And the Rest Is History(36)

Dieter silently relieved him of the broken cupholder and indicated we should leave as quickly as possible. Clerk’s team were already heading for Sick Bay. We followed on behind. Half of me was eager to see Leon and Matthew again. The other half wasn’t quite so sure.

It seemed strange to crash through Sick Bay doors and find a strange doctor waiting for us. We’d all been gabbling away and suddenly silence fell. We looked at him. He looked at us. I felt a little sorry for him. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t Helen Foster.

‘Dr Maxwell, would you like to come this way? I expect you’re eager to see your family again. Anyone else in a rush?’

They shook their heads. Normally, there would be a kind of human surge, with each of us demanding priority because everyone hates hanging around after an assignment. We’re often dirty, wet, cold, tired and still terrified. Helen would repel each request with scorn and harsh language but, in some mysterious fashion, when everyone stopped arguing and pushing, everything would have been done and we’d been scanned, shoved into the appropriate wards, showered, fed and, where appropriate, put to bed.

Now, everyone shuffled their feet and said nothing. There wasn’t anything I could do. He was going to have to work things out for himself.

Pronounced fit for human consumption, I made my way to the isolation ward. Hunter let me in. I barely recognised the place. The central table was covered in building bricks and half-completed jigsaws. I had no idea what they were constructing out of Lego, but whatever it was it was huge. Books, papers and crayons littered every horizontal surface. Matthew’s pale blue teddy sat on his pillow.

The two of them were crouched over something as I entered. Leon looked up and smiled. ‘Hi. How did it go?’

‘Perfectly,’ I said.

‘Oh, that’s disappointing. I thought you could regale us with tall tales over dinner.’

‘I can still do that, if you like. How’s everything here?’

‘Absolutely fine,’ he said, which is St Mary’s speak for absolutely bloody awful but don’t ask.

‘Jolly good,’ I said carefully, and dropped my gear on a bed.

Matthew had barely glanced at me, keeping his distance.

Leon looked from me to him and back again.

‘Well, I can see you’re busy,’ I said, ‘and so am I. Reports to write, historians to chase. Don’t let me interrupt you.’

I sat at the other end of the ward, making sure to keep out of their way. I dictated my report, harried the others for theirs, viewed their footage, signed and initialled everything and packed it all off to Dr Bairstow.

By the time I’d finished, it was dinner-time. We sat around a small table. Leon had made some small progress with Matthew’s table manners and at least we didn’t have to duck low flying cutlery this time, although he still fell on his food like Theodosius’s troops fell on Thessalonika.

I turned away to say something to Leon and when I turned back, from the corner of my eye, I saw Matthew stuff a bread roll into his dressing-gown pocket. He was hoarding food. Because he couldn’t believe that this would last. He was hiding food against the day when, for whatever reason, there wouldn’t be any. I bet if I looked in his locker, there would be any amount of foodstuff stashed away there. Slowly going stale or bad. But he couldn’t help himself.

I could say something or I could let it go. I let it go. For the time being.



Since it seemed to make very little difference to Matthew whether I stayed or went – I went. The very next morning, as soon as Dr Stone discharged me. I said goodbye to Leon and promised to be back for lunch. I said goodbye to Matthew, ignored him ignoring me, and set off for the Boss. Who was pleased. We both took a moment to savour this phenomenon.

‘Satisfactory work,’ he said, so he was actually very pleased. ‘I see the two teams will remain the same throughout the assignments.’

‘Yes, sir. I thought each team could become an expert on their particular protagonist, which will make it easier to spot anomalous behaviour or predict how their subject will react to events around them.’

I thought he looked at me strangely for a moment before he nodded.

‘If you are certain, then very well. When is your next assignment?’

‘Next Wednesday, sir. The oath taking at Bayeux.’

He paused and shuffled a few files. He does this when he has something difficult to say. About Peterson, I guessed.

‘Dr Peterson has indicated his eagerness to return to work. On Monday, he will take up the position of Deputy Director. You will still report to me regarding assignments, but for admin and personnel matters, you will now report to Dr Peterson. Do you anticipate any difficulties with this arrangement?’

I didn’t give myself time to think about it. ‘None, sir.’

‘Very well. There will be an all-staff briefing tomorrow to announce this.’

He paused again.

‘And how is your son?’

‘Very well, thank you, sir. I’ve just come from Sick Bay. His injuries are healing. He looks considerably cleaner, although some of the dirt is so ingrained there’s still some way to go. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with his appetite.’

‘Excellent news. Max. I appreciate you are, at the moment, more concerned with his physical condition, but I have been speaking with Dr Stone about the future. Matthew is, apparently, around seven or eight years old.’