‘Home, I think,’ she said. ‘Spend some time rethinking my life and making some decisions.’
‘That sounds drastic.’
She held his gaze. ‘I wondered if you would care to join me. For the weekend.’
It was on the tip of his tongue to say, ‘No, thank you. It’s probably not appropriate,’ when he had a second thought. Hay had said that where and when people went was not an issue. And she’d more or less ordered him to order Celia to stay. And – the tiny thought came from nowhere – how would he feel if she left the Time Police altogether . . . ?
He played for time. ‘I’ll need to check where and when my team intend to spend their leave, of course . . .’
‘They’ll need to do without you sometime, you know.’
He sighed. ‘Yes, I know.’
‘Your chicks will leave home. Do you think you might be developing empty-nest syndrome?’
He grinned. ‘Something like that. Half of me looks forward to returning to more conventional teams, but the other half . . .’
‘Is it because of Matthew? You were his mentor when he was young.’
‘No, not really. He’s growing up fast and seems to be able to hold his own these days. Have you noticed – he’s even quite chatty sometimes? Two, sometimes three sentences.’
‘Still hasn’t had his hair cut.’
‘And soon not to be my responsibility. And it won’t be a problem if he goes to work with the Time Map. He’ll be tucked away out of public view and it won’t matter so much.’
‘Very true. So – would you like to?’
‘Oh . . . um . . . yes . . . thank you. I would. Care to join you, I mean.’
Team 236’s plans were simple. Matthew was returning to St Mary’s to visit his parents and Lockland was to accompany him. This was not her first visit to St Mary’s. Ellis had paused before signing her request but Hay had said people could go where they liked. At least Parrish was remaining on the premises. He had, apparently, an exciting weekend planned for the brunette from IT. Bets were being placed around the building. And no one cared about Grint’s team. Yes, he, Ellis, could enjoy a guilt-free weekend.
He and North were dropped off in a small wood on the Blackbourne estate. Emerging from the trees, he experienced a small shock. He knew that North was actually Lady Celia North, daughter of the late Earl of Blackbourne and sister of the current Earl of Blackbourne, and should therefore have been prepared for the stately pile sprawling haphazardly in front of him.
North was watching him.
‘Got to love a house with its own turrets,’ he said, hoisting his bag on his shoulder.
‘And a bell tower,’ she said, pointing.
‘Does it still work?’
‘Of course. It’s to warn of invasion. You know – the Scots, the French, the parliamentarians, the Jacobites and so on. Archie’s currently locked in mortal combat with the Inland Revenue and we’ll use it to warn of their approach.’
‘So you can start heating the boiling oil and winding up the trebuchet.’
She frowned severely. ‘You can’t fire missiles at the Inland Revenue.’
‘Sorry.’
‘You can’t get clearance over the walls. The angles are wrong.’
She spoke with authority and for some reason, he had the feeling this had already been tried.
‘Sorry,’ he said meekly. ‘My parents live in a semi in the Midlands and hardly anyone ever besieges them.’
‘Lucky devils. This way,’ she said, leading him up the drive to the front door.
There was a strong family resemblance between all of them.
‘And this is Archie,’ said North, introducing the individual known to the rest of the world as the Earl of Blackbourne. ‘And Davey, my other brother.’
They all shook hands. Both brothers regarded him in silence. Ellis braced himself.
‘Do you ride?’ asked Archie.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you shoot?’ asked Davey.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you hunt?’ asked Archie.
‘Yes.’
‘What do you hunt?’ asked Davey.
‘People.’
They stared at him. ‘And how do you do that?’ asked Archie in disbelief.
‘Very successfully,’ said Ellis, answering a slightly different question. ‘You?’
There was a bit of a silence.
‘Don’t make me come over there,’ said North, without even looking up from saying hello to the dogs.
‘What exactly do you do, Mr Ellis?’
It occurred to Ellis he hadn’t asked North what she’d said her job was.
‘It’s major,’ said North. ‘Same as you, Davey.’
‘So what do you do, Major Ellis?’
‘Pest control,’ he said, and folded his arms.
‘So I’d watch my backs if I were you,’ said North.
They turned back to Ellis. ‘Do we need to watch our backs?’ enquired Davey.
‘No,’ said Ellis. ‘You don’t really register on my pest radar.’
There was a long silence and then they both burst out laughing.
‘Better than the last one,’ said Davey over his shoulder as they strolled away.
‘Do you have brothers?’ asked North.
He shook his head.
‘Would you like some?’
‘Everyone does as they like here,’ said North, after he’d unpacked. ‘Ride, read, eat, sleep, shoot rats round the back of the barn, take up flower arranging – whatever floats your boat.’
They were in the small family sitting room. A room about twice the size of Ellis’s parents’ entire house. He wondered about the dimensions of the large family sitting room. The room was shabby but comfortable, furnished with saggy furniture, overstuffed bookshelves and what seemed like hundreds of family photographs and images. Everything was slightly dusty and most horizontal surfaces wore a thin coating of dog hair.
On the mantelpiece stood a picture of a young boy, grinning gap-toothed at the camera. A small vase of flowers stood nearby. Something in its positioning told him it was important.
‘Who’s that?’
She turned to look. ‘Oh, that’s my other brother. Charles – known as Chuffy. He’s not here. Shall we go outside and have a drink in the garden?’