‘Rome and Carthage. St Mary’s and the Time Police. Two superpowers battling for supremacy which can only be achieved if one of them is completely obliterated. The other will go on to achieve total domination and impose its own language and culture all across the known world.’

He considered this. ‘They fought?’

She nodded. ‘Yeah. They fought.’

‘Who won?’

She sighed. ‘The god of historians help me – I’m surrounded by Philistines.’

‘Not Romans? Or Carthaginians?’

She stared at him suspiciously and he stared blandly back again. ‘Grint, you old bugger, I do believe St Mary’s is rubbing off on you.’ She reached up and kissed his cheek.

He rubbed his cheek angrily. ‘Stop that right now.’

She regarded him for a moment. ‘Wait here.’

Returning with a pen and piece of paper, she wrote busily for a while. Grint watched her suspiciously.

She passed it over. ‘There you are.’

‘What’s this?’

‘I’ve written down every emotion known to man – or woman, rather. Just tick as appropriate and pass it to Commander Hay. That way you don’t have to talk about your feelings.’

He ignored the paper.

‘Go on – you know I won’t leave until you do.’ She rustled it under his nose.

Angrily, he snatched it off her and ran his eye down the list. Finally, and most reluctantly, he made a small mark and passed it back again.

She looked at it. ‘Calm. You’re very calm.’

He nodded.

‘And that’s it?’

‘How many more should there be?’

‘Well, I don’t know. Five or six, perhaps.’

He was dumbfounded. ‘Five or six? How can anyone ­possibly experience five or six emotions all at the same time? I’m not a bloody girl, you know.’

‘Angry,’ she said, making a tick. ‘Frustrated. Impatient.’ She paused. ‘Afraid.’

He lunged. ‘Give me that.’

She held it out of reach. ‘I’m doing you a favour. Now you don’t have to say anything to Hay. Just hand her your list. She’ll take it from there.’

She held it out to him.

He scowled. ‘I’ll throw it away as soon as you’ve gone.’

‘No, you won’t. Gordon, everyone has a moment in their lives when they have to make a choice. I’ve had mine. Years ago, I had to decide whether to let other people define my life or choose my own path. It wasn’t easy – none of it was – but I made the difficult choice. Now it’s your turn. Make the choice.’

He took the paper without looking at her, folded it very small and tucked it into a pocket.

The nurse looked up. ‘Message from the Pod Bay. Your pod is ready, Dr Maxwell.’

Grint turned his head to look at Max. ‘Next time I see you, I’ll shoot you.’