What about us? (39 page)

We’d never been to Bath.  We’d
planned to go there after Moscow, but of course we hadn’t made it.  I knew that
soon the house would burn to the ground, but that was fine.  There would be
enough time for what I needed to do and the first things I needed were a hot
bath and a good night’s sleep.  I was weak and empty, but I’ve always been
practical.  I had to be; Mum rarely was.

I woke up mid morning, hoping
the servants wouldn’t arrive until late afternoon, as had been the case at all
the other safe houses I’d ever visited.  The kitchen was well stocked and after
several cups of tea and some toast I pulled myself out of my misery.  Jack
would never think of looking for me there, but hopefully nor would anyone else.

I had a quick wash and opened
the wardrobe door.  As always there was a selection of dresses; something for
all shapes and sizes.  I put on quite a bit of the underwear and a petticoat or
two and then got everything else ready.  After some digging I found the bag that
was always there somewhere.  This time it had been under the bed and I packed
it with as much as I could squeeze in.  What didn’t fit me could be altered
later, or sold.

I found a couple of hat boxes
on the top of the wardrobe and shoved some hats and gloves into them.  I had to
do this properly; I had to look like I belonged there.  I took the larger of
the handbags and had a quick shufty around the house, taking some small bits
and pieces that could either be passed off as treasured family items or sold
later for a reasonable price.  I took the watches and all the cash from both
bedrooms, separating the money between two other handbags and for good measure
shoving a wad into my corset.  Then I lugged everything downstairs and left it
all in a neat pile by the door.  Finally I got dressed and threw a thick, expensive
looking shawl around my shoulders and rammed a hat on my head.

I took a deep breath and went
outside, where some children were playing in the street.

“Who wants a penny?” I called
out.

Three of them ran forward.

“Go and find me a cab and I’ll
give you a penny each.” I told them, then went back inside and waited.

The cab took me to the post
house, from where I was able to take a series of carriages to Lyme Regis.  It
took me the best part of a week to make that journey and there were a few
uncomfortable nights in various inns along the way.  The jolting and jarring of
the wooden wheels along rutted and pitted tracks and roads was unbelievable and
more than once I wished I’d learnt how to ride, although that probably wouldn’t
have been much better.

There was an inn in the centre
of Lyme and I made that my base for a few weeks.  Of course I was an oddity; my
colour and my slightly strange speech, not to mention my inability to
understand everything about day to day life.  But I was no longer a beginner at
this sort of thing and the period itself I knew quite well from my time in
Napier Street.  So my mistakes were minimal and easily explained by me being
‘foreign’.

I wanted the house that Jack
and I had stayed in, but it was not for sale.  With the help of Mr Wright, the
legal bigwig in the area, the man who owned it was given the opportunity to
name his price, which he did at three hundred pounds.  I paid it willingly and
I also paid for the family renting it to move somewhere else, with the first
three months of their new rent paid for by me.  It gave me a bit of a
reputation and a bit more mystery into the bargain.  Of course I was meddling
good and proper, but after what Javier had done to me I didn’t give a fig about
his rules.

In the middle of December I
moved into the house.  Funny... it was me that planted those roses.  Never had
a garden in my life; living in a tower block we never even had a window box,
but I loved those roses when I first saw them, so I made sure they were the
first bit of real gardening that I ever did.

I had the house furnished quite
simply and took on a girl called Daisy, a great lolloping, jolly girl, who was
always singing and laughing; a real joy to have around.  She was the daughter
of a local fishermen and she did my heavy work, the rest I did myself.  I’d
spent just over four hundred pounds getting my home sorted out and it suited me
and the life I’d planned for myself while I waited for Jack to come and find
me.

I was prepared to wait there
for the rest of my life if necessary, but I was going to be comfortable and I
was going to be in a place that only he would think about coming to.  I’d saved
the world and Javier’s miserable life by all accounts and I figured I deserved
more than an unnoticed death in a shell crater.

Anyway, he was the one that had
told me I couldn’t just go back and pick up my life in my own time.  If he knew
that, then Jack would know it too, so I was certain that he wouldn’t go back to
2001.  Even if he was able to go to a few hours, days or months after my
birthday, he’d know that I couldn’t.

Javier had also been the one
who told me that there was no record of my death, so I had to go somewhere.  To
continue travelling without Jack had no meaning for me and he’d never find me
if I were always flitting about.  No, I was going to stay put and I was going
to stay put in Lyme Regis.

I knew what was coming, so I
knew I could profit from it.  I had over seven thousand pounds left, but it
might have to last me a lifetime.  By the time it would be a good idea to open
a tourist shop or a bed and breakfast I’d be too old.  Instead I decided to
invest.  I learnt the system; I took a good paper every day and saw what was
coming onto the market.  Over the months I studied the financial markets and
the news and once I was reasonably confident, I employed an associate of Mr
Wright to do all my business for me.  I looked out for the names I recognised,
they would be the ones to stand the test of time, that sort of thing.

Through him I directed a little
investment here, another there, nothing to make people suspicious, but enough
to know that I’d be ok for the rest of my life.  Sometimes he’d look a bit
condescending and try to use his superior knowledge on me to get me to change
my mind.  I knew he was being kind, but I also knew he was wrong, although I
couldn’t tell him why of course.

I even bought a bicycle.  For
me it was much easier than having a horse and carriage or a car, which were
starting to put in a noisy and smelly appearance by then.  I loved my bike; I’d
never had one as a kid and I went everywhere on it.  People got used to seeing
me flying around.  They knew I paid my way and didn’t abuse others.  Daisy was
both fed and paid well and the delivery boys usually went away with h’apence
for their trouble.  The coalman always got a cup of tea and a bun and I didn’t
try to entice any of the men folk away from home, so the wives and the mothers
didn’t hate me.

As winter turned into spring I
started to be invited to town events and meetings.  People stopped to chat; they’d
always said good morning, but now we’d have real conversations.  They started
to share snippets of life and gossip with me and didn’t seem to mind
too much if I didn’t give them much in the way of my own life
story in return.

Once a week I went
to
a sewing circle, which was a lot of
fun and once a month there was a Ladies Instruction evening with guest
speakers, covering all sorts of things from wildlife to better housekeeping, so
they were usually interesting.  I frequently had tea with my neighbour or she
came to me.  There were others who called on me sometimes and I was always
welcome at the library, where I did a turn once or twice a week.  So it wasn’t
a lonely life and I’ve always been happy with my own company.  I’ve always had
things to hide, so in a way, my life in Lyme has been quite normal.

It wasn’t that I belonged, but
it wasn’t that I didn’t either.  Lyme’s an interesting place.  On the one hand
it’s a port, so there is plenty of toing and froing of people as well as things
by ship, rail and road.  On the other it’s a small place; most people grew up
there, as had generations of family before them and there was a quiet
acceptance of me once they realised that I planned to stay.  It was more than
I’d had for a lot of my life in London, so I was happy enough.

I often thought about writing
to Winnie.  I knew she could read and write, but what could I have said, after
twelve years of silence? A real friendship requires honesty and there was even
more now that I couldn’t be honest about.  We no longer shared a day to day
life, so those little things that actually meant a lot were no longer
connecting us, so after a lot of thought, I decided not to.  I’d been content
in Napier Street, but that part of my life was over and there was no bringing
it back, more’s the pity.

I knew I’d be long dead by
1980, never mind by the time me and Jack came to stay in my house, so there was
no worry about me inadvertently confusing things.  I had a backup plan too,
just in case Javier or others like him got wind of me being there.  I had three
watches.  At least one was always with me; the other two were usually hidden in
what I hoped were handy safe places, which I changed frequently.

It wasn’t that I gave up on
Jack; I knew he’d come if he could, but I had to be realistic.  It was probable
that when Javier wound time back, all my clues had been wiped out before he got
a chance to either see them or work them out.  Even if he had seen them, from
what Javier had told me, it was unlikely that he would remember them.  The
years 1900, 1901 or even 1902 had no special place in our life, unlike the Paris
cafe.  I could no longer go there of course, because Javier had claimed it for
himself.  I couldn’t go back to Napier Street either, because it was too
obvious a place and time to look for me.

I toyed with the idea of
flitting back to another time, to tell me and him what would happen if we went
to Moscow, but to be honest I was too scared of doing that.  Jack had never
really explained what would happen if we broke the golden rule, but  it was
very important to him, so we were always very careful not to.  After all, he’d
had the training.  So I thought well... if he was worried about it, what chance
would I stand? And the responsibility of being the person who didn’t save the
world, but who instead did something terrible... well I just couldn’t do it.

There was always the hope that
Jack would find me; a slim hope of course and I held onto it.  It helped during
those dark hours, but try as I might I couldn’t ignore the fact that I might
have to live out my life without him.  Having so nearly lost it on that
battlefield, I realised just how precious it was.  And I had my memories;
nothing was going to take them away.  In fact I had more than that, I knew that
whenever and wherever he was, he still loved me and that was a great comfort.

It was as though I’d split
myself in two.  There was the bit of me that was always waiting, always missing
him and always hoping.  And then there was the other bit; the half that was
content to remember, to know that Jack and I had been in each other’s lives and
could always smile at the fact that it was real.  It wasn’t as hard as it
sounds for the two to live inside me quite happily.  I mean, lots of people
never experience a tenth of what I’ve seen in my life.  I don’t just mean the
travelling, although that was amazing and a gift that I don’t treat lightly at
all.

I spent a second Christmas
there, although this time I went to the carol service.  I was invited; people
were glad to see me and we had sherry and fruitcake afterwards.  My life had a
simple routine to it and I had a freedom that I’d never had before, not even
when I had my room away from Mum’s.  She wouldn’t have missed me yet.  For her
I’d only been gone a day, so I wasn’t worried about her and in a way I’d made
my peace with myself about abandoning her long ago.  It was time for her to
take charge of her own life and not use me as a reason for not doing that.  I
wished her well but had no real hope that she would do anything differently.  It
was sad, but I wasn’t her keeper or her mother and I’d accepted that, even if
she hadn’t.

So you see by the time the
second spring came round, I was quite content to leave things just as they
were.  Unless and only unless, Jack came back.  In my mind, apart from that one
wonderful reason, there were no other grounds to think about changing anything. 
Life hadn’t turned out as I’d planned, but then when does it? So while it
wasn’t what you’d call right, I mean I was living in the wrong time, it was ok. 
At least I felt ok about it most of the time.

Until that is, this morning
when you two turned up on my doorstep and brought me back here to Paris again. 
But it’s not Sunday; there’s no storm and the noises are wrong, so a bit of an
explanation would be nice...

I sat back and folded my arms
across my chest, glaring at them.  They were the same two that I’d seen with
Jack in the hotel lobby when Javier had tried to shimmer me to my death, but
that had been almost two years ago and I didn’t understand why so much time had
been allowed to pass.

We were in the safe house; the
apartment in Paris in 1912 and the fact that it hadn’t been consumed by fire
yet, meant that it was still early August.  They were dressed similar to me, I
suppose in order not to be noticed as they made their way from wherever they
had come from to my home in Lyme Regis, but of course here in Paris, we looked
a decade out of date.  As there had been no discussion about changing into the
correct clothes, I guessed that we weren’t staying.