‘I didn’t touch anything apart from the door,’ Odette said.
The officer ignored that comment. When the prints were complete, she said, ‘You can go. We have everything we need from you for today.’
‘Thank you.’ Odette’s shoulders slumped.
It had long turned dark outside. Odette walked past the police officers still scattered round the barrier.
A woman, dressed in leathers and a helmet, leant on a motorcycle at the side of the road. She beckoned Odette to her.
Odette took a few steps closer. ‘Hello?’
The woman raised her visor to reveal brown eyes, almost russet, beneath the street lamps.
‘I have something for you,’ she said. In her hand was a small card. ‘Victim support. In case you need someone to talk to.’
The card had the name and contact details of a psychologist. Dr Ruby Rebello.
‘Are you with the police?’ Odette asked, confused. During the interview no one had mentioned victim support.
‘No, I run a private clinic, but I work with a lot of victims of crime. I treat trauma.’
Odette tucked the card in her coat pocket.
‘Thank you,’ she said, to be polite. She wasn’t the victim of this crime. Once she was at home, in her own bed, the world would surely start to make sense again. She wouldn’t be plagued with questions of how this death had occurred. She wouldn’t constantly be wondering why. It was the year of her final examinations. Soon she’d forget that poor dead woman. In the stress of revision and looking for a job, Odette would hardly ever think about her at all.
But no matter how sternly Odette repeated this, she knew it wasn’t true.
4
APRIL 1968
Margaret
Following Barbara’s breakdown, Margaret was determined to prevent a similar incident ever arising again. She contacted a woman at the British space programme, who specialised in the biological hazards faced by astronauts. Margaret hoped there were sufficient parallels between the two fields to shed light on the health risks of time travel. The specialist’s name was Angharad Mills, and Margaret sent her a confidential account of the pioneers’ working conditions.
The following week they met in Angharad’s office. Before training in bioastronautics, Angharad had been a well-known ballerina. Two worn satin slippers hung on her wall in a teak frame. She poured Margaret a coffee.
‘Time travel’s still in its infancy,’ Margaret said. ‘It’s hard to predict what the effects on body and mind might be. Before we embarked on human trials we did explore risks to physical health, but I’ll admit we didn’t really consider how our behaviour could be affected. I wish we had.’
‘Barbara’s breakdown probably did have a physical component,’ Angharad said. ‘But I don’t believe it was caused by the conditions of time travel per se.’
‘How do you mean?’ Margaret asked.
‘We have bodily cycles that respond to daylight. According to the description you sent, your team’s exposure to daylight was very disrupted during your first fifteen trips. That’s enough to trigger a manic episode in a predisposed person – psychiatrists see similar symptoms in manic depressive patients who work shifts or travel internationally. If Barbara were an air hostess, the same health issues may have arisen.’
‘She had a bad case of jet lag.’
‘Your phrasing is a little reductive but – yes.’
‘I’m very sympathetic to Barbara’s situation.’ Margaret gazed through the window. On the lawn, Angharad’s colleagues were building a snowman. ‘There’s no one more sympathetic than me. But she did cause our team considerable public embarrassment. I’d be greatly reassured if I knew how to avoid more travellers falling ill. That must be my focus now.’
‘The “jet lag” problem has a simple solution. Just dispatch travellers to a time of day that matches when they left their own timeline.’
‘I’m afraid we need schedules to be flexible.’ If, as Margaret planned, time travel became a tool for espionage, restricting arrival times would be impractical.
‘In that case…’ Angharad took an unusually large watch from her desk drawer and passed it to Margaret. ‘Astronauts use these to monitor waking hours and exposure to daylight. Issue them to any time travellers you recruit, and make it a disciplinary offence to travel without one. Then they can make the trips they need, and only stop if the watch shows their bodily cycles are under too much strain. Our suppliers could design you a suitable timepiece from scratch. One that matches your requirements.’
The watch was a handsome object made from brushed steel. Ghostly numbers hovered above its surface.
‘An excellent idea,’ Margaret said.
‘One last thought. The strongest predictor of mental breakdown is a previous breakdown. Twenty per cent of people have experience of psychological distress. They’d be the ones most at risk of an episode like Barbara’s. To be safe, you might want to bar them from the profession.’
‘Bar them? How would I identify them – medical records?’
‘Yes. You can also make psychometric tests a standard part of your selection process.’
Margaret found that idea very appealing. ‘Would tests eliminate everyone with Barbara’s disposition?’
‘No,’ Angharad replied. ‘That’s impossible. But the chance of problems arising would be greatly diminished.’
Which was a worthwhile goal, in Margaret’s eyes. The time travel programme couldn’t have any more damaging attention from the press. ‘Thank you, Dr Mills. You’ve been more than helpful. If there is anything I can do in exchange…’
‘I’m glad that you asked.’
‘Oh?’
‘If you need a medical engineer, please keep me in mind. I’m quite fascinated with your project.’
‘Another excellent idea.’ Margaret drained her coffee cup. ‘We’re yet to establish our headquarters, but as soon as this brouhaha with Barbara settles down, I’m sure we’d benefit from your expertise.’
*
At the lab, Margaret relayed Angharad’s advice to Lucille and Grace. They sat around the rabbit hutch, feeding strips of carrots to Patrick through the mesh.
‘The watches sound very sensible,’ Lucille said.
‘If we buy one for Barbara, can she come back to work?’ Grace asked. ‘As soon as she’s out of hospital, I mean.’
Margaret couldn’t tell if Grace was being obtuse, or provocative. ‘Barbara won’t be coming back.’
‘But that’s ludicrous! She’s one of us.’
Barbara wasn’t one of them. Not any longer. She had forfeited her place by humiliating them all, in front of the entire country. The remaining pioneers needed to distance themselves from her if they weren’t to become a laughing stock – but Margaret guessed neither Grace nor Lucille would be amenable to such an argument. She tried a different tack.
‘You’re not being fair to Barbara,’ she said. ‘Think how it must be for her. If her mania isn’t a life sentence – and that’s a big if – she may wish to forget the interview ever happened. She can’t do that if she comes back to time travel, because she’ll be in the public eye again. The world will always be watching and waiting for her to lose her grip. Why would you want that for her?’