A Trail Through Time (The Chronicles of St Mary's) (17 page)

Chapter Ten

Whatever I’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this. I’d never given it a thought … It had never occurred to me … The shock nearly knocked me over. The world blurred again and I would have gone down with a terrible crash if Ellis hadn’t seized my good arm and pushed me into a nearby chair. Things whirled sickeningly, and for one moment I hung helplessly over an abyss. I gulped for air, desperately struggling against the overwhelming panic. I’d never thought … Why would I …?

There was no Mrs Partridge.

I stared in disbelief. I’d fretted over just about everything else, but the one thing I’d never, ever considered, not even for a moment, was that there would be no Mrs Partridge in this world. To guide me. To give me some sort of clue. To give me her familiar exasperated stare.

Her desk was occupied by Rosie Lee and, trust me, an unexpected encounter with Miss Lee should not be on any invalid’s list of Things To Do Today.

She stared curiously. She wasn’t tall and her hair waved around her head like Medusa’s snakes. The tailored suit was unfamiliar but the intimidating attitude was spot on.

‘Dr Bairstow is not available at the moment.’

‘Got a message to see Colonel Albay,’ said Ellis, trying to step past her. I could have told him he was wasting his time.

‘Why?’

He seemed confused. I was guessing this was their first encounter. ‘Why what?’

‘Why does the colonel want to see you?’

‘How should I know? I’d like to find out, though.’

Silence.

He shifted impatiently. ‘Should we go in?’

‘How should I know? I work for Dr Bairstow.’

‘For the time being.’

She snorted. He was going to have to do better than that.

I don’t know whether she’d done it intentionally, but their brief interchange had given me the time I needed. I sat up and stared around.

The battered furniture was the same. Everything was the same except for the sign on the wall behind her.

Lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part.

That figured.

A light flashed on her phone.

She made no move.

I watched, cutting my eyes from one to the other, waiting to see what would happen next.

The silence dragged on. Miss Lee had once been my assistant. I’d actually found our daily battle of wills quite stimulating, but it was fun to see someone else on the receiving end for once.

Ellis caved first. ‘Should we go in?’

She smirked with satisfaction. ‘Obviously.’

I heaved myself to my feet and followed him in.

Dr Bairstow’s room was as I always remembered it. There was the scuffed parquet floor and the square of faded carpet. The colours had once been red and gold, but now the pattern was only discernible around the very edges.

The only difference was that his desk was now occupied by that sensitive and sympathetic people person, Colonel Albay, while the Boss himself sat at his briefing table, a little way off. Under arrest he might be, but the colonel was wisely keeping him under observation.

Ellis took my arm as we marched in. It was a little late for the tough-guy treatment but I could appreciate he would want to give the right impression, so I staggered a little and did my best to look brutalised.

Albay was busy flipping through a file, doing the ‘I’m too busy to deal with you at the moment even though I’ve just sent for you’ routine so beloved of senior managers everywhere. He was wasting his time. I was flouting authority before he was born.

I peeled off and walked over to Dr Bairstow, who stood up, as he always did, because even in a crisis, he was never less than courteous.

He leaned on his cane and extended a hand. ‘How do you do.’

Which told me everything I wanted to know. I returned the greeting. ‘How do you do.’

He was not going to commit himself over my identity and neither should I.

He indicated a chair opposite. ‘Please sit down.’

Colonel Albay realised, too late, that control of the interview had just passed out of his hands.

‘I am Edward Bairstow. I trust my people have made you comfortable.’

‘Very, thank you.’

‘Have you completely recovered from your injuries?’

‘Just about. I –’

We were interrupted. Albay had realised that unless he wanted to shout from all the way over there, he would have to join us. Some people think it’s the big desk that confers the power, but there are people like Dr Bairstow who could sit on an orange box and still be the most powerful person in the room.

Albay pressed his intercom.

A voice squawked, ‘What?’

I caught Dr Bairstow’s eye, just for a very brief moment, and then he looked away.

‘Tea.’

‘What?’

‘Tea.’

‘Tea what?’

He gritted his teeth. ‘I would like a cup of tea.’

‘I would like a cup of tea what?’

‘I would like a cup of tea
now
,’ and wisely closed the connection before she could reply.

I hid a smile and then gave Colonel Albay my full attention because although he was a pillock, he was a dangerous pillock.

‘So, you can speak?’

I said nothing, just to annoy him.

‘What is your name?’

I said nothing.

He turned to Dr Bairstow. ‘Who is this woman?’

He shrugged his shoulders and said clearly, ‘I have no idea. We have only just met.’

‘She claims she is Dr Maxwell.’

‘So I heard.’

‘Dr Maxwell is dead.’

‘Quite so.’

‘So who is this woman?’

‘Asked and answered.’

He turned to me.

‘Last chance. Are you Maxwell?’

‘You just said she was dead.’

He stared for a moment and then shrugged.

‘I summoned you to tell you a hearing to determine your true identity and to advise you of possible charges against you will be held tomorrow at 4 p.m. You will prepare yourself to jump to a destination of my choosing.’

Dr Bairstow stirred. ‘No. That will not happen. The Charter clearly states that all investigations should be carried out in their own time. You yourself said this is only a preliminary hearing to ascertain this person’s identity and decide whether or not to press charges. No useful purpose can be served by removing her from her own time.’ He smiled nastily. ‘After all, isn’t that what this is all about?’

For a second, it all hung in the balance. The silence lengthened as they stared each other out. I sat as still as a mouse and then …

The door crashed open and Miss Lee entered, complete with tea tray. If I required any more proof that this was not my world, this was it. She’d never brought me tea in my life. If anything, it had been the other way around.

She dumped the tray on the desk and began to pour. Dr Bairstow received a cup and saucer. I recognised the best china. A mug reflected my social standing. Colonel Albay’s tea remained in the pot.

She handed Dr Bairstow a folded note and turned to go.

He unfolded it and glanced at the colonel who was pouring his own tea.

In large, red letters, she’d printed:

DO NOT DRINK THE TEA.

I watched him spirit the note away and struggle. The chances were that she’d only spat in it. On the other hand, this was Rosie Lee, and who was to say she hadn’t purloined something from Professor Rapson’s skull and crossbones cabinet. Two sips and the colonel might be stretched out, lifeless, on the carpet. Would Dr Bairstow take the chance? And what could he possibly say?

He sighed. ‘I wouldn’t drink that if I were you, Colonel. Miss Lee, while possessing many admirable qualities,’ his tone led us to believe he hoped, one day, to discover one, ‘does not always allow the kettle to boil quite sufficiently. I believe this to be one of those occasions.’

The colonel wasn’t stupid. He pushed the tea away from him and said to me, ‘You will present yourself tomorrow at sixteen hundred hours. I advise you to give some thought to your defence. Officer, you may remove this person.’

I spent the evening in Sick Bay, ostensibly deep in
Jane Eyre
, while I thought things through. Occasionally, I remembered to turn a page.

That night, I slept just long enough to experience a dream that drove me not only from my bed, but out of the room and downstairs as well. If this was to be my last day then I intended to get my money’s worth out of it. Starting with an early breakfast.

Time Police patrolled the corridors, but no one challenged me.

Mrs Mack was on the early shift and bustling around. I paused. I’d hoped for gentle Jenny Fields who would let me make myself a bacon buttie.

She saw me standing in the doorway and maybe the remains of my nightmare were still written on my face because she stared for a while and then said, ‘Come in, if you’re coming.’

I stepped into the kitchen and looked around.

She said, in a voice that brooked no argument, ‘Cocoa,’ and suddenly I knew that was what I wanted above everything else. A huge mug of frothy cocoa. Thick and sweet. A bit like me, really.

She nodded at her office.

‘I’ll bring it in.’

Her office was small and cluttered. The centrepiece was a huge, hairy cat, slumbering heavily on a copy of the Flour Handling Regulations. Another difference. My Dr Bairstow always maintained that an organisation possessing Mr Markham should not additionally burden itself with pets.

I made myself comfortable and passed the time by reading those parts of the Regulations not currently covered in cat.

‘Vortigern,’ announced Mrs Mack, dumping a tray on the desk. Two steaming mugs and a silver pot for top-ups. It always pays to stay on the good side of the kitchen staff.

I assumed Vortigern was the cat. Rip Van Winkle might have been more appropriate.

I blew the steam away and sipped. It tasted the way cocoa should. Hot, rich, and chocolatey.

We sat in silence while the building creaked around us. Faintly in the distance, I could hear footsteps and voices. The guard was changing.

I waited for the question du jour – who are you? – but it never came.

I warmed my hands around the mug and licked off my chocolate moustache.

Not looking at me, she said, ‘I don’t know who you are but I’ll tell you this. If you’re not Maxwell then you’d better learn to be, because if it’s one thing this unit needs at the moment, it’s a Maxwell of some kind.’

Startled, I stared at her.

Having said that, she finished her cocoa in silence.

As did I.

I should have spent the day quietly preparing for the hearing. Running through likely questions and rehearsing my answers. A bit like a job interview – although an unsuccessful applicant usually just gets a polite letter – not a bullet in the brain.

That’s what I should have done. It didn’t work out like that. Not at all.

The first thing that happened was that Barclay turned up. ‘I’ve allocated you a room if you want to come and have a look.’

‘Is it worth the effort? I’ll probably be dead by this time tomorrow.’

Her eyelids flickered. ‘Come and see, anyway.’

I never expected to go back to my old room in the main building. I wondered who had it now. I expected to be allocated one of the trainees’ rooms on the first floor of the Staff Block. They were OK – a bit small but so was I, and it wasn’t as if I had any possessions to clutter up the place.

I’d underestimated her.

There are a number of small rooms on the ground floor. They’re not very pleasant, the tiny windows are barred, and they offer a panoramic view of the wheelie bins and the car park. Mr Strong had commandeered most of them as storerooms.

She’d excelled herself.

This one was at the end of a long narrow corridor and smelled strongly of the floor cleaner that had undoubtedly been kept in there. A narrow metal bed was pushed against one wall. A battered chest of drawers occupied another. An old-fashioned strip light hummed and flickered. The floor and ceiling were of concrete. The bathroom was on the floor above. The horses were better housed.

Now I knew why she’d put herself to the trouble. Revenge for yesterday. Well, at least we wouldn’t have to pretend to be friends.

‘I’ll leave you to get settled in.’

That wouldn’t take long. I looked around. I never thought I’d say this, but I really missed Sick Bay. And Dr Foster’s invisible but very real protection. I never thought I’d say that, either. It struck me that, as well as being thoroughly unpleasant, this room was horribly isolated. Anything could happen at the end of this corridor. Fire, for instance. And all the windows were barred. I might not even live long enough for the hearing.

Well, I had nothing to lose.

‘Why did you do it, Izzie?’

I’d touched some sort of nerve. Her face froze and for a moment, she was somewhere else completely. But only for a moment.

‘We couldn’t leave you in Sick Bay indefinitely, could we?’

‘No, I mean, why did you grass up Leon Farrell?’

She loved him. I was sure of it. She’d always loved him. She must have been over the moon when I died. Then he moved to Rushford and she had him isolated and alone and vulnerable. She’d been poised to make her move. Then I came back and wrecked everything.

She stared at me and I could see her lip lifting in the familiar sneer. This was more like it. I
knew
that underneath that smiling face –

‘You don’t know, do you? You really have no idea.’

I shouldn’t have asked. I should have just walked away.

‘Know what?’

Above our heads, the light flickered again. Shadows came and went.

‘I didn’t report Leon Farrell. I reported Madeleine Maxwell. It was Madeleine Maxwell who should have been arrested, not Leon. He just covered for you. They all did.’

‘Why? What did I do?’

Gone now was any pretence. With no witnesses present, she really let rip. Spit flew from her mouth with the violence of her words.

‘You don’t get it, do you? The great Maxwell. Except you’re not. You’re not great and you’re certainly not Maxwell. You’re just a rather silly girl who’s completely out of her depth.’

I felt myself begin to grow cold, but I’d come too far now. With an assumption of ease I was far from feeling, I said, ‘Talking rubbish as usual, Izzie. What don’t I get?’