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by
Jodi Taylor
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June 9 - June 11, 2016
Finally, we were presentable. Not decent. We would never be decent again.
They say the quiet ones are the worst. Take it from me, the quiet ones are the best.
Given their respective sizes, it was rather like a chipmunk hurling itself at Mount Everest.
‘You’re not supposed to hit girls,’ said Markham provocatively. ‘It’s not polite.’
‘Well, let’s just have a guess what’s going on here, shall we? Some prat told the “How do you raise the intelligence level of a pod? Take out the historian,” joke. And then some smart arse said, “How many techies does it take to change a light bulb? Only one, but you need a lot of light bulbs!” and someone else didn’t find that funny and then some other joker showed his ID to the dog rather than the security guy because everyone knows the dog’s the one with the brains and the next thing is you’re all kicking seven shades of shit out of each other.’ There were some murmurings from the group and
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He looked at me and the look clearly said, ‘Seriously? I leave you for ten minutes and you have a black eye?’
I was really worried about the pod. Even with its bracing leg extended, it wasn’t as stable as I’d like it to be. ‘A bit like its owner, then,’ panted Dieter and I began to think we might make a historian of him yet.
‘Dieter, I’m sorry, but you’ve just become an honorary historian, which means you rank somewhere between blue-green algae and the duck-billed platypus in the scheme of things. The Boss must see those tapes.’
‘We’ve wrecked the toilet. Can’t you smell it?’ ‘Ah, no, sorry. That would be me.’
I got Murdoch, Whissell, Evans, and the irrepressible Markham. He grinned at me. I grinned back. Always nice to see someone who’s even more of a disaster magnet than I am. ‘Maybe we’ll cancel each other out,’ he whispered. ‘Like white noise.’ Fat chance! He was the only person in the unit to have more yellow disciplinary sheets in his file than me.
Somewhere in there, Kal was grieving for Peterson. The Boss was fighting for his life. Murdoch would be mourning Guthrie … And the man I loved had been dead for sixty-seven million years.
Breathing in was one pain and breathing out was another. And then, one morning, I had a different pain.
Knowing you are pregnant for only twenty minutes is not the same as being pregnant for only twenty minutes. I wish it was.
I’d lost the man I loved and I’d lost his child too. Suddenly I was so tired, tired of everything, tired of trying to get by, tired of struggling with love and loss. I felt as if the strings of my life had been cut with a pair of scissors. This was the end for me. I’d had enough.
Eau de pod; the most evocative smell in the world.
But whichever it was, it would eventually finish between me and them. More balls, more walls! It could have been worse.
‘Don’t bloody stop, you muppet!’
Farrell said, ‘Max, are you all right?’ ‘Of course she’s all right,’ said Peterson, crossly. ‘She fell on me.’
He looked at me, raised an eyebrow and drank his beer. ‘Are you drunk?’ ‘As a newt,’ I said happily. ‘You think anyone would ever have done this sober?’ ‘Good point.’
Disregarding the pain from his hands, Markham crushed his can and tossed it into the bag. Peterson said softly, ‘I’m going to have a quiet word with our Miss Barclay.’ ‘No, you’re not,’ I said. ‘She’s mine.’ No one argued.
‘Rushford? Why can’t we go back to St Mary’s?’ demanded Markham. ‘What’s at Rushford?’ ‘Well, for a start, spicy lamb casserole followed by treacle tart and custard, hot showers, warm beds, more beer than you can handle, and probably a bottle of something potent. But of course, if you’re not interested then I’ll just release you back into the wild, shall I?’ Typically from Markham, ‘So, no women then?’ ‘Tim,’ I said. ‘Open the door and throw him out, will you?’
I woke later, vaguely aware of someone climbing in beside me. I hoped it was Leon but was too far gone to care. If this was one of those books, there would now be three pages of head-banging sex. The reality was that he pulled me close, whispered, ‘Mfhbnnntx,’ and I pulled his arm over me like a cover and muttered, ‘Trout,’ and that was pretty much it.
it would cause me considerable concern (and surprise) if, at any point, you weren’t contravening something, somewhere.’
‘I was a little worried it was a dream, but no, here you are and with tea. Do you have to work at being so perfect?’ ‘No, it’s effortless.’
What happened to you?’ I cuddled my tea. ‘Oh, you know … bitchfight with Barclay, chucked out, flat in Rushford, Mrs De Winter, found the remote, stole the pod, came to rescue my boys. Same old same old.’
‘So, you get discharged from hospital, still not recovered from a serious illness at … what … eleven a.m.? You stop for a quick lunch, meet a friend, steal a pod from a top-security establishment, do a series of complex equations, and an hour later you’re skipping around the Cretaceous, rescuing four men and facing down the world’s greatest predator with a can of pepper spray and a hard look. I think you’re pretty amazing.’
‘As per our previous conversation, Miss Maxwell, I would like you to deal with this matter. In public and with prejudice.’ ‘Happy to oblige, sir, and with extreme prejudice.’
We could, of course, just march through the front door but that wouldn’t be half so much fun. We were going to do things the St Mary’s way.
I said softly and with complete contempt, ‘You still don’t get it, do you? And that’s why you’ll never be one of us. We’re St. Mary’s. We never, ever, ever leave our people behind.’
My fist, travelling at the combined speeds of rage and retribution impacted hard on her nose.
‘Some of your books,’ he said. ‘How do you organise them?’ ‘By order of enjoyment.’ ‘Yes, that’s helpful.’
They say, ‘A red mist descended …’ Well, it bloody well does. I was so angry. Boiling, red-hot, gut-churning angry. Something burst inside me like an angry sun. I just wanted to hurt somebody and here he was. Legitimate prey!
‘What’s Kal going to do when she arrives back and we’re gone?’ ‘She will pause only to torch the place on her way out.’
I don’t want much. I just want you to tell me you love me sometimes.’ I shook my head. ‘Yes, you see, I can’t do that.’ He turned his head away. ‘I love you all the time.’
I sat in a little pool of light and changed the world.
I headed the file, Boss – this will rock your world! – obviously not completely sober yet then – and sent it off to him.
He regarded us from behind his desk. ‘I can’t remember a time when you two weren’t standing in front of me.’ I couldn’t think of a response so I grinned at him, just to annoy him some more.
Mrs Mack handed me a plate of leaves. ‘What’s this?’ ‘Mushroom omelette and salad. Doctor’s orders.’ ‘But it’s green.’ ‘Green food is good for you’ ‘Can’t I have mint choc-chip ice-cream instead?’ ‘And this is a glass of orange juice.’ ‘What?’ ‘And you too, Mr Peterson.’ ‘What?’ ‘And if you eat it all up, there’s a gooseberry crumble with your name on it.’ I knew she wouldn’t let us down. ‘I’m off to see Helen,’ he said, when we’d finished. I looked at him. He blushed slightly. ‘We have more catching up to do.’ ‘You’ll go blind,’ I said and we parted.
Exciting times are ahead for all of us –’ ‘And it’s been so dull up till now,’ muttered Peterson
You’ve seen this unit go through historians like laxatives through a short grandmother.
And then to one side, I saw Jenny Fields. Her lips were moving, but she was such a quiet thing I couldn’t make it out. ‘Shut up, you lot,’ I shouted. ‘What is it, Jenny?’ ‘Dodos. We could bring back dodos.’ And that was the moment. That was the moment when the true potential of all we could achieve became apparent. That was the moment when everyone’s imagination took flight and we became unstoppable.
Sod’s Law decrees if a thing can go wrong it will. We’ve done our best but something will happen that we haven’t foreseen and then we’ll just have to wing it.’ ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘The History Department’s motto.’
‘Rabbit shit? You’re cooking rabbit shit in here? Are you insane? Dear gods, man, you can’t cook rabbit shit.
‘You can say this about historians, we may be the tea-drenched disaster-magnets of St Mary’s but bloody hell, can we think quickly when we have to?’
‘Idiot.’ ‘Yes,’ he said, downing it in one go. ‘But there’s always make-up sex afterwards.’ ‘True,’ I said. ‘Tell me, I’ve always wanted to know – what’s he like in bed?’
An intelligent and perceptive man can read these small signs.’ I nodded. ‘Do you think I’ll ever meet one?’
‘I’m sure I saw you in a dress once. You were clean. And smelled good. Sometimes it seems like just a dream.’
They tried to attack Henry from the rear, which just wasn’t done, but that’s the French for you.
They’d found my arm. It was between my shoulder and my wrist, exactly where it should have been. I’d been lying on it. I felt a bit silly.
everyone was blown up, not just you, so stop making such a fuss.
