The infinite sky became a tunnel. Then, a pinprick of light that lingered three slow heartbeats and was gone.
Epilogue
IT WAS SOMEHOW FITTING that the day was soft. The lawn in the cemetery was dotted with primrose and sweet violets and a haze of green filled the trees.
Noel stood, hand thrust into his pockets studying the gravestone.
ROGER BARNES
BORN SEPTEMBER 3RD, 1941
DIED MARCH 14TH, 2020
Tread Softly, because you
tread on my Dreams.
The Yates quote had seemed appropriate when he’d picked the headstone.
Because of course he had. Who else was there? Roger’s wife and daughter hated him. The son really hadn’t known him. Noel had paid a call on the man. Told him a bit about his father. What was apparent was that Roy hadn’t known how to react.
‘Christine says he was a criminal.’
‘He was. He was also a patriot,’ Noel had said.
Now he stood wondering if someone would tell his son the same. And who would pick the epitaph for his gravestone?
‘Didn’t peg you as the type for graveside visits.’
‘Beats a prison visit, I’m sure,’ Noel drawled.
‘Don’t be cruel, Noel. It’s unworthy of you,’ Turing said softly. ‘So, you accepted.’
Noel shrugged. ‘As the King commands … and it seems the only thing I’m suited for.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘My dear Alan, “things without all remedy should be without regard” …’
Turing finished the Shakespeare quotation. ‘“What’s done is done”.’ It emerged as a whisper. They stood in silence for a long moment. ‘So, Director, you’ll find my resignation on your desk.’
‘Oh, Good Lord no, you know where all the bodies are buried. Back to the dawn of time.’ He linked his arm through Turing’s and they strolled towards the cemetery gate. ‘Besides, I need you to convince Stonemaiden not to kill me.’
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to do that yourself. I’m out.’
Alan took the train out to Bletchley. Only fifty miles northwest of London, but it felt like another world, stepping back in time to the war. He hadn’t been back since the restoration. They’d done a good job with it, though a part of Alan wondered if it wouldn’t have been better if they hadn’t saved the park. It had almost been sold off, chopped up for flats. How much pain did people cause, clinging to lost days of former glory? What England needed now was to look ahead, and let the old folks shuffle off somewhere where they’d do less damage.
Alan couldn’t bear to enter the National Museum, with photos of himself plastered on the walls. Oh, they’d have Gordon Welchman, Hugh Alexander, Stuart Milner-Barry too – the stalwarts of the old gang. But seeing their faces would be almost as bad. Gordon was lost to the mists of dementia, Hugh had died in an action in the East, and Stuart had simply died of cancer, rotting from the inside out. No more chess games deep into the night, no more arguing the fine points of Hugh’s latest mathematical theory. All the beautiful old boys, gone to dust.
Block C, Block B, Huts 3, 6, 8 and more. They’d kept a surprising number of them intact, filled them with secrets that men had died to protect – there was even a pigeon exhibition. All the dark corners thrown open to the sunlight, and a stiff breeze gusting through. They’d needed the secrets back then, needed them desperately. But now the youngsters were talking about transparency. If every inner darkness was exposed to the world, maybe it could all be scoured clean. Too much festered in the dark.
Sebastian wasn’t talking to him any more. Perhaps it was for the best.
Alan didn’t really know what to say to him. He had treated the man very badly – but in the end, Sebastian had chosen his own fate, raising his hand to murder. Alan Turing could blame himself for a lot of things, but that one, that was on Sebastian.
A group of students on bicycles cut across his meandering path; they were headed, by their chatter, to the just-opened National College of Cyber Security. They were so appallingly young – between sixteen and nineteen, with ruddy health glowing in their cheeks and bright futures shining in their eyes. Oh, sorry! they shouted, as they cut across his path. Boys and girls together, unfettered and free.
Ah, there it was. The stableyard cottage, where he had worked so long and so hard. Surely he’d done enough by now, good and bad. He had resigned from the Silver Helix. Maybe he would take the trip that he and Sebastian had talked about. Go to Sri Lanka and feed the baby elephants, climb Adam’s Peak and see the Eye of God revealed.
‘I’m sorry, sir? Sorry to bother you—’ One of the girls had got off her bike and walked it back towards him.
He wanted to tell her to go to hell, to leave him in his bitter peace. But she hadn’t earned such rudeness from him. Alan swallowed back the nasty words, and said, ‘Yes? Can I help you?’
‘Are you – Alan Turing?’ And oh, the hope in her voice, the light spilling out from her. Like a candle, no, a great roaring blaze of a fire.
He could deny it, claim only a casual resemblance. But instead Alan nodded, and reached out to shake her hand. ‘Alan, yes. And you are?’
‘Margaret. Margaret Evans. I’m a student at the College. I’m just so tremendously excited to meet you! We all admire you so much!’
Margaret. She looked only a little like his lost queen, but that didn’t really matter, did it? This Margaret was a bright young flower of British womanhood, racing towards a future so much more free than anything his queen had known. That wild girl would have loved this one. ‘It’s nice of you to say so.’
She reached forward, grabbed his hand and shook it fiercely. ‘Are you here to give a lecture? That would be incredible! Can I show you the way?’
He gently retrieved his hand – she’d smeared the make-up and silver glistened through. Alan wanted to shove it in his pocket, which was what he would have done before today. But maybe … maybe she could show him the way. A new way? He’d followed old patterns for too long; they’d led him only to misery and ruin.
Alan smiled at her. ‘No, not today, I’m sorry. But perhaps later in the year? We’ll see. You’d better go, or you’ll be late.’
She nodded, jumped back on her bike, and pedalled off, dark hair streaming in the wind behind her. Beautiful.
Alan took out a pocket handkerchief and gently, slowly, starting wiping the make-up from his face. Enough hiding, skulking in the shadows. If he were going to stay and fight for England, he would do it as himself.
They sat close to one another on the plush sofa holding hands. Constance didn’t care that his spiny growths hurt when she squeezed, everything seemed so unreal for both the good and the bad. The hurt grounded her.
‘Well, this is it then,’ Arthur said resignedly.
Constance stood and pulled him to his feet, then fussed with his suit, which needed no fussing at all. She’d made it as close to perfect as was in her, but it wasn’t one of her special suits. He didn’t need one of those. Not right now.
‘You’re going to be brilliant,’ she said, shoving her hands into her pockets.
‘I’m not sure I want to be brilliant,’ he replied with a nervous laugh. ‘I think I might just want to go back to being Bobbin. Being Bobbin was easier.’
She gave him a smile. ‘Who said life was going to be easy? You’ve been bone-idle for the last seventy-two years, my man, time to step up.’ A lump formed in her throat and she wasn’t sure she could stop herself from crying.
Old woman, she thought. Now is not the time.
‘Constance …’
She dropped her head. Tears started rolling down her cheeks and she gave up trying to stop them. If only he hadn’t said her name like that.
‘Constance,’ he said, lifting her chin to look her in the eye. ‘We could still …’
‘No,’ she said. He held his handkerchief out to her. She took it and wiped her tears away before blowing her nose. ‘We already agreed. You’ve said you’re
only on the throne for three years, then you’ll abdicate in favour of Richard’s eldest. Until your three years are up we can’t be together. It will be difficult enough for you to do your duties without the constant distraction of people wondering about us.’
‘No one will care!’ There was anguish in his voice. ‘We’re old!’
‘Of course they’ll care. Your whole story makes them care. I’m a distraction for you and the country. There have been all sorts of articles about your life and working with me. We’ve done a good job of hiding our relationship, but that can’t last.’
‘God, Constance, we’ve only just …’
‘I know. I can’t even imagine being without you now.’ She reached out and took his head in her hands and then kissed him gently. Their kiss lingered, filled with sadness and goodbyes.
‘Now I must go,’ she said. ‘I’ll be listening. Your speech is marvellous. It’s just the thing we need. Go on now, Arthur. Be the King.’
Constance pushed open the door to the Good Knight. It was – had been – their favourite pub. She’d stayed away from it because it was filled with too many memories.
But she didn’t want to watch his speech alone and somewhere familiar was what she needed.
She’d expected it to be busy, but it was packed with nats and jokers and the chatter was excited. The telly over the bar was tuned to BBC1 with the sound turned down. The presenters’ conversation murmured softly.
‘In but a few moments, King Arthur will give his first address to the nation. The shock of discovering that the true king is also a joker has rocked the country, indeed, the entire empire. Will this man be able take up such a great mantle and preserve the monarchy, given his background? Is it possible a man who was nothing more than a tailor mere months ago can lead? Ah, I see we are going to our live coverage of the speech.’
The barman turned the volume of the telly up and a chorus of ‘shush’ and ‘hush now’ floated through the pub until it fell silent. The screen faded to black, then the picture came back showing Arthur sitting behind a solid-looking mahogany desk. Someone had done an excellent job making him up so his blue-and-red piebald colours were less obvious. He coughed nervously, then began:
‘There are times in the history of a nation when the country must decide what it is and what it stands for. It isn’t the government – it is the people who decide what they will be. Such a moment has come to Great Britain.
‘We must decide. Will we continue to embrace the hatreds that have turned us against each other? Or will we put these relics of another time aside and grow into the country we deserve? A country of kindness, generosity, and unification.
‘I speak now as a simple man who has found himself in anything but simple circumstances. This is too how we find ourselves as a nation. We must help each other to mend the wounds inflicted by hatred.’
A wave of sadness hit her and Constance couldn’t bear to listen any more. She slipped out of the pub and began walking back to her atelier.
Up and down the street, she saw people stopped, looking at their phones. She could hear the speech through the tinny speakers. He was growing more earnest now, a tone she knew well. It was a terrible price to pay. Losing Glory and Margaret. And now losing Arthur left her desolate.
There was a light tap on her shoulder. Turning, she saw Brian, who had led the joker-tailors from her shop.
‘Oh, Brian,’ she said, trying to put a game face on. ‘Where did you come from?’
His light peppermint scent floated to her. ‘I was inside with some friends and I saw you leaving. I was wondering if you’d like to join us.’
‘But I thought … I thought …’
‘I think I was wrong about you,’ he said apologetically. ‘We all knew the two of you were in love. And now, now you’ve given him up for the rest of us.’
Constance shook her head. ‘Oh, it was never like that …’
His look was a knowing one and she turned her gaze away. ‘Come inside with me and my mates. You shouldn’t be alone. Not now.’
He led her back into the pub to his table. They’d left a chair free for her and she slipped into it. Brian held out his hand, and she took it. She extended her hand to the joker on her left, who took it, too. And so it went, around the pub, linking them all together.
Closing Credits
Starring
written and created by
Roger (Green Man) Barnes
Peter Newman
Noel (Double Helix) Matthews
Melinda M. Snodgrass
Anya (Badb) McNulty
Peadar Ó Guilín
Constance (Seamstress) Russell
Caroline Spector
Alan (Enigma) Turing
Mary Anne Mohanraj
co-starring
created by
Arthur (Bobbin) Hugesson
Melinda M. Snodgrass
Jasper Matthews
Melinda M. Snodgrass
Adelbert (Seizer) Boyd-Brackenbury
Peter Newman
Maven Boyd-Brackenbury
Peter Newman
Sebastian Wallace
Mary Anne Mohanraj
Ranjit (the Lion) Singh
John Jos. Miller
featuring
created by
Kenneth (Captain Flint) Foxworthy
Kevin Andrew Murphy
Princess Gloriana
Melinda M. Snodgrass
Princess Sissel
Mary Anne Mohanraj
King Henry IX, Prince Richard
George R.R. Martin
Robin (Pygmalion) Shawcross
George R.R. Martin
Maryam (Jiniri) Shahidi
Carrie Vaughn
Rory (Archimedes) Campbell
Marko Kloos
Kerenza (Stonemaiden) Tremaine
Emma Newman
Jason (Redcoat) McCracken
Melinda M. Snodgrass
Wayfarer
Peter Newman
with
created by
John (Look Away) Davies
Mary Anne Mohanraj
Dorothy (Dotty) McDonald
Peter Newman
Sarah Edwards
Peter Newman
Payback
Peter Newman
Zachary Pike
Melinda M. Snodgrass
Eleanor (Primrose) Breslin
Kevin Andrew Murphy
Jamila, Bethany, Montgomery, Blue Jeans
Peter Newman
Doctor Nalakini Khatri
Melinda M. Snodgrass
Savic, the guardsman
Peadar Ó Guilín
Captain De Vere
Peadar Ó Guilín
Brian and Jeremy
Caroline Spector
The Wild Cards Universe
The Original Triad
Wild Cards
Aces High
Jokers Wild
The Puppetman Quartet
Aces Abroad
Down and Dirty
Ace in the Hole
Dead Man’s Hand
The Rox Triad
One-Eyed Jacks
Jokertown Shuffle
Dealer’s Choice
The Novels
Knaves over Queens
Three Kings
Double Solitaire
Turn of the Cards
The Card Sharks Triad
Card Sharks
Marked Cards
Black Trump
Stand-Alones
Deuces Down
Death Draws Five
The Committee Triad
Inside Straight
Busted Flush
Suicide Kings
The Fort Freak Triad
Fort Freak
Lowball
High Stakes
The American Triad
Mississippi Roll
Low Chicago
Texas Hold ’Em
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