A Stitch in Time (20 page)

Sarah bent over and rubbed a basil leaf between her finger and thumb and touched her fingers to her nose. The pungent aroma sent her straight back to that evening. John had thrown a strand of spaghetti at her kitchen wall. She wondered what on earth he was doing, until he explained that if it stuck, it was ready to eat, if it fell off, it needed a bit longer. She sniffed. Perhaps she was just a bit of undercooked spaghetti – too spineless to stick to anything.

Where the hell was the tin of soup she’d seen only the other day? Sarah shoved packets and tins around her cupboard as if they had personally affronted her in some way. One particularly hard shove sent a tin of beans rolling from the shelf on to her toe.
Thunk!

Ouch!
Serves you right, Sarah, bullying the contents of your kitchen cupboards; it’s hardly their fault that you have wilfully dumped the love of your life, is it?

The tin of tomato soup had been found, heated up and now sat in front of Sarah on the table. She had added a few basil leaves for old time’s sake and swirled them under the surface with her spoon. A few thoughts tumbled around her fuzzy head. What if the powers that be as part of the test had deliberately told John that Sarah would be returning from Kansas later than he thought? What if they wanted him to spend time with Josephina, knowing that Sarah would walk in on them? What if they wanted them to split up because they thought that if Sarah needed to settle to a normal life, had the baby she so desperately wanted, she might persuade John to abandon Time-Needling? What if she’d just walked into their trap, and right at this moment, as she was sitting here eating the soup, they were rubbing their spindly little hands together and flapping their medievally sleeves at each other in triumph?

She took a sip of soup. Hang on, that couldn’t be true, could it? John said that they wanted her to do another job. If she’d abandoned John and the whole time-travelling malarkey, then why would she do another job for them? She gulped another spoon of soup and a basil leaf. Unless … it was a big fat double bluff … and they thought that she’d take the mission because she was so miserable in the present, she would take the job because she was so desperate to escape. Yes … they must be very clever these folk, entities, spirits, whatever they were, or they wouldn’t be called ‘the powers that be’, would they? Ha! Well she was smarter!

But, as Sarah got ready for bed that evening and another school week stretched ahead of her like a death sentence, the idea of another jaunt started to seem more appealing. What did she have to lose, anyway? It couldn’t fail to take her mind off John, and as long as she could communicate by text so she didn’t have to speak to him, it would be fine.

Setting the alarm and turning off the light, Sarah admitted to herself that the only reason she was considering another time job, was that she wanted to keep contact with John. But no good would come of it … What would be the point of delaying the inevitable? A picked scab never healed, her gran always said. John was probably being consoled with his head clasped tightly to Josephina’s heaving bosom at this very moment.
Sleep on it, Sarah. See how the land lies in the morning.
The John substitute, Thomas the teddy, was bear-hugged to within an inch of its life and five minutes later, Sarah had slipped off to oblivion.

A little while later, the bedroom door opened quietly and John tiptoed over. He looked at her face illuminated by the moonlight spilling across the sill and before he could dash it away, a tear rolled down his face and splashed on to the teddy. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. ‘Sleep well, my darling, I love you,’ he whispered and then tiptoed out again.

Was he a wuss or was he a hero? John absently sprinkled three spoonfuls of brown sugar into his coffee and stared out of the café window at the passers-by. Half of his brain said the former, the other the latter. Perhaps, therefore, he was somewhere between the two. After all, he had heroically poured his heart out to her, baring his soul, declaring undying love by text and voicemail, but then he’d wussed out when she’d said that it was over; just rolled over – accepted it.

He spooned three more heaps into his coffee and stirred and decided the biggest wuss factor was not insisting that Sarah stayed put the other night when she’d come round and found Josephina at his. Yes, obviously Sarah had been in a rage, lashing out at him and saying things that he hoped she hadn’t really meant. But that was to be expected given what she’d just been through. She was definitely not herself after spending the longest time in nineteenth-century Kansas, being Artie’s mum, delivering babies, living in filth, and he could have tried a bit harder to make her see reason, couldn’t he? Why hadn’t he just told Josephina to piss off right there and then? That would have helped smooth the waters straight away. And on top of that, she was obviously terrified about him repeating what her ex had done to her.

John lifted the cup and took a sip of coffee and took all his resolve not to immediately spit it back out again. He screwed up his face and forced himself to swallow. The waitress noticed and she frowned in return. ‘Something wrong with the coffee, luv?’

‘Err … no … I mean, yes,’ he mumbled, feeling like a chump. ‘But it’s my fault. I think I put too much sugar in.’

‘Oh, right … I could get you another?’

‘No, it’s OK, thanks. I have to be off anyway.’ John scraped back his chair and stepped out into the street. The waitress had looked at him as if he was a bit simple. Perhaps she wasn’t far wrong there.

Even though it was a lovely June day, John didn’t notice. He thrust his hands into his jacket pockets and just let his feet carry him. The hero versus wuss debate continued unabated in his head. With the same absence of mind he’d had guiding the sugar spoon, he was surprised to soon find himself in a park a few streets away from the café.

The scent of the freshly mown grass and the sounds of the ducks quacking contentedly on the nearby pond muscled into his jumbled thoughts. A heartfelt sigh escaped his lips and at last he stopped and looked around at the lovely day. Children squealed and laughed in the nearby play area, dogs ran alongside their jogging owners, people cycled, others picnicked, made daisy chains, couples walked hand in hand and John’s heart ached for Sarah.

A bench on a hill looked a good place to sort his head out, and once seated he looked across the landscape. From this distance the park looked like a Lowry painting but with added colour. So … was he a wuss? John allowed himself to be brutally honest and examined his feelings objectively. He realised after a few moments that perhaps he was more of a hero, with only a smattering of wuss, but it brought him little comfort.

Josephina, he concluded, had been allowed to stay because he loved Sarah too much. Perhaps subconsciously he couldn’t ask her to sacrifice her life to this crazy job after all, and Josephina’s presence made it more likely that Sarah would leave him. Afterwards when Sarah said by text that she didn’t want him, he’d continued to be a hero by rolling over – letting her go. Yes, he’d told her how he felt and begged her to reconsider, but had he gone round there, hammered on her door, camped out on her front drive until she’d changed her mind? No. Well, he
had
gone round when she was sleeping and then left again, but that didn’t count and was firm evidence of wussdom.

John’s fingers plucked a blade of grass growing through a gap in the bench. He chewed on the juicy stem thoughtfully. And now it looked as if she could be off on another mission anyway. Hopefully it would be her last, and in a short while Sarah’s memory of stitching and him would be wiped, and then she could go back to normality.

What would his life go back to, though? Without Sarah he didn’t have one, just an empty gnawing feeling in his chest where his heart used to be. Deciding that being a hero was pretty shitty, John stood and set off down the hill. If by some miracle Sarah came to him and told him she’d made a mistake, then he was sure that they could make it work somehow, but it would have to come from her. A grim smile played over his lips; only a wuss would ruin it all by giving in to his feelings now.

Three days later, Sarah splashed water on her face in the school loos. It was break time and she mentally crossed the first two lessons off her teaching day. Danny Jakes had taken the starring role as usual, but he’d not been anywhere near as bad as before. Perhaps she was getting the better of him, or perhaps she had just learned to ignore his annoying ways in return for a quiet life. She suspected the latter.

The next lesson was a free period, then lunch, then double Year 10. Not so bad. It would be weird talking to them about the homesteaders, having so recently been there, though. In an odd kind of way she was looking forward to it; at least her mind would be occupied and she would be afforded some respite from the pressing decision about whether to accept the job or not. All week that precise question had been buzzing incessantly round her brain like a demented bee. She was erring towards taking it. It was Thursday tomorrow, so she’d better make her mind up soon.

Janet Simms breezed in just then and stopped, caught like a rabbit in the headlights. ‘Oh, hi, Sarah.’ She sidled past, avoiding Sarah’s eyes.

The poor woman was really freaked out by her. It wasn’t surprising, given the way Sarah had acted the last time. Just at that moment, winding Janet up seemed a very silly idea. How juvenile she’d been.

‘Look, Janet, I just wanted to say that I’m not mad … I’m just sad,’ she blurted. ‘Lots of odd things have happened in my life lately, the most recent being the break up with the love of—’ Sarah’s face crumpled like a screwed-up tissue, and her voice harrumphed out into a sob ‘—my … my li-fe.’ She covered her face with both hands and blubbed for England.

Sarah realised what the neighbour’s cat must have felt like yesterday when she’d scooped it up and squeezed it. Janet stepped forward and was doing the same to her, and although she meant well, Sarah felt herself suffocating in Janet’s candyfloss hair. Squeezing her thanks to Janet briefly, she stepped back, pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and blew her nose loud and long.

‘I’m sorry, Janet. I didn’t mean to lay all this on you. It just came out.’

Janet raised her eyebrows and put her head on one side. ‘Now listen here, young lady, there’s no need to apologise to me; I’ve been there, done that and bought a return ticket for more. Just tell me everything, get it off your chest, sweetie.’ Janet had returned to her normal earth-mother self, and shot Sarah a wide smile of relief. She was obviously glad to find Sarah less unpredictable.

‘No, I’m fine thanks, just got a bit too much that’s all.’ Sarah shrugged, dampening another paper towel and wiping the running mascara from under her eyes.

‘Nonsense, let’s grab a coffee and go to my room. I have some lovely choccie biscuits with your name on them, too. My ears are yours for the next twenty minutes.’

Even though she realised that her heart couldn’t be mended with a few choccie biscuits, Sarah could do worse than use Janet as a sounding board. There was no one else to turn to, well apart from Ella or her mum, and she’d decided that wouldn’t be fair. But she certainly needed to talk. ‘Well, if you’re sure …’

‘I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t. Now just tidy your face up a bit more while I have a little wee.’ Janet entered a cubicle and locked the door.

Sarah rolled her eyes and stuffed bits of paper towel into each ear to avoid a Niagara rerun.

‘So, that’s about the size of it, Janet.’ Sarah sighed, perched on the edge of Janet’s desk and stuffed the remains of a third biscuit into her mouth. She washed it down with a gulp of coffee and wished that she could be like other people who couldn’t touch a morsel of food when they were upset. It always worked the other way for her. Whenever she was seriously down, she ate anything and everything, as if she were a bear preparing to hibernate over a Canadian winter. When Neil had dumped her, she had gained a stone within four weeks. It had taken her three times that to lose it.

Janet picked up the box of biscuits and held them out to Sarah. ‘Another?’

Sarah shook her head and folded her arms to prevent her hand disobeying her brain.

‘Well, it seems to me that you overreacted. The poor bloke can’t do much more than he has already to make you see sense.’ Janet bit into a biscuit and wagged the other half at Sarah. ‘And to be honest, I expected more from you. Josephina is determined to fight you for him, so what do you do? Wimp off home with your tail between your legs.’

Sarah’s hackles went up at that. ‘I told you why. My heart couldn’t survive another pasting like last time.’

‘Right, yes, so just roll over and die, huh? That’s the best option. Go through life only half a woman, existing rather than living and, hopefully, in a few years’ time, you’ll get knocked over by a bus and all the pain will be gone.’ Janet slammed her coffee mug down, jumping liquid out over her desk.

Sarah frowned. Janet’s eyes flashed with frustration, anger, or both and her bottom lip was trembling, as if she were about to cry.

‘Sorry to make you angry, Janet, but I nearly didn’t make it the last time.’

‘I
am
angry, but not with you per se, just I can see you making the same mistakes that I did. As I said before, I’ve been there done that … I had two marriages go sour on me when I was very young, so for years I kept my heart in bubble wrap for exactly the same reasons as you.’ Janet paused and looked out of the window at the kids howling in the yard. ‘One guy, Michael, was the nicest you could ever wish to meet. He kept asking me to settle down, but I strung him along over five years before I eventually said yes. We had two wonderful years together, but then he got cancer and died.’ Janet looked back at Sarah and blinked away tears. ‘That was five years ago and there isn’t a day goes by that I don’t regret being a stubborn, stupid cow for keeping him dangling.’

Sarah felt her throat thicken and lowered her eyes. The pain in Janet’s was too much to bear.

Janet stepped forward and put a finger under Sarah’s chin, forcing her head up. ‘Don’t be a stubborn, stupid cow like I was, Sarah. Go to him tonight … Tell him you were wrong.’

Sarah swung into a parking space in front of John’s garden shop at 4 p.m. that afternoon. She’d flown out of the classroom bang on the 3.15 bell and driven like a bat out of hell straight there. Janet’s story had put everything into perspective and Sarah had been so glad she’d chatted to her.

Wednesday was Roy and Helen’s day off and so John ran the shop on that day. He had young Tanya from the nearby village to help out in the afternoon, but Sarah remembered that John had told her he’d be all on his own this Wednesday, as Tanya was on work experience at the vets. Sarah thought that after she’d eaten a huge slice of humble pie, she’d help him lock up and then she’d treat him to dinner out.

The old-fashioned doorbell jingled as she pushed the handle and walked in. Closing the door behind her, she took a deep breath. The smell of earth-fresh produce mingling with the perfume of a few gift items – scented candles and joss sticks – whooshed up her nose like the scent of heady perfumed blooms in a bouquet. Such a great shop, it had that old-fashioned appeal and did very well from the surrounding areas.

John didn’t seem to be around. Perhaps he was in the back making a cuppa. She was just about to step through there, when she heard a voice from behind the counter.

‘I weel be with you shortly, just opening a box, feel free to browse.’

Sarah felt as if she’d been run through with a corkscrew. Her gut twisted, contracted and she felt physically sick. Josephina appeared a second later with a million-dollar smile on her face, but it froze into a sneer when she saw that the new customer was Sarah.

Apart from mascara, her face was bare of make-up. She was dressed in jeans and a blue T-shirt and her lustrous hair was scraped back into a ponytail. Sarah thought she still looked better than she ever could, even after hours in a salon and a beautician.

‘Oh, what do you want?’ Josephina said, all pretence at politeness and nicety dropped like a ton weight.

‘I came to see John. I know he works here on Wednesdays.’ Sarah’s voice sounded calm and normal. She ought to go on the stage.

‘He has flu, so I am come to his rescue.’

Sarah felt a little relieved; perhaps Josephina was a last resort because he had no one else at such short notice. ‘Oh, I’ll pop up to the house and see him then …’

‘I’d rather you didn’t, Seera.’ Josephina narrowed her eyes and shook her head – a strange jerky movement as if she’d just got a nasty electric shock. ‘John was very upset the weekend. I moved back in on Monday, he was feeling a little poorly and I have been looking after his every need.’

The ‘every need’ was said in a way that left Sarah in no doubt about what she meant by it. The bitch could just be lying, of course. Sarah would put nothing past her. ‘I’ll just go along and see for myself,’ she said, turning for the door.

‘If you want to be humiliated … go along. You had your chance, but you didn’t fight for him. “Finders keepers, losers criers”, Seera.’

Sarah turned back to face her, a flush racing up her neck and cheeks. ‘It’s “losers weepers” actually, and what the hell do you mean, humiliated?’

Josephina shrugged and leaned against the counter as if she belonged there. ‘He told me he loved you once, but he would
never
take you back now. He also said you were far too possessive and clingy.’ A triumphant smile curled her lips. ‘He couldn’t believe that you were so jealous of our engagement photograph that he had to remove it. How insecure of you, Seera. John hates that. We were together a long time, I know him inside and out.’

Dumbstruck, Sarah stood there feeling like a complete idiot. He had told her about the photo? How could he have been so cruel? All the rousing words from Janet, all the taking life by the scruff of the neck speeches she’d given herself for the remainder of the afternoon, and all the girding of loins bravado act she’d practised, had turned out to be for nothing.

He didn’t want her after all …

The other night, John had told her in a text that the Josephina ship had sailed. Well, she looked like she was very much back in safe harbour, with her anchor dropped deep into his seabed. Tears tickled the back of her nose and she turned and fled before Josephina could gloat anymore.

The drive home gave her time to think and make a decision. She felt strangely calm, and, borrowing a title from an old rock song, ‘comfortably numb’. The bee that had buzzed incessantly all week had been released back to the hive.

Three hours later, she’d marked a pile of exercise books and prepared lessons for the rest of the week and next Monday, too. Planning ahead was key; she’d be busy this weekend. Whatever happened she would take the mission, but there was a phone call she needed to make. Sarah took the phone in her hand and took a deep breath. ‘John—’

‘Sarah … thank God!’

‘I just rang to ask if it is really over with you and Josephina.’

‘Yes, of course! She’s nothing compared to you, you know that.’

Sarah closed her eyes and prayed he’d tell her the truth. ‘So you haven’t seen her since the time that I came back early and she was there?’

There was a pause on the end of the line and she heard him exhale. ‘No, she left and that was it. I told her I wanted nothing more to do with her.’

Sarah felt her heart plummet. So why the bloody hell was the bitch in your shop? ‘You’re sure?’

‘Of course.’

That response was about as honest as a conman. Sarah’s hand gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles were white and her voice trembled. ‘I’ve made a decision. Tell them I’m up for the job. Tell them I’ll be ready early Saturday morning. Bye, John.’

‘But why? Sarah, we need to talk about us.’

‘There is no us, John,’ she snapped and ended the call.

Sarah threw the phone across the room, punched a cushion and bit the edge of her thumbnail. The bitch had been telling the truth then. On the way back home in the car she’d told herself that even though John had clearly allowed her back into his life, as there she was, large as life in his shop, somehow Josephina must have had a stab in the dark about the removal of the engagement photo and come up with the right answer. After all, the woman would grasp at any straw to get John back.

Sarah had also told herself that she was stupid and weak if she just accepted what such a conniving cow might say, so the phone call was supposed to have given John a chance to come clean. She’d deliberately kept quiet about having been to his shop earlier to see how he’d reply to her questions. Now she had her answer.

The phone started to ring and of course the caller’s ID was John. She didn’t pick up. She didn’t pick up the next twenty times, either. If this was part of some big test, she had SO had enough of it. If she allowed this to carry on she’d be back in the bath, drunk with tablets in her hand and there was no way she’d let that happen. Life was too precious; her dad would have certainly agreed with that.

Sarah dashed tears from her eyes, turned off her phone mid-ring and went to bed.