The Time Rip (32 page)

“No!” She backed towards the door, “Just stay. Okay?”

He laughed softly, “I’ll give you five minutes. Any longer and I’m coming to help.” He glanced at his watch and then linked his fingers behind his head once more.

Freya shot him a black look and scurried from the room. In her haste, she put her skirt back on inside out, but at least she was certain there were no more ants. Unless they were in her hair. She ran her fingers through the slippery mass, pulling out her hair tie and then went back to the kitchen and took the chair next to Jeremy. “Are there any in my hair?”

He leaned forwards, running his fingers through it. “No. Why were you sitting with the ants?”

Freya rolled her eyes. “How come you always do that?”

“What do I always do?”

“Ask me questions that I can’t answer without telling you everything else.”

“Do I want to hear everything else?”

She sighed. “Probably not. I was gonna work up to it all in a subtle way, but I think I’m too tired and fed up to come up with something plausible.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll ask you about something else instead and you can get the ‘everything else’ in subtly that way.”

She returned his smile, glad that she had decided to come and talk to him. It felt like a sensible choice: ask for help and talk through her problems like an adult instead of sitting in a field all night. “Okay, ask away.”

Jeremy ran his hands through her hair one last time and skimmed down to twine his fingers with hers. “How did you get here today?”

She met his serious gaze easily. She had already worked out this one. “With Martin’s time machine. I’ve hidden it in the field,” she added, before he could ask.

“Why did you hide it in the field?”

“Because I didn’t want you searching me for it.” Her tone was everything it should be, but Jeremy didn’t look convinced.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I haven’t got it on me!”

He shook his head with a smile, “Not that. I don’t believe you have a time device at all. You’re using a time rip to come here aren’t you?”

“No.”

“All right. Which setting did you use?”

“I just pressed the… No.”

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because.”

“Because you don’t have a time device and have never used one.”

“Lot you know.”

Jeremy shook his head. “Never mind then. Tell me why you were sitting with the ants.”

She paused then, “Martin’s out to get me. He’s parked behind me in the lane, blocked me in, and he’s got a load of tie wraps with him. I saw them poking out of his pocket. He must have stuck a tracking device on my van. I know he wants to get me for last time.”

Jeremy sat up straighter. “In 1908?”

“No! In 2008. I went to visit Joe and when I came back, I saw him there. He didn’t see me ‘cause I stopped to get a stone out of my shoe, but he might have done so easily. I don’t know what to do. Will you come with me to talk to him?”

“All right. What date and time 2008?” Jeremy got up and put the jug away.

Freya stood up and blinked. “Um, the uh… 25
^th
June.” She looked at her watch. “About twenty past six.” Jeremy flicked open his time device and held out his hand. She stared at him. “What?”

He stepped forwards and grasped her hand. There was a flash, a feeling of falling and then they were standing in the lane. Freya jumped and snatched her hand back, causing Jeremy to give her a level look.

Her van and Martin’s four by four were still in the lane, but of Martin there was no sign. Freya scowled as she looked about her. “Look how he’s boxed me in. I’d have to wreck all my paintwork to get out of that.” She gave Martin’s tyre a kick.

Jeremy pulled her back, scanning the empty lane carefully. “Stay close to me, Freya.”

“He’s not here. He must have gone through the field looking for me.” She stomped over to the gap in the hedge. Typical. If she had know Martin would abandon his post, she’d have left, paintwork or not.

Jeremy stayed close on her heels as she stepped through the gap in the hedge and scanned the field. She paused, wondering which way she should go next. If she led Jeremy round her usual route, would he see the time doorway? She would go halfway around and then cut through the field, giving it a wide berth.

“Is the farmhouse occupied in this era?” Jeremy’s voice cut in on her thoughts.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been round that far.” Freya carefully kept her gaze level ahead, not daring to glance at him in case he saw through her lie. He was silent and she made herself wait a full minute before she looked up at him. Then was relieved to see he appeared lost in thought.

They were approaching the corner of the field when Martin stepped out from a gap in the hedgerow. “Hello, Freya, I thought that was your van I saw in the lane.”

“No kidding. You think?”

Jeremy grasped her sleeve, pulling her back slightly. “Martin, I’m surprised to find you here,” he said, “I thought we had agreed you would stay away from Freya.”

“I think it’s a little crowded here with the three of us. Perhaps you should leave now.” Martin pulled out a flick knife and appeared to study the play of light on the blade.

Freya stilled, her heart jumping in sudden alarm. Martin had to be out of his mind and she could all but feel the anger coming from Jeremy by her side. Wishing she could be anywhere else she watched helplessly, not knowing what to say to prevent the situation escalating further.

The knife held in a deceptively slack grip, confidence in every line of his body, Martin watched as Jeremy’s eyes narrowed and he began a slow advance.

“Is this why you stood me up, Freya?” Martin’s voice still held a smirk, but it was clear all his attention was on Jeremy.

Freya felt her heart slam as she realised Jeremy was stalking slowly forwards. He was unarmed and Martin was about to stab him. Freya was uncertain how she would get medical help here, if Martin didn’t kill Jeremy, it was not as if she could call an ambulance.

She took an involuntary step back, stumbled on the uneven ground and suddenly had an idea. She quickly pulled her sandals off, clutching one like a weapon, the stiletto heel facing out. She crept up behind and slightly to one side of Jeremy. Two against one should even up the odds in their favour.

The next few seconds happened almost too fast for her to follow. Jeremy lunged suddenly for Martin’s wrist, and missed, at about the same time as Martin stepped towards her.

She struck out with her shoe, managing to get a good thwack on Martin’s arm, had the brief satisfaction of seeing him flinch from the impact and then, in one heart stopping second, saw his knife hand flash under Jeremy’s arm towards her face.

She put up a hand instinctively to shield herself, but thankfully the knife didn’t make contact. There was no pain. The next instant, her arm was yanked back hard enough to send her sprawling backwards into the long grass away from Martin.

In the same fluid motion, Jeremy swung back to block the other man, and she felt the force of his blow shudder through the ground. Martin half fell backwards, the knife flying from his hand. He somehow regained his feet and staggered back further, looking shocked. He took only a moment to assess the situation before backing off further and then running full out around the field away from the farmhouse.

Jeremy watched as Martin made his escape. He silently cursed, knowing he could not leave Freya. This was the second time that Martin had come after her and the thought that she could have been assaulted or killed on his doorstep made his blood run cold. His mind was made up. He would hunt Martin down later on after he had secured Freya.

Jeremy watched him to see which direction he would take before stooping to scoop up the knife. He snapped it shut, jammed it in his pocket and turned. His grim gaze fell on Freya, who had shakily pulled herself to her feet, and skimmed her from head to foot. He stalked towards her, anger vibrating through him.

Freya stood frozen with shock and indecision for the few moments it took for Martin to leave and Jeremy to reach her.

Chapter 9

He grabbed her hand, locking his fingers tight, and flashed them both to the farmhouse. She found herself dumped into a chair and wrapped her arms tight around herself. It took a moment to realise he was angry with her and she blinked at him, trying to understand.

Jeremy leaned back against the kitchen door, arms folded as he surveyed her coldly. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me what the hell you thought you were doing trying to tackle an armed man with your shoes?”

Incomprehension flared to anger. “What do you think? I was trying to help you, you schmuck.”

“And you thought that was a good way to do so. Unbelievable.”

“What’s unbelievable is that you’d have a go at me for trying to help you.”

“It would not have helped for you to be injured.”

“It was two against one, and how exactly would it have helped if you’d got yourself stabbed? How was I to get help to you when I don’t have any freaking signal on my mobile in that field? If Martin had stabbed you, you’d have bled out before anyone got there, always supposing that he didn’t finish me off first.”

“More like one and a half against one, and if he’d managed to stab me he wouldn’t have lived long anyway, but thanks for the vote of confidence in my self defence abilities.”

“One and a half! I can’t believe you said that! You’ll be some big shot hero type right up until the moment you get yourself killed. Well I’m not gonna help you with that so don’t even think it. I don’t care how great you think you are; I won’t walk away. Not now, not ever.” She stomped up towards him as she spoke, stabbing the air in front of him with one slender finger.

Jeremy’s temper unexpectedly dissolved and a slow smile spread across his face. “Not ever?” He said.

Freya caught herself up and backed away. What had she just said? He followed her as she walked backwards around the table. “Stop it!” She glared.

“Stop what?” he spread his hands out in a gesture of false innocence.

“Stop stalking me.” Freya scowled and hefted one of the kitchen chairs up, holding it legs out to ward him off.

Jeremy laughed and backed up. “All right, enough.”

Freya lowered the chair and eyed him cautiously.

“Are you hungry,” he asked, “Would you like something to eat?”

“Starving.” She glanced up cautiously, wondering at his sudden change of tack, and then knelt on the chair, tucking her feet up under her and leaning her arms on the table. It was a warm evening, the sun still flooding the kitchen with orange light.

Jeremy took out a loaf of bread and began to slice it with precision.

“What are we going to do about Martin now?” she asked doubtfully.

He looked up from the bread, meeting her eyes, “I’m going to hunt him down and deal with him accordingly.”

“I don’t want you to be hurt.”

Jeremy shook his head slightly. “He lost his knife when I struck him. It will be easy enough to deal with him now.”

“I really don’t want to see him.”

“It’s all right. You won’t have to.”

“I guess I’m going to have to report him. Get an injunction or something to keep him away from me.” She sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. “Can I stay with you tonight? I don’t want to be alone. I’m all messed up over Martin. You have a spare room don’t you?”