Ships and Stings and Wedding Rings

Book : A Chronicles of St. Mary's Short Story

by Jodi Taylor

Genres: Time Travel; General Fiction

Synopsis

A Chronicles of St Mary's short story that is sure to entertain. If you love Jasper Fforde or Ben Aaronovitch, you won't be able to resist Jodi Taylor. It's Christmas at St Mary's and time for Max's obligatory illegal jump. On this occasion, however, they're right up against it. A loaded gun has been left behind in Ancient Egypt and it's up to them to retrieve it before anyone accidentally blows their own head off, thus affecting the timeline for centuries to come. And as if that's not enough, someone (Max) has inadvertently poisoned Mr Markham. It's hot, they're running out of supplies, they can't find the gun, and it's all going horribly wrong. Again. Readers love Jodi Taylor: 'Once in a while, I discover an author who changes everything... Jodi Taylor and her protagonista Madeleine "Max" Maxwell have seduced me' 'A great mix of British proper-ness and humour with a large dollop of historical fun ' ' Addictive. I wish St Mary's was real and I was a part of it' 'Jodi Taylor has an imagination that gets me completely hooked ' 'A tour de force'

Release date: January 1, 2019

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 53

Sample

Years ago, when I first came to St Mary’s, Chief Farrell said, ‘You get a feel for when things have gone wrong,’ and he was right. You do. So when Grey, Bashford, Cox, and Gallaccio stepped out of their pod, one look was all I needed to see that something had happened.

I stood quietly while they were ushered off to Sick Bay for the statutory check-up, waited for everyone else to disappear, and then followed on behind.

‘Why are you here?’ said Nurse Hunter to me, ushering Bashford into an examination room. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Absolutely fine,’ I said. ‘Why shouldn’t it be?’

‘You’re here voluntarily, that’s why.’

‘I’m just checking up on my people. They’ve returned from a vital and important assignment and I want to debrief them as soon as possible.’

She consulted her scratchpad. ‘Are you sure? They’ve only been checking out shipbuilding in … Ancient Egypt.’

‘Quite sure,’ I said firmly. ‘Where’s Grey?’

She nodded in the direction of the women’s ward.

Elspeth Grey was sitting in the window seat, staring at the snow falling silently outside. She turned her head as I entered and I knew I was right. Something had gone wrong. From the look on her face, something had gone badly wrong.

This wasn’t unknown. We’re St Mary’s – something always goes wrong. To give us our full title, we’re the Institute of Historical Research, based at St Mary’s Priory just outside Rushford. We investigate major historical events in contemporary time. We don’t ever call it time travel because our lives are hazardous enough without deliberately calling down the wrath of our boss, Dr Bairstow, upon ourselves.

Grey and her team had returned from Ancient Egypt and something had happened. I was at a bit of a loss. They all seemed relatively intact to me. Very sunburned, obviously and with hair like straw, but no one was missing a vital body part, or leaking vast amounts of body fluids everywhere. I had a horrible feeling this was more serious than simple physical injury.

I dragged up a chair. ‘What’s happened?’

She was so pale that I was surprised Hunter hadn’t shoved her back into the scanner again.

She said quietly, ‘I’ve done something terrible, Max,’ and stopped, unable to go on.

Many terrible things can happen to historians. It was obviously up to me to whittle them down a bit.

I said, ‘Is anyone dead?’ and waited for her hasty denial.

It didn’t come.

I felt myself grow cold. The team was all present and as correct as St Mary’s was ever able to achieve, which only left …

‘Elspeth. Is someone dead?’ I took a deep breath. ‘Did you – has someone – killed a contemporary?’

She shook her head, then nodded, and then said, ‘I don’t know.’

I’d had enough. If something catastrophic had happened, I needed to know immediately. Before the bloody Time Police came crashing through the door to arrest us all.

I pitched my voice to bring her back. ‘Report.’

She pulled herself together. ‘The assignment went well. No one knew who we were. We’ve got masses of good footage.’

‘So what went wrong?’

‘It was me. I did it.’

‘What did you do?’

She clenched her hands tightly in her lap. I’m not actually that terrifying. All right, I’m slightly pregnant, but that doesn’t usually reduce people to a state of speechless terror. My husband Leon had actually been quite pleased. And Dr Bairstow had immediately commanded Mrs Partridge to prepare him a briefing on the duties of a godfather. Even I was coming round to the idea.

I said gently, ‘Elspeth. You must tell me so I can put it right.’

She took a deep shuddering breath and braced herself. ‘I took a gun on the assignment.’

I braced myself because I could see what was coming.

‘And …?’

‘And I lost it.’

‘Where?’

She couldn’t bring herself to say it. ‘Not … here.’

‘You took a gun on assignment?’

‘Yes.’

‘To Ancient Egypt?’

She nodded, miserably.

‘But why? You had two security guards.’

Yes, she did. One more than normal, but . . .