And the Rest Is History(88)

I don’t know what Miss Lingoss and Professor Rapson had been doing to him that day, but ten minutes later Matthew was out like a light. He lay on his back, mouth slightly open, with a plastic T-rex clutched tightly in one hand, Miss Dottle’s teddy in the other, and the Time Map whirling around his head. I shut it down and quietly closed his bedroom door so Peterson and I could talk in peace.

I poured the wine. ‘Do you want some?’

‘I don’t know why you bother to ask.’

When I handed him his glass, he was stuffing a small piece of paper back in his pocket.

‘What was that?’

‘Oh – just something I found in my pocket.’

‘So – what can I do for you?’

He didn’t speak immediately, swirling his wine around in the glass.

‘What’s the problem?’

‘Nothing … Well, yes … but … There’s something I want to talk to you about.’

He looked so serious that a sudden fear ran through me. ‘You’re not ill, are you?’

‘No. Oh no. Nothing like that. Don’t panic.’

‘Well, what then?’

‘I have something to say. To ask you, actually, and I’m worried it will lose me the best friend anyone could ever have.’

‘If you mean me, dummy, I’m not going anywhere.’

‘I wouldn’t be too sure. You haven’t heard what I have to say yet.’

‘Am I in trouble?’

‘Astonishingly, no. But I think I might be.’

‘In what way? Are you sure you’re not ill?’

‘Quite sure. But I’m not fine.’ He put down his wine, twisted around to face me and took both my hands.

‘The thing is, Max … you and I are not the sort of people who … I’m not good at this … but OK … Here it is … I think I … I mean, I haven’t said anything because … Well, I was worried it might be too soon … or that you might not … I mean … and then I said those stupid things … and I hope you know how sorry I am … but I was thinking that perhaps … Well, you know…’

He trailed to a halt, let go of my hands and took a gulp of his wine.

‘I find it quite disturbing that I actually understood every word of that.’

‘Well, thank God for that because I don’t think I could do it again. So what do you think?’

Good question. What did I think?

‘Well, I think … I mean … it would be … Unless you thought…’

I stopped and took a gulp of my own wine.

There was a bit of a silence while the pair of us reassembled our capacity for coherent speech.

He said quietly, ‘Max, I’m going to ask you a question. Please tell me the truth. Don’t lie to me.’

I could feel my heart thumping with alarm. ‘I never would. You know that.’

‘How lonely are you?’

I thought I was all right. I thought I was fine. I had my job, my friends around me. I had Matthew, happily doing whatever it was eight-year-olds do. I had my painting and my books. I thought I had everything I needed but, with that one question, the whole empty, fragile framework that I had constructed on which to hang my life disintegrated around me and crashed to the ground in a shower of bittersweet memories, empty days and awful, aching, unacknowledged, lonely nights. For the first time, I opened my eyes to the hard road leading to a bleak and empty future and before I knew what was happening, two great fat tears rolled down my cheeks.

‘Oh God, I’m sorry, Max. I didn’t mean to make you cry.’

‘I’m not crying for me,’ I said, ‘I’m crying because…’ and was completely unable to put it into words.

We sat together on my sofa and I thought – this is Tim. Just tell him.

I sniffed a bit and then said, ‘It’s just … This sounds stupid, but when did our lives become so dark, Tim? Do you remember the fun we used to have? When did everything become such a struggle? I know nobody sets out to have their life go wrong and I’ve always known mine would never be sunshine and roses, but I never thought it would be this bad. I thought I would have a little baby and he would love me and I would love him. I thought I could have both work and Matthew. I thought Leon would always be with me. I thought – oh so many things. How stupid am I? When did everything go so wrong?’

He sighed. ‘When that bastard Ronan turned up. That’s when things started to go pear-shaped. But he’s gone now, Max. Yes, I know he took some good people with him, but if we allow that to darken our lives then he’s still winning even after he’s dead. And that’s just plain wrong. We’re still here. We still have a chance to bring some fun back into our lives. What do you say?’

I’ve been at St Mary’s long enough for the kookaburra of caution to hover over my head occasionally.

‘What did you have in mind?’

‘Nothing onerous. I thought – if you don’t object – we could just … go out … one evening.’

I smiled sadly. ‘I’m not sure, Tim. When I think back on what’s happened over this last year, I sometimes wonder if people like us aren’t supposed to have normal relationships.’

He grinned at me, suddenly looking like a very young Tim Peterson on our first assignment together. To Westminster Abbey, when a socking great block of stone missed us by inches and he peed on me.