And the Rest Is History(37)

He paused again. I waited.

‘This is difficult to say, Max. I had not anticipated having this conversation with you for a few years yet. When Matthew was a baby, this was of no concern. And, of course, you planned to live in the village so security concerns might never have arisen. But, we now find ourselves in a position where a young boy will be running around the building and possibly seeing all sorts of things he should not be seeing. And then going on to tell others. At school – at play – whenever. The opportunities for him to say something unfortunate will be enormous.’

‘Are you asking for my resignation, sir?’

‘Most definitely not. I regard you as one of the key members of this unit. And with Clive Ronan out there, I cannot allow anyone to leave, anyway. For how long this situation will continue, I don’t know. But Matthew is growing. He has needs now and these needs must be met. I am consulting Dr Stone and Dr Dowson, and together with you and Leon, we will put together a learning programme for him. He must learn about this world and the people in it. He must learn basic maths and to read and write. He can learn all that here, together with a little history and geography. We can handle this. What we cannot provide is the company of his contemporaries. I am sure you do not wish him to have a solitary existence with no friends or contact of any kind with other children.’

He paused yet again. I still said nothing.

‘At my request, Dr Dowson has been researching educational establishments. There is a special school – not too far away – especially for children whose early years have been difficult. Trauma, severe illness, any reason why a normal education has proved impossible. Dr Dowson has all the information, which I would like you and Leon to study. There is no possibility of him attending any outside establishment while Clive Ronan is still at large, but with Captain Ellis and Major Guthrie on his tail, I hope that problem will resolve itself soon. When it does, with luck, Matthew will be able to avail himself of their quite exceptional facilities.’

I still said nothing.

‘I should say, Max, that even if Ronan were not in the picture, there would be no question of sending him away to any sort of school until you and Leon have established a happy family relationship, and he has become accustomed to our world and can operate easily within it. I mention all this only for you and Leon to consider. Please be reassured that all decisions will be made by you and Leon – and to some extent, Matthew – alone. I and other staff members are happy to advise and discuss, but every decision will be yours.’

He paused again. I couldn’t have said anything to save my life.

‘This silence is concerning me. I shall, of course, deny this in any future conversations, but I always feel much happier when you are waving your arms around and arguing with me. Please reassure me by uttering at least one small sentence. Shall I ask Mrs Partridge to bring in some tea?’

I nodded. ‘Yes, please sir.’

‘That will do nicely.’



I divided my time between Sick Bay and the History Department. My personal life and my professional life. I’d never had to do that before.

Peterson was duly installed as Deputy Director. He stood beside Dr Bairstow as the announcement was made. Like the Boss, he now wore the formal black uniform instead of his usual blue jumpsuit. He looked pale, remote, and unfamiliar. And he’d gone back to wearing his arm in a sling. The dreadful wound to his upper arm was healed, but some of the muscle damage was permanent, and whenever he was tired or unwell the old ache would return, and he would be back to the sling again.

Mrs Shaw would continue to be his assistant and he would keep his old office, which meant he was almost next door to me. Well, we’d just have to wait and see how that worked out.

I turned up the next day with pod schedules and personnel rotas for his approval. He scanned them briefly and thanked me. I thanked him for thanking me and that was it.



Everything was just … awful. Even the weather was awful. It was spring, but every day was darker and windier than the last. The rain never stopped. I remember listening to it lashing against the windows throughout the entire Bayeux briefing. I turned up the heating, topped up my mug of tea – my talisman against everything unpleasant – and we got stuck in.

I’d asked Sykes to prepare the background briefing on this one.

She assumed what she fondly imagined to be an American accent. ‘Previously on William and Harold – The Road to Hastings…’

North tutted and I frowned at the pair of them, but in a way, Sykes was right. Nothing happens in isolation. Everything is connected to everyone else. The build up to Hastings started some fifty years before the battle itself.

Sykes as usual, was bright and breezy, speaking without notes, and bringing up images as required.

‘OK, people – the story so far. William has “rescued” Harold Godwinson from the clutches of Guy of Ponthieu. We last saw the two of them riding off together – not into the sunset as you might think, but off to another adventure. Conan II of Brittany has rebelled and at William’s invitation, Harold joins William in putting down the rebellion.

She brought up an image of the Bayeux Tapestry. ‘As you can see here, not only do William and Harold fight side by side – and no doubt sussing out each other’s technique as they do so – but Harold wins a few hearts and minds by single-handedly rescuing two of William’s soldiers from drowning in quicksand.