven’s sake – that sickle-shaped scar on his cheekbone. Again, I saw Helios, terrified, traumatised, bleeding, arms and legs clamped around Leon, clinging on for dear life. How could I not have seen it?

He put down his pen and pushed his chair back from his desk. Was he getting ready to run for it?

‘Sit tight, Joe,’ I said. ‘Where would you go?’

‘True,’ he said.

We stared at each other for a while.

‘How long have you known?’

‘About thirty-five minutes.’

He regarded me warily. I wondered how much he actually remembered. Did he remember the shouting? Did he remember what I’d said?

‘What are you going to do now?’

‘Don’t say anything. I’m going to tell you a story.’

He nodded. A good start.

‘All right. Troy is burning.’

He nodded again, but this time not looking at me. He was looking back down the years. Back to another time and another place. We both were.

I relived the scene. Again.

‘I’ve just been rescued by Guthrie. You know I got dragged off with the other Trojan women?’

I was back on the beach again, shuffling towards the ships and surrounded by crying women.

‘Guthrie brought me back to the pod.’ I had a thought. ‘Does he know who you are?’

He shook his head.

‘Does anyone know who you are?’

He shook his head again. I know I’d said don’t speak, but I don’t think he was capable of speech anyway.

‘So Guthrie and I are back in the pod. Peterson’s waiting for us, fretting as usual. We’re getting ourselves together, ready to jump, the door opens, and there’s Leon. With you. Do you remember what happens next?’

Not knowing what was the right thing to say, he said nothing. Now that I knew, I could easily see traces of the boy Helios in the man Joe Nelson. The boy I had played jacks with. And dusty hopscotch. I pushed all that aside.

‘Well, I’ll tell you. I told Chief Farrell to take you back outside and leave you there.’

Silence. On the other side of the door, the world carried on as usual. In here – who knew what was going to happen in here?

‘I told him, as his mission commander, that under no circumstances would I permit you to be taken back with us. I assume that now you know why not. That you know why that was such a dangerous thing for him to do. What the consequences could be?’

He nodded. I don’t know if he’d taken my instruction to heart or whether he genuinely was too scared to speak.

‘He pleaded for you.’ I said, without emotion, hearing Leon’s voice again in my head. Again. ‘He begged. He shouted. Do you remember?’

He nodded again and swallowed hard.

‘He refused to leave you behind. At one point, I wondered if I was going to have to shoot him. Or you.’

He sat, too frozen now even to nod.

‘In the end, he asked for twenty minutes to hide you somewhere. We both knew that was worse than useless. That after the lions had finished with it, Troy would be picked over by the jackals for years afterwards. That it might even be kinder to hand you over to the Greeks. Or kill you there and then.’

I stopped for a moment, because now even I was finding it hard going.

‘He took you outside. I watched on the screen. You both disappeared. Twenty minutes later, he was back. Without you.’

But, now I came to think of it, exhausted and with a two-day stubble.

‘Shall I tell you what I think happened next?’

No response whatsoever. I carried on anyway.

‘I think he had a pod remote control. I think he called up his own pod, bundled you inside, and took you back to the future. To his own St Mary’s. I think it wasn’t such a risk as I originally thought. I think he was able to remove you from your own time because, if you had stayed, you would have been killed.’

Yes, he would. Probably within minutes. We can remove things from their own time, but only if they’re about to be destroyed. Only if they have no future existence in which to influence the timeline. I didn’t know we could do it with people. I wished I didn’t know we could do it with people. If this ever got out … This might be one of the most dangerous pieces of knowledge ever.

Imagine if a bunch of fanatics tried to lift Hitler in his last hours. Or Caligula. Or the poster boy for compassion and mercy, the Abbot (Kill them all – God will know his own) of Citeaux. Of course, people being what they are, no one would ever want to lift Mother Theresa. Or Francis of Assisi.

I forged on.

‘You should be very clear about this. What Chief Farrell did was incredibly dangerous. If you were destined to survive – and he had no way of knowing that – his attempt to remove you could have brought the entire timeline crashing down around us. As it turned out, he got away with it.

‘But, if I had had my way, I would have left you in Troy. To die. Quickly, if you were lucky, but you probably wouldn’t have been. You need to know this. I would have let you die. To preserve the timeline. I might even have killed you myself. Even now, I’m not sure what damage has been done. What damage you’ve done just by surviving. Do you have any children?’

He shook his head, white to the lips, eyes huge and dark, just as he’d looked three and a half thousand years ago, back in Troy.

I could see him tensing his muscles. Getting ready to run. I could probably take him with one hand behind my back. In what world was that good?

‘All right, Helios. Cards on the table. I was wrong. I apologise. I’m an historian but we should never lose sight of the fact that History is just that – his story, her story, everyone’s story. History is about people as well as events. There’s a saying, somewhere – 
always err on the side of life
. That’s what Leon did. That’s what I should have done, too. I’m sorry.’

The silence just went on and on.

‘I think,’ he said hoarsely, ‘we could both do with a drink.’

I held up my tonic water.

‘No, a real drink.’

He crossed to the door and shouted down the corridor.

He reappeared a minute later with a tray, glasses, and something fiery. I don’t know about him, but mine never even touched the sides. I could feel my feet starting to get warm. Always a good sign.

‘Do you want to know what happened?’ he said, without looking at me.

‘Yes.’

He sighed and topped up his glass. ‘He carried me around the back, through the smoke, into the olive grove, and out the other side. I didn’t want him to put me down because he was warm and safe. He covered my eyes with his hand.

‘A few minutes later I felt a hot wind in my face. Dust and smoke swirled around us. When I could see again there was another of your small shacks. I was puzzled because this one hadn’t been there before. He put me inside and everything went white.

‘When I opened my eyes the whole world had changed. For me, it was terrifying. For two days, I wouldn’t let go of him. They were very kind to me but I knew they didn’t want me. There was more shouting. In the next room. They decided that taking me back to Troy would do more harm than good.’

‘You were at his St Mary’s?’ I interrupted.

‘Yes. Not yours. He – persuaded them to take me in and there I stayed. They looked after me well. There was a lot to learn but I was a kid. Kids are adaptable.

‘This next bit is difficult. He was an older man when he took me to St Mary’s. When I next saw him, years later, when he joined the unit, he was much younger. He didn’t know me. I was hurt. They had to explain it to me several times. I’m not sure I get it even now.

‘And then he got his big assignment – to jump back to this time, to your St Mary’s, and I came with him. Between us, we took this pub. I’ve been here ever since. It’s in my blood, after all.’

Yes, his father had kept a tavern, back in Troy.

‘And, I suppose, I’m a first line of defence down here in the village. A kind of early-warning system.’

‘When we first met,’ I said, ‘when I was a trainee, I used to come down here all the time, with Sussman and Grant. Did you recognise me?’

‘Soon as you walked in through the door. You’ve hardly changed at all.’

‘You knew – all these years you’ve known that I would have left you in Troy? To die?’

He shrugged. ‘I survived. The timeline survived. Everyone survived.’

Except Leon. Leon hadn’t survived.

He nudged my glass towards me. ‘Drink.’

I needed no urging. It had been a pretty shitty day.

‘And you never said anything – to anyone?’

‘I was just grateful to be alive. I wasn’t going to say anything to rock the boat.’ He shrugged again.

I drank again.

‘I wonder,’ he said, hesitantly. ‘Can I ask you something?’

Oh, God. Now what?

‘Perhaps,’ I said, cautiously, not wanting to commit myself in any way.

‘Well, I wondered, if it’s possible – I’d like to see his memorial stone, you know, in your graveyard. To pay my final respects, if I may. If I’m not breaking any more rules.’

‘Of course. What’s today?’

I got the ‘typical historian’ look that he’d obviously inherited from Leon. ‘Thursday.’

‘Come tomorrow. About ten thirty. Come to the front door and ask for me. We’ll go together. If you want that?’

‘That sounds fine,’ he said. ‘Do you want another drink?’

‘Thank you, no,’ I said, standing up to go. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr Nelson.’

‘Joe.’

‘Joe.’

He nodded. ‘Are you all right to get home?’

‘Absolutely fine,’ I said, shook his hand and staggered out into the night.

I had a very, very careful report to write.

I couldn’t show Joe the Boards of Honour, on which are inscribed the names of all those who had died in the service of St Mary’s, but when he turned up the next day, smartly dressed and still rather pale, I took him into our little churchyard and for a long time he stood looking at Leon’s memorial stone. I sat quietly on a nearby bench and looked at all my friends buried there.

He joined me on the bench and we sat for a while in silence.

‘You do know he’s not here?’ I said, at last. ‘They sent him back to the future.’

He nodded. ‘Do you miss him?’

Now there was a question.

‘Yes,’ I said, admitting it to myself for the first time. ‘Yes, I do.’

We strolled slowly down the path. As always, the place was very quiet. Only the crows cawing in the tall chestnut trees disturbed the peace.

He said suddenly, ‘What will happen to me when I die?’

‘As far as I’m concerned, Joe, nothing.’

‘You’re not going to tell anyone who I am?’

‘No.’

He swallowed. ‘Thank you.’

‘Do you miss him?’

‘Yes. He was like a father to me. I owe him everything. And now he’s gone and I miss him.’

Poor Joe. Uprooted from Troy and then again from the future. And now Leon was gone. And someone else knew his secret. How lonely and afraid must he feel at the moment.

I saw Miss Lee approaching and braced myself to intercept her. Joe Nelson was in no fit shape to encounter the laser-focused hostility and random evil that packaged itself as Rosie Lee.

I got The Look. The one that indicates she’s had to perform above and beyond the call of duty. Such as delivering a message to someone who’s not at her desk, for example.

She launched into a litany of complaint.

‘Why are you all the way out here?’

I opened my mouth to point out that ‘out here’ was only about two hundred yards from the main building, but there was no chance.

‘I am busy this morning, you know.’

This was news to me.

‘Sorry to drag you out into the fresh air. I forgot you crumble into dust when sunlight touches you.’

She ignored this.

‘And now I’ve got to go all the way back to Wardrobe because Mrs Enderby wants some files, and you still haven’t signed off on next month’s duty roster, or approved Mr Clerk’s application for leave, or even looked at the pod servicing schedule, or –’

This could go on all morning.

‘Why exactly are you here? Is it possible – and I know this is a bit of a new concept for you, but work with me here – is it possible that you have some useful function to perform?’

‘Dr Bairstow would like to see your report when you have a moment and there are some urgent –’

I waited for her to finish the sentence, but that seemed to be it. I was quite accustomed to being told there was an urgent message for me and having to go off and get the details for myself, because she always considered that simply telling me about it completed the job. The actual contents of the message and whom it was from were usually for me to ascertain.

I cleared my throat compellingly and fixed her with the stern eye of an unhappy supervisor. A complete waste of time. She was staring at Joe Nelson. He was staring at her. And both of them were looking as if Stonehenge had dropped on them. Even as I looked, she blushed and dropped her eyes.

What?

A considerable amount of silence passed.

I stared at the pair of them, frozen in time like a pair of mismatched bookends. Surely not …

It dawned on me that something was expected from me. With considerable misgivings, I said, ‘Joe, may I introduce Rosie Lee. Miss Lee, this is Joe Nelson.’

‘Yes,’ they both said together. ‘I know,’ and fell silent again.

He stared at his feet.

She stared at his feet.

I began to feel as wanted as cholera.

‘Well,’ I said, backing off down the path. ‘I have to go. Perhaps, Miss Lee, you would be kind enough to escort Mr Nelson to the gate. Please don’t forget to sign him out.’

I’m not sure why I bothered. She wasn’t listening to me. No one was listening to me. Nothing new there. In some confusion, I left them to it.

I took my report to Dr Bairstow in person.

Mrs Partridge nodded me through.

He sat behind his desk, writing steadily. I sat on the other side of his desk and waited for him to finish. Silence doesn’t bother me. I was quite happy to sit there all day.

Newton says that Time is like an arrow, and can never deviate from its path. Einstein says Time is like a river and meanders, running fast and slow. Maxwell – when she’s been up all night thinking too much, says Time is like a circle and ripples in a pool spread out in all directions. Including back into the past.