What about us? (35 page)

I nodded.  Hard as it was to
see myself that way, there was no possibility of ignoring the truth in his
words.

“Because of the strange
circumstances in which I have lived my life, I have sometimes thought of myself
in plural, he was Jack one, I am Jack two, but to think that I may be Jack
three, or Jack one hundred and twenty...”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“... A chain of events... And I
broke it because of youthful arrogance.” I croaked, my voice hoarse with the
enormity of what I had done.  The list of safe houses in the trunk should have
alerted me to this cycle much earlier.  The inherited memories told me quite
clearly that he had not known he was a time traveller during his time in Napier
Street, so he’d not known about them.  Yet the list was real, I had held it in
my hands.  Its very existence meant that there was more than one timeline; more
than one relationship with Grace.  He had known that once and now I knew it too. 
The last words of that other me came into my mind with some force.  He’d been
right; I had come to regret that day.

Javier was aware of my mood and
he spoke gently.  “But you also wish to mend it my friend.  You could have
ignored the ghosts, you could have ignored the push your inner self was giving
you, but you did not.  You sought the opportunity to find the truth.  You found
it and then you brought it to me.”

I found some comfort in his
words.

“And now?” I asked, “What
happens now? Can it be made right and yet different? Can the chain of events be
prevented from endlessly repeating themselves? Can time be set once more on the
right path forward?”

He leaned forward in his chair,
looking me directly in the eye.  “Do you trust me?”

Trust is an emotion; powerful,
yet at the same time instinctive.  I have always tried to let my intellect lead
my decisions, but in that moment, as everything converged, time itself seemed
to bear down on me and echoes came flooding thick and fast into my mind and my
senses.  I’d found many of the answers I’d been searching for and I knew that
to do the easy thing, to just walk away and continue as though none of this had
happened, was in fact too hard for me to do.  In comparison, the hard choice,
the right choice was actually easier.  I looked at my friend and mentor and
gave him the only answer that was possible.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then return to your own time my
friend.  I need to see what can be done in the time we have available and I do
not wish to deal with the consequences of you breaking the Golden Rule.  I need
to make some careful plans.  It will be better and I am sure you will agree
with me, if you do not know what they are.”

He stood up and held out his
arms.  We hugged and as I set the coordinates for home, I knew that we both
wished to see each other again, but neither of us was sure if it would be
possible.

Part four: Grace

Of all the places and times
that we’d visited, this was one of my favourites; Paris, 1912.  This was also
my favourite breakfast cafe.  We came here so often; usually at the same time,
on the same day, in the same year, but not always.  I knew that if there was
any chance of him finding me, he would look for me here.  I’d gambled
everything on that fact and I could be patient.  Here was where I was going to
wait for as long as it took.  I had to believe that he would come back for me;
all he needed was to find the right moment to escape.  But he was resourceful
my Jack, so to show my belief in him I would wait.

As always, the sky was that
deep, endless blue; the sort you could disappear into.  The waiter brought a
tray with a single cup of strong coffee and as always it was served in delicate
bone china.  The croissants were fresh and warm, crumbling at the lightest
touch, leaving my fingertips slightly greasy but in a nice buttery way.  If
only I could have found my appetite.  The people of Paris, those few who haven’t
left for the summer, were not yet awake, so there was a quiet, heavy sleepiness
hovering over the city and Lulu, the sleek, tabby and white cafe cat, was
sitting on the edge of the pavement, washing herself with that thorough,
languid grace that all cats seem to be born with.

Jack had told me that this was
‘La Belle Époque’, the beautiful time when no one knew what was coming.  He
said it meant more than just the good times.  It summed up the spirit of the
age, the smell, the colour, the clothes and everything else that you could
imagine.  There was such a buoyant expectation still for a bright future, you
could almost smell and taste it on the air.  This was such an exciting time and
we agreed that there was nowhere better to enjoy it than Paris.

I knew of course, that just as
by half past ten the clouds would be gathering overhead, so too would the
terrible storm come in 1914 and that there was nothing that could be done to
change either event.  Everything that I could see would be irrevocably changed
for better or for worse.  But who was I to judge? What did I know?

As the waiter straightened, he
stepped back slightly and glanced over the table, checking that he had left
everything as he should.  Then there was the slightest shimmer.  I almost missed
it, but over the years I’d learnt to look for things that before would have
been unbelievable, even impossible.  It was as if this particular shimmer came
from inside me, but at the same time was all around me and I got the distinct
impression that everything had shifted very slightly and then settled again; a
fraction to the left of where it had been.

The oddest thing was, as things
re-established themselves, I felt as though I was connected in a new way.  I
couldn’t explain it, but it was almost as though my eyes and all my other
senses had been washed clean with a strong disinfectant.  Nothing was
different, yet nothing was quite the same anymore.

I had the strangest sensation
that I’d been talking to somebody and I looked at the empty chair next to me.  I
shook my head and then looked at the waiter, who also seemed momentarily
confused.  He was trying to serve a cup of coffee that wasn’t on his tray to
someone who wasn’t in the seat next to me.  He smiled sheepishly and hastily
retreated.  I knew he would forget the whole thing in less than a second and
although I also knew that I would not, I was left with the feeling that I had
forgotten something, something very important.  While it niggled, it didn’t
become any clearer; it just added to my general feeling of being completely
lost.  I missed Jack more than any words could ever say.

I heard a slight noise beside
me, but I wanted to ignore it, knowing it was wrong.  After all, I knew these
hours between nine and eleven so well.  There was a slight cough and the
scraping of metal chair feet on the stone pavement, but I knew it wasn’t Jack;
he would have crept up behind me, putting his hands over my eyes whilst kissing
my neck.  So wrong for this era, but he would have done it anyway.  I kept my
eyes focused on Lulu, without moving or acknowledging anything and waited;
holding my breath, hoping this unwanted intrusion would go away.

I couldn’t help wondering if
the shimmer I’d felt was in any way connected to the arrival of this person,
but I dismissed the thought; after all, someone from the future would usually go
straight to the safe house and get changed before venturing out.  So it was
improbable that the two events were connected, wasn’t it?

A deep voice, the sort that is
described as strong, yet kind announced the arrival of its owner.  It also
announced much more.  He knew me and that couldn’t be good.

“There are times Grace when I
get a great deal of pleasure from what I do.  Mornings like this are one of
them.  The croissants look lovely.  I think I shall order the same.”

He snapped his fingers to
attract the waiter.  “Excusez-moi!”

I didn’t look at him; I just continued
to stare straight ahead and I felt tears beginning to prickle in my eyes.  I
didn’t want him to know this, so I used those few moments to pull myself
together.  I sipped the scalding coffee, letting it burn my throat.  I was
going to need a clear head; that much was obvious and the hot coffee would help
me focus.

I counted slowly to ten and
then forced myself to look across at him.  I found myself staring into hazel
eyes.  He was older than I had thought from the sound of his voice, but not
that old.  His head was covered in wiry dark hair, liberally sprinkled with
peppery grey and there was a natural pride in his black features and in his
general air.  He had dressed correctly for the period, so like me did not look
out of place, but despite this I felt an immediate dislike for the man and knew
instinctively that I wasn’t prepared to trust him.

“Well, Grace.  A merry dance
you have led me through time, I must say.  Although it is a pleasure to finally
meet you face to face and not via someone else’s memories.”

He sat back in his chair with a
self satisfied grin on his smug face, looking for all the world as though he
belonged right there.

I leaned closer to him.  “I
don’t know who you are mister, but I have not been leading you anywhere, much
less dancing.  I’m waiting for someone and you’re not him, as well you know. 
So please go away.”

I sat back, trying to force my
fear and anger down.  They would not help me; I had to remain calm.

“Like Miss Haversham?” he
asked.

“No.  Not like Miss Haversham.”
I said crossly, wondering why he had chosen that Dickens character to compare
me to.  “For one thing I’m not wearing a wedding dress, for another, Jack did
not desert me and for a third, she was left with nothing but bitterness.  Jack
has never given me anything less than love and hope.”

The bastard just sat there
smiling at me.

He curled his fingers round his
cup and paused for a moment, then decided to share his thoughts with me.

“It is interesting, for me at
any rate, that none of the Jacks I have had the pleasure of knowing have really
understood why you loved them, but the real puzzle for me is why they love
you.”

He winked at me conspiratorially,
then lifted his delicate cup and downed the contents in one.

“Be that as maybe,” I said
slowly, not really understanding what he was going on about and not much caring
either, “But who exactly are you?”

He put the empty cup down and
became deadly serious.

“I am your judge and jury.”

“Oh...”

I took a deep breath, trying to
push down the fear that was rushing into my mind at his words.  As I made a
space up there, I found my anger and that helped; it made me see that he was
just being rude and that I could deal with.

“And do you have a name?” I
asked sharply.

He put his head to one side.  “As
a matter of fact I do, but it will mean nothing to you.  I am Javier Sant...”

I cut him off.  “That’s where
you’re wrong.  I know of you and I know Jack respects you.”

I wasn’t sure if I felt better
or not for knowing who he was.  Jack had always said that this man sitting next
to me was one of the greatest minds of his time, but I also knew that Jack
hadn’t ever thought that he would help us.  I decided to keep my thoughts to
myself.

I picked up one of the warm
croissants and started breaking it into tiny pieces, letting the golden flakes
fall from my fingers back into the basket, where they rested on the thick white
linen napkin.  For the moment at least, I didn’t have anything else to say and
it seemed that neither did he.

I tried to put together what I
knew.  Now that I knew who he was, did that change anything for me? What I
realised was, it made an already serious situation even more so.  After all, he
knew the rules of the game we were playing, I didn’t.  His was a great mind,
mine wasn’t.  The odds were against me and despite the warmth of the morning I
felt a chill in my bones.  I sighed; I was out of my depth, as I had been from
the moment Jack had cannonballed into my life.  When I was with him I never
felt that I was drowning; I always felt that we would somehow be ok.  But he
wasn’t there.  I didn’t even know where or when he was and I felt completely
alone; desperately unsure and afraid.

“Stay calm.” I told myself,
“And don’t rush into something you might regret.”

I sensed that everything
depended on what I said and did next, so I decided to eat.  I wasn’t in the
least bit hungry and my mouth was dry with fear, but eating would give me time
to think.  I would not let Jack down and I would not give up on the hope that
everything could still turn out alright.  I picked up another croissant, bit
into the warm pastry and smiled.

He did the same, wiping the
tiny flakes from the corner of his mouth with a napkin, clearly enjoying
himself.

I put mine down, sighing.  “I’m
the mouse; I know that, so there’s no need to rub it in.” I said crossly.

He shrugged a little sadly,
then nodded and put his croissant down too.

“My apologies my dear, that was
not my intention.  It is such a lovely morning and I have it on very good
authority that you are delightful company.”