The Memory of Midnight (15 page)

Nell’s answering smile wobbled, but it was there. ‘I will look,’ she said. ‘Every night when I go to bed, I will look for a message from you.’

‘You will stand by your promise?’ he asked, suddenly urgent.

‘I will be torn apart by wild horses before I break my vow,’ she said fiercely. ‘I will be true.’

‘The tide is on the turn,’ shouted the mariner. ‘If you don’t come now, I’ll go without you.’

‘Go.’ Nell pushed Tom from her, her throat closing on a painful rasp. He had to go. There would be no future for him until he completed his apprenticeship, and learning his
master’s business overseas was part of that. ‘Go.’

So he did. He let her hand slip from his and he took a despairing step back before forcing himself to turn and run for the keelboat, where the mariner was already pulling up the gangplank. He
leapt aboard as the sailors started to push away from the quay with their long poles.

Dry-eyed, Nell stood, her arms wrapped around herself, while a lead weight settled inside her. The wind snatched at her cap and stung her cheeks with tiny slaps, but she barely noticed. She was
watching the second sail flutter and then fill as the men hauled it up. They were away from the shore now.

She wanted to cry out to Tom, to make them stop and come back. She needed to tell him that she couldn’t bear it, but already the boat was moving out into the current and Tom was getting
smaller and smaller as it headed steadily away. It dipped, lurched to one side in a gust of wind, then recovered, before sailing on and on until it curved around the gentle bend and was lost out of
sight.

He was gone.

Moving stiffly as if she were an old woman, Nell turned and found Ralph Maskewe watching her, an unsettling gleam in his pale eyes, and even through her numbness, something in her jerked at the
sight of him.

‘I will take you back to your mistress,’ he said.

Nell shook her head dumbly. The last thing she wanted at that moment was company, and Ralph’s least of all, but Ralph insisted. He made her take his arm, and in the end she did, because
what did it matter? What did anything matter now Tom had gone?

She looked over her shoulder to the place where Tom had been, as if he might miraculously reappear, but he didn’t, of course, and Ralph urged her on, up the lane, back to the world where
there was no Tom any more.

‘You should be careful of walking alone in these streets,’ Ralph said. ‘It is not safe nowadays. Have you not heard? There was another body found yesterday morning. A rogue is
responsible, no doubt, but he is prowling in search of young girls like you.’

Nell was thinking about Tom, sailing away, away from her. With an effort, she roused herself to speech. ‘Not like me,’ she said tonelessly. ‘I thought the dead girls were all
vagrants.’

‘So I believe, but there is no telling when this monster’s tastes may change, and we all know that you are reckless, Nell.’

Her name in his mouth sounded faintly unpleasant. She imagined it being pushed forward by his tongue, bumping against his teeth.

‘Eleanor,’ she reminded him clearly. She was only Nell for Tom and for herself. ‘I am Eleanor now. And I thank you for your concern, but you need not trouble yourself about me.
I will stay safely at home now.’

The slaps of the breeze were getting harder and harder. No, not the wind, she realized. Someone was patting her face.

‘Tess? Come on, Tess, wake up.’

‘Is she okay? Should I call an ambulance?’

‘I think she just fainted – ah, she’s coming round . . . Tess? Can you hear me?’

She didn’t recognize the voices. ‘Tom?’ She groped for his hand, and the fingers that clasped hers were calloused like Tom’s, and reassuringly steady and warm.

‘It’s all right. Just stay there a moment.’

Her lids fluttered open, and she looked uncomprehendingly into a strange face with keen grey eyes, shaggy hair and a rogue’s prickle of stubble. Snatching her hand back, she scrambled away
in fright. What if Ralph was right, and this was the rogue who preyed on the unprotected girls of the city? How had she fallen into his clutches?

‘Tom?’ Her voice was thin with fear as she looked wildly around for him, but she was in a bare, dusty room with a cluster of men watching her with odd expressions.

‘It’s Luke,’ said the rogue.

Memory slammed through her, rushing into her head, swirling around like a wave that was sucked out again, leaving her sick and dizzy.

‘Luke . . .’ Tess pushed shaky hands through her hair. Yes, she remembered now. She had come with Luke to speak to the builders. She remembered climbing the stairs, waiting for the
step that creaked. Remembered that frightening sense of familiarity, how she had stared around the empty hall.

‘Sorry, I . . . what happened?’

‘You were just standing there when you keeled over. You gave us a hell of a fright!’ Luke helped her up when she made to struggle to her feet. ‘Are you sure you should be
getting up yet?’

She had to cling to his arm to stop her legs buckling beneath her. ‘How . . . how long was I out?’

‘A couple of minutes, maybe. Long enough for me to be really worried about you anyway.’

A couple of minutes. Yet as Nell she had lived through a whole winter. Pain jabbed behind her eyes and her throat burned with unshed tears.

‘I . . . see,’ she managed with difficulty, but she didn’t see at all. She didn’t understand anything. Recovered memory had seemed the obvious answer to her dreams of
Nell, but how could dreams feel that real, that
true
?

One of the builders produced a stool. ‘Sure you don’t want to sit down, love?’ The others were eyeing her warily, as if afraid that she was going to be sick, or burst into
tears. Tess didn’t blame them. She felt like doing both, but she mustered a smile.

‘I’m fine, really. Sorry for the fuss.’

Luke was still scowling with concern. ‘I think I should take you to hospital.’

‘No!’ Tess’s response was instinctive. At hospital they would want to examine her. They would want to know what happened, and what could she tell them?
Oh, I was just off
in the sixteenth century for a while
?

If Martin got wind of it . . . Ice pooled at the base of Tess’s spine at the thought. ‘I mean, no, I’ll be fine,’ she said more moderately. ‘Really. I just need to
go and sit down for a while.’

She had managed to let go of Luke at last, but her hands were shaking, and they throbbed agonizingly. She saw Luke’s gaze drop to them, and she dug her fingers into the pockets of her
jeans.

‘I’ll go with you,’ he said. ‘We’d better leave the rat problem for another day.’

Tess wanted to insist that she could manage on her own, but in the end she was glad of his support. Clearly unconvinced by her protestations that she was fine, Luke helped her back down to the
street and then up the stairs next door to the door of her flat. Steering her into the front room, he settled her onto a sofa and brought her a glass of water. ‘Here,’ he said,
proffering it brusquely.

Her throat was hot and raw and the water was soothing. ‘Thank you.’

Luke pulled out one of the chairs from the table, swung it round and sat on it facing her. ‘Are you sure you shouldn’t see a doctor? That’s twice you’ve gone faint on me
today.’

‘It’s nothing,’ said Tess, holding tightly onto the glass of water. ‘Nothing medical.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Then what? Something’s wrong, Tess. I know. Tell me what the hell is going on.’

There was a long silence. Luke just sat there, waiting for an answer. She had forgotten how patient he could be, how stubborn. He was going to insist on an answer, and he
wouldn’t go until he had one. Tess could feel her strength sagging, but what could she tell him?

In the end, she opted for the truth. ‘I don’t really know,’ she said.

‘Who’s Tom?’ Luke leant forward. ‘Is he your husband?’

‘No.’

‘Your lover?’ His voice took on a harsh edge, and to Tess’s horror, her eyes filled with tears.

Tom. Oh, Tom
. ‘No.’

She fumbled the glass onto a side table, but she had hesitated just a little too long, and Luke had seen the sheen of tears. Tess could practically see his defences going back up as he sat
back.

‘It’s none of my business anyway.’

‘I don’t have a lover! It’s nothing like that. Tom . . . oh, I can’t explain,’ she said wretchedly. She put a hand to her head where the pain still jabbed behind
her eye. ‘Something weird is going on and I don’t know what to do.’

Luke’s expression sharpened. ‘Weird?’

The words teetered on the edge of Tess’s tongue.
I keep slipping back to another time. I’m living another life. I’m a girl who died over four hundred years ago.

Part of her longed to tell him, longed to share her fear, and her fascination. She wanted to trust him, but how could she dare? The old Luke would have listened, but what did she know about him
now, this man with the intent gaze and the inflexible mouth? He was tougher now, sterner, harder to read.

Tess would like to think that he had put their past behind him, but they had parted so bitterly all those years ago, and she sensed a wariness in him now that was probably equal to her own.
True, he had been kind earlier, and there had even been a moment when that awful stilted politeness had evaporated and she had let herself wonder if it might be possible to be friends again, but
how would he react if she told him exactly what was happening to her? Tess couldn’t bear the thought of confiding in him, only to be written off as a middle-class hysteric: spoilt, neurotic,
attention-seeking. It was what Martin would say, after all.

Luke was watching her face with those unnervingly keen eyes. ‘I’m worried about you, Tess,’ he said.

Tess hesitated, gnawing on her knuckle. The temptation to confide in him was very strong, but she couldn’t bear to see his expression change. She couldn’t bear it if that cool mouth
twisted with contempt, if he said what Martin would say. If he made her feel what Martin always made her feel.

No, she couldn’t risk it.

Besides, how could she tell him what was happening if she didn’t know herself? Something was wrong – there was no getting round that. She couldn’t fall asleep without warning
in the middle of the day, but if she wasn’t asleep, she wasn’t dreaming. And if she wasn’t dreaming, she was . . . what? Travelling through time?
Really
?

It couldn’t be true. Everything in Tess rebelled at the very idea. She didn’t want to accept it. She
wouldn’t
accept it. There must be another explanation. But nothing
else made sense.

And until she found one that she could believe, she would have to deal with this alone. Whatever
this
was. Wearily, Tess rubbed her hands over her face.

‘Forget it,’ she said. ‘I’m just tired.’

‘Come on, Tess—’ Luke had started to protest when the phone in the study began its shrill, insistent ringing.

Tess’s stomach flipped at the sound. She wanted to ignore it again, but the alternative was to stay there and try and convince Luke that she wasn’t crazy, and she wasn’t sure
that she had the strength for that. Besides, it might be about Oscar.

She levered herself unsteadily to her feet. ‘Excuse me. I’d better get that.’

Her legs were so wobbly still that she had to hold onto the wall, but she made it to the study, followed by an obviously concerned Luke.

Tess was thinking more clearly now. She was glad she hadn’t succumbed to the temptation to blurt out her fear and confusion. If their positions were reversed, she wouldn’t hesitate
to recommend that he see a doctor, and she knew Luke would do the same. She couldn’t risk him frogmarching her to a GP for Prozac or arranging for her to be carted off to a psychiatric ward
at Bootham Park. Not until she had ensured that Martin would never get custody of Oscar.

Turning her shoulder on Luke, she picked up the phone without looking at the caller display. ‘Sorry, I need to take this,’ she said. ‘Hello?’ she said into the phone as
she walked out of the study, leaving Luke behind, and she wasn’t even surprised when the only response was the hiss of static in her ear.

‘You haven’t given my mobile number to anyone, have you?’ Tess turned her phone edgily in her hands.

‘Of course not,’ said Vanessa in surprise. ‘Why?’

Tess told her about the calls she had been getting. ‘Only you, Mum and the school have this number.’

‘It’s probably a mistake.’ Vanessa had been running and was wearing tight Lycra shorts and a top with complicated straps. Her hair was twisted up in its usual scrunchie, and
her feet shifted restlessly in her trainers. ‘Graham’s always ringing me and not saying anything, and when I ask him about it later it turns out he had the phone in his pocket and
pressed my number by mistake.’ She laughed merrily. ‘Goodness knows who else he rings by accident!’

‘But why would it keep on happening? Nobody else should have the number in their phone.’

‘Perhaps whoever it is put your number in by mistake. It’s really easy to mix up digits and input the wrong number.’

‘Perhaps.’ Tess was unconvinced, but Vanessa clearly didn’t think there was anything to be concerned about.

Chewing her cheek, Tess watched Oscar running around the playground, his sweatshirt trailing behind him in the dust. He was laughing, and her heart clenched at the sight of him absorbed in his
game. He was such a solemn little boy. He had quickly learnt to make himself quiet and still when Martin was around. This was what he had needed: other children to run around with, a normal school,
silly games.

She had done the right thing bringing him to York, Tess told herself. She couldn’t let silent phone calls or bizarre dreams knock her off course. She had to stay steady for Oscar.

‘Is everything all right?’ Vanessa was passing the time doing a few bends and stretches. ‘You look a bit peaky.’

Anyone would look peaky next to her glowing fitness, Tess thought with a touch of sourness. Luke’s insistence on how dreadful she looked was still rankling.

‘I’m just a bit tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.’