The Time Rip (30 page)

Martin slid baleful eyes over her perfect figure, clad in a bright red form-hugging business suit. She caught him staring, and sent him a look filled with scorn as if he were some office junior beneath her notice.

He smirked slightly, pleased as her irritation with him turned to nerves. He didn’t look away but stared her out until she scurried off.

Ball breaking bitch. These women acted tough, but it made him laugh how easy it was to unnerve them. It made him think of Freya and her gutsy attempt to kidnap him. He longed to confront her again over that, but it would have to wait.

He didn’t give much thought to Jeremy. When he had woken up at the A & E he wondered if he had imagined the whole thing, but the back plate of his phone wasn’t sitting quite right and the phone was switched off, not something he ever did.

Still, the other man had taken him to hospital for his bump on the head. Had obviously looked after him when he fainted again. As Martin would not have afforded the same consideration had the roles been reversed, he thought Jeremy weak and therefore brushed off his threats.

He turned back to flicking through the newspaper. He gazed at the news articles without really seeing them. His thoughts instead on Freya, and what he would say when he caught up with her.

He saw her face in his mind’s eye. The slightly puzzled frown she would wear when he told her that he knew she wanted him. Then he realised he was not seeing her face only in his mind but also on the printed page in front of him.

He stared in disbelief. How had Freya managed to get her picture in the paper? She was standing next to a horse while two old men chatted nearby. It all looked like something out of another century, except he recognised her work blouse and long grey skirt.

He had seen her in this outfit only the other week. Then she had worn a jacket with it. His eyes went to the text automatically and he began to read.

The article was about an auction in London. Up for sale were a number of photographs from the early turn of the century. Some famous and well-known images were to be sold by a descendent of the photographer. He did a double take, reading the article again, certain it was a mistake.

Either the girl in the picture was not Freya, or the newspaper had printed a wrong image. Perhaps the girl in the picture was an ancestor of Freya’s and, by some genetic freak, a strong resemblance had re-occurred generations later.

He ripped out the article anyway, carefully folding it into his wallet. Looking up at the departures board, he could see his train was due out in another few minutes. He left the rest of the paper on the empty seat next to him and sauntered off towards the ticket barriers.

Freya woke up to blinding sunlight. She blinked and turned her face into the fabric of the seat. The van smelled of diesel and was cold except for where the sun fell hot on her face and shoulder. She was horribly stiff, curled up on the grubby bench seat, feeling worse than after her night spent in the field.

Her mind played over the previous evening. Brett had not only bought her a drink, but dinner as well. They had chatted like old friends, Brett driving her back to Reading later on.

She had spent the night in a multi-storey car park while Brett had assured her he would have no problems getting back to where he needed to be. He had wished her good luck with everything and told her she would meet him again soon.

She stretched and sat up to rub the sleep from her eyes. Yawning widely, she started the engine, put the heater on and then, feeling in need, stopped off to buy takeaway coffee before heading home.

Later that day, Freya shivered as she stood in the rain in Guildford Market. She was doing a brisk trade despite the weather, but she missed Gus. She had told him she was taking a few weeks off but, in reality, she was afraid to go to Portobello Road, convinced that Jeremy or Martin would easily find her there.

She had spent the last few nights sleeping in her van on the roof of the multi-storey, going back to her flat at odd hours to shower and eat. She knew she was acting erratically, but didn’t know what to do about it.

It would have been good to talk to Brett about everything, but he was gone and she had no way of contacting him. She had also considered telling Janet, but so far had hesitated over whether her friend would believe her.

Then there was the fact that Janet was getting close to Greg and Freya desperately didn’t want to mess things up for her. Janet had never asked anything of her, and it was good to be able to give something back.

Now that she’d had some distance and thinking time, the full implications of what had happened were hitting home hard. She was uncertain what Jeremy would have done with Martin, but she was becoming increasingly convinced that Jeremy would not take him to 2112.

Jeremy would soon work out that while Martin was a monumental pain in the butt, he knew nothing of time travel. Unfortunately, she had managed to convince Jeremy that she did have a time device and she knew enough about it to transport Martin to him.

She remembered how kind he’d been to her when he’d found her crying in his kitchen, but that was before she had made it appear as if she not only had a time device, but also knew how to use it. The last time he had thought that, she’d ended up half-naked and handcuffed to his bed frame being threatened with jail.

All she had done was dig herself a larger hole with her attempts to deceive him. It made her uncomfortable and depressed. As far as he was concerned, she had lied to him repeatedly and then run off after he had been so kind to her.

Why wouldn’t he be tired with her behaviour? She was tired of it herself. She had coldly knocked Martin out, bound and dragged him a hundred years back in time to dump the problem on Jeremy’s doorstep.

She sighed as she thought about it all. It was hard to keep the situation in perspective when she had only her thoughts for company. She wished she had someone else to talk things through with.

She had no access to her future friendship with Brett, who would have been the best sounding board for the mess she was currently in. She was also anxious about seeing Janet in case she met up with Greg Jones, who would almost certainly have been appraised of the situation.

If she went to see Janet, she might find herself escorted back to Jeremy via Greg, or even interrogated by Greg, which, for some bizarre reason, was somehow worse than being left to Jeremy’s mercy. She shook her head slightly, how had she managed to get into such a mess? She was so alone. She could not even spend an afternoon with Gus to escape from her troubles.

The rain drizzled down and the morning wore on. Freya served her customers and had takeaway soup for lunch at a nearby café as she pondered on all the things that had led up to this point. She almost laughed when it occurred to her that she was on the run from the cops from 2112.

The whole situation was ludicrous. She tried to imagine what Joe would say to it all and then realised that here was someone she could go and see. Fair enough, she couldn’t tell him her troubles, but she could at least spend time with someone friendly and gain an escape from all her problems for a while.

Jeremy would be unlikely to look for her there. He would already have asked Joe about her and Joe would have told him that he had only met her once or twice and that she didn’t know him at all.

Jeremy would never expect her to go somewhere so close to where he was living. For the first time in days, she felt her spirits lift slightly and wondered if it was raining in 1908 today. The thought of a beautiful sunny afternoon away from all her troubles was incredibly tempting.

Her stall was doing well and she estimated that in another hour or two she would be able to pack up and make a move. She would have to be careful about going so close to the farmhouse. The time rip was only a few hundred yards from Jeremy’s back door and Freya was very conscious of the proximity.

She thought fleetingly that some camouflage gear would be handy and had to stifle a laugh. She did have a long greyish green skirt and a pale yellow shirt that ought to be good enough.

She thought of the women of Joe’s village. How some of them had long shawls over their hair and decided it would not hurt to blend in, in case Jeremy should see her from a distance, her straight blond hair was far too distinctive. Better to cover it up and look like everyone else.

It helped relieve the tedium somewhat to plan her afternoon and by the time she was down to her last two buckets, she decided to stop for the day and head back to her flat.

The drive down was uneventful. The rain had more or less stopped and the roads were relatively clear of traffic. Once in the muddy lane, Freya took several deep breaths in an effort to calm down. It didn’t help much. Her heart was pounding in anticipation of sneaking so close to the farmhouse.

It was incredibly risky to come this close to where Jeremy lived, but Freya was sick of being alone with her thoughts. She needed a break from it all and she wanted to see Joe again.

With her heart in her mouth she crept around the edge of the field, looking warily around to make sure no one was near, before sneaking into the cover of the tree line.

The time doorway was nearly invisible without the sunlight, but she noticed that the grass and leaves were somewhat flattened around it and, uncaring of getting dirty, crouched down to rough up the grass with her hands so it stood up a bit.

Martin eased his four by four down the muddy lane. He didn’t want to get mud over the new paintwork and silently cursed Freya.

He had been driving past her flat looking for a parking space when she had come out and hopped into her van. Hanging an illegal U-turn at the lights, he followed her; being careful to keep a car between them as much as he could.

He’d been waiting days for another opportunity to see her. He’d searched Portobello Road for her several times and had started to get seriously annoyed that he could not find her. It was more risky going to her flat, much easier to remain hidden in the crowded market, but now it seemed the strategy had paid off.

He rounded the bend in the muddy lane, saw her van parked to one side and quickly reversed up out of sight around the bend, hoping he hadn’t blown it. Half the fun was taking her by surprise.

He looked out at the muddy lane in distaste. It was just as well he was dressed in old jeans and trainers. He locked up and crept carefully along the lane, keeping close to the bushes. With the mirrored glass on the back doors, it was impossible to see if she was still in the van.

He crept closer until he could see in her offside wing mirror. The van was empty. He walked up more boldly now. Trying the doors and finding them locked, he peered inside the window. Where was she?

The lane was a dead end leading to a cast-iron gate with muddy field beyond. It was a quagmire around the gate. He could see cattle in the field, but a person would have to wade through ankle deep muck to get anywhere near. He wondered briefly if Freya had picked through that lot, but there didn’t appear to be anything of interest in the field beyond.

The side of the lane next to her van was drier and edged with hedgerows. There was a gap halfway along leading into another field, with a farmhouse visible in the distance.

His gaze narrowed and something gleaming caught his eye. It was only a string of raindrops on a length of webbing and he nearly dismissed it, but then something about it made him take a closer look. It was not webbing but a fine strand of gold hair caught on the hedge.

He looked up at the farmhouse again and knew he had found where Freya had taken him the previous week. He still owed her for that and for setting her guard dog on him. Freya’s new boyfriend had threatened him for frightening her, but Sanders was obviously weak. Why bother threatening someone if you were going to help them out.

He dismissed the other man. His issues were with Freya and not some pretty boyfriend trying to impress her. It would be just like her to squeeze through the hedge instead of driving around to the front of the building. There was no doubt in his mind that this was the farmhouse where he had awakened after Freya had kidnapped him.