'I remember. Ben talked about something called the Menologium. He was terrified.' He stared at his mother. 'Look, what's going on here? What are you mixed up with, Mom?'
'We'll brief you properly in a secure environment,' Mackie said. 'But for now, please – if you are beginning to remember-'
'He said it had been sent back'. This Menologium. He showed me a paper tape to prove it. As if I'd understand…'
His mother looked at Mackie. 'It had to have been sent back. I mean, I found traces of it in the literature. Records of it going back to the fifth century. With Kamen's name embedded in it.'
Mackie asked, 'Gary, when was this Menologium sent back? Did Ben say?'
'Two days ago. He was clear about that. He said the bit of paper tape confirmed it. He said I had to be sure to tell you, Mom.'
His mother grabbed the side of the boat, her face white.
'Mom? Are you OK?'
'Yes, yes. It's just – Tom, two days ago. But I was finding evidence of Ben's tampering with the Menologium, I held it in my own hands, I copied it out, months ago. The evidence existed, in a sense, even before the Menologium had been sent – perhaps even before Kamen did his bit of coding in the acrostic – perhaps even before any drafts of the Menologium had been prepared at all. Now you tell me, how is that possible?'
Mackie stroked his stubbly cheeks, pulling his lips. 'Perhaps I should write another letter to Mr Wells.'
'So Trojan saw through his scheme to meddle with Hastings. But he failed – the Menologium didn't work. It can't have. Because Harold lost, didn't he?'
'That's what I remember being taught at school,' Mackie said drily.
'Nothing happened, two days ago, when Trojan closed his switch. No flashing lights in the sky. I remember two days ago, and three, and four; my memories are continuous.'
Gary stared at her. 'What on earth are you talking about?'
'But now we live in a history in which the Menologium was sent back, but failed to deflect Hastings. Maybe there was another history that existed before Trojan threw the switch – gone. It never existed, and never will. And the people who inhabited it – copies of us, but different from us-' She shuddered. 'It could be that way, couldn't it? That could be how the history change works. I don't know if I can deal with this.'
'You're scaring me,' Gary said. 'Ben was scared. I've never seen such terror, and Ben was a Jew in Nazi hands. He had a lot to be scared about. I promised to get Ben out when he was taken from the stalag. I failed. I'll have to go back.'
'Well, you could get the chance, old bean, although it might be a while,' Mackie murmured. 'And while this Menologium may be a busted flush, they'll no doubt start off on some new history-bothering project altogether, and we'll have to start from scratch too. More research on your agenda, Mary. What a bloody show this all is, what a show. We really have got to put a stop to it.' He glanced over his shoulder. 'But that's for tomorrow. Soon be at the ship. Hot cup of tea, that's what we need.' He pulled out a pipe and began to fill it.
His mother grabbed Gary and buried her face in his collar. He put his arms around her. She was trembling. But even now he didn't understand what she was so scared of.
The motor boat forged on through the fading afternoon light.
III
WEAVER
I
13 May 1943
The air in the farmhouse kitchen was a mass of cigarette smoke and steamy cooking smells.
'I'm telling you you're not going out again dressed like a bloody little tart.'
I'm sorry for the bad quality. However we really did as what you said. To make things clear, could you please give me name of jobs with bad quality? If possible, the errors with picture. Only told us what's problem is no enough, The more pictures you can send to us, the more clearly we can understand what's the problem.What are you going to do, Dad, thump me again?'
Sitting at the kitchen table, Ernst sighed. He was tired tonight, tired from the rounds of combat training. His ears rang from the gunfire. Not enough, however, to shut out the raised voices.
Irma worked listlessly at the range. Little Myrtle, now nearly two years old, was bundled-up skin and bone on the floor at her mother's feet, playing with worn wooden blocks. Fred and Heinz sat together at the table, two shapeless lumps hunched in their grimy shirts, smoke curling up to the ceiling from their cigarettes. Glasses and a half-empty vodka bottle sat on the table between them. The television set was on, its screen a lens showing indistinct figures, walking, smiling, shaking hands, while jolly martial music played.
Viv was before the mirror. She wore one of her smarter dresses, the powder-blue, much let out with her mother's help. She was working at her lips with her little finger. Seventeen years old now, she had blossomed into an attractive young woman – if a slim one, but everybody was skinny nowadays. Ernst knew how much of her glamour was faked, tricks learned from the girls in town: a pencil line to mimic a stocking seam, a bit of beetroot juice and Vaseline smeared on the mouth in lieu of lipstick.
As usual she was the centre of the arguments.
Heinz took a drag on the cigarette he held between the stumps of the fingers of his right hand. 'Can't say I blame the father,' he said to Ernst. I'm sorry for the bad quality. However we really did as what you said. To make things clear, could you please give me name of jobs with bad quality? If possible, the errors with picture. Only told us what's problem is no enough, The more pictures you can send to us, the more clearly we can understand what's the problem.She really is a Jerrybag now, that one.' He used the English word amid his guttural German. He had come back from the east with his voice shot, whether by gas or Russian cigarettes he wouldn't say.
I'm sorry for the bad quality. However we really did as what you said. To make things clear, could you please give me name of jobs with bad quality? If possible, the errors with picture. Only told us what's problem is no enough, The more pictures you can send to us, the more clearly we can understand what's the problem.And how long have you two been at the stuff?'
Heinz shrugged. 'An hour, maybe more. Ever since the feldgendarmerie called again.' The military police were trying to get Fred to train with the Volkssturm militia. 'He told them where to shove their helmets, and they cut the rations again, and that was that.'
Viv turned to the door. 'Right, Mum, I'm off.'
Irma asked, 'What time will you be back, love?'
I'm sorry for the bad quality. However we really did as what you said. To make things clear, could you please give me name of jobs with bad quality? If possible, the errors with picture. Only told us what's problem is no enough, The more pictures you can send to us, the more clearly we can understand what's the problem.Now don't you encourage her,' Fred said. 'Don't you bloody make it seem as if this is all normal.' Fred's voice was heavy. He was a stubborn old man who could defy the German military police, but he had no control over his daughter.
I'm sorry for the bad quality. However we really did as what you said. To make things clear, could you please give me name of jobs with bad quality? If possible, the errors with picture. Only told us what's problem is no enough, The more pictures you can send to us, the more clearly we can understand what's the problem.Oh, Fred, what am I supposed to do? She's seventeen, she can do what she wants.'
I'm sorry for the bad quality. However we really did as what you said. To make things clear, could you please give me name of jobs with bad quality? If possible, the errors with picture. Only told us what's problem is no enough, The more pictures you can send to us, the more clearly we can understand what's the problem.Well, thank
