The Good, The Bad and The History (Chronicles of St. Mary's #14)

by Jodi Taylor

‘No,’ said Markham, and in that moment his voice carried all the power and authority of someone whose ancestors had spent centuries mowing down any and all stupid enough to stand in their path.

‘Excuse me, one and all,’ said Treadwell, shouldering his way to the open window and pulling out his blaster. ‘I have a favour to return.’ He took seemingly casual aim and fired at the fleeing figure. Tight beam right between the shoulder blades.

‘Is he dead?’ I asked. ‘No, I’m far too good a shot,’ said Treadwell,

He surveyed us all with his usual mocking disdain. ‘Should anyone be contemplating writing a stiff letter of complaint to my commander, please remember I am a member of the Time Police and licensed to do pretty much as I please.’

‘Because we have no choice. And if your generation hadn’t been so short-sighted . . . And if the generation after that hadn’t been so greedy . . . And if the generation after that hadn’t been so . . .’ He stopped, his voice vibrating with anger. It was the only time I ever saw him anything other than coldly smiling at the world around him. ‘I exist because of you, Mr Daniels. You and all those like you are part of the problem. I, on the other hand am the solution. As are others like me. And if you don’t like it, then you shouldn’t have created the problem in the first place.’

‘If it’s unpredictable you’re after, then you should stay on until tomorrow,’ said Markham, straight-faced. ‘It’s the semi-finals of the Annual All-comers Indoor Blindfold Axe-throwing competition. You’d be more than welcome.’ Treadwell appeared to consider this. ‘Remarkably tempting though I find the thought of being in an enclosed space with axes and St Mary’s . . . I regret I must decline.’

I was gobsmacked. So was Markham and it takes a lot to gobsmack him.

I was going on to say Hunter had given him a proper ear-bashing afterwards, but I think we can all agree that remark would be in very poor taste.

Rather ungratefully, he immediately began to mutter threats and complaints. ‘I can do it again,’ said Markham, reaching for his stun gun. Gaunt shut up.

Daniels looked perplexed. ‘What? What does that mean?’ ‘We’ll kill you,’ said Pennyroyal, keeping it simple for the politicians among us.

Smallhope passed the document to Pennyroyal, who pulled out his spectacles and carefully perused it. ‘Just checking the details,’ he said with his least reassuring smile.

‘As a matter of interest,’ I asked, because I was certain everyone was dying to know but was too polite to ask. ‘How much is Mr Daniels worth dead?’ Pennyroyal read on for a few seconds and then raised his eyebrows. He passed the warrant to Dr Bairstow, who raised his eyebrows. ‘I thought it would be more.’

Pennyroyal looked over at me. ‘This the bloke who chopped your hair?’ I nodded. ‘Yes.’ He looked at Treadwell. ‘I’ll do him for nothing.’

He looked at me. ‘Termination bonus.’ I smiled nervously, wishing he’d been a little clearer on the precise meaning of ‘termination bonus’.

‘I’ll miss you both,’ I said. ‘Especially Pennyroyal’s carefree joie de vivre.’ Once again, I was the recipient of his deadpan stare. ‘My friends think I’m joyous and light-hearted.’ ‘You have friends? Actual . . . ?’ ‘We’ll meet again,’ said Smallhope hastily.

‘Once more unto the breach, dear friends,’ sighed Markham.

‘And the other?’ ‘Um . . .’ I couldn’t believe it. ‘You thought it might have been me?’ ‘Well, I knew it wasn’t me. I was pretty sure it wasn’t Dr Bairstow. Or Pennyroyal or Smallhope. Or Leon. That left you or Dr Stone.’ ‘You thought it was me?’

I wasn’t going to let it go. ‘You actually thought it was me?’ ‘No, no,’ he said, very unconvincingly. ‘I thought it might have been you.’

‘Hold on a moment,’ said Jack Daniels, and I exchanged a glance with Markham. We were obviously going to have to shoot him as well. Jack Daniels leaned forwards. ‘I have to know,’ he said earnestly. ‘Are all St Mary’s meetings like this?’ Dr Bairstow sighed. ‘I wish I could say no.’ Daniels grinned, and in that moment, I quite liked him.

There are no rules other than those you yourself choose to abide by. No one’s telling you what to do all day long. Exhilaration. Enjoyable danger. Head-banging sex. Sometimes all at the same time.

He stared at me. ‘Jesus, Max, that’s . . . brutal.’ ‘But I’m not wrong.’ ‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re not wrong.’ ‘I haven’t helped, have I?’ ‘Yes, you have, actually.’

‘Spencer Perceval,’ I said, suddenly. ‘Good heavens, Dr Maxwell. Are you proposing we shoot Mr Daniels in the lobby of the House of Commons?’

not every job at St Mary’s involves leaping into a pod and initiating a near apocalypse.’ ‘True, but all the best ones do.’ He smiled.

‘You think Treadwell might try to poison me?’ ‘I think, Dr Maxwell, that in the very likely event of Commander Treadwell deciding the world would be a better place without you, he would not deny himself the satisfaction of ending you face to face.’ I wasn’t sure how reassuring that was supposed to be.

I sat at the back as I used to do with Peterson in the days when we were young and carefree and would play Battleships. These days, as Deputy Director, Peterson was forced to sit at the front, pay attention, look supportive and not play Battleships.

I looked across at Kalinda who mouthed ‘CHOPS’ at me and mimed a belly laugh.

‘Mr Sands remains Head of the History Department and will become her deputy.’ He paused again. One or two people were looking very apprehensive indeed. I couldn’t think why until he said blandly, ‘And Miss Lee will return to her position as PA to Dr Maxwell.’ What? The old bugger – he hadn’t mentioned that.

I understand your last doctor was a bit of a bastard. Sadly for you – so am I.

Lie to me and I will let you die.

PS: Do not bother with any jokes concerning wounds and the rubbing of Salt therein. You are unlikely to break new ground.

Hunter and Fortunata thought she was wonderful. She frightened the living daylights out of the rest of us.

Leon started to build a bridge over the stream, using anyone foolish enough to visit as unpaid bridge-building apprentices.

I walked around Ellis several times, admiring his new shoulder flashes until he told me to bugger off before he found something in my extensive files to arrest me for.

One or two unkind people made jokes at Time Police expense. I might have been one of them.

I wasn’t going to hug him because we were in public, but he held out his arms to me. One hefty hug later, he stepped inside their pod.

I WILL ALWAYS CRY WHEN MATTHEW AND MAX HUG.

apparently. I’d already had Peterson whinging away because he thought mine was bigger than his. He’s a bloke. Size matters, apparently.

Distressingly close to Dr Bairstow, of course, but he’d never hear a thing if he was wise enough to keep his door closed.

‘If you’re unhappy,’ said Peterson, appearing at the door and possibly with his own agenda regarding this office, ‘can I suggest you complain to the union and . . .’ ‘The union,’ uttered Rosie Lee, eyes blazing with contempt. Peterson took a wise step backwards. ‘That bunch of useless, ineffectual, feeble, toothless fu—’ It seemed likely that at some point in her life, the union had failed to live up to expectation.

And it wasn’t all books – she liked animals, too, so Mr Strong gave her Ramses to look after. Every day she groomed him, cleaned his little hooves and took him for a walk around the grounds. Our two Time Criminals, as Markham called them.

I walked into the stables one morning and Turk was inside for some reason. Mr Strong had tied him up at the entrance and she had to get past him to reach Ramses. I opened my mouth to warn her to keep her distance because he could be nasty, when she slapped his great bony rump and shouted, ‘Move over, you big brown bastard.’ And he did.

He got rid of Rosie Lee by simply holding open the door and telling her she could finish early. I rather enjoyed her struggle. Yes, she wanted to finish early – she always did – but she also wanted to know why he was here.

‘Max, are you happy?’ Whatever I’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. I blinked. ‘Yes, of course I am. This is my happy ending. Why would you ask? Oh my God, am I ill? I’m dying, aren’t I, and they’ve sent you along to tell me.’ ‘No, of course you’re not dying. Well, no more than anyone else.’

In times of crisis – make the tea. I got up and switched on the kettle. It switched itself off because there was no water in it – thank you, Miss Lee – so I came to sit back down again.

‘Good thing you know me well.’ I smiled. ‘We’ve been together a long time.’ ‘Since your first assignment.’ ‘You peed on me.’ ‘Actually, I think I’ve peed on you several times over the years.’ ‘That’s very true, but you never forget your first.’ He flashed me a sad smile.

‘Actually, I never expected to survive past my third assignment.’ ‘None of us expected you to survive past your third assignment.’

And so Anastasia Koslova became Helen Peterson.

SOBBING FOREVER.

We both sang ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ and one of us might have fallen over.

Flora grew and thrived. As Peterson said, she’d obviously taken one look at her parents and come to the conclusion that survival would depend on her being the sensible one of the family.

I couldn’t help but grin watching Markham with her – she could do no wrong in his eyes. On the rare occasions she did and Markham had to morph into stern-parent mode, she would fix him with huge, tearful eyes and say, ‘No, Daddy, no,’ and that was pretty much the end of the matter for him.

I started with our illegal Christmas jump – although now we were all senior officers it wasn’t actually that illegal, but we liked to think it was.