time and wait for our paths cross again.’
‘I shall pass on the coordinates to the Time Police, of course. There might be something they can do. Although I don’t know what …’
He sat silently for a while. I wondered if he was thinking through the implications of Ronan’s appearance. Or were his thoughts more personal? Eventually, he roused himself.
‘Am I to understand that Mr Sands performed adequately?’
‘He did, sir. He carried out my instructions to the letter but was able to act promptly on his own initiative when required. I think he’s aware of his own limitations. With your permission, I shall inform him he’s back on the active list, but that the responsibility for declining any assignment in which he might have trouble will rest solely with him. He’s a sensible lad, sir. He’ll tell me if he thinks he can’t hack it.’
‘He saved St Mary’s, Max. As far as I’m concerned, he has a job for life.’
‘Just wait until he starts telling you interminable knock-knock jokes, sir.’
I stood up.
‘Just one moment.’
‘Sir?’
He picked up his own cane and stared at it, twisting it in his hand.
‘I wonder if you could ask Professor Rapson to call in and see me. When he has a moment to spare, of course. No rush.’
I grinned. ‘Yes, sir.’
At the door, I looked back. He was sitting at his desk, staring back down the years. Back to the time when he was young and handsome. To when he was a brilliant historian with his whole future ahead of him. Back to the time when he had two good legs. Back to when Annie was still alive.
I let myself out quietly.
Chapter Six
Now that we had an important assignment under our belts, we really felt we were up and running and I no longer had any excuse not to get to grips with Dr Bairstow’s blasted Open Day. I assembled my carefully selected victims and once they were all present, got Miss Lee to lock the door. By exercising my fabled management skills, I alternately teased, bribed, threatened, called in favours, drowned them in tea, and refused to release them until I got what I wanted. I really can’t understand why some managers find it so difficult to motivate their teams.
Four long hours later and after a prolonged and much needed unit-wide comfort break, --I was able to present the Boss with a rough outline.
There would be, as they say, something for everyone. The Boss himself would kick things off with a short speech of welcome before declaring the proceedings officially open.
Peterson and Schiller had volunteered to give an archery demonstration, and with luck, no one would be punctured – or at least, not until after they’d parted with their money.
Professor Rapson was dusting off his trebuchet and would be firing missiles into the lake. What could go wrong with that?
Miss Lee would hire a marquee in which Polly Perkins from IT would show our legendary dinosaur holo. (When, eventually, the programmes were printed, a misprint informed us a marquis would be erected on the South Lawn. We all looked forward to seeing that.)
Messrs Clerk and Roberts from the History Department and Messrs Evans and Guthrie from the Security Section would dress as medieval knights and give us a demonstration of sword fighting. It seemed fair to assume that the opportunity to settle old scores and invent new ones would be enthusiastically seized. The medical team would be on high alert.
Miss Van Owen was to give a sidesaddle demonstration, along with Dr Maxwell, who had better get some practice in if she didn’t want to make a complete arse of herself in public.
There would be static displays, too. Mrs Enderby was to mount a display of Costumes through the Ages along three sides of the Gallery, featuring the award-winning costumes she and her department had supplied for the BBC’s latest Sunday-night historical bodice-ripper.
Dr Dowson, in addition to manning the public address system – for which he had enthusiastically volunteered and them become
‘I shall pass on the coordinates to the Time Police, of course. There might be something they can do. Although I don’t know what …’
He sat silently for a while. I wondered if he was thinking through the implications of Ronan’s appearance. Or were his thoughts more personal? Eventually, he roused himself.
‘Am I to understand that Mr Sands performed adequately?’
‘He did, sir. He carried out my instructions to the letter but was able to act promptly on his own initiative when required. I think he’s aware of his own limitations. With your permission, I shall inform him he’s back on the active list, but that the responsibility for declining any assignment in which he might have trouble will rest solely with him. He’s a sensible lad, sir. He’ll tell me if he thinks he can’t hack it.’
‘He saved St Mary’s, Max. As far as I’m concerned, he has a job for life.’
‘Just wait until he starts telling you interminable knock-knock jokes, sir.’
I stood up.
‘Just one moment.’
‘Sir?’
He picked up his own cane and stared at it, twisting it in his hand.
‘I wonder if you could ask Professor Rapson to call in and see me. When he has a moment to spare, of course. No rush.’
I grinned. ‘Yes, sir.’
At the door, I looked back. He was sitting at his desk, staring back down the years. Back to the time when he was young and handsome. To when he was a brilliant historian with his whole future ahead of him. Back to the time when he had two good legs. Back to when Annie was still alive.
I let myself out quietly.
Chapter Six
Now that we had an important assignment under our belts, we really felt we were up and running and I no longer had any excuse not to get to grips with Dr Bairstow’s blasted Open Day. I assembled my carefully selected victims and once they were all present, got Miss Lee to lock the door. By exercising my fabled management skills, I alternately teased, bribed, threatened, called in favours, drowned them in tea, and refused to release them until I got what I wanted. I really can’t understand why some managers find it so difficult to motivate their teams.
Four long hours later and after a prolonged and much needed unit-wide comfort break, --I was able to present the Boss with a rough outline.
There would be, as they say, something for everyone. The Boss himself would kick things off with a short speech of welcome before declaring the proceedings officially open.
Peterson and Schiller had volunteered to give an archery demonstration, and with luck, no one would be punctured – or at least, not until after they’d parted with their money.
Professor Rapson was dusting off his trebuchet and would be firing missiles into the lake. What could go wrong with that?
Miss Lee would hire a marquee in which Polly Perkins from IT would show our legendary dinosaur holo. (When, eventually, the programmes were printed, a misprint informed us a marquis would be erected on the South Lawn. We all looked forward to seeing that.)
Messrs Clerk and Roberts from the History Department and Messrs Evans and Guthrie from the Security Section would dress as medieval knights and give us a demonstration of sword fighting. It seemed fair to assume that the opportunity to settle old scores and invent new ones would be enthusiastically seized. The medical team would be on high alert.
Miss Van Owen was to give a sidesaddle demonstration, along with Dr Maxwell, who had better get some practice in if she didn’t want to make a complete arse of herself in public.
There would be static displays, too. Mrs Enderby was to mount a display of Costumes through the Ages along three sides of the Gallery, featuring the award-winning costumes she and her department had supplied for the BBC’s latest Sunday-night historical bodice-ripper.
Dr Dowson, in addition to manning the public address system – for which he had enthusiastically volunteered and them become
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