That Elusive Cure 33

Jimmy and I took our time going home, making a detour to Ness Botanical Gardens and walking around in silence. My tears didn’t stop for a long time, and I earned looks of sympathy from some of the elderly ladies we passed. Jimmy held my hand, his grip tight as he stared into the distance, off in his own world. Maybe he was daring to plan our future again. Maybe he was thinking about Bob and how far he’d got in figuring out the nanoparticles. Maybe he was doing the same as me – adjusting his mind to the realisation that not only did the pod actually, positively, and categorically work, but that it had almost fixed me. Even if the machine never worked again, I got to have another bite at the apple. I had a chance to have new treatments that might finish the job the machine started. Oh, to dare to hope.

We arrived home late in the afternoon. Jimmy went straight back to work, not bothering to use his headphones and filling the house with Rush played at high volume. The phone rang, and in a daze, I picked up.

“Hello?”

“Kathy, it’s your dad. Your mother told me about this machine. I have to say I did think she was having a turn, as it sounds so outrageous. Is it true?”

I nodded, tears threatening again. God how I hated to cry, I hated the way it made me feel weak and out of control. I drew in a ragged breath and managed to say, “Yup.”

“A machine from the future is real?”

“Yes Dad.” I stretched the phone cord to the downstairs loo and splashed a little water on my face. “It’s all true, Dad. Jimmy had to have a look inside the works and managed to break a part. We’ve got someone looking into it.”

“Well, I’ll be honest with you, that’s why I phoned. You see one of my mates down the boatyard works in the aerospace industry. He’s a precision machinist. I reckon if anyone can fix your machine he can.” Dad paused. “Kathy, are you okay?”

I sniffed, and said, “Uh-huh.”

“Did something happen?”

“I got my scan results today.” Breathe in, breathe out, I forced slow deep breaths, trying desperately to keep my emotions in check. Stop falling apart, I told myself.

“Oh no…”

“No, it’s not like that, Dad. They were good, really good. My lungs are clear and I’m down to two tumours in my liver.”

My words were met with what I could only describe as stunned silence. Dad always had something to say. Him being silent said more than words. Then he was speaking again, “That’s wonderful! Mary, Mary, come to the phone!” Dad shouted. I held the handset away from my ear as he yelled a second time. “Come hear Kath’s news!”

Finally my tears cleared. This was the beginning, a bright new start. I spoke with Mum and at Dad’s insistence arranged to meet him at the church in an hour or so. He wanted to assess the damage and work out what tools he’d need. I decided not to tell Jimmy, he’d only feel hurt that I was recruiting Dad to clean up his mess.

I had told Dad to park in the council car park. The lot was half empty when I arrived. The shops had closed now, only a few restaurants were open at this time of the evening. Dad drove up and saw me waving. He pulled into the space next to my car.

“Bit cloak and dagger this,” he said as he joined me.

“I’m supposed to be fixed by now, and should probably have passed the key onto the next person.”

Dad frowned. “So does it only fix one person at a time?”

“I don’t think so. The machine seems so advanced, I imagine it can fix queues of people.”

“So why limit it like this, having only one person at a time getting the benefit?”

I linked arms with my dad and we started walking around the shops to get to the church.

“I don’t know. I didn’t make the rules.” The church came into view, looking as dirty and neglected as always. “You see what you make of it, Dad.”

I wrangled with the lock and opened the door wide. Dad stood still for a minute, staring first at the cross, then at the shiny pod in the middle of the floor. He didn’t say a word, and moved slowly into the church, glancing at the piles of pews on either side of the space. Then as he came up to the pod, he reached out and ran his fingertips over the hull as he circled it.

“So smooth,” he muttered. He’d got round to the back where the panel remained open from Jimmy’s last visit. “I see, I see.” Dad mumbled to himself.

I sat on a pew behind him and watched as he examined the mechanics. He put his hand up to the broken pipe, running his fingers over the places Jimmy had used solder to seal the breaks.

“Hmm, cold.” He leaned closer and sniffed. “Yes, I know what that is.” He backed off and lay down, looking into the machinery from another angle. “That’s why the seal’s not working.” Dad sat back up. “Lend me the key. I can have the break fixed by tomorrow.”

“Seriously, fixed by tomorrow?”

“Oh yes, it’s a simple fix. Jimmy was part of the way there, but he’s used the wrong material for the solder.” He scratched at his beard. “It won’t be working, but it will be mended. You say you’ve got a man working on the gas that escaped?”

“Yes…”

“Tell him that the pressure is probably maintained by nitrogen vapour.”

I blinked slowly. I knew dad was intelligent, but he’d worked in engineering. How did he know this stuff? “What about your friend?”

Dad didn’t reply at first, he was staring deep inside the machine. Everything was shiny and smooth, no greasy or oily parts that I could see. Without looking back at me he made a ‘don’t worry’ gesture with his hand. “No need to involve him. I have a question about a valve, but I don’t need Tim here to get the answer.” He nodded, still concentrating on the mechanics. “The less people that know about this beauty the better.”

“Yes, of course. That’s why Jimmy and I have been trying to keep things quiet.”

“That’s my girl,” Dad said and got up off the floor. He brushed the dust off his trousers. “Can I hold onto the key? I’ll give it back as soon as I’ve done my bit.”

I hesitated. Last time someone got a hold of my key bad things happened. But this was my dad, the man that could fix anything. What could go wrong? I handed it over. The machine was already broken. What more could go wrong?

Before we left, I went to the front of the pod and reached up into the lid, placing my hand on the panel. Maybe it had a way of recharging itself. I held my breath and waited for the soft voice of the machine.

“Come on Kath, your mother will be wondering where I am.”

“Coming,” I replied and followed him out of the church, looking one last time at the machine before locking the door.