Page 35 of Never Tear Us Apart
Chapter Twenty-Five
As we emerge from the profound dark of the catacombs, the glare of the bright afternoon light makes my eyes sting. I raise my hand to shield my gaze as I squint at the spot where we exited. It’s different to the place we went in. Long, brittle golden grass stands hard against the grey mausoleums like bright spectres. Somewhere hidden in the scant traces of shade, insects chirp and drone, oblivious to the havoc of men. For now, the sky is empty, peaceful and still.
I wonder about the sky in the time when I am supposed to be – where Iam. Has the sun risen there? I wonder if Kathryn is worried, waiting for me to wake up. Or perhaps hours here are just a few seconds there. That sense of foreboding that has been following me since we arrived at the catacombs intensifies, vibrating like the beat of a drum. I’m overcome with the strongest sensation that I might never return to that world, as difficult and as painful as the thought is. Guilt and fear swarms over me.
‘You tremble.’ Sal frowns, putting a calming, paternal arm around me. Something about him is inherently trustworthy, and not just his stories of time travel or his kindness. There is something more, something obvious. My subconscious has created the Maltese father I always wanted, the one I so badly want right now. Turning into his arms, I rest my forehead on his shoulder and allow a few tears to fall, just between the span of one breath and the next.
‘There, there, Maia,’ Sal says gently. ‘All is well. All will be well. We will find the solution to all our troubles.’
‘I’m sorry.’ I straighten up, wiping my eyes with the edge of my thumb. ‘I’m not like this. I don’t usually fall to pieces. Well, not recently, anyway. Thank you, Sal.’
‘There is no need to thank me,’ Sal says. ‘As far as I’m concerned, you are the only other person in all the stars and galaxies who knows what I know. You are my proof of sanity.’
‘Well, that’s a first,’ I say with a watery smile. ‘Even so, you are kind.’
‘What is kind, except deciding not to be cruel?’ Sal says. ‘Kindness is easy – it should be natural.’
‘What now?’ I ask as we walk out onto the dusty road.
‘There will be a bus in an hour, perhaps two,’ Sal says, checking his pocket-watch. ‘We will be back in time for the evening raid.’
‘Wouldn’t want to miss it,’ I say. ‘An hour or two of waiting?’
‘Yes, not long! I expect there is no waiting in your time,’ Sal says. ‘I expect all is perfectly on time, and you may travel anywhere and everywhere you want at the drop of a hat . . .’
‘Not exactly . . .’
‘But here, petrol is rationed, and buses are few and far between. We must make adjustments and accept our lot. And when I say we, I mean you.’
The Silent City of Mdina looms ahead, a citadel set within a deep, now empty moat. The grand gateway stands proud before us.
‘It’s so beautiful,’ I say, looking up at the golden stonework. A lion bares his teeth at me. At the foot of the gate, two British soldiers stand guard. ‘It feels like the knights might be just about to thunder over the bridge on their horses.’
‘Perhaps they are,’ Sal says. ‘Time is a wide river, with all her currents flowing as one. I have been in the citadel in the time of the knights . . .’ A thought occurs to him. ‘I will show you the Silent City and, with it, more evidence – you will see I am telling you the truth.’
‘I get the impression it’s not open to the public,’ I say, following Sal as he approaches the soldiers with an added spring to his step.
‘Nonsense – a Tommy is always a friend to Salvatore Borg.’ As we reach the soldiers he peers at the young men, his face lighting up. ‘Ah, Private Wilson, we meet again!’
‘Prof!’ An achingly young man of about nineteen or so grins happily at Sal. ‘We never got to finish our match! And I was winning.’
‘Well, when the good doctor instructs a man to leave, he leaves, if he knows what’s good for him.’
Sal and Private Wilson chuckle, and I wonder if they are talking about the terrifying doctor I met yesterday. Was it really only yesterday? I’ve lost all sense of what is up and what is down.
‘It was good luck for me,’ Sal tells him, warmly shaking his hand. ‘You are a master of chess, Eddie.’
‘The prof here came and visited me when I was all beat up after the harbour took a pounding,’ Eddie tells his mate, who nods and grins.
‘And the book I gave you? Have you finished it yet?’ Sal asks.
‘Nearly,’ Eddie says proudly. ‘Never thought I’d read a book, Prof, but it’s proper good. Takes my mind off missing home and Ma.’
‘A good book will do that,’ Sal assures him. ‘Eddie, it is very hot. May I take my cousin to sit in the cathedral amoment while we wait for the bus?’ He indicates me, standing just behind him.
‘Don’t see why not,’ Eddie says. ‘Tell you what – I’ll give you a shout when the bus comes, and my mate Bill here can keep it from leaving until you’re on board – how does that sound?’
‘It sounds marvellous.’ Sal claps Eddie on the back, and the young man beams. Sal leads me under the grand stone archway and into the Silent City.
