A Trail Through Time (The Chronicles of St Mary's) (12 page)

I cracked the door open an inch or so. Helios stood with his back to me. They were staring at the screen. Leon pointed at something and Helios nodded.

I stayed in the toilet, telling myself I didn’t want to intrude. It was Leon who had risked everything to save him. They had been friends. They should have these last few minutes alone together. I know it was cowardly and I despised myself, but I was too ashamed of what we were doing to look him in the face.

Helios was barefoot and wore a simple T-shirt and shorts. On top of everything else, he couldn’t bring anything with him. We weren’t supposed to leave anything from our time, but I did see he was clutching a small bundle under one arm. Some food, probably, together with a knife and maybe a blanket. And if History didn’t like it then that was just tough. Take it out on us. Helios was the innocent party here. And Helios was bearing the punishment.

And what of Leon? Who had fought so passionately for him? Who had sacrificed me for Helios? I thought of the quiet friendship the two of them had enjoyed over the years.

The world blurred suddenly and I had to sit down on the toilet. All of a sudden, my arm ceased to throb moderately and began to throb violently. Everything felt hot and tight. Actually, I felt hot and tight all over. Something wasn’t right. I wiped sweat off my brow and waited for the two of them to finish their conversation. My arm would just have to wait.

They moved to the door and turned to face each other. I could tell from their body language that this was the final goodbye. I tried to concentrate, because Leon was going to need me. I had to hold on to the basin and wait for my head to stop spinning.

I wondered what the two least chatty men in the world would find to say to each other.

Nothing, was the answer to that one. Everything had already been said.

They shook hands. The door opened. He stepped out. The door closed.

I heaved myself to my feet and joined Leon at the screen. I watched Helios walk back through the olive grove towards the tumble of stones that had once been his home. He stopped, turned, and looked back at us. The sun was behind him and I couldn’t read his face. He couldn’t see me, but he knew I was there. We stared at each other. I couldn’t look away and my wet eyes had nothing to do with the bright sunshine.

He turned and walked away.

It was done.

I gently touched Leon’s arm. ‘All right?’

He nodded.

‘What did he say?’

‘He thanked you – us – for the extra years he never thought he’d have. Then he wished us luck. Then he said goodbye. We must go.’

I turned away and sat quietly in the corner. To think. I didn’t know about Leon, but I’d learned my lesson. I would never, ever interfere with History again. The rules are very clear. Don’t interfere. Don’t do anything to change the course of History. The price is always a life. And we’d accepted it as such. Occupational hazard. The price we paid for our jobs. But this time, the price was too high. Way too high. Because this time, it wasn’t us who’d paid it.

He pulled himself together. ‘Computer – initiate jump.’

The world went white.

He spent all day working on the pod. He didn’t speak at all.

I didn’t know where we were. Or when. I didn’t know anything at all. I slept.

Halfway through the afternoon, I wobbled to my feet and made us a cup of tea. It cost me, but I had to get up and start moving around. It was now definitely quicker and easier to list the bits of me that didn’t throb unbearably.

My right foot was fine.

I was trying, one-handed, to comb my hair when he sat behind me and took the comb. ‘You’ll hurt your arm. I’ll do it.’

He combed through all the tangles and braided it in a long plait, tying it neatly with a bit of bandage and finishing with a quick kiss to the top of my head.

For a moment, I couldn’t speak and then cleared my throat. ‘Not bad.’

‘No, it’s not, is it?’ he said, modestly. ‘I must say when I was younger I spent many hours trying to choose between a career in engineering or hairdressing.’

‘When do you think you’ll finally make the decision?’

And because he was so close, and because everything hurt so much, I allowed myself the luxury of leaning against him.

I closed my eyes. Only for a minute …

Dark dreams. Dreams I hadn’t had for years. A relentless procession of my past. And no matter how I ran, or twisted and turned, there was no escape. There hadn’t been then and there wasn’t now. Nothing goes away. It all lies dormant, waits until you’re too sick to contain it any longer, and then it explodes in unstoppable thoughts and pictures. Every detail is presented for inspection. Every memory. Every fear. That’s the problem with locking things away – they never get used. So when they do finally burst forth, every tiny, fear-enhanced fact is perfectly remembered. All the colours are bright and shiny. Every picture is sharp and detailed. As if it happened only last week. Or yesterday. Or now …

Then the past blends into the present. Faces change. What was comforting and safe suddenly is not comforting and safe any longer. The past is here, submerging me. There is no escape. There never was. It is here. Now. Leaning over me as I sleep …

‘Max. Wake up!’

I shuddered. This was not right. I was drenched in sweat. My arm throbbed. Shadows swirled. Was I awake? The past swooped again, seeking to carry me away to somewhere I didn’t want to go.

‘Max. Wake up. Wake up now.’

I opened my eyes and the world resolved itself back into one small pod. ‘Why are you shouting at me?’

‘Because you’re frightening me.’

I said, feebly. ‘No need. I’m fine,’ and he swore. Really, really swore, which he didn’t usually.

‘Let me see your arm.’

He twitched away the blanket and even I could see that someone had stolen my arm in the night and replaced it with a purple, shiny sausage. A throbbing, purple, shiny sausage.

‘Is that my arm?’

I know, but cut me some slack here.

He didn’t answer, gently peeling off the dressing to see the damage. I’m a qualified Field Medic and I’m damned sure it shouldn’t look like that.

He rummaged in our first aid kit, pulling out a syringe.

‘What’s that?’

‘Antibiotics. A lot of antibiotics. Hold still.’

‘Not in this arm,’ I said, being a baby.

‘Don’t worry. I’m going to make a start on the other arm, now.’

He disposed of the empty syringe and sat back.

‘I’ll get you some water.’

‘I’m not thirsty.’

‘You must drink. Just sip it.’

I did as I was told. A bit of a first, but I really didn’t feel that good.

‘Would you like some tea?’

No, actually, I wouldn’t, but if I said so then he’d really start to worry, so I nodded. I would just forget to drink it.

He brought it over and it was perfect. He’d remembered to get fresh lemons, so there were two slices of lemon, just the way I liked it. He sat down alongside and helped me hold the mug.

‘Just a sip.’

I did try.

‘And another.’

Apparently satisfied, he took the mug off me. I closed my eyes.

‘No. Don’t go to sleep.’

He was right. Sleeping was a bad idea. I didn’t want those dreams again. Not with a witness, anyway.

He’d turned the lights down very low. The pod was silent. Even the little background electronic noises had ceased.

He took my one working hand and gently rubbed his thumb across my knuckles.

‘So who’s Bear?’

Oh, shit. I’d been talking about Bear.

I said nothing for a long time. He didn’t repeat the question, but it didn’t go away, either.

So who was Bear?

I wondered how much he knew. Wondered if my past life here was the same as my past life there. With my luck, it would be worse.

I don’t know if it was the infection floating around my system, the fever, the knowledge I might be dying, or a combination of all of these. It might even be that something in my head decided, after years of silence, it was time to tell the story of Bear.

I spoke into the cold darkness.

‘I’d always had Bear. I don’t know where he came from or who gave him to me, but I’d always had him. And no, he wasn’t the traditional teddy, all grubby, with bare patches and one eye missing. I looked after him. He was my best friend. We had adventures together. We flew to the moon and found it was made of cheese. We rode the waves with the mermaids. We lived in imaginary kingdoms.’ I stopped suddenly. ‘I … loved my Bear.’

There was no sound in the darkness.

When I could, I continued.

‘On my ninth birthday, we had a party. Afterwards, I was in my room, about to get ready for bed and telling Bear all about it.’

I paused again.

‘My mother wouldn’t let me wear my Captain Spaceman pyjamas. She laid out a long white nightie. It was very pretty, with flowers and birds embroidered all over. I preferred Captain Spaceman, but I didn’t argue. She said I’d like it. She said I looked like a princess. And Bear said I looked like a princess, too. She combed my hair and tied it up in long white ribbons. I asked her why and she said my father wanted to see me in his study and I should look pretty because it was my birthday. She spent ages getting the bows even. She said it was important. Even Bear got a white bow around his neck.

‘I was excited because I liked his study. He had a skeleton called William – and if I could name five bones, I won half a crown. Sometimes he would take down a book and show me pictures. He was teaching me to play chess. So I was pleased and excited. I picked up Bear and tucked him under my arm, she took my hand, and we walked down the stairs to his study. She wouldn’t let me wear slippers and the floors were cold.’

I stopped. My heart was hammering away and I could feel the sweat running down my back. Just say it, Maxwell.

‘She opened the door. She didn’t look at me. She said, “In you go, then. He’s waiting for you.” Then she walked away.’

I took two or three deep breaths, but it was too late to stop now.

‘I never saw Bear again.’

Silence.

‘I don’t know what happened to him.’

More silence.

‘He’s out there, somewhere. Lost in the dark. We both were. I never found him. No one helped me. My mother bought me another teddy and I threw it away. She kept telling me to stop crying because my father liked his little girl to smile, that I should always smile for him … because that’s what he liked … but I never would. I cried for my Bear and it made him angry. Everyone was angry with me. Just because I’d lost my Bear and wouldn’t smile …

I broke off, because in the darkness, I heard a tiny crack.

‘What was that?’

‘Stupid mug,’ he said, lightly. ‘The handle just fell off.’

‘Did you hurt yourself?’

‘No.’

We both sat in the darkness. Now what?

I said quietly, ‘You’re angry too, aren’t you?’

‘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.’