If Jane had been flushed before, she was quite composed now. ‘Thank you, ma’am, but I have complete confidence in our plan and my colleagues.’
‘Good for you,’ said Bolshy Jane.
‘You’re going to die,’ said Wimpy Jane.
Shut up the pair of you, thought Actual Jane.
‘Farrell?’
‘Well, obviously I wish I was going with them, but we’re all playing to our strengths and mine is the Time Map. Besides, I’m wounded.’ He flourished his sling. ‘No one will notice we’re not around as usual – it’s not as if we have any close friends here – or even any friends at all – so I don’t see a problem.’
Commander Hay regarded him. ‘And you’re all right with your colleagues out there, on their own, out of touch . . .’
Matthew shrugged. ‘I’m not happy about it at all, ma’am, but any sort of contact with us increases their chances of being discovered.’
She nodded. ‘Any questions, Major?’
Ellis shook his head. ‘Let me make one thing perfectly clear: you are responsible for your own extraction. I trust you to choose your perfect moment. Be aware of the implications of outstaying your welcome.’
They nodded.
‘You are completely on your own.’
‘The strength of our plan,’ said Luke.
‘And its weakness. One more time – you are aware of and accept the implications of being out of touch with this organisation?’
Luke nodded. ‘We are.’
‘Very well. Be ready to go at a moment’s notice. And good luck.’
Twelve hours later, Matthew had been drafted to the Time Map and Luke and Jane were out of the building.
19
‘And here we are,’ said Luke, flinging open the front door. ‘Home sweet home.’
Jane stared around. After her tiny cubicle at TPHQ, Luke’s flat was vaster than a very vast thing. She stood on the threshold, completely overwhelmed.
Nearly every outside wall was a series of gigantic windows. Light streamed through the apartment, illuminating gleaming wood, fabulous textiles, brilliantly coloured rugs in all shapes and sizes, original art – even books. And not the books by the yard provided by the interior designer books but proper books, with colourful jackets and creased spines. Luke Parrish read books. Who’d have thought?
She looked down at her feet, reluctant to sully the beautiful floor with her unworthy shoes.
‘Let me show you around,’ he said, taking her arm and urging her inside. ‘Hall.’ He gestured about him so she could appreciate the hallness of her surroundings.
‘Mm,’ she said, politely. ‘Very nice.’
‘You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. This way.’ He led her down the hall, casually dropping his backpack on the way. Trees died for this floor, thought Jane. ‘Living room over there . . .’ Jane looked at the three massive sofas. One each and one left over for Matthew – if they survived the next few weeks. And they were cream. Who has cream sofas? And more importantly – who has three cream sofas?
Someone who didn’t have to keep them clean, obviously. And not a red wine stain in sight.
Jane stood, almost too petrified to move.
‘And here we have the kitchen-diner . . .’
Jane tried hard not to be knocked sideways and failed. Dismally.
‘Not bad, is it? Then through here . . .’ he guided her through an arch into another hall she hadn’t seen yet, ‘the bedrooms.’
‘Ah,’ said Jane, feeling her usual blush coming on. Until this moment the sleeping arrangements were not something she’d given any thought to.
‘Mine’s through there . . .’ He pointed to two massive oak doors at the end of the passage.
Jane stopped. The word ‘mine’ implied there would be a ‘yours’ which was reassuring, but she couldn’t help feeling he could at least have made a small effort to lure her into his lair.
‘But you don’t want to share his room,’ objected Wimpy Jane.
‘But she wanted to be able to reject him, not the other way around,’ said Bolshy Jane.
‘Will you two shut up,’ cried Actual Jane.
‘Eh?’ said Luke, startled.
‘Nothing.’
‘You worry me sometimes, Jane,’ he said. ‘Anyway, the guest room,’ he opened a door, not as big and imposing as his own bedroom door but biggish and imposing-ish nevertheless, ‘is here. Nice view of the river.’
‘I had a nice view of the river before,’ said Jane, determined not to be impressed. ‘We all did, remember?’
‘Yes, but now you’ll have time to look at it occasionally. From your very own wrap-around veranda.’
She looked at the giant bed. ‘Is this where you put your . . . friends?’
He grinned at her. ‘Don’t be silly, Jane. My friends are usually in with me. Being friendly.’
She blushed again. ‘Exactly how many . . .’ The words were out before she could stop herself.
He grinned again. ‘Hard to say.’
She put her hands on her hips. ‘Try.’
‘This passion for numbers, Jane. OK. Less than a hundred.’
‘A hundred?’
‘Less than a hundred,’ he said reprovingly. ‘You weren’t listening.’
‘So I’m number . . . what?’
‘I’ve really no idea but since you’re so set on it . . . how about number fifty?’
‘Fifty?’
‘All right, calm down – you’ll have the neighbours banging on the walls again. How about forty-four? A good solid number. You can be Luke’s Female Friend Forty-Four. Who could possibly quarrel with that?’
‘I’m the forty-fourth woman in this room?’
‘We’ve covered this, Jane. At least forty-two and a half of them would have been next door with me. Although not all at once, before you form an inflated idea of my talents. Now, in the interests of full and frank disclosure, I’ve answered all your questions and the time has come for us to move on. As North would say – accentuate the positive.’ He whipped open a door. ‘Look at all the wardrobe space here.’
With the enormity of the task before her suddenly brought home by her surroundings, Jane was determined to be grumpy. ‘I don’t have anything to put in any wardrobe, big or small. We left with practically nothing, remember?’