Time After Time (26 page)

‘Like someone else?’

Penelope blinked at her. ‘Yes. How did you know?’

This time it was Georgina’s turn to look shamefaced. ‘Because I heard you. I’m sorry, Pene; I know I shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but when I saw you go into his room…’

Both girls coloured as they realised what the other knew. Penelope could barely meet Georgina’s eyes, her shame was so overwhelming.

‘And…he called you Becca. He said he knew you from a long time ago.’

‘Yes.’ Penelope’s voice was weak.

Georgina was quiet, thoughtful, and she took a few moments to speak. ‘It’s all very interesting.’

‘No, it’s not! It’s terrifying. Honestly, Georgie, I don’t know what to think. I’m in love with Heath. More than anything, I want to marry him, and yet I feel like Sebastian is watching me.’ She clutched her cousin’s hand as she continued. ‘Georgie, he was watching me for days before he arrived.
It was him
. I saw him. I saw him the day Heath arrived, and I saw him a few days later outside my attic window, on the edge of the forest. He is the one I told you about. And he was watching that day we walked in the garden—he keeps leaving me orange flowers everywhere. Georgie, he leaves them here and in my room. He’s been in my room!’ Penelope’s voice cracked, and she choked on a sob.

‘Oh, my darling cousin,’ Georgina cried, hugging her close, ‘why did you not tell me all of this before?’

‘I thought I was going mad,’ she sniffed.

‘Shush now. He can’t have been spying on you; he wasn’t even here then…’

Penelope shook her head. ‘But that’s just it! He was here. He’s been here forever, watching me!’

Georgina stared at her, and Penelope didn’t know if her cousin believed her or not, but she felt exceedingly relieved at having shared her torment with someone.

‘Pene, you can’t avoid them forever,’ Georgina said after a while, her voice low. ‘Heath is growing increasingly confused. And Sebastian…’

‘Sebastian…?’

‘You will just have to tell him. Tell him it can never be.’

Penelope felt her heart twist and constrict, pressing against the confines of her ribcage. ‘Yes. I’ve done that. He knows. But Georgie,’ she raised her tear-streaked face to meet her cousin’s, ‘I’m scared of what that means. I’m scared that he will never let me be. Never let Heath and I be together.’

‘Oh Pene, you are being dramatic now,’ scolded Georgina, although her voice was heavy. ‘You and Heath have a wonderful future together, I can see it already. And Sebastian will move on. Maybe we can marry him off to Anne.’

Penelope managed a small smile. ‘Maybe.’

‘Cheer up. Now,’ Georgina took charge as only she could, ‘I want you to come back with me to the Manor. Everyone is waiting to see you, poor Heath is going out of his mind, and don’t worry about Sebastian. I’ll tell Harry to keep him occupied. You need to come with me. Come and see your Heath; he loves you so much.’

‘Yes, I’ll come,’ Penelope smiled warmly. She yearned to see Heath again and told herself she’d ignore Sebastian.

And maybe, just maybe, she would ask Jane what the girl had to tell her.

Present day

I had a raging headache.

Groaning, I rolled over and stared out the window at the brilliant blue sky. All the days seemed to be clear lately, and I wondered if it would ever rain again.

Idly, I traced through my thoughts, waiting for my dream to resurface, waiting to remember. Waiting…waiting…

It didn’t happen.

I was so startled I actually cried out and sat bolt upright, blinking into the bright morning light. Where had the dreams gone? Heath? Sebastian? Georgie? Where was Penelope? The only reason I’d ever stopped dreaming of a past life was because they’d died.
He’d
gotten to them.

My last dreams were always of being murdered.

My mind raced back to the last dream I’d had, the last memory. Georgie had come to see Penelope. But more had happened since then; I was sure of it.

Climbing out of bed, I went to look out the window, staring at the house next door. It looked as inconspicuous as any other house: blue shingles and white shutters, a wide verandah wrapped around it, and well-manicured gardens.

It certainly didn’t look like it housed a murderer.

Drawing in a ragged breath, I limped downstairs, vowing to never drink again.

Taking two aspirin, I decided to go to the library early and do some work. My
Jane Eyre
assignment still needed finishing, and I’d been too distracted by Marcus to focus properly lately.
That would have to change
, I promised myself. I couldn’t let a guy, even a really cute one, distract me from my goal of getting out of Brookdale.

Getting dressed and grabbing my bag, I scribbled a note for Meredith, who was still asleep, before making my way to the library. Keeping my eyes firmly averted from the house next door, I wasn’t overly surprised to hear their front door open and footsteps fall into step beside me.

The chill, which brought a rush of goosebumps up my arms, suggested whom my companion might be.

‘Abbie.’

‘Sebastian.’

A quick intake of breath confirmed that I’d shocked him. I felt a little smug at that.

‘Of course. You remember that name?’

I shrugged. ‘Sure.’

‘You remember other names?’

My heart tripped as I thought of the
others
, and I was surprised at how smooth my voice sounded. At least to me. ‘You read my diary. You know I do.’

‘I didn’t get a chance to read it all.’ He paused, and I didn’t dare look at him. I quickened my pace, not because I wanted to outrun him—I knew I couldn’t—but because I wanted him to know he wasn’t welcome. ‘But I did get a chance to admire the drawing you did of me.’

I trembled but didn’t speak. He’d been in my room. It was him that had torn the page from my journal. He didn’t even bother to hide it.

‘Where are you going?’ he asked.

‘Why don’t you just follow me and find out?’ I retorted, voice heavy with sarcasm.

He laughed, the sound hollow and familiar. ‘You
are
spritely, Abbie! With such a poison tongue. I like it!’

‘Don’t. I don’t want you to.’

He touched my arm and I jumped back, startled. But it had achieved his desired response. I was looking at him now.

Blinking, I still had a difficult time reconciling him with the Sebastian in my dreams. They were the same, and yet entirely different. Without thinking, I told him so.

Again he laughed. ‘I’m different? You should see yourself!’

I stared at him, not finding anything in the situation remotely humorous. Like Penelope before me, I wondered if he might be mad, which would certainly explain a lot. He was nothing more than a reincarnated psychopath, and I his hapless victim. But even as I thought it, I knew it wasn’t true. There was much more to our story than simply murderer and victim.

‘Is that why you dress like that? Why your hair is shorn off and your face hidden behind gothic makeup?’ he asked suddenly. ‘So I wouldn’t recognise you?’

‘No.’ I began walking, keeping my eyes fixed on the pavement. The stones were uneven and the last thing I wanted was to trip on one and have to catch hold of him. Plus, it gave me something to focus on, something to look at other than
him
.

‘I think it is,’ he jeered. ‘I think you really thought you could hide from me, Becca.’

Who’s Becca?
I desperately wanted to ask, but I didn’t. The one advantage I had this time was that I remembered. If he realised that I didn’t know about Becca, who seemed to be important to him, then I would once again be at a disadvantage.

‘Come now, Abbie, you have no reason not to like me,’ he said, his voice low and cajoling.

‘Are you kidding? You
must
be kidding, right?’

‘I never kid, you should know that by now. I’m always
deadly
serious.’ Again, he laughed at his own little joke.

I didn’t laugh. My thoughts were ranging through all my other past lives. Orla, Claire, Maria, Katherine, Antonia, Prudence, Vivienne, Veronica, Elizabeth, Penelope. They’d never found his sense of humour funny, either, nor his references to their deaths.

‘Abbie, lighten up! Just think, even if I do kill you, you’ll just be born somewhere else, sometime else.’ He said it so lightly that for a brief second I believed him. Believed there was a desirable outcome for all of this. After all, didn’t I want to escape my current life for a better one?

No. Not like that…
never
like that.

‘Where did you even come from?’ I hissed.

This threw him, and I felt the air around us change with his mood. ‘The same place you did,
Rebecca
.’

Ah, I thought,
Rebecca
.

We were almost at the library, and I skipped a little as I crossed the street, hoping he might be struck down by a passing truck or bus. The bus drivers in Brookdale drove like maniacs, but unfortunately, today being a Sunday, the buses were few and far between.

‘Hey, I have a joke,’ he said, once more in a lighter mood. ‘Do you want to hear it?’

‘No.’ Just a few more steps and I’d be in the library. Simone would be there and I’d be safe.

‘Why did the chicken cross the road?’ he called after me as I hurried across the street.

When I didn’t answer, he yelled to me, not caring who heard in the process.

‘Because she was scared of her past life lover!’

As I walked into the library, the sound of his laughter rang in my ears, following even when the thick glass doors closed behind me.

The joke wasn’t funny. But it gave me something to think about.
Past life lover?
That was new; as far as I could tell, we were always enemies.

Simone was in a delightful mood as I strode through the doors, my heart burning.

‘Hello, my friend!’ Simone called happily. ‘Did you have a nice weekend? How is that cute boyfriend of yours?’

‘Over.’

‘Huh?’

‘We. Broke. Up,’ I explained curtly, still irritated from my conversation with Rem.

‘Oh Abbie, honey, are you okay?’ Simone asked, voice oozing with sympathy. ‘I know how your first break up can hurt!’

I shrugged off her concern. I didn’t want to talk about my love life, especially when the first person I thought of was Rem, not Marcus. ‘It’s fine. But what about you? How’s
your
love life? How’s Dial-a-Date?’

‘Fine. We spent nearly the whole weekend together.’

‘Good sex?’ I asked, starting to relax a little. Teasing Simone helped to distract me.

‘Abbie!’ she warned. ‘Not that it is any of your business, but he is a gentleman and has very good manners!’

‘Good manners,’ I laughed, ‘You sound like a Jane Austen character.’
Actually
, I corrected with a pang,
she sounds like Georgina
.

Then I had an idea. I couldn’t believe I’d never thought of it before.

‘Simone,’ I began, ‘do you know much about genealogy?’

‘A bit. Enough to teach the family history course on Wednesday mornings. Why?’

‘I, ah, just wanted to check on someone. Someone we heard about in history.’

‘I can check if you like,’ she offered. She pushed a bit of paper across to me. ‘Just write down any details. There’s heaps of great websites to use.’

‘Thanks,’ I replied as I scribbled down what I knew about Georgina. Georgina Broadhurst. England. Her year of birth would be 1788.

Simone read it aloud. ‘Seventeen eighty-eight. That’s the year Australia was settled by the British.’

I nodded. ‘Yeah, a good year. Maybe she was a convict?’

‘You never know,’ said Simone. ‘You never know what you might find out.’

‘Abbie Harper!’

At the sound of my name, I jumped. Glancing around, almost expecting to find Rem bearing down on me, I was surprised to see Mr Frank. I looked back at Simone and mouthed ‘What’s he doing here?’ to her, but she could only shrug helplessly.

‘Abbie Harper. I thought you had been told about your dress.’

I blinked at him. His toupee was on crooked, and I had the urge to reach up and straighten it like you might straighten a crooked floor rug. Instead, I bit my bottom lip and tried not to laugh.

‘You go and wash that stuff off your face right now!’

‘Mr Frank, Abbie isn’t—’

‘It’s not on,’ he continued, ignoring Simone’s interruption. ‘I won’t have the library, a public place for all to enjoy, being ridiculed. It is a professional establishment.’

‘Mr Frank,’ Simone cut in, ‘Abbie isn’t working until later this afternoon.’

‘Well, what is she doing here now?’

‘Using the library,’ I retorted heatedly, my temper getting the better of me. ‘You know, doing homework, studying. Maybe you should get yourself a hobby, Mr Frank, then I won’t bother you so much!’

Mr Frank was so surprised he began opening and closing his mouth like a stunned fish. I used the moment to flee the scene, running like a coward to a back corner of the library. I should know better than to upset Mr Frank; I needed my job.

It was a while later, whilst burying myself deep in
Jane Eyre
, that Simone approached.

I looked up over the top of my book and eyed her warily. ‘What? Are you going to fire me?’

‘No, of course not,’ Simone smiled. ‘He has no grounds since you aren’t officially at work. But you need to watch it, Abbie. I can’t stick up for you forever.’

I smiled gratefully. ‘Thanks Simone. I owe you one.’

‘You owe me more than one, Abbie, and don’t worry. I’ll be calling those favours in soon enough.’

Coming out of the library after my shift that afternoon, I was only half surprised to see Sebastian waiting.
Rem
. For some reason I had trouble reconciling his name change, whereas the transition from Heath to Marcus was easy. Maybe that was because Marcus didn’t remember anything, whereas Rem remembered
everything
.

‘What do you want?’ I asked, looking at him but not meeting his eyes. He was leaning back against his large black and silver motorcycle. Wearing tight jeans and a black leather jacket, he looked like a biker boy from a nineteen-fifties movie. Very Marlon Brando. A bad boy. I knew enough to stay away from bad boys, especially ones with murder on their mind.