Ships and Stings and Wedding Rings by Jodi Taylor

still chattering Markham, presumably to have his symptoms alleviated but you never knew with her.
    â€˜She’s pleased to see me,’ confided Peterson.
    â€˜How on earth can you tell?’
    â€˜I’m not dead.’
    â€˜Will you be telling her I was the one who poisoned Markham?’
    â€˜Not unless she turns ugly for some reason and I have to save myself.’
    â€˜You’re a true friend, Tim.’
    Grey, Bashford, Gallaccio, and Cox were waiting for me.
    â€˜We’ve warmed the bed for you,’ said Bashford.
    Grey said nothing, staring anxiously at me.
    I put her out of her misery. ‘It’s OK. Problem solved. Gun recovered and returned.’
    The collective sigh of relief nearly blew me off my feet.
    â€˜Thank you,’ said Grey. ‘Oh, thank you.’
    â€˜What happens now?’ said Bashford.
    â€˜I’ll go and see Dr Bairstow as soon as I can,’ she said.
    â€˜I’d have a word with Major Guthrie first,’ I said.
    She paled. ‘How much trouble am I in?’
    â€˜Not anything like as much as me, so stop worrying.’
    â€˜Max …’
    I remembered I was supposed to be head of the History Department and drew myself up. I’d like to think I loomed. I certainly gave looming my best shot.
    â€˜Listen to me, you lot. It’s all sorted now, but if any of you ever, ever do anything like this again, I will kill you all. One by one. Slowly. And painfully. And I will get away with it because there are thousands of years of History out there, and I know exactly where to bury the bodies. And what to say to Dr Bairstow afterwards. Now, go away and give me a moment’s peace, please.’
    They clattered out, leaving me alone in the ward. I was too strung up to get into bed, so I showered, washed the dust of Egypt out of my hair, put some cream on my nose, and sat in the window seat, looking out over the white gardens. Dusk was falling and the uncurtained windows were making pretty patterns of light on the snow. Someone had built an enormous snowman on the South Lawn. I’m almost certain the carrot is supposed to go on the face.
    In the distance, I could see Atherton and Sykes trudging off through the snow. God knows what they were up to, but if it was anything illegal someone would be in to complain about it soon enough.
    I heard the door open and close. Silence. I knew it was Leon. I sighed and struggled to marshal the words to explain what I’d done. How important it had been to get the gun back. How the fact that I’d given away my wedding ring didn’t mean I didn’t value it.
    He came to sit opposite me in the window seat. ‘Move your knees.’
    I moved my knees and we sat together.
    He picked up my hand and looked at the white line on my finger. ‘Did you lose it?’
    I shook my head. ‘Worse. I gave it away.’
    â€˜Well,’ he said comfortably, ‘I expect it was for a good reason.’
    I nodded. ‘It was, but that doesn’t mean I was happy to do it.’
    â€˜Why not? I thought to an historian, the preservation of the timeline was paramount.’
    â€˜It is, but these days I have other priorities as well.’
    â€˜Such as?’
    â€˜You. The two of us. Soon to be the three of us. I want you to know I didn’t let it go lightly. I’m not sure how much I can say at the moment. How much I should say. I need to talk to Dr Bairstow, but I’m sorry Leon. I am really sorry.’
    To my amazement, I felt a tear slide down my cheek.
    He squeezed my hand. ‘Don’t cry.’
    â€˜I’m not crying. Pregnancy makes my eyes run.’
    â€˜Of course,’ he said. ‘I had stupidly forgotten that. Mention it to Dr Foster at your next ante-natal session.’
    I sniffed, appreciating his efforts to comfort me. ‘I haven’t got over the last one yet. Helen and I watched a short film about childbirth and it was so gruesome we had to