Lies, Damned Lies, and History(47)

Shit. He was going to do it in public, in front of friends, colleagues … husbands …

We nodded and left.

Peterson led us to a quiet corner. I don’t think any of us could face the world at that moment.

Markham took my arm. ‘You all right, Max?’

‘Fine,’ I said, lying my head off.

‘What now?’

I took a breath and tried to think. ‘I have to see Roberts.’

‘Best be quick, then. He won’t be hanging around.’

He wasn’t. He was hurtling around his tiny room, slinging his belongings into a sports bag. A closed suitcase stood by the door. A bulging bin bag was filled with stuff he wasn’t taking with him. Posters had been ripped from the walls, bringing down lumps of plaster with them. They’d been savagely crumpled and most of them had been flung into the waste bin. Several of them had missed. He was crying with anger and frustration.

I tapped on the open door.

‘Fuck off,’ he shouted, without even bothering to turn around.

‘Hey,’ I said softly, stepping into his room.

‘Max. Sorry. What happened? Did he sack you?’

‘Death by inches, I said, easing my way around the bin bag. ‘Replaced as head of department, grounded until the day I die, and not to bother coming back after maternity leave.’

‘Oh God,’ he said, sitting heavily on the bed. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Not your fault,’ I said. ‘We all agreed to it.’

‘Peterson?’

‘Still with us – just grounded.’ I didn’t mention he’d lost his chance at Deputy Director. The whole point was to calm Roberts down a little.

‘And Markham?’

‘Again, still with us. Reduced to the ranks, which won’t bother him in the slightest.’ I paused. ‘Sands resigned.’

‘What?’

‘Voluntarily. There was no coercion. He’s doing the grand gesture thing.’

‘So who’s left?

‘Oh, he’s got plenty of historians. Clerk will be the new head of department, I expect, and there’s still Bashford and Prentiss. And Sykes, North and Atherton, as well. And Grey.’

‘Three of them are still Pathfinders. Grey’s not … well, we know what Grey is. He has only three historians. He can’t possibly operate with just three. He’ll have to reinstate you and Peterson.’

Now did not seem the moment to tell him I’d be extremely surprised if the History Department was allowed to operate at all, let alone with only three historians.

I tried to get him to wait at least an hour or two. Maybe to have something to eat and calm down a little before roaring off into the night, but he couldn’t wait to get out. I made him promise to drive carefully. ‘Please, Gareth. I can’t take any more grief today.’

He stopped, took a deep breath, and threw me a wobbly smile. ‘I will. I promise.’

‘I mean it. I don’t want you being the next piece of bad news.’

He shook his head. ‘The sword’s back where it belongs. That’s all ended now. You wait and see.’

I hoped to God that his quiet confidence wasn’t misplaced. If we’d done all this for nothing … I shook myself and said briskly, ‘Very possibly, but it doesn’t mean you’re bloody immortal. Just go carefully is all I ask.’

He nodded, and at that moment, someone said, ‘Knock-knock,’ and Sands came in, followed by Markham and Peterson.

I said, ‘David, what are you going to do?’

‘Oh, I’ve got one or two ideas. Don’t worry about me.’

‘But I will.’

‘You haven’t heard the last of me, I promise you. And Rosie will keep you in touch.’ I’d forgotten about him and Rosie Lee. Was this the end for them as well? How much damage had we done today?

‘We’ll walk you out,’ said Peterson, and we did.

We walked them down the stairs, striding through the Hall, where people were beginning to gather for the meeting. Silence fell whenever people saw us. There was no sign of Clerk or Prentiss, both of them tactfully absent. People stood back from us, unsure of what was happening.

Markham stiffened.

‘Not their fault,’ muttered Peterson. ‘Keep walking.’

We stood outside on the steps. The night was cold and there was rain in the air.

‘Why have we come out of the front door?’ I said. ‘The car park’s round the back.’

Sands let his bag drop. ‘An act of defiance,’ he said. You never creep about when you’re in deep disgrace. Heads up. Look them in the eye. Leave by the front door.’ He turned to us. ‘You should go back inside. You don’t want to be late.’