The Broken Sun (24 page)

‘After Andana was killed, rather than allowing the secrets of New Atlantis to fall
into the hands of unbelievers, Etruba destroyed the city. He wanted to destroy the
signal that was calling their gods back to Earth.'

‘But surely that's just a legend?' Gloria said.

‘There may be some truth in it. Jack and Scarlet's description of the gods in the
murals at New Atlantis sound remarkably like people in space suits.'

‘What?' Jack squawked. ‘You mean people from other worlds? Men from Mars?'

‘Probably not Mars,' Mr Doyle said. ‘Maybe from much further away.'

‘I hope they've called off their visit,' Gloria said, taking a sip of tea.

‘Unless they're almost here,' Scarlet said, glancing up at the ceiling as if expecting
one to pop through.

‘Then I'll keep the teapot warm. Just in case.' Gloria ate a cream biscuit. ‘And
finally, what about Phoebe, Clarice and Professor Clarke?'

‘Already planning another expedition,' Mr Doyle said. ‘One that is expected to take
some time. As the location of New Atlantis has been established, they now want to
find a way to excavate the city.'

‘That could take years. Decades.'

‘Archaeologists are very patient people. And New Atlantis probably still holds many
secrets waiting to be recovered from its watery tomb.'

‘I expect you will miss them,' Gloria said, her eyes honing in on Mr Doyle. ‘Especially
Phoebe.'

He raised an eyebrow. ‘An invitation has been made for Phoebe to visit at Christmas.
It would be nice to see her again.'

A knock came from the outer office.

‘Speaking of visitors…' Jack said.

Mr Doyle rose wordlessly and left the room. Gloria leaned close to Jack and Scarlet.
‘How is he?' she asked. ‘Ignatius seems rather…apprehensive.'

‘He's been quieter than usual,' Jack admitted. ‘And he hasn't been eating as much
cheese.'

Scarlet bit her bottom lip. ‘It's not every day a man gets his family back,' she
said.

The door to the sitting room opened. Mr Doyle appeared first, followed by a small
young boy. Amelia Doyle came next, pushing a wheelchair with Phillip Doyle in it.

Jason Doyle had brown hair and the same dark eyes as Mr Doyle. Amelia, since their
first meeting at Harwich, seemed like a different woman. Her smile was still sad,
but her eyes were bright and there was colour in her cheeks.

Phillip's eyes were open, but unfocused. He had not spoken since he and the other
machine men were recovered from Parliament. The exoskeletons had protected him and
his brothers in arms.

‘I'll make more tea,' Gloria said.

‘No.' Jack held up his hand. ‘I'll do that.'

As he made a fresh pot, he wondered what the future would hold for them all. Certainly
it would not all be smooth sailing. The damage to Phillip's mind might take years
to repair.

Jack returned with the teapot. Scarlet was handing the plate of biscuits around.
Amelia had her arm over Phillip's shoulder.

Scarlet looked up at Jack. ‘We were just discussing the importance of reading,' she
said. ‘I was just telling everyone about the Brinkie Buckeridge novels.'

‘She does that a lot,' Jack told the group. ‘You'll get used to it.'

Jason placed his hand on Mr Doyle's arm. ‘May I have another biscuit, please?' he
asked.

‘Of course, my boy.' The detective looked ten years younger with his family around.
Biscuits were offered and accepted. ‘Your mother tells me you love to sing?'

‘I'm in the church choir.'

Mr Doyle nodded thoughtfully. ‘You know,' he said, ‘there's a song I used to sing
to your father. Would you like to hear it?'

‘Yes, please,' the boy said.

‘Jason has a very good voice,' Amelia said. ‘He's often chosen to sing solo.'

‘Really?' Mr Doyle looked delighted. ‘Then perhaps we'll sing it together.'

He hummed a few bars to get them started, then began to softly sing.

‘
The Minstrel Boy will return we pray
.
When we hear the news we all will cheer it—
'

He stopped. Another voice, a low whisper, had joined him, and they all turned in
astonishment. Phillip Doyle's eyes were still unfocused, but from somewhere deep
inside him, from a place that the war and George Darrow had not been able to reach,
came the words. Like an echo from a life that was, they signalled a life that could
finally be.

‘
The Minstrel Boy will return one day
,' Phillip sang. ‘
Torn perhaps in body, not
in spirit
.'