The Chronicles of St Mary's - 10 - Hope for the Best by Jodi Taylor

Author:Jodi Taylor
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction, Historical Fiction
ISBN: 9781472264244
Published: 2019-04-24T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

24

For one moment I honestly thought I was going to have to go back to Agincourt. Except I couldn’t. I’d already been there. And so had he. And Dr Bairstow knew that. Then I realised.

Brilliant. Absolutely bloody brilliant. They could have tortured or drugged him and all he would – could – ever have said was, ‘Agincourt’. And who would take any notice of a drugged and semi-conscious historian muttering, ‘Agincourt’?

I got up and went back out into his bedroom. As I did so, a key scraped in the lock. Shit – they were early.

For a split second I was paralysed with fright and then Peterson said, ‘Quick,’ and I rolled under the bed just as the door opened. The light snapped on. I peered through the dust bunnies but all I could see was a pair of boots and nothing else.

‘What?’ mumbled Peterson from the bathroom.

‘Why are you out of bed?’

‘Pee break.’ He pulled the chain, switched out the light in the bathroom and closed the door behind him. I heard the creak of ancient springs as he climbed back into bed. ‘Turn out the light when you go.’

The door slammed and he left the light on. That’s the sort of bastard we had to put up with these days.

Neither of us moved. I could say neither of us was stupid but that sort of remark tends to provoke unwarranted mirth. And besides, the guard hadn’t locked the door behind him. Minutes ticked by and then, without warning, it was flung open.

‘Hello again,’ said Peterson. ‘Just can’t stay away, can you? Perhaps I should warn you that even if I swung your way I’d never swing with you. If you catch my drift.’

The door slammed again and this time he turned the key. We gave it another couple of minutes just in case.

Eventually I rolled out from under the bed and wiped my brow. The last few days had really taken their toll on me. I’m not quite as young as I used to be. Well, none of us are, of course, but I was convinced I was ageing more rapidly than most.

‘Say that again.’

‘My instructions are to say “Agincourt”. That’s all I know.’ He leaned back against the headboard and grinned at me.

I thought for a moment and then went out into his sitting room.

My books are neatly shelved. Fiction by order of enjoyment and non-fiction in chronological order. Peterson’s were all over his room, piled up on every available surface. Including the floor. I told him he was a disgrace.

Disgrace or not, I was betting what I wanted was here. My room was at the top of the building and on the other side. I’d never get to it undetected. I was beginning to have a lot of faith in Dr Bairstow and his forward planning.

Hiding in plain sight is always the best way to go. The more complicated the hiding place the more easily discovered. I looked around. My by now rather battered book on Agincourt was the second one down in the pile on his coffee table.

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