time being at least …’
‘Woohoo!’ McCluskey said, shaking her head gleefully and sending a shower of dandruff fluttering down to join the layer that was already dappling the shoulders of her greatcoat. ‘All right if I pinch another toast soldier?’
McCluskey grabbed one without waiting for a reply, took a bite, then leant forward to dip the remaining end of it into Stanton’s egg. Stanton managed to get his hand over the egg in time.
‘You can have a bit of toast, prof,’ he said, ‘but double-dipping someone’s egg is not acceptable. In fact it’s revolting.’
‘I can see you’ve never had a midnight feast in a school dorm. You get rid of all that squeamishness pretty sharpish. I’ve taken second chew on another girl’s bubble gum a hundred times.’
‘I didn’t have the advantage of a private school education.’
‘That chip you have on your shoulder is going to get a lot heavier in 1914, you know. Posh people really
did
run things then.’
‘Whoever has the money runs things, prof. Always has done, always will.’
‘Well, anyway, to business. The tablet’s for your German. The main computer is bedtime reading. A snapshot of Europe on June the first 1914 with particular emphasis on Central Europe and the Balkans. Every single thing we know from the price of sausages in Budapest to the staff of the British embassy in Belgrade, from train timetables out of Waterloo to the tensions between the Kaiser and his English mother, who he blamed for giving him a withered arm. Hindsight is our trump card and you need to cram it all. As we get closer to blast-off you’re going to be spending a lot of time in the History faculty. It’ll be during term time so for God’s sake don’t go falling in love with some winsome undergraduate with a short skirt and a burning interest in Renaissance Italy. Because I’m damn certain they’ll all fall in love with a devilishly dishy mature student like you.’
Stanton shot her a glance.
‘One thing I know is that I’ll never fall in love again.’
McCluskey shrugged. ‘Can’t imagine that’s what your Cassie would have wanted.’
‘I’ve told you before, she’s dead, she doesn’t get a vote.’
‘You could at least allow yourself a shag or two. You’ll be swatting totty off like flies.’
‘Prof,’ Stanton said, ‘let’s just stick to Chronos, eh?’
‘Right you are,’ she said heading for the door. ‘First German tutorial at eleven thirty. Fortunately your teacher doesn’t mind missing his Christmas lunch. Call if you need anything, fags or whatever.’
‘I still don’t smoke.’
‘Bet you will in 1914.’
‘If ever I find myself in 1914, prof, maybe I’ll have one for you.’
11
STANTON STUDIED GERMAN through Christmas week, New Year and most of January, every morning, seven days a week. He spent the afternoons in physical training and then had supper with McCluskey either in the Master’s Lodge or in a pub. Sometimes they’d be joined by experts on various aspects of early-twentieth-century life but usually they dined alone. During these suppers McCluskey’s conversation centred almost exclusively around the parlous moral, cultural and environmental state of the planet.
In February, his language lessons were cut back to two hours a day and Stanton began to focus more fully on a study of the spring and summer of 1914. Various experts from among the Companions of Chronos arrived daily at the Master’s Lodge to assist him in cramming everything he possibly could about the diplomatic, political, military and cultural landscape of Europe in the months leading up to the Great War. He also studied practical matters, train and boat timetables, hotels and currency, plus motor mechanics and even the rudiments of how to fly an early aeroplane, subjects of which he already had a working knowledge. And of course he practised with the various items of equipment the Companions had designed for him to take with him: the computer
‘Woohoo!’ McCluskey said, shaking her head gleefully and sending a shower of dandruff fluttering down to join the layer that was already dappling the shoulders of her greatcoat. ‘All right if I pinch another toast soldier?’
McCluskey grabbed one without waiting for a reply, took a bite, then leant forward to dip the remaining end of it into Stanton’s egg. Stanton managed to get his hand over the egg in time.
‘You can have a bit of toast, prof,’ he said, ‘but double-dipping someone’s egg is not acceptable. In fact it’s revolting.’
‘I can see you’ve never had a midnight feast in a school dorm. You get rid of all that squeamishness pretty sharpish. I’ve taken second chew on another girl’s bubble gum a hundred times.’
‘I didn’t have the advantage of a private school education.’
‘That chip you have on your shoulder is going to get a lot heavier in 1914, you know. Posh people really
did
run things then.’
‘Whoever has the money runs things, prof. Always has done, always will.’
‘Well, anyway, to business. The tablet’s for your German. The main computer is bedtime reading. A snapshot of Europe on June the first 1914 with particular emphasis on Central Europe and the Balkans. Every single thing we know from the price of sausages in Budapest to the staff of the British embassy in Belgrade, from train timetables out of Waterloo to the tensions between the Kaiser and his English mother, who he blamed for giving him a withered arm. Hindsight is our trump card and you need to cram it all. As we get closer to blast-off you’re going to be spending a lot of time in the History faculty. It’ll be during term time so for God’s sake don’t go falling in love with some winsome undergraduate with a short skirt and a burning interest in Renaissance Italy. Because I’m damn certain they’ll all fall in love with a devilishly dishy mature student like you.’
Stanton shot her a glance.
‘One thing I know is that I’ll never fall in love again.’
McCluskey shrugged. ‘Can’t imagine that’s what your Cassie would have wanted.’
‘I’ve told you before, she’s dead, she doesn’t get a vote.’
‘You could at least allow yourself a shag or two. You’ll be swatting totty off like flies.’
‘Prof,’ Stanton said, ‘let’s just stick to Chronos, eh?’
‘Right you are,’ she said heading for the door. ‘First German tutorial at eleven thirty. Fortunately your teacher doesn’t mind missing his Christmas lunch. Call if you need anything, fags or whatever.’
‘I still don’t smoke.’
‘Bet you will in 1914.’
‘If ever I find myself in 1914, prof, maybe I’ll have one for you.’
11
STANTON STUDIED GERMAN through Christmas week, New Year and most of January, every morning, seven days a week. He spent the afternoons in physical training and then had supper with McCluskey either in the Master’s Lodge or in a pub. Sometimes they’d be joined by experts on various aspects of early-twentieth-century life but usually they dined alone. During these suppers McCluskey’s conversation centred almost exclusively around the parlous moral, cultural and environmental state of the planet.
In February, his language lessons were cut back to two hours a day and Stanton began to focus more fully on a study of the spring and summer of 1914. Various experts from among the Companions of Chronos arrived daily at the Master’s Lodge to assist him in cramming everything he possibly could about the diplomatic, political, military and cultural landscape of Europe in the months leading up to the Great War. He also studied practical matters, train and boat timetables, hotels and currency, plus motor mechanics and even the rudiments of how to fly an early aeroplane, subjects of which he already had a working knowledge. And of course he practised with the various items of equipment the Companions had designed for him to take with him: the computer
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