Free The Very First Damned Thing by Jodi Taylor

time until Dr Bairstow sat back in his chair, smiled a little, and said, ‘Good evening. If you have come in answer to the advertisement for a PA, I haven’t placed it yet.’
    â€˜No. I have come in answer to a need.’
    She pulled the visitor’s chair around to the other side of the desk. ‘I think I shall always feel more comfortable on this side.’
    â€˜You may not get the opportunity.’ He topped up his glass again.
    She clasped her hands. ‘Something has occurred?’
    â€˜Actually, no. Nothing has occurred. I left it too late and now it’s – too late. Now … nothing will ever occur.’
    She said nothing.
    He gestured. ‘I had not realised until today how much of myself I’ve put into St Mary’s. How much it demands of me. And will always demand of me. And it’s still not completed. Nor anywhere near.’
    â€˜I do not think that completion is the issue here.’
    â€˜Are you here as my PA?’
    â€˜No, not yet.’
    â€˜Why not?’ He looked around at the disordered room, the mounds of files, cubes and data sticks. ‘At least one of us should do something useful.’
    She dismissed the tottering piles of paperwork with a wave of her hand. ‘You are lonely.’
    He smiled bitterly into his glass. ‘Even the very loneliest person does not like to have this pointed out.’
    She ignored him. ‘You have no one. You are out of your own time. You are alone. Your task is Herculean. It would be very natural for you sometimes to feel overwhelmed and Leon Farrell, the one person who might have some understanding of your loss today, is not yet here. You are completely and utterly alone.’
    â€˜I do hope your purpose here tonight is not to provide support and encouragement because …’ He made an effort. ‘Why are you here?’
    â€˜To provide support and encouragement.’
    â€˜Can I refer you to my previous statement?’
    She said nothing.
    He played with his glass. ‘I think they may have chosen the wrong person.’
    â€˜You volunteered for this task and they chose exactly the right person.’
    He stared out of the window into the dark. ‘She reminded me of someone I knew a long time ago in the future and then today I learned her name. Her real name.’
    â€˜Yes, they were related.’
    â€˜I sometimes wonder if I am not cursed.’
    She did not reply.
    â€˜Is it so beyond the bounds of possibility that one day I would find someone and she would not die?’
    â€˜You will not always be alone.’
    He drained his glass. ‘Why haven’t you come in answer to the advert?’
    â€˜Well, you haven’t placed it yet.’
    â€˜I can’t imagine that that would ever stop you.’
    She smiled. ‘You will have a number of assistants before me.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜All the better for you to appreciate my talents when I do arrive.’
    He sighed, turning the empty glass around on his desk.
    She leaned forwards and switched on his desk light. Shadows fled. Standing up, she turned to the window and drew the curtains, shutting out the dark.
    Her voice cut the air like a sword. ‘You will surround yourself with bright and brilliant people. The building will echo to the sound of ideas, discussions, and the occasional small explosion. There will be triumph and disaster in equal measure. There will be outstanding bravery and heart-stopping betrayal. There will be love and loss. There will be devotion to duty and to each other. There will be treachery and defeat. There will be tragedy and death. You will lead and inspire and protect. And once they walk through these doors, no one in this unit will ever be alone again.’
    She moved towards the door.
    â€˜Will you always be here?’
    Her voice came from a great distance. ‘No, I will not. But I will always be here when St Mary’s needs me.’
    The door closed and