Time After Time (31 page)

Then I recalled how worried she’d been. How she had stared, her red-rimmed eyes watching me carefully. Of course she would have dosed me. Meredith had promised Gran on Gran’s deathbed she’d take care of me, and take care of me she had.

I was so angry I could barely look at her as I stormed out of Dr Evans office, leaving him stuttering after me. I pushed right past her and out to the car, where I sat stiffly in the passenger seat as I waited for her.

The betrayal stung.

My guardian. The only family member in the world I had left that I could trust. Now, I didn’t even have that. For the first time since Gran died, I suddenly felt very, very alone. And frightened.

‘Abbie, I…,’ Meredith stumbled as we drove home in silence.

‘Forget it,’ I said, my throat catching on the words as I turned away from her and stared out the window. We were passing the industrial part of town, the ugly, grey buildings and the dirty streets flashing past us. Soon we would be on our side of town, the suburban side. Home. ‘Just forget it.’

I thought about Penelope, about Sebastian getting closer to her, and her growing confusion and fear. She was dead. Of course she was. But I didn’t know how or when. I didn’t know what Georgie and Harry had learned, what Jane Smith knew; I knew nothing. I had lost the edge that I’d had for the first time ever when it came to
him
: my power of knowledge. I knew things, and that would keep me safe.

But the antidepressants. My vanished dreams. I didn’t have to think too long or hard to put the two of them together. The antidepressants had stopped the dreams.

When we pulled into the driveway I raced inside and began pulling the kitchen apart, searching everywhere for the antidepressants, for the little happy pills Dr Evans had prescribed and Meredith had given. I trembled, my eyes blinded by tears, as I pulled things out of cupboards.

‘Where are they?’ I screeched.

‘Abbie, I had to do something,’ pleaded Meredith, her voice all scratchy, ‘You’ve been so troubled, and I just wanted you to be normal.’

‘Well, I am normal!’ I cried. ‘I’m one hundred per cent normal now! No more bizarre dreams for Abbie! Do you even know what you’ve done? Do you?’ Of course she didn’t, how could she know that by taking the dreams and memories away from me she’d be risking my
life
? That the memories and truth were all that stood between me, Rem, and history repeating itself?

Over and over again.

‘I’ve seen such a big change in you since I’ve started giving them to you,’ Meredith said. ‘You and Marcus are so nice together.’

‘Yeah, but not for much longer, thanks to you!’ I saw them, perched in the spice rack next to the expensive saffron that only Gran had ever used.

Taking the pills, I raced upstairs and flushed them down the toilet, pressing the button over and over until they were all dissolved and gone. Then I rounded again on Meredith, who hovered in the doorway.

‘You don’t have to worry about me anymore,’ I said, my voice low and surprisingly steady. ‘I’ll go. I’ll get out of your hair. I will not stay here and be drugged against my will. It’s not even legal! Dr Evans is probably on the phone to Child Welfare. I probably don’t even have to leave. I’ll probably be taken! Who would do that? Who would drug a teenager against their will?’

‘It happens all the time,’ Meredith argued. ‘I’ve read heaps about teenage depression and suicidal tendencies—’

‘I’m not suicidal.’ I trembled with slow burning rage. ‘Believe me when I say I want to live more than anything.’

‘Abbie, I—’

‘Go away. Get away from me,’ I mumbled, staring at the empty toilet bowl. ‘Just go away.’

Meredith remained for a few more moments, hovering in the doorway, her hands twisting together as she struggled to find something to say, but I ignored her. After a while she left, moving away and leaving me staring at the empty pill bottle wondering if the dreams would come back now, or if it was all just too late.

‘Abbie, can you come down tonight to the library?’ It was Simone.

I rubbed my eyes and sat up, glancing at my watch. It was seven o’clock, and my room was dark. After such a draining day, I’d dozed off on my bed. ‘What for? Your date call?’

On the other end of the line I heard Simone’s exasperated sigh. ‘Actually, I wanted to show you something I came across.’

‘What?’

‘Something to do with that girl you asked about.’ Simone paused, and I could hear the seriousness in her voice. ‘Georgina Broadhurst.’

I blinked, the fog in my mind clearing immediately. Simone had something to tell me about Georgina? There was more?

‘Just tell me now,’ I demanded, too tired and impatient.

‘I…can’t,’ she paused, ‘Just come down, will you?’

‘Sure.’

Throwing my phone on the bed, I went to the bathroom. My face was bare. After the encounter with Meredith I’d had a shower, needing to cleanse myself, and had removed my makeup, leaving my face fresh and clean. I considered my reflection for a moment, Penelope’s bare face staring back at me. Rebecca’s too. I swallowed, not wanting to think about
that
girl.

It was mid-week and the library shut at eight. It was hardly worth applying my slick of foundation and black liner when I would remove it only an hour later.

Feeling braver than I had in ages, I left my face bare. But I added a few extra studs in my ears and decided to definitely get a tattoo. Maybe some hummingbirds, for timelessness. It seemed appropriate.

Or an orange rose.

I blinked, not sure where that thought had come from. I would most definitely
not
be getting an orange rose.

The moon was hidden behind dark clouds that lingered over the town.
It might rain
, I thought as I walked down the blackened streets,
About time
. Every morning for weeks I’d woken to clear, cloudless blue skies outside my window. It was unnatural for this time of year.

Tonight the streets were unusually quiet. It was as if the clouds had scared all other people away, and everyone hid behind closed doors, terrified of the approaching storm.

How dramatic you’re getting, Abbie
. The words were a whisper in my head, and I knew I hadn’t thought them.
Now I really am going mad
. Hugging my bag closer, I picked up my pace, hurrying through the streets.

Pushing open the heavy glass doors, I found the library foyer in complete darkness. The only light came from the streetlight behind me and the faint, artificial glow of flickering computer screens.

‘Simone?’ I called tentatively, wondering if she had decided to lock up early. But why hadn’t she called to let me know? ‘Simone, are you here?’ I called again, starting to feel silly. It was like I was in a horror movie and was the stupid victim walking into some place, when I should have been running away.

Making my way to the service counter, I noticed Simone’s bag and books stacked neatly, ready for her to leave, one of them lying open. But Simone was nowhere to be seen. Curious, I approached the open book and looked at the page.

A picture of myself stared out at me.

I choked, the air coming in short, shallow gasps.

The picture wasn’t really of me; it was of Penelope.

‘Abbie.’

I jumped at Simone’s voice behind me, my heart racing frantically. ‘God, Simone, you scared me.’ I rested my hand on Penelope’s picture, hiding it.

‘I’ve seen it,’ Simone said, ‘That’s why I asked you to come down.’

I blinked, but I couldn’t find anything to say. I glanced around the library. ‘Why are there no lights on?’

‘I think a fuse has blown, since we have no lights but still have the computers. I just went to call an electrician.’ Simone moved towards me and I inched back. ‘Abbie, you asked about that girl, and I’ve just found a picture of a girl in that book which looks exactly like you.’

I tried to swallow but a hard lump was lodged in my throat. No wonder I couldn’t breathe. ‘What book?’

‘Nineteenth-century love stories.’

That’s right. I vaguely remembered Simone saying she was reading them, but Simone was always reading crappy books. Then I remembered Jane Smith’s words.
You are part of a love story
.

But still I didn’t speak, despite Simone watching expectantly.

‘The story is about a girl called Penelope Broadhurst,’ Simone began carefully, ‘and a boy named Heath Lockwood. Have you heard of them?’

I shook my head. Heard of them…no. Remembered them…yes.

‘They were planning to marry when Heath’s brother arrived. Sebastian Lockwood. It turned into quite a nasty love triangle.’

I stared at her. My heart suspended its erratic beating.

‘Penelope chose Heath, but Sebastian was angry. He was so in love with Penelope that he killed his own brother to be with her,’ Simone continued, ‘and when Penelope still refused to be with him, he killed her too. They found her body after a wild storm one night, dumped in the middle of the forest. She’d been strangled.’

My own throat hurt. He had strangled her. I felt as if the air was being squeezed from my lungs. Of course I had known she died, I had
known
it. I just hadn’t known how.

It was the end I was missing, the one I’d been spared due to Meredith’s meddling.

‘Abbie, that girl,’ Simone moved forward and edged the book out from under my hand, ‘that girl looks an awful lot like you.’

She held up the book. The evidence.
Penelope
. It was her all right, in a lovely drawing, a portrait I didn’t remember sitting for. It must have been done not long before her death, as there was a glow in her eyes and a curl in her lip that had only been there since she’d met Heath.

‘It was quite a scandal at the time,’ Simone went on, ‘and the Broadhurst family was never quite the same. Georgina and Harry, as you know, became obsessed with science and with reincarnation, as if they could bring Penelope back somehow.’

I didn’t know what to say. No sharp, witty, retort entered my mind, which remained completely blank.

‘Abbie,’ Simone began quietly, ‘you asked me about Georgina Broadhurst. Why?’

I licked my lips. ‘School.’

‘No. It wasn’t for school. It was for something else, wasn’t it?’

I nodded.

‘Tell me.’

Desperately I looked around. ‘I can’t.’

Simone stared at me for a long time. Then she nodded. ‘I see. You know, Abbie, that you can trust me.’

Silence.

Simone handed over the book. ‘I have to go, but I’ll leave this with you. I think you might want to read it.’

Picking up her bag and scooping up her books, Simone watched me carefully before leaving me alone in the darkened foyer of the library. With the book.

Sitting down on the chair, I read the story. The characters from my dreams of Penelope’s life were all there. Harry, Georgina, Sebastian, Heath, Penelope.

Someone had cared enough to write their story. Jane Smith?

I flicked through the book, half-fearful I might find the story of Becca and Anthony too, or of another of my past lives, but was thankful when other love stories greeted me.

I returned to Penelope’s picture. Even though it was a drawing, and two hundred years old, the similarities were irrefutable. The same slant of the eyes, the same mouth, the same face. Especially now that my face was bare.

I felt itchy, needing to quickly return home and reapply my makeup before anyone else saw me.

Suddenly, a dark shadow flew overhead, and I froze, a chill creeping up my spine and a rush of goosebumps sweeping through me from head to toe.

I looked up.

Something moved upstairs, casting a human-shaped shadow on the marble floor of the library, which was lit only by the flickering light of computer screens.

‘Who’s there?’ I called, my voice jangling in the quiet foyer. I felt a little silly but also scared.

Picking up my bag, I made to leave, not looking up as I swiftly crossed the foyer. A breeze swept over me and I quickened my pace. My skin prickled, and I knew I was being watched.

Rem.

You have to get out of here
, a warning voice rang in my head, and I pushed against the thick glass doors, only to find them locked. Simone had locked me in? That didn’t make any sense. No. Someone else had locked me in. Quickly, I fumbled in my bag for my keys, ignoring the frantic flutter of my heart.

They weren’t in there.

Running back to the counter, I pulled out a drawer, dropping it to the floor in my fumbling. Falling to my knees, I searched through the items for the spare keys I knew were there.

The sound of slow footsteps descending the stairs filled the library, and I began to really shake.
Is this how it ends?
I thought.
In the library? Here, tonight? He got Penelope, and now he will get me too
.

Standing, I drew on all my resources and faced my nemesis who hid in the shadows.

‘Rem?’ I called, my voice wavering slightly.

At the top of the stairs a dark shape moved, but I couldn’t make it out clearly. It seemed to flitter across the landing and down the stairs, remaining hidden in the shadows.

He was toying with me, wanting to completely freak me out before he sprang.

Suddenly, a noise clattered behind me—someone thumping on the thick glass doors—and I whirled around in relief. The police? Marcus?

Rem.

My blood ran cold as my wide, panicked eyes met his through the glass.

If he was out there, then who was in here?

‘Abbie!’ he cried, his voice calling through the thick window, ‘Let me in!’

I stared at him, the world closing in around me. Someone was in here and Rem was out there. There was no escape.

I shook my head. ‘It’s locked.’

He disappeared, running around the back of the library, and I could only watch him vanish; fear kept me petrified to the spot.

Turning around, I stared into the darkness. Over by the bookshelves I saw a shape move and the glint of a knife, its silver gleaming in the dim light. Steeling myself, I lifted my chin.

‘What do you want?’ I called bravely. Who was there, hidden in the shadows? It wasn’t Rem. He was outside now, trying to find a way in. Who was it? I was just beginning to think the unthinkable when Lilly stepped out into the foyer.