‘Me? Why?’
‘Heaven only knows,’ he said, without thinking, and was surprised to receive a cushion round the side of his head.
‘Well, face it, Jane, you’re not the most frivolous person on the planet.’
‘I know how to have fun,’ she said, furiously.
‘I’m sure you do – it’s just that your idea of fun is completely different to the rest of the world’s.’
‘Go by yourself then,’ she replied huffily. ‘I don’t care.’
‘Jane, you know very well that the terms of my release state very firmly that I must be accompanied to social events. I’m going – therefore you must too. But don’t worry – enjoying yourself is optional.’
‘When?’
‘Day after tomorrow.’
‘That’s a bit sudden, isn’t it?’
‘It is. I think I shall decline but offer an alternative date. What are you doing next Friday?’
‘Absolutely nothing, as you well know.’
‘I’ll offer next Friday then.’
‘Same place?’
‘Yes.’
Jane poured herself more coffee. ‘Um . . .’ She stopped, mindful of Luke’s warning about bugging. ‘Will we need to book a private boat? You know – so the concierge knows where we’re going.’
‘Well, they’ve offered to send transport, which I think we’ll ask to wait – in case we want to go on somewhere afterwards.’
She smiled at him. ‘That’s a very good thought.’
‘Not just a pretty face, you know.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Any plans for today?’
‘Not really.’
‘I thought I’d put in some time at the gym downstairs and then go for a run.’
Jane blinked. ‘You?’
‘Look.’ He gestured at himself. ‘This level of perfection has to be maintained, you know. It doesn’t happen by accident. What about you?’
‘I need to send my usual report on you and then I’ll just read a book on the balcony and enjoy the view. I know it’s not exciting, but it’s a bit of a luxury for me.’
‘Whatever floats your boat, Jane. I’ll see you at lunchtime.’
‘Where you’ll replace the calories you worked off in the morning.’
‘Absolutely. Try and stay out of trouble.’
He disappeared and Jane went to get her book.
Settling herself in the surprisingly comfortable recliner, she found, for once, that her book had lost its charms. For someone who, until she joined the Time Police, had never had time to read at all, picking up a book was still an almost unknown luxury and yet, today, she found it hard to concentrate. Sighing, she let the book fall and stared out over the river, thinking about what she would be doing now if she was still living with her grandmother.
Well, today was Wednesday so there would be lots of complaints about yesterday’s trip to the social centre – the venue, the other visitors, the staff, the facilities, the meal, the transportation arrangements, use and misuse of her monthly subscription, the government, foreigners in this country (bad), foreigners in their own country (not quite so bad but still not good), Jane and her uselessness, standards these days and the falling thereof, Europe – in whichever incarnation it happened to be that week – and a general all-purpose criticism aimed at everything not previously covered by her rambling monologue, by which time Jane’s ears would be bleeding and her brain numb.
Her grandmother, however, having talked herself into a good humour, would drop off to dream of an England where everyone was the same age, colour and religion as herself, young people had mysteriously disappeared from the planet, and the country perpetually dozed in the afternoon sunshine sometime around 1937. A time when the butcher’s boy delivered on his bicycle, shops shut on Thursday afternoons and bank managers were real men in morning suits and not some twelve-year-old sapling with GCSEs in Economics and Woodwork, who would spend two years in the job before going on to break the world again and embezzle her life savings. For Jane, the rain would run down the windows and her life would stretch ahead of her with no respite or relief until merciful death came to claim her.
‘Dear God,’ said Bolshy Jane, breaking into these doleful imaginings.
Good to see you being useful for once, thought Jane. She tossed aside her book and went off to write her illegal and completely forbidden by Commander Hay daily progress report to Matthew. There had been considerable Team Weird discussion over this, with Jane quite horrified at the thought of so comprehensively disobeying instructions, Matthew maintaining it was a sensible course of action and Luke saying it would be fun. The report would be sent via the perfectly genuine rehab centre that had, until very recently, supposedly enjoyed the dubious pleasure of Mr Parrish’s company. Thudding into their spam box, it would pause for a microsecond and then reroute itself to a certain M Farrell Esq., where it would sit quietly until read and then self-destruct in five seconds.
Patient LP/105/6331/JL
The patient’s behaviour remains erratic but no more so than usual. I have been unable to dissuade him from re-engaging in some of his normal pursuits. Alcohol continues to be an issue he makes very little effort to combat. He does, however, speak of a more structured future and there is the possibility of a job being offered in the next few days, which I consider encouraging. I do consider this to be an important development in his rehabilitation and will encourage him to see employment and a structured use of his time in a positive light.
Otherwise, the patient continues cheerful and positive, although whether this can be maintained given his predilection for taking the easy option remains to be seen.
She read it through with a grin, auto-signed it, and hit send.
25
‘Fun day ahead,’ said Luke at breakfast on the appropriate Friday. ‘Are you sure you want to come?’
‘If you think I’m letting you out of my sight . . .’
‘No, I’m just saying,’ said Luke, pouring himself a coffee. ‘After all, you don’t really do fun, do you?’
‘I can do fun,’ said Jane defensively.
‘Name one occasion on which you’ve done fun.’
‘I’m not being paid to enjoy myself.’
‘No, you’re being paid to prevent me enjoying myself.’
‘And don’t you forget it,’ said Jane.