The Very First Damned Thing (10 page)

‘If you want three pods then I'm going to need some staff.'

‘If you can make it as far as the bar, then I can introduce you to your recently arrived team, and especially to a rather large but gifted young man named Dieter, fresh from the Institute of Engineering at Marienstrasse, where, I understand, they spoke very highly of him.'

‘That sounds good.'

‘The bar or the gifted young man?'

They walked slowly down the long corridor.

Later that night, Dr Bairstow was to make another and final tick in his notebook

Seven.

More time passed.

To the great alarm of SPOHB, St Mary's expanded. Dr Bairstow's attempts to reassure them by pointing out that for every expansion there was an equal and opposite contraction, usually caused by something else falling down or blowing up, and that he personally felt that the removal of the hideous Victorian clock tower considerably improved the appearance of this fine old building, however helpfully intentioned, were not well received. A bombardment of reproachful memos and the threat of legal action followed. Dr Bairstow compromised by promising to instruct Professor Rapson to take more care in future.

Mr Markham, competing in the bicycle jousting tournament, took a nasty tumble over his own handlebars and opened his eyes to find the new nurse, a vision of blonde loveliness, regarding him with a distinct lack of sympathy. Asked what his name was and if he knew what day of the week it was, he found himself unable to answer either question, and was instantly admitted to the new paint-smelling Sick Bay.

When it subsequently became apparent that this temporary loss of faculties was not in any way due to the injury to his head, but rather to his heart, the vision of blonde loveliness heartlessly evicted him from Sick Bay with threats of violence and astonishingly bad language.

The Very First Assignment – to observe Julius Caesar's landing on the south coast of Britain in August 55BC – was generally felt to have been a mixed success. On the one hand, very little of the landing was actually observed – on the other, everyone survived.

Emerging from their pod on this inaugural event, Dr Bairstow, together with historians Lower and Baverstock, discovered themselves to have inadvertently landed on the shoreline, approximately mid-point between the Roman legions on one hand and a bunch of very miffed Brits on the other. Finding themselves being regarded with equal hostility by everyone present, they beat a hasty retreat. Fighting their way through a hail of projectiles raining down impartially from both sides, they eventually gained the safety of their pod where Baverstock was heard to enquire, ‘Dare we hope, sir, than any future perambulations will be accomplished in a more sedate manner?'

Dr Bairstow's response, ‘By all means if that makes you feel more comfortable,' was deemed to be perfectly acceptable, and they returned in triumph to enjoy, as Mr Markham had phrased it – The St Mary's Inaugural Bash.

And then, one mild autumn day…

For the umpteenth time that day, Dr Bairstow got to his feet and limped to his office window. Again, he carefully checked his watch against the old clock in the corner. An observer might have said he was nervous.

The sight that met his eyes was very different from the one that had greeted him on the day of his arrival. The drive was now smooth and pothole free. Rose beds had been planted by the terrace. The South Lawn, under Mr Strong's obsessive care, rolled gently down to the lake where several swans serenely floated. Dr Bairstow frowned. Last week they had been pink. It would appear that, as per his instructions, some attempts had been made to remedy the situation because today they were blue.

Averting his gaze, he lifted his eyes to the woods surrounding St Mary's and beyond them to the moors, whose bracken was already beginning to turn flaming red and gold under the sunny blue sky.

Outwardly peaceful and still, St Mary's dreamed the day away. As did Dr Bairstow, snatching a brief moment from his crowded desk to relive old memories and old achievements. He leaned more heavily on his stick and smiled into the past.

Waiting …

A small movement brought his attention back to the present. A taxi had pulled up outside the gates and was turning around, possibly for a quick getaway. St Mary's had acquired a certain reputation …

His attention sharpened. A small figure had climbed out and was paying off the driver.

Turning, she stood at the gates. He watched her speak into the intercom. The gates opened. She did not enter for a moment, but stood for some time, taking it all in. She wore a cheap, dark suit and carried nothing in her hands. Her short, spiky hair was exactly the same colour as the autumn bracken on the moors.

Mistakenly concluding that for the most part, St Mary's seemed harmless enough, she stepped through the gates, and began to walk slowly up the drive. The gates closed silently behind her. She did not look back.

Dr Bairstow smiled gently to himself, nodded, turned from the window, and limped to his desk.

Picking up the telephone, he said, ‘Leon, I thought you might like to know. She's here.'

THE BEGINNING

Jodi Taylor

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Published by Accent Press Ltd 2015

ISBN 9781786151971

Copyright ©
Jodi Taylor
2015

The right of
Jodi Taylor
to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Accent Press Ltd, Ty Cynon House, Navigation Park, Abercynon, CF45 4SN