What about us? (13 page)

“It’s ok Grace, I’ve not been
cleared for procreation.”

“I beg your pardon?”

I understood each of the words
individually; it was the sentence that didn’t make sense.

He saw my confusion and
explained as best as he could without going into the exact details.

“Medical science is
dramatically more advanced in my time than in yours.  Sperm production and
ovulation are inhibited until we have been cleared for procreation.  Then we
can either ‘donate’ for want of a better term, or do it the old fashioned way. 
Most people donate.  Because I travel so much I’ve not been cleared yet, that’s
why I’m not able to father children with you.”

We both thought about what he’d
said and what it really meant, then spoke at the same time.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Does it matter?”

“No Jack, it doesn’t matter.  The
life we have to lead in order to be together, is perfect for the two of us; it
wouldn’t be fair to put a child or children through it.”

I kissed him, to make sure he
understood that I meant it.  I knew that later I’d have to think about what it
really meant; us never having children, ever.  But right then, what we had was more
than enough and there was no reason to suppose that it wouldn’t always be.

In those first few months
together, we had nothing to regret.  We’d gained more than we’d lost and while
I could share my life story with him, I understood that there was so much he
couldn’t share with me.

“It’s the future for you Grace,
or if not for you personally, for humankind in general.  If I say too much it
would be wrong; it’s knowledge that shouldn’t be part of today.  Not in 1889 or
in 2001.  Does that make sense?”

“Yes, it does.  I have to
remember not to tell Winnie or the others at the wash house too much.  Either
they wouldn’t understand, or it could change their lives and we’re not supposed
to do that.”

“You’re really getting the hang
of this.” he said, clearly pleased.

“Not really, I’ve always been
good at being selective with what I say and speaking without saying much.

“It’s only when I’m with you
that I don’t think first.” I added happily.

I asked him once or twice if
there was anyone he missed from his old life.  He told me that there was just
one person; his boss and mentor Javier.  He’d worked for him for four years,
since the age of twenty-three, when he’d passed all his qualifications several
years earlier than expected.

From the way he spoke about
this man I knew he admired and respected him, so maybe this Javier could
respect Jack’s choices in return.

“Wouldn’t he understand our
situation?” I asked.

He thought about it for a while
before answering.

“He might understand, although
I’m not altogether sure about it.  Javier is well... different.  Brilliant, but
different.  Anyway, given his position he wouldn’t be able to help.  My
desertion from the team will reflect badly enough on him as it is, so I don’t
want to make it worse for him by putting him in an impossible situation.  It
wouldn’t be fair.”

“It’s ok, I understand.” I said,
but to be honest, I felt saddened that someone Jack held in such high esteem
wouldn’t want to put himself out for his protégée.  That’s how it sounded to
me, but as I didn’t know him or the rules, I didn’t push it.

It was in April 1889, as winter
gave way to spring, that the first real down of our life happened.  As I had
made friends, so had Jack and one weekend he didn’t come home.  I was frantic
with worry; it was exactly the sort of thing my Mum did.  Winnie came with me
to the local pubs to see if he was there, but it would have been unlike him,
because he was never a drinker.  We asked everyone we knew, but no one had seen
him or could tell us anything and we didn’t find him.  I was convinced he’d been
found and taken back to his own time.  By Monday afternoon I was sure I’d never
see him again and my heart was breaking at the very thought of it.

Of course we’d talked about the
possibility of me being stranded.  If he was found, they would just take him
back.  He wouldn’t be able to come and tell me, nor would there be any message,
because they wouldn’t know about me and that was the way he wanted it.  But to
be honest, I’d never really taken it seriously, despite him giving me the list
of safe houses.  We’d always made sure we didn’t spend more than we needed to, so
there was still a good stash of money left.  I wasn’t feeling panicky, because
compared to most people I knew, I was financially secure.

That was the first time I
really thought about it.  Deep down I knew I’d get by just fine; I’d do what
I’d always done and just get on with things as best I could.  But I didn’t want
to contemplate a whole lifetime without ever seeing him again, knowing that he
wasn’t dead and that he hadn’t left me willingly.  Even at my lowest point I
didn’t regret a thing, except that it seemed to be over.  I just hoped that
somehow he’d be able to come back for me.  I knew he would if he could and that
was a comfort.  A small one mind...

That evening a Hansom cab
stopped outside the house and Jack tumbled out from it.  I found him crawling
along the street on all fours, raving incoherently.  He wasn’t drunk, but he
was in a terrible state.  Eventually, although it wasn’t easy, I got him
inside, undressed and into bed.  I couldn’t work out what was wrong with him
and Winnie didn’t recognise any of the symptoms either.  He was delirious, but
he didn’t seem to have a fever, so after a bit of a discussion, we sent for the
doctor.

He arrived about an hour later
and after a quick look at Jack, told me that he’d been smoking opium, but
probably too much and that it obviously disagreed with his constitution.  The
way he was talking, we might just as well have been discussing a sprained ankle
and he was quite dismissive of my concern.  He told me to give him plenty of
water to drink, keep him warm and just let him sleep it off.  Before he left,
he told me that Jack would be alright in a day or two, which made me feel much
better.  I handed over five shillings and kept my temper in check.  I wanted
Jack to remember every word of what I had to say to him.

For the next twenty-four hours
he was either unconscious or raving and spoke in so many different languages, I
couldn’t follow what he was going on about.  Sometimes, whatever he could see
was clearly terrifying and other times he’d be sitting up in bed chattering
away to imaginary people.  He had periods when he would be violently sick,
followed by terrible bouts of shivering and I was afraid to leave him for more
than a few minutes.  I snatched a bit of sleep now and then, but most of the
time I just watched him.

This man that I loved so much
had become a child; something I had never bargained for.  Him being like that
brought back so many bad memories of my childhood, like the nights I’d spent
sitting with Mum as she cried and wailed about some injustice or other, or the
times when I’d try to hide from her as she ranted and raved or threw things.  I
never, not once, expected that being with Jack would ever make me feel like
that and I didn’t know what to do, any more than I’d known what to do with Mum.

By Wednesday however, he was
pretty much recovered and very sorry.  Originally, he went just to see what it
was all about, but one thing had led to another and well, then he couldn’t remember
anything, except what it had felt like.  When I told him what he’d been like
since he got home he was shocked and thought that maybe there had been some
kind of reaction between the drug and his inoculations.  It was not something I
wanted us to get fixated on, but nevertheless it made me angry that he’d been
playing with something he didn’t understand.

“How long has this been going
on for and where is it going to end?” I demanded.

“That was the first time, you
have to trust me on that.  Honestly, I’ve never been there before and I have no
intention of ever going back.”

He picked up my hand as he spoke. 
His eyes held mine and I knew he was telling me the truth.  But for reasons of
my own, I couldn’t quite believe him.  Mum had made so many promises like that
over the years; promises that I don’t think she’d ever had any intention of
keeping.

“But why?” I asked softly.  “I
just don’t understand.”

“I don’t really know to be
honest.  I only went out of curiosity and without really thinking, just took
the pipe when it was offered.  It was incredible Grace.  The dreams or visions
were like nothing I could ever have imagined; they were so vivid, so real.  I
never knew anything could make you feel like that.  When they started to fade I
just asked for another pipe, it was quite amazing...”

I cut him off mid sentence, it
sounded like he was getting wistful and that worried me more.

“It’s not real, Jack.  It’s a
seriously powerful drug and you’ll always be trying to get back to that first
experience, but it will always be just out of your reach.  Then your life will
become futile; you’ll constantly be chasing that feeling and nothing else will
matter.”

I was crying and confused.  What
was happening to us?

I’d been there before.  For the
whole of my life I’d never been enough; always coming second or third, way
behind whatever it was the bottle offered my Mum.  But now, I was out of my
time, out of my place and I didn’t want to be out of my depth.  I fought hard
to remain calm and not panic.  Hard as it would be, I would walk away rather
than live through all that again with him.  I also knew I couldn’t make the
choice for him; he had to make it and he had to make it right there and then.  I
knew I was putting him on the spot and maybe it was the wrong moment.  After
all, hadn’t he already said he wasn’t going back? Nevertheless, I had to do it;
my own sanity required it.

“What about us Jack? Have you
thought about it properly, because if you haven’t, you need to do so right now. 
You need to understand that I’m not going to sit back and watch everything you
are and everything you could still become, slip away and our life and love turn
to dust in the process.  You can’t have me and the opium.  It’s one or the
other, Jack.  It’s a simple choice and you have to choose now.”

He was horrified to hear me
speak that way.

“Grace, Grace,” he said, trying
to soothe me.  “You’re reading far too much into this.  I’m sorry, really I am. 
It was stupid of me and while I don’t know what I was thinking of then, I do
know what I am thinking now.  There’s no contest; it’s you every time.  I will
not go back and I will not use opium again.  I promise.  I swear.”

I knew he meant it, but in the
days that followed, he was always at a bit of a loose end and nothing really
caught his attention.  His mind always seemed to be somewhere else and what was
worse, he didn’t realise it.  I was sure that a part of him was gone, floating
in that unreal world the opium had shown him and I didn’t know how to get him
back.  None of the usual things in our life mattered to him anymore, but then
maybe I was being oversensitive and suspicious.  It was one of the saddest
times in my life.  I hated how it made me feel and I hated being made to feel
like the lumpy unloved child I thought I’d left behind when I met him.  Although
I knew he didn’t mean to hurt me, it didn’t stop me feeling that way.

By Saturday I’d had enough, so
I took matters into my own hands.  I got up early, made some sandwiches, then
woke him up and suggested that we go to the coast for the weekend.  If anything
was going to bring him back, a trip to the seaside would do the trick; or at
least that was what I hoped.  If it failed I didn’t know what else I could do,
but at least it would get us out of the house, something I desperately needed as
much as he did.

London Bridge station was just
a twenty minute walk from Napier Street and from there we were able to take a train
to Brighton.  We travelled second class of course, but even so it was amazingly
clean and comfortable.  As we charged across the countryside, the train whistling
and belching smoke, my Jack began to come back to me and we were like two kids,
planning all the things we were going to do, just like old times.

As we were making our way out
of Brighton station, he suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me behind one of the
big iron pillars.  I could tell by his expression that he’d spotted someone and
didn’t want us to be seen.  I was facing him and he was looking over my
shoulder, so I never saw who he was watching.  We stood absolutely still for a
few minutes and he relaxed, but just a fraction.  Then he carefully pulled me
further into the shadows and told me to have a good look around.  A quick
glance told me that the part of the station we were in was now almost deserted.

“We can’t stay.” he whispered. 
“It may just be coincidence, but we can’t rule out that they’re looking for us. 
We have to leave.”

I knew he didn’t mean just the
station.  Even getting away from Brighton wouldn’t be enough.  It was always
bound to happen; I’d known it from the beginning, when we started our life on
the run.  But until that moment, I hadn’t fully grasped what it would mean.  I
knew then that we could never settle, not properly anyway; we’d always have to
be looking over our shoulders, just in case.  I looked up at him and saw the
tightness around his mouth and the sadness in his eyes.  He felt bad about
this, bad because of me and I didn’t want that.