Hide in Time (13 page)

“Alexandra! Your memory is
returning.” Gathering pace Catherine continued, “Perhaps
you were on the same ship and were shipwrecked too, maybe drifting
for months on the open sea. Maybe you were friends and she is alive
somewhere too? I heard the parson say you were dishevelled, wet, and
sandy. Perhaps we have solved the mystery.”

“Perhaps,” echoed
Alexandra, though not with any conviction.

“Utterly deplorable.”
Father Fox entered the sitting room, nodded to his daughter and
Alexandra, sat down on the sofa opposite, and lit his pipe. Alexandra
thought he puffed away like a steam train beginning to roll; steam
train? The fleeting memory vanished. Like steam itself, she thought.
Father Fox stopped only to repeat, “Utterly deplorable.”

Catherine whispered to Alexandra,
“He’ll be talking about Jack. Don’t mention Laura
or Adam will disappear too," Catherine indicated with her eyes
that Adam was coming through the door. "You must finish the tale
of the knight of the road but only when we are alone.”

“Alexandra, you must be very
tired,” said Adam, “Catherine would keep you up all
night.”

“Thank you, Adam, I am indeed
tired, and a good sleep will be very welcome.”

“You can resume the tangential
tale-telling tomorrow, Catherine.”

Alexandra took her leave of the warm,
affectionate Catherine, the aloof Father Fox, and Adam. What to make
of Adam? Initially warm, but now displaying an air of mild
detachment. Never before had she felt so exhilarated and intensely
curious about a man. Never, she mused, how would she know? The
highwayman had awakened in her a raw feeling of fascination, now here
was something stronger.

~

The following morning, refreshed and
having taken breakfast in bed, Alexandra pondered what to wear. What
would the day hold? What was expected of her? She checked herself in
the looking-glass – the mystifying bruises were still visible;
she hoped she would not have to leave the house today. From the
magazine Catherine had left in her room Alexandra was able to deduce
that two of the three dresses she had were somewhat in need of
adjusting to take account of the nuances of fashion.

She decided to wear the one she had
arrived in, the flowery, blue cotton one; Martha had made it look
quite respectable. The others seemed more appropriate for evenings.
The house was rather chilly and no fire had been lit in the grate so
she selected the warm, pale blue shawl, threw it around her shoulders
and went down the stairs. Catherine seemed to be watching for her
patiently and came forward, like a cat awaiting feeding.

“Good morning, Alexandra. I hope
you slept well?”

“Why thank you, Catherine, yes I
did.”

“I’m looking forward to
hearing more about your adventures.”

Alexandra could not help but smile.
This must be what it’s like to have a little sister, she
thought. She’d always wanted… Was she an only child?

“Come to the morning room and I
shall send for some tea.”

Alexandra followed the enthusiastic
Catherine through to the back of the house and what seemed to be a
music room. Extending from this into the garden was the morning room
with small courtyards either side. Directly across the courtyard on
the left was the library, to the right the kitchen overlooked the
courtyard, or it might have done had there not been a trellis
shielding it from the servants’ view. Pasted directly on to the
pale lemon walls, and outlined in decorative paper borders, were many
black and white prints. Much of the roof was glass, giving the room a
sunny and informal aspect. It was pleasingly warm.

“What a lovely way to start a
day, Catherine. I’ll be delighted to continue last night’s
tale, but first I should like to give something to Adam.”

“Adam?”

“Yes, do you know where he is?”

Catherine looked embarrassed. “He
has gone out, I think. Yes, he’s out.”

Alexandra noticed the way Catherine was
unable to raise her eyes. “It doesn’t matter,”
Alexandra said hurriedly tucking the pouch of coins behind the folds
of her dress, “I’ll return shortly and enjoy a cup of tea
with you, Catherine.” Alexandra hesitated before leaving.
Catherine’s growing consternation was becoming increasingly
discernible and though she tried gamely to smile at Alexandra, she
failed.

When Alexandra returned to the morning
room she noticed Catherine was shaking as she tried to pour the tea
so, in a futile gesture of moral support, Alexandra made herself
comfortable alongside her on the sofa. Catherine could dam her tears
no longer: she sobbed.

“Whatever is the matter,
Catherine?”

“The Tree of Life has disappeared
and so has Adam.”

Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham

‘Numismatists’ Nirvana’
the shop had been called. Laura hoped the owner knew more about coins
than he did about words, though she had to admit she’d had to
look both words up in the dictionary. Anyway, it didn’t matter,
he’d been delighted to offload much of his lower grade Georgian
coinage. She had tried to think if there was anything small and
useful she could take with her, like aspirin, but that could cause
havoc. She did, however, decide on her little camera.

Thus it was that on the Friday evening
following Xandra’s departure, Laura was to be found hurtling
down the motorway towards the gateway to the other time. She had
returned to her cottage and her nearby work at the agency, despite
Matt’s protestations. There had been no repercussions, no men
in balaclavas, no vans following her. She’d only had to deal
with the police and they had reluctantly accepted Xandra’s
letter as proof of her leaving of her own volition though Laura felt
they regarded her with some scepticism. “This whole case feels
like a week without a weekend,” one of them had said. Laura had
no idea what he meant and he’d explained, “Something is
missing.” This she could not refute, so she kept quiet.

Matt was away again. ‘On
business,’ he had said. That was all he ever said. He could be
running the Mafia for all she knew.

Laura parked her car close to Billy
Beggar’s favourite place, though he wasn’t there tonight,
and walked towards the entrance to the caves. She looked at her
watch. Ten past ten. It was dark. The street lighting was poor, the
advertising hoardings were obscured by high bushes, she was wearing
black, she was through. She picked up the torch, stepped over the
rain cape Xandra had worn, then inched away from the entrance and
wound the torch without the worry of anyone hearing a strange sound
from behind the bushes. She adjusted her all-important waist bag. It
contained the directions to Adam’s in case she forgot where she
was going and the instructions to return to the twenty-first century.
A notebook, pen, the coins, a small bottle of water, an apple, and
two bars of chocolate were also packed.

She had returned just once before and
it had alarmed her. On arrival in the nineteenth century she’d
had to borrow a horse and ride all the way to “Foxhills”.
Both she and the horse were exhausted. She’d knocked on the
door, pulled the bell, but no one answered. When she’d finally
gained entrance, everyone ignored her. She’d looked down at
herself to see if she’d become a ghost – but she hadn’t.
She’d pinched herself – she was very real. Passing a
looking glass, she realized the problem. She was completely
invisible; she could see straight through herself. She’d looked
for Adam and found him in the rose garden distraught at the news of
her ship being wrecked. Whereas over five years had passed in her new
life, only a few days had passed in Adam’s world. The whole
episode had been a disaster especially when her memory started fading
and she’d feared she would not remember how to return to her
new life nor could she stay in the old. A sense of panic rose in her
now as she remembered.

This time, she thought, she was better
prepared. She'd mastered the rules better, and she followed the same
instructions she’d given to Xandra in case it made a difference
if she crossed the curtain of light at a different angle.

She pushed her way across the sands
then, climbing the seventy-seven steps, she repeated important
happenings in the twenty-first century. She reminded herself of her
present life; things she’d have to do in the office on Monday
morning. It was still dark. That’s right, she thought, it
should be about half past eleven. She checked her watch. Eleven
twenty-five – near enough; assuming it worked properly. Next
time I come, she thought, I’ll leave the comforts of the
twenty-first century just before dawn then I shan’t have to
hang around in the dark. It occurred to her that she might be able to
work out what time of year it was by the time of the sunrise.
“Except,” she said aloud, “it might be spring or
autumn.”

It was cold and there was a strong wind
blowing from the sea. Though tired after climbing the seventy-seven
steps, she had no option but to walk to Merrygate; that would take
less than two hours if she kept up a good pace. If things had not
changed, the mail coach to Canterbury would be leaving about four.
Plenty of time.

To get to Merrygate she had to pass the
entrance to the cave which had just taken her back in time –
not that anyone would know it was there – the smugglers
disguised the entrance well. She’d even have to pass Billy
Beggar’s spot. He hadn’t been there last night. She hoped
he was all right. “That’s right, Laura, keep thinking of
your new life. Don’t forget.”

“Laura?”

She stopped dead.

“Laura? Where are you? Where did
you go?”

Heaven forfend – blast –
her speech was slipping back. It was odd. She knew she was invisible,
so how could he know she was there? Had he heard her? He couldn’t
have. She switched off her torch. The circle of light from the torch
had been seen. Silly girl.

So that had been the noise she’d
heard in the tunnel when she was with Xandra. Somehow Billy had
eluded Laura and followed Xandra all the way back in time and then
found his way to his usual place. He'd been looking for her and now,
here he was, sitting where he’d always sat, but shaking and
experiencing some sort of tremor. Drugs. Of course, thought Laura,
he’s in cold chicken. He’d not been able to get whatever
it was he’d been using to blot out the horrors of his life.

She couldn’t leave him. He was
wearing his old greatcoat, but left outside in this chilly air to go
through cold… turkey, that’s what it was, he’d
likely perish. She’d have to get help.

A donkey brayed. Well done, donkey. She
would not allow herself to think she had spooked the poor beast. She
untied it and led it towards Billy Beggar. She wasn’t sure
whether it would be easier to get the donkey to lie down and push
Billy on to its back or try to heave Billy on while the donkey was
standing. She decided to try the former. The donkey bent its front
legs. It could sense her. What a relief – something knew she
existed.

She led the plodding donkey to the inn
where the mail coach was awaiting the start of its long day, hauled
Billy off and propped him up against the inn door. She couldn’t
just leave him there; Adam would help him. He’d have to make
his own way and they’d never let him on the coach like this, so
Laura put some coins in his pocket and tucked a note with his name
and Adam’s name and address in his other pocket. She was a
little concerned she’d used her own twenty-first century pen
and notebook but there was no alternative. Heaving his arm upwards,
and pressing a crown in his hand, she manoeuvred it towards the
innkeeper who’d come out to see the cause of the strange noises
outside the inn door.

“Well, bless my soul,” said
the kindly man as he quickly pocketed the money and wiped his hands
down his once-white apron. “Charlie, give me a hand with this
man; old soldier, I reckon. Wants a bed by the looks of it.”

The donkey nudged Laura, not once but
several times. What was the matter with it? Fearful the apparently
friendly beast would give her away, she pushed it away, but it
trotted back, nudging her bag. The apple. Well, she thought, the big
red Gala was taking up too much room anyway and the donkey did
deserve a special ‘thank you’. Fair enough.

“Where’s that donkey got
that apple from?” The innkeeper had reappeared in his doorway.
“Get away from the coach – stupid animal.”

With what she feared was an audible
sigh, Laura mounted the step into the carriage. Just two other
passengers – room for her.

“Cold ain’t it?” said
one to the other.

“Warmer outside than in ’ere.”

Laura moved as far away as possible and
pondered Billy’s fate. He’d never be able to return to
his own world; his memories would have faded fast. Memories of the
future were impossible to live with. It had been a few days since
he’d followed them; would the withdrawal symptoms last much
longer? Then what? He’d surely find Adam’s address at
some point and perhaps make his way there. Poor Adam. All these
strangers turning up at his front door. It wouldn’t be long
before she’d be there herself. She must keep repeating the
address instead of marvelling at the way the coin was invisible in
her own hand but visible once it touched Billy’s. The rules
held true: Billy had only travelled one way and he, and everything
connected with him, would be visible. If he tried to return to the
twenty-first century, he'd be invisible, just like Laura was now.
That would be the end of him – it must never happen.

She hoped the donkey, last seen
plodding away, would find its way home. She smiled as she imagined
its owner scolding it for having broken away from its tether and the
donkey, unconcerned, silently treasuring the adventures of the night.

The journey was arduous. She’d
had to change coaches at Canterbury. The two women had got out and a
burly man had got in and began flinging his arms wide then wrapping
them round his shoulders. Over and over again. What she’d give
for her Micra. She smiled at the thought of trying to get the Micra
through the cave. She couldn’t remember what colour it was but
there was no time to worry about that; the coach was coming into
Torwell Bridge – she must have fallen asleep.