In Bed With Lord Byron

a DOCTOR!’ I heard myself shouting, my voice echoing around the church. How I hated them; I wanted to grab them by the lapels and
shriek into their white, indifferent faces.
    ‘Lucy!’ a voice called. ‘Are you OK?’
    McClough ran into the church. He stopped short when he saw Anthony.
    ‘My God,’ he said. He turned to Capone, white-faced and trembling. ‘Don’t think you’re going to get away with this.’
    ‘Help me,’ I begged him. ‘You have to help me get Anthony next door, and we have to do it now.’
    ‘What? I’ll call Tessaro. Capone and his men are going nowhere.’
    ‘No, listen to me – I don’t even want a doctor, I just want to get Anthony next door into the speakeasy. Do you understand me? I can’t carry him by myself.’
    ‘But—’
    ‘You have to help me,’ I screamed. ‘You have to help me!’
    ‘OK, OK.’ McClough took hold of Anthony’s shoulders and together we carried him out of the church. Guests turned to look and point; I sliced my way through them, hardly aware
of Dolores by my side, weeping and begging me to forgive her.
    We took Anthony down the staircase that led to the basement speakeasy. The bouncer was back.
    ‘Password?’ he said.
    ‘For God’s sake, let us through!’ McClough shouted. ‘Can’t you see this man’s dying!’
    Inside, McClough tried to carry Anthony to a booth, but I shoved him away. He stumbled back in confusion; I didn’t care. I willed the time machine to appear with blurry eyes, my heart
choking with relief when it came.
    I dragged Anthony inside. His body collapsed against me, his head lolling on the seat. I checked his pulse: barely a flicker. I opened one of his eyes. It stared back at me. As a flash of life
sparked in that eye and then faded, leaving nothing but a blank pupil reflecting my face. I let out a ragged gasp and bent down and showered his face with kisses, whispering, ‘Don’t
leave me, Anthony, don’t leave me, don’t leave me.’ I kept talking to him as I typed in the date. When I got to the time, I made it ten minutes before we had got into the machine.
That way, Anthony would never know that it had worked; that way he would never be tempted to use it again and risk his life. I pressed the green button and then time spun past and I clutched him
tightly, pressing my cheek against his pale one, desperately praying to God to bring him back to me . . .
    ‘Lucy, this can’t really work, can it?’
    Where were we?
    Back in my living room. On the rug. Traffic outside. Oh, thank God. And Anthony – Anthony was alive!
    He was just walking over to the time machine and examining the controls. For a moment I couldn’t say a word. I just wanted to watch him. I stood there, tears hot in my eyes, drinking in
his body, his expression, his beauty. I walked up close to him, my eyes fixed on his Adam’s apple, on the leap of life pulsing in his throat.
    ‘Hey, we should try it! I just know this thing will work,’ he said.
    He doesn’t remember, I realised with relief. I’ve wound back time, and wiped out his memory. I felt puzzled. How come I remembered our adventures when Anthony couldn’t?
    Perhaps the shock had been so great that when he was shot he had blotted out all the events.
    ‘I mean, I’ve always been cynical about these things, but I just know it’s going to work. Don’t ask me how I know, Lucy, but I know.’
    He was about to get into the machine
. I heard a howl emerge from my lips. With a force that surprised me, I leapt on him, yanking him back.
    Anthony laughed in surprise.
    ‘Oh, you want to go first, do you? Honestly, Lucy! How about learning some manners, young lady!’ He fought me off, heading for the machine again.
    ‘
NO!
’I leapt on to his back, grabbing him. Still thinking this was all a game, he let out a howl of laughter, spinning me round and round until he dislodged me and I slid on
to the floor. I collapsed in a heap and he laughed and dug his fingers in my rib cage, tickling me fiercely. I burst into shrieks of laughter; then my laughter shattered into tears.
    ‘Lucy!’ Anthony cried in surprise.
    ‘Don’t get into that machine,’ I begged him in a choked voice. All the grief that had been locked in my shocked heart now poured out in a waterfall. I sat up, but
couldn’t quite make it to standing, so I clung to his leg, burying my face in his black trousers. ‘Please stay, please stay.’
    ‘Lucy, are you OK?’ Anthony reached down awkwardly, half caressing