‘I think you should. You’ve guessed at why she left, but you might be wrong. It might be painful for her to see you again. I think, hard though it might be, you should give her the option to refuse. Just turning up on her doorstep could be upsetting for her.’
He nodded. ‘Good point.’
‘How will we set about it?’
‘Well, if we were still in . . . rehab . . . it might not be so difficult, but we no longer have access to those resources.’ He brooded.
‘How about . . . it’s just a thought . . . but how about asking Ms Steel? I mean, obviously, I don’t know her, but she seemed very . . . competent.’
‘Oh, she is. She had me trapped, trussed and delivered to rehab before I even knew what was happening.’
‘Really?’
‘Trust me, Jane – I barely had time to grab a toothbrush and a clean pair of kecks before I was on the rehab centre doorstep wondering what the hell was going on. The woman is shit-hot.’
‘Do you think she could find Birgitte then?’
‘Oh, she could – it’s whether she would.’
‘Well,’ said Jane, ‘if she won’t, then we’ll have a go ourselves. And to return to the original point – we did rather pitchfork ourselves into this. Let’s ease back for a while.’
‘Good thought. I’ll fire off a message to Ms Steel when we get back. And . . . if we are attracting the right sort of attention – which we will be because we’re so good at this – then it will make bugging our apartment so much easier. Really, you know, I think they should be grateful, don’t you think?’
Jane closed her eyes and shook her head.
He brought up the bill. ‘Your treat, I believe.’
Jane could not believe the speed with which Ms Steel acted. She’d always thought the Time Police to be reasonably efficient – although life hadn’t exactly given her much to compare them with – but this brought home to her Commander Hay’s oft-repeated assertion that big business was considerably better funded, better equipped, better staffed and infinitely more efficient than the public sector. Not twenty-four hours later, Luke was in possession of a name and address.
‘You’re sure that’s her?’ said Jane, peering over his shoulder at the screen. ‘Birgitte von Essendorf.’
‘Well, Ms Steel is sure and that’s good enough for me.’
‘How did she find her so quickly?’
‘She had her employment details from when she worked for Dad, I expect. And women don’t change their names with marriage any longer so that makes everything much easier. Shall we go?’
‘Now?’
‘Well, pack, obviously, but yes.’ He scanned the screen. ‘Tickets, travel permits and visas all waiting for us.’
‘I don’t have a passport,’ said Jane, panicking. ‘And I can’t travel on my rehab docs. Even if I’d brought them with me. Which I haven’t.’
‘It’s just Scotland, Jane. A visa is sufficient. Especially now they’ve abolished the Tartan Tolls.’
‘Ten minutes,’ said Jane, disappearing into her room.
They took the Glasgow airship from Croydon. The Billy Connolly floated serenely overhead, moored fore and aft to its tethering posts. Jane looked up, swallowed hard and told herself everything would be just fine.
‘Four hundred and twenty-eight miles,’ said Luke, consulting his itinerary as they sat in the airship’s comfortable lounge waiting to de-tether. ‘About six hours, they reckon. Weather permitting, we should arrive around 1730 hours.’ He considered the rigid Jane sitting opposite. ‘Which means, in terms of journey comfort, that we get lunch and afternoon tea.’
‘Is that good?’ asked Jane, apprehensively.
‘Afternoon tea on board any ship of the Glasgow Line is worth having, so don’t go stuffing yourself on lunch. Why are you gripping the arms of your seat like that?’
‘I’m bracing myself for take-off.’
‘Sweetie, look out of the window.’
‘What? Oh. Oh my God. What’s happening?’
‘We took off four or five minutes ago.’
‘I never noticed. And don’t call me sweetie.’
‘Your eyes were shut.’
‘I thought there would be a surge or a jolt or something.’
‘And was there?’
‘I don’t know – unusually, you were talking.’
‘I was taking your mind off things. An act of compassion on my part.’
‘I’ve never flown before. Was that supposed to happen or have we just accidentally become untied and drifted away?’
‘Jane, how can you expose yourself to all the dangers of . . . transportation rehab-style and yet be rigid with fear on the safest method of travel yet invented?’
She risked a glance out of the window. ‘We’re so high up.’
‘Sweetie, you never noticed.’
‘You could have said. And don’t call me sweetie.’
‘Shall we have a look round and then go in for lunch?’
She hesitated.
‘It’s perfectly safe to stand up. You won’t make us tip up, or anything. Come on.’
Very much against her will and certainly against her better judgement, Jane was impressed. Although prior to joining the Time Police, her only experience of travel of any kind had been journeying to London to join the Time Police, so there wasn’t much to compare it to. Those not rich enough – i.e. Jane – were exposed to the dubious delights of cross-channel ferries, the public hyperloops and the decaying motorway system.
The Promenade Deck was spectacular. Giant windows set down each side gave a far more panoramic view than Jane was happy with. At one end was the dining room, large enough to seat all seventy passengers simultaneously, and at the other, the public lounge with its own grand piano and conference rooms beyond. The well-appointed cabins occupied an entire deck above them. Most of them had no windows, but as Luke said, who would want to spend time in their cabins with views like these to marvel at. Jane, who hadn’t yet been able to bring herself to marvel at the view, nodded and kept her eyes firmly on the carpet.
The décor was 1920s style, harking back to previous centuries of gracious travel. Groups of people stood or sat around, reading and talking together. White-coated waiters carried trays of drinks. Mindful they were in public, Luke stuck to orange juice.