He opened the door. Imogen could hear him talking quietly just outside. He’d left the door open and sounds and smells of London wafted into the pod. She huddled under Luke’s cloak and closed her eyes – all the better to keep the world at bay.
She heard the door close and then Jane was beside her.
‘Oh, good. Luke’s got everything ready. I know you’re probably most worried about your face, but I think I need to check you for broken bones first, then we’ll . . .’
Imogen grabbed at her hand. ‘Jane, you must help me. Let me go. I’ll give you money. I can’t go back. Everyone will know . . . all my friends . . . what happened.’
‘Well, at the moment, even we don’t know what happened, so I’m certain no one else will.’
She said bitterly, ‘I think I’d rather stay in this shithole than have everyone think . . .’
Jane did not have the heart to tell her that the chances of her seeing anyone she knew – let alone the people important to her – were almost nil. And for a long time. Imogen was going to prison.
Imogen stared at the floor, asking in a tiny voice, ‘What will they do to me?’
Jane busied herself examining and cleaning Imogen’s cuts and bruises. ‘Well, you’ll be invited to give a statement.’
‘I like your use of the word “invited”.’
‘And then there’ll be a hearing. To ascertain exactly what happened.’
‘And then?’
‘And then,’ said Jane, putting off the moment, ‘they’ll decide what to do with you.’
‘Which will be?’
Jane started on the other arm. ‘Well, probably a custodial sentence.’
‘Luke said not if I cooperated. He said if I told them everything they’d let me off.’
Jane bent over her task, hoping Imogen couldn’t see her face.
Imogen groaned. ‘Oh God. How did this go so wrong? It was just supposed to be a bit of fun.’
‘Imogen, prison is not the worst thing that could happen to you.’ She swallowed. ‘At least we’re under instructions to bring you back. Sometimes . . .’ She stopped.
‘Yes?’
Jane busied herself bagging up the soiled wipes. ‘Sometimes we don’t bother bringing people back at all. Sometimes we just leave them. To send a message to anyone else who thinks it’s fun to try this sort of thing.’
Imogen had gone very white. Her bruises showed stark and blue. ‘Mummy won’t let me go to prison.’
Jane was glad she was busy anointing Imogen’s bruises with cream and could keep her face hidden.
Imogen was rocking, her bruised arms wrapped tightly around her body. ‘It wasn’t supposed to be like this.’
‘Time travel is against the law.’
‘But they said it would be all right. That it was a victimless crime. That no one would be hurt. That everyone was doing it.’
Jane looked down at the battered and bloody Imogen, huddled in the sad remains of her pretty blue gown, and wondered if she had any idea, bad though this was, how much worse things were about to get.
8
Ten minutes later, everyone had tidied themselves up, re-adjusted their clothes and, in Luke’s case, were borderline fragrant again.
‘Shouldn’t we be going?’ said Imogen nervously, looking at the screen. Matthew had muted the sound but crowds of people were still streaming past.
‘It’s all right – no one can get into this pod,’ said Jane, reassuringly.
She and Matthew busied themselves at the console, doing nothing very conscientiously. Luke went to sit beside Imogen.
Imogen made a gallant effort. ‘Look, we have matching black eyes.’
He took her hand. ‘Immy – I’ve been thinking.’
‘Is that something they taught you to do in the Time Police?’
‘Believe it or not – yes.’ He looked at her and said quietly, ‘You’re going to need something to tell people. An alibi.’
She blinked. ‘What for?’
‘Your absence.’
‘But the Time Police know everything anyway . . .’
‘No, not an alibi for us – one for your friends and so on. And to save your mother professional embarrassment. This could finish her, you know.’
She swallowed hard, looking down at her hands. ‘And what, according to you, is my alibi?’
‘You’ve been with me for the past few days. At a discreet place in the country somewhere.’
‘Oh yes? Doing what, exactly?’
‘We’ve been researching 17th-century England. Always tell the truth where possible,’ he said virtuously. ‘Saves wear and tear on the memory.’
‘And what was your role in this research?’ said Jane, disbelievingly, not looking up from verifying the return coordinates.
‘I needed the money now my dad’s cut me off. Imogen hired me to give her the low-down on the Restoration.’
‘Why?’
‘She’s thinking of going back to uni.’
‘Am I?’
‘Yes,’ he said firmly.
‘But you don’t know the first thing about the . . .’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Matthew, turning around. ‘Just from looking at what we pulled off Luke, we could tell you what they ate. How they cooked it. What they threw away. How they disposed of it. How it smelled. Their bowel movements. He’s a whole chapter in himself.’
Imogen looked at Luke. ‘You’d do that for me?’
He shrugged, not meeting her eye. ‘Why not?’
‘Why are you being so nice?’
He sighed. ‘It’s my fault this happened to you. I’m the team leader and I handled this mission badly. Frankly, Imogen – and you won’t like this – I shouldn’t have let you get away. I should have sonicked you on sight and dragged you back to the pod. I’d probably have two black eyes, but you would have been spared being beaten up by those women. It’s my fault.’
‘Well, half of me is quite glad you didn’t and half of me wishes you had.’
‘Immy, I urge you – when we get back – tell them everything they want to know. Don’t hold anything back, no matter how unimportant it seems. The more you help us, the more we’ll help you. Trust me.’