Celestial Land and Sea (5 page)

Of course! It's the sail!

Hanging loose and wrapped around the masts, she wondered how they'd look when unfurled and ready to take the wind.

Continuing down the deck, the ship appeared to be deserted. Where was the crew and the captain?

"I'm not imagining this," Grace told herself.

She moved to the other side of the ship and leaned upon a shallow wooden ledge. She gripped onto it to balance herself and leaned over, looking out at the ocean. It seemed never ending. In the distance she was sure she could see something—land of some sort, an island perhaps. As she watched the sun reflect its daylight against the surface of the water she realised that she no longer felt as scared as she had at first. She still had lot of questions needing answers, but she had become so mesmerised by the gentle waves as she listened to them lapping against the hull beneath her that, if even for a moment, everything seemed peaceful.

A gull circled and squawked loudly overhead, snapping her attention back to her surroundings. She shot her head up toward the sky as she watched it fly directly above her and out to sea. She turned so that she could look in the direction from which it had come only to determine that the ship was not out at sea but actually anchored in a harbour.

Without giving it a second thought, she stepped onto the gangway. Her hands hovered to the sides automatically to maintain her balance as she walked down the plank, leaving the ship behind her. She tried not to remind herself that she was moving further and further away from the door that had brought her to this place. She didn't really know what to think any more, and she certainly wasn't sure what was she was doing here, but it was time for her to explore.

Once she reached the pier, she stood with the ship standing enormous behind her.

Wherever she was, it was very beautiful. The grass that stretched out in front of her was a rich green and blended into a strand that outlined the water. Grace watched for a moment as the bright waves flowed up the little beach before ebbing to join the sea again.

She decided it was time to continue walking. Not that there was any other option since it didn't seem she'd be able to get back home any time soon. The land grew into hills in front of her. It made sense to her that she should climb one of them.

She started up a path, taking caution with her steps as she walked. She took her time as a comforting wind helped her to travel up the slope of the hill. Once she reached the top she found that the land wasn't as empty as she had first thought. A small cluster of houses were situated in front of her. She wasn't close enough for anybody to notice her standing there, so she assumed that she could study them safely out of sight.

She counted the four houses. They were low to the ground, suggesting that they only had one floor, and were built from large blocks of some kind. Even from where she stood she could tell that the houses were weathered. Since they were situated right by the sea, however, it didn't help her to identify their age. Perhaps they had been worn much more quickly being subjected to the salty air.

Regardless, she was certain she wasn't in the twenty-first century any more. The thatched roofs definitely suggested otherwise. They had probably once been the product of fine craftsmanship, neat and tidy and in order, but now they looked weak and not enough to withstand a heavy downpour.

But where were the inhabitants? Either they were inside their homes, or this land was completely deserted. As she glanced around she spotted something on a nearby mound. Standing near the side of the ship, which remained not too far away behind her, the building was a similar grey to that of the houses, and looked as if it were carefully situated to guard the vessel. Thin and almost square in shape, it was somewhat taller than the houses.

It must have at least three floors,
Grace thought to herself as she observed the building from a distance. For reasons she couldn't explain, she felt drawn to it.

"There you are!"

Grace jumped, startled. She had been preparing herself to make her way across the hill so she could observe the building up close when somebody had crept up behind her. She wasn't alone after all.

As the shock of the stranger approaching from behind her subsided, she turned to find a young girl standing nearby. She was a little shorter than Grace, and her hair was brown, shoulder length and curled at the sides of her cheeks. Her delicate features suggested that she couldn't be any older than sixteen.

The girl wore a dress that reached to her ankles, a white cloth decorated with a simple frill at the hem. Over her shoulders she had wrapped a woollen shawl. It was a warm day, but the thin material was enough to keep the wind away from her otherwise-bare arms.

It was only then that Grace noticed her own clothes. She had been so transfixed by the strangeness of her new surroundings that she hadn't realised that she was no longer wearing her pink pyjamas, nor had she physically felt anything strange that might have prompted her to pay attention to her own appearance.

She stood there now wearing an outfit she knew she had most certainly never seen before. A skirt the colour of copper flowed down to her ankles. A white chemise was tucked into the skirt, its long sleeves reaching her wrists; a tan bodice was laced over the chemise, the black string pulling the soft fabric together and leaving just enough room for Grace to breathe without feeling suffocated.

Still bemused by her sudden change of outfit, and equally confused about the fact that she'd only just now noticed it, she turned her attention to the girl, who was still smiling at her.

"Donal wishes to know what time you plan to leave."

Donal? What was she supposed to say to that? She had no idea who this girl was. She definitely didn't know who Donal was. She didn't even know
how
she could leave, never mind what time she planned on doing so.

"Donal?" She risked the question. She considered the girl's thick accent for a moment—it was definitely Irish, but with her mind already racing with a thousand thoughts she struggled to place it more specifically.

"Your brother, of course! I think you've been spending too much time in the sunlight." The girl's smile merged into a chuckle. She must have thought Grace was playing games. But how did she know who Grace was?

"He sent me up here to ask you," the girl continued. "He told me, 'If I know my sister, Miss O'Flynn, then I bet she'll be busy with the ship.' I just said to him, 'please, Donal! You must call me Cathleen!' But you know what your brother's like. He insisted on calling me Miss O'Flynn. I do not care for it much myself, but it is ever so sweet of him. He was right about you, though. He knew I'd find you up here!"

Grace was thankful that this girl seemed to be extremely talkative. It meant she didn't have the chance to explain that she had no idea what was going on.

"So what will I tell him then?"

Grace couldn't keep up with the conversation as she had begun to worry about how she was going to get home. She was even starting to consider the possibility that she might never see London again.

"What time have you decided to leave? He suggested leaving early in the evening, as it would mean you'd be able to rest during the night, but he said it was up to you. You are the captain, after all!"

I'm the what?!

"Although, may I suggest that you find some shoes, Miss Granuaile?" Cathleen giggled as she looked down at Grace's feet.

Miss who?!

Grace was growing increasingly confused by the minute. She looked down at her feet to find that they were still bare, just as the girl had indicated. She wiggled her toes and felt the grass beneath her feet for the first time. It was cold and slightly damp.

"Yes, I'll find some shoes." She considered explaining everything to Cathleen, but she wasn't even sure which century she was in, and explaining that she was almost certain that she'd arrived from the future, however it had happened, wasn't going to get her anywhere either. Her life might even be at risk. She needed to get away from this girl before she found out that Grace was not who she thought she was.

Her mind raced as she searched for a way out, then she remembered the boots. Hadn't there been a pair of boots beside the chest in the room on the ship through which she'd entered? Brown leather boots. If she put those on, then Cathleen would be less likely to get suspicious. At least that was her hope, and that might buy Grace some time to come up with a plan to get back home.

"I must have taken them off when I was on the ship. I'll fetch them now." She began to walk backwards as she spoke.

"I'll see you, Miss Gráinne!" Cathleen laughed as she waved, watching as Grace turned and made for the ship.

She stumbled down the hill, catching herself before she fell. Her heart was racing. She was just about to board the ship when she paused. She hadn't noticed it before, but there was something written on the side of it:
The Pirate Queen.

Grace stared at the letters for a moment, wondering what the name meant. She'd never really considered the stories behind the names of vessels before, but something told her to pay attention to this one. So many questions whirled in her mind. What was the significance of the
Pirate Queen
? Was it named after anybody? Why had she found herself inside a cabin on this ship, and why was it connected to her home in Hampstead?
Things like this just don't happen!

She moved across the gangplank and jumped onto the deck. Speeding by the masts and manoeuvring around crates, she didn't stop until she'd reached the ladders leading to the cabin. She bolted through the door and entered the room. The candle was still burning at the centre; Grace was sure it had melted only a small amount despite the length of time she'd been away. It was still glowing as brightly now as it had been when she'd left it.

Her memory had served her well. In the corner of the room, almost hidden beside the chest, stood the pair of boots she had recalled. Grace reached for them, fearing time was running out, and pulled one toward her. She slid her hand inside the narrow neck of the boot to part it so that her foot could be inserted with ease, but as she did this her hand encountered something inside. Grace pulled her hand back and looked inside the boot, but it was too dark to see anything; whatever she'd touched was in the toe. She felt around for the mysterious object. She found it and pulled it out.

She clutched onto a piece of paper. It had been folded and was crumpled slightly where she had pushed it further inside the boot. She unfolded it, making sure she was careful not to tear it.

It looked like a note of some kind. Grace had to move closer to the candle to make out the scrawl; the handwriting was a peculiar script, old fashioned and difficult to read.

The moment she began to see it by candlelight, however, she dropped it onto the floor. It wasn't just a note, but a letter addressed to Miss Grace Byrne.

Her name now staring up at her from where it had fallen to the ground, Grace's fear grew within her as she found herself trapped in a world, and in a time, and in a life that was not her own.

Only then did she notice that the door in the corner of the room, the door through which she had originally entered, was now open slightly. This was her chance—maybe her only chance—she had to leave now.

Yet a peculiar sensation suggested to her that she might want to remain here despite her fear. She desperately longed for answers, and she was sure it would be easier to find them here, but if she let her curiosity rule her head, then she just might find herself stuck here forever. Grace knew that returning home was a case of now or never.

She leapt onto her feet and headed swiftly for the door. She grabbed onto the handle and pulled it fully open. As she bolted back through it, into the darkness, the door shut itself behind her, sealing off her only portal to the ship.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"T
his is a Piccadilly line service to Cockfosters."

If Harriet said it one more time, Grace was going to scream. A group of adolescent boys had sniggered at the announcement for the entire journey on the underground since changing at St Pancras, reminding Grace why she always avoided travelling across London during weekends.

"Who lives in Cockfosters, anyway?"

Grace glanced around her as they crossed over the road. Harriet hadn't exactly made the journey any easier—the two glasses of wine she'd downed before they'd left the house had made her giddy. Grace was just thankful they'd alighted at Wood Green; any longer and she would have cried.

"I don't know anybody who lives there. It's a fun word to say though, isn't it?
Cockfosters. Cock
," she paused for effect, "
fosters.
Hey, maybe tonight we'll get to foster some—"

"Stop it!"

"I was only playing. What's with you today, anyway? You haven't exactly been yourself."

"I'm fine," Grace lied. "I'm just not really in the mood to face Caroline's idea of entertainment."

"I know she can be a bit—"

"Loud? Chatty? In your face?"

"—excitable; but I don't think she's that bad. We don't need to stay too long if you don't want to. Just a couple of drinks and then we can go."

"I think that's all I can bear! Anyway, there won't be any guys there so you wouldn't be able to foster anything." She forced a smile to keep Harriet happy. She thought it would be best to not bring up the subject of Harriet's on-off relationship with Daniel, and instead assumed Harriet's comment was meant to imply that they were currently very much
off
.

As they turned a corner, Caroline's house came into view at the end of the road. A woman was getting out of her car carrying what appeared to be a Tupperware box.

"Look at how big her—"