The Accidental Time Traveller (37 page)

‘Did you eat hearts?’

‘Hearts? Yes, I think we did. I think Gran used to stuff them. Goodness, if you’ve been dreaming about hearts, then you
have
been having strange dreams. But you rest now. Will will be here soon.’

And so the days drifted by. I spent a lot of time sleeping, dozing, trying to make sense of what had happened to me. Life in the 1950s had been so vivid, the memories were not fading away. It seemed more real than what was going on around me. I knew I was physically back in the twenty-first century, but I think my head was taking a bit longer to catch up.

Mum, Dad and Will took turns to be with me, though no one stayed the night any more. My dad just sat by my bedside and did the crossword. He would read the clues out loud as if I could join in. I was never any good at crosswords at the best of times, and certainly not when I was having great difficulty getting my head to work, but it was very soothing and companionable.

‘It’s nice to have you here,’ I murmured to him one day, half asleep.

‘It’s what dads are for, princess, to look after their little girls, however old they are. And to look after their mums as well. I look after Mum, so she can look after you. It’s quite a good system really.’

‘Mum can look after herself.’

‘Of course she can. And so can I. And so can you. But it’s nicer when we all look after each other, isn’t it?’

I drifted back to sleep and thought about it.

We got into a routine. Morning was hospital stuff, tests and doctors and physio and things, and visits from the consultant, Mr Uzmaston, and the registrar Dr Simpson. Mum and Dad came in at lunch time to be with me all afternoon. Will came in the evening. He’d been off work all the time I’d been unconscious, but was back now. Mum and Dad were doing their jobs long distance for the moment. Dad, who has his own business, was apparently spending the mornings on the phone and computer. Mum – who teaches sixth form – spent the evenings marking her students’ essays and tutoring them via email. Hooray for the internet.

I hadn’t realised they were staying at the flat.

‘Will insisted,’ said Mum. ‘After all, he says it’s your flat. And it’s much nicer than staying in a hotel. Will insists on sleeping on the sofa. It means Dad and I can do some work, and I can get a meal ready for Will when he comes back from the hospital.’

Strange to think of this cosy domestic life going on without me.

The doctors were right about my memory being shot to pieces. I could remember every detail of my time in the 1950s, but was struggling to recall much of what had happened before.

One evening Will was taking me for a walk. This was a big adventure. We were going all the way along the corridor to the small lounge area that not many people seemed to know about. It had wonderful views over the town and tonight we had it to ourselves. The first time we’d walked there – all of a hundred yards, Will had had to bring me back in a wheelchair as I felt so faint and dizzy. But I was getting good at it now.

‘You’ll be running along here soon,’ he said, as I made my way extremely slowly to one of the armchairs and collapsed into it.

‘I wish!’

I was not a pretty sight. Unlike heroines in films who fade away with perfect skin, beautiful hair and full makeup, I looked a mess. My skin was clammy, my hair filthy, with a small shaved patch where something had been done. My body was covered with blotches and I had bruises where so many drips and needles had been in me. Although the nurses and my mother had bathed me, I knew I smelt stale and sour. Yet here was Will with his arm around me, holding me close.

‘Do I smell?’

‘We-ll, I’ve known you smell sweeter.’

‘Oh Will, you’re so kind and patient.’

‘You’ve been very ill. You need looking after. Don’t think you’re quite up to killing dragons at the moment.’

That rang a bell. Jamie talking about redundant dragon slayers. Something about being able to kill my own dragons …

‘Will, did we have a row just before I was ill?’

‘Shhh. It doesn’t matter now.’ He gently stroked my lank hair.

‘We did, didn’t we? I can remember! You wanted to go to Dubai. You wanted a big television. You’re not going to Dubai, are you? Are you?’ I could feel my voice rising in panic.

‘No sweetheart, I’m not going to Dubai. But don’t worry about things now.’

Suddenly scraps of the row came back to me. Will telling me I was selfish. Me telling him he was a big kid with no sense of responsibility …

Was that true?

I thought of Billy. Billy had taken on the responsibility of marriage and fatherhood when he was seventeen, and had made a brilliant job of them. Was Billy just Will in different circumstances? If Billy hadn’t had to get married and had had plenty of money, would he have just wanted fast cars and big televisions?

I called the gadgets Will had a passion for his toys. But why not? He had no need to grow up, so why should he? If he was like Billy, then he would grow up when he needed to.

‘You asked me what I wanted for the future. If I wanted children.’

Will put his finger gently on my lips.

‘There are lots of things to talk about. But not now, not yet. First thing is to get you better. Then we will have all our lives to sort things out. Just a few days ago, the chances of that looked slim. Take it gently, Rosie. We have all the time in the world. And I’m not going anywhere.’ Then he grinned and laughed at me. ‘And you’re not exactly running marathons yet, are you!’

He helped me up and I started the slow hundred-yard totter back to my bed.

But slowly, I got better. I know I owe a huge debt to the medical team who saved my life, but my immediate undying gratitude went to the two student nurses who helped me have a shower and wash my hair. Bliss! You just feel so much more human, don’t you?

And I was allowed more visitors. I’d had scores of cards and flowers and get-well messages, and now the doctors thought I was up to a few more visitors. First to come was Caz, who bounced into my room, with an aura of fresh spring air around her.

Her blonde highlights gleamed, and when she smiled she showed perfect even white teeth. I thought of Carol and her crooked smile.

‘Caz, did you ever wear braces on your teeth?’

‘Oh God yes! From twelve to fifteen,
just
the age when you’re most self-conscious,’ she said, helping herself to some of my grapes. ‘Dentists have a lot to answer for. Ruined my social life.’

‘Not really?’

‘Well no. But I do remember that I had the braces off when we went into Year Eleven, and I could finally flash my winning smile at Will.’

‘And it worked.’

‘Oh yes. However, not for long, which only goes to show that dentists can give you perfect teeth but cannot also be responsible for finding you a life partner.’

‘But what if you had?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well,’ I was struggling here, ‘but what if you’d got pregnant and you and Will had got married, could it have worked?’

‘Well, we wouldn’t would we? I mean I didn’t get pregnant. If I had, I would have got rid of it. And the thought of marrying Will aged seventeen. Um no. Let’s not go there, Rosie. I know you’ve been ill, but that is just bizarre.’

I wasn’t giving up. ‘Seriously, think about it. Could it have worked?’

‘Oh Lordy, I don’t know. Basically I would say no, because Will and I – though I love him dearly as a friend of course – would drive each other mad. But, if you really want to be serious for a moment, I suppose, yes, in a parallel universe sort of way, it might have worked.

‘I mean, arranged marriages work, don’t they? Will is a decent bloke, not given to wife beating or eating babies for breakfast. Give or take the odd all-night poker game and a passion for football, he has no seriously bad habits that I know of. So yes. I suppose, in your bizarre hypothetical situation, if Will and I had been forced to marry, we might – if we’d both tried hard enough – have made a reasonable fist of it. But honestly, I’m so glad we didn’t.

‘If nothing else, if I’d married Will, that would have left you and Jamie. And I’ve bagged Jamie, thank you, so let’s leave things the way we are!’ She put the grape stalks in the bin and took one of my tissues to wipe her hands.

‘One more thing …’ I had to ask. ‘I know it’s none of my business, but are you sure you don’t want children?’

‘Not that again!’ Caz laughed. ‘As sure as sure as sure,’ she said. ‘Honestly Rosie, Jamie and I have talked about it a lot, so it’s not a whim. We are both adamant. Jamie has enough of kids in school, and me, well, I don’t think I have a maternal bone in my body. Much too selfish! We’ve got too many things we want to do, places to go. Children don’t fit into that. We’ve both got nephews and nieces and if the day ever comes, I shall happily be an indulgent godmother to your sprogs. If you want me to be, of course. But any of my own? Perlease … No thanks.’

I thought of Carol and the way she looked after her children, the way they were pretty much her whole life, the way her eyes beamed with pride and delight when she was with them.

Caz settled down to tell me all the juicy gossip I had missed while I had been ill.

But as I smiled and listened, all I could think of was Libby, the little girl with the shy smile and the bright inquisitive eyes who was the image of her mother. Who in this age would never be born.

‘Right then, where’s my darling girl?’ The voice drifted down the garden where I sat on the bench, relishing the early summer sunshine.

‘Grandad! Granny!’

I hadn’t heard them arrive, but now here they were, coming down the garden path, their arms wide open for hugs and kisses. They looked terrific. Life in Spain suited them. They were trim, tanned and toned, their tans set off by their bright clothes and white hair. My brother Dan had just collected them from the airport and was in the house, no doubt grazing around the kitchen picking at bits of food.

‘We had to be sure you were all right.’ Granny looked worried and, for a moment, old.

‘I am, I really am. A bit wobbly still, but getting better all the time.’

‘And where’s this wonderful young man of yours?’ asked Granny, looking around as if expecting to see Will pop up from behind a bush.

‘He’ll be down later, Gran. He’s got to work.’

‘We’ve been hearing all sorts of good things about him.’

‘Yup,’ said Dan, coming out into the garden, a chunk of cheese in one hand and an apple in the other, ‘the man’s a hero, a regular Florence Nightingale. Actually, sis, he must think something of you because let’s face it, when you were ill, you looked really crap. I thought sick people were meant to look all frail and beautiful. You looked really minging. Bit better now, though,’ he added hastily, as I tried to throw my book at him. ‘Almost human,’ and he dodged back up the path.

Everyone was laughing, but Gran was holding my hand. ‘People die from meningitis, pet,’ she said.

‘I know, Gran, but I didn’t. Thanks to the woman I went to interview. What a quick thinker. I shall go and see her as soon as I’m back to normal,’ I said. ‘She saved my life, the least I can do is say thank you.’

And then, of course, I had to go through the whole history of the illness with them, all the gory details. What is it with old people and illness? Why are they so fascinated by it?

Anyway, then Mum was calling that lunch was ready. Grandad had to rummage through all the bags to find some wine they’d brought over from Spain, and he insisted that I sit next to him. It was wonderful to be back with my family, safe and loved, listening to their chat.

‘We have plenty to celebrate,’ said Granny, glass in hand. ‘And it’s our fifty-fifth wedding anniversary this year, so we thought we’d celebrate that too. Live for today is our motto these days. So would you all like to come out to Spain? We’ll rent another villa near ours and you can all come out for a week, longer if you can. All of us together. It would be a real family gathering. What do you think?’

‘Brilliant!’ said my mum. ‘Absolutely brilliant!’

‘Yes, and if we’re still fit, we can do it all again for our sixtieth,’ said Gran laughing.

Dad poured Grandad whisky, ‘for the jetlag,’ he said, and Grandad winked at him, and I thought how good he looked for someone well into his seventies. The sunshine and life in Spain suited him. Apart from his white hair, he could pass for someone ten years younger. Gran too, in yellow trousers and matching gilet, a heavy silver bracelet showing off her tan.

Grandad cradled his whisky glass and smiled.

‘Who would have thought it, eh?’ he said. ‘Here we are still together after fifty-five years, and planning a party in Spain as easy as if it was at the end of the street.’ He looked at Gran fondly.

Castles in Spain, he went on. That’s what we used to say when we wanted to describe a dream, something we never thought we’d have. “Castles in Spain”, and now that’s just what we’ve got. Well, a villa anyway.’

Gran was beaming too, leaning back in her chair. ‘Every morning in Spain when I get up and go for a swim in the pool, I just think how wonderful it is. Time was I’d have been happy to have warm water in the tap, never mind a whole pool full of it. Ooh it’s grand, really grand.’