The Timekeeper's Daughter

by C J M Naylor

  Mathias' expression was one of guilt. It was a human emotion. I sat back down and crossed my arms.

  "I'm sorry, Abigail," he said.

  "Well, so am I,” I responded. “Who was Bessie anyway? Really?”

  He looked like he was going to tell me, but then, like always he didn’t. “I promise,” he said, “I will tell you one day.”

  I stood up to leave.

  "Listen—" he stopped. He was clearly unsure of what to say or do. "I loved your mother. She was everything to me. You are everything to me. I was just afraid. I didn't want to show emotion, because I was afraid it would make me vulnerable. I wanted to protect you."

  I stood up. I didn't want to hear this now. Not after everything I'd been through today and the past few months. I grabbed my stuff and walked down the hallway.

  "Where are you going?" he asked.

  "I'll be with Phillip."

  "Are you okay?"

  I looked up at Phillip. I couldn't believe he just asked me that. Of course, I wasn't okay. I think he got the hint by my expression because he didn't ask me again.

  "Abby, you didn't have a choice."

  "What are you talking about?" I asked.

  "I mean you had to let her go. Don't be upset because of her death."

  I laughed and he looked taken aback.

  "Of course, I'm not upset about it," I said. "She deserved to die."

  A feeling of dread rose up inside me. Did she deserve to die? Maybe she did, but was I the one to decide. Could I have pulled her back up? If I had, she would've killed us all. I felt like I had let my mother down.

  Shut up! I told myself.

  Thinking these things wasn't going to help me now. It wouldn't make anything better.

  "I'm going to take a bath," I told Phillip.

  The warm water felt good against my skin. I felt dirty. I felt like the water was cleansing me of the dirtiness, the badness. I wasn’t bad—I was just weak.

  I let myself go beneath the water. But then, I closed my eyes and I saw Bessie. I saw her face as the skin was peeling off of it. I saw her being electrocuted all over again. I screamed underneath the water and broke the surface.

  I opened my eyes. My breathing was heavy. I screamed again and flailed my arms around in rage. I banged on the walls of the tub and screamed until my lungs hurt. The bathroom door clicked open.

  "Abby, are you okay?" Phillip asked. "I heard you screaming."

  "I'm fine." I let out a cry at the end of “fine” and then the tears began to fall.

  The curtain around the tub opened and Phillip stood over my naked body. He reached in and pulled the drain. He grabbed a towel and wrapped me in it. He lifted me up and carried me out of the bathroom and into his bedroom where he helped me into my nightgown.

  Phillip and I lay in bed together. I leaned into the crevice of his arm around my shoulder. His other arm touched my cheek and caressed it softly.

  "I keep seeing the image of her body," I told him, "being electrocuted."

  "It's okay. Think about something else. Think about your mother, Mathias, or your parents."

  "Why am I like this, Phillip?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I always have to try and uncover the hidden meanings," I told him. "I always want to find out why I am who I am. If I hadn't gone looking for answers, none of this would have happened."

  "How do you know that? How do you know none of this would have happened? Maybe it would have come looking for you, Abby. Besides, it isn't worth going over again and again in your head. Everything has happened. You can't change it. The only thing you can do is to keep going on with your life."

  Phillip and I continued to lay there in silence. It was peaceful. It was nice. For once, it felt like time was passing by slowly and I took advantage of every minute of it. I looked up at Phillip and kissed him. He returned the kiss. I admired his eyes, his face, and his beautiful unkempt hair. I thought about the memories we had shared together. I thought about everything we had helped each other get through. I thought about the time we met and everything in between. I thought about my mother and Mathias. I thought about my parents. I let myself be taken away from the horrors of what had happened today. I let myself be pulled into good memories.

  I let myself forget as I fell asleep in the safeness of Phillip's arms.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  My body felt numb to the events of the previous day. The image of Bessie falling from the Tower Bridge clung to my memory like magnets. The sun crept in through the windowpanes and touched my skin. I felt the warmth of the sunlight, and it made me feel better. I turned over on my side and looked at Phillip. His eyes were closed and he was in a deep sleep. He looked peaceful. I reached out and carefully touched his cheek, so as not to wake him. He took my hand in his and opened his eyes.

  "I was watching you sleep," he said. "Obviously, I didn't hide it well, since you woke up."

  I let him pull me into his arms. He held me tightly and his scent engulfed my senses.

  "How are you?" he asked me.

  "I'm okay," I replied. "It's hard not to think about it. I still see Bessie. I see her falling off the bridge—and I see me letting her go and not saving her."

  Phillip caressed my cheek. "There was nothing you could've done."

  I felt guilty—ashamed.

  "I could have saved her. We could have helped her. Maybe we could have reversed it."

  Phillip shook his head. "She was gone, Abby. There was nothing we could do. She would have killed us with those powers."

  "Mathias spoke of some prison," I responded, "where they keep criminal Timekeepers."

  Phillip continued to shake his head. "Who is to say she could have been controlled? Honestly, you really don't need to think about it for a while. And I'm going to help you."

  He leaned in then and pressed his lips to mine. They were firm and strong. Phillip rolled on top of me and covered my body like he was protecting me—protecting me from the darkness.

  Phillip kissed my forehead, my cheek, and my neck. His hands began to move under my shirt as mine went under his. I knew we were going too far, but I didn't try to stop it. He was making me forget. Our love was removing the darkness, but we still needed to stop. I knew that.

  His alarm is what stopped us. He rolled off me onto his other side, turned off the alarm, and then rolled onto his back; we were both gazing up at the ceiling.

  "Time to get ready," Phillip said. "Abby, don't let it consume you. Remember, I'm always here for you."

  "I don't want to get out of bed.”

  He laughed at me.

  "Carpe diem. Or as your mother used to say, it isn't necessary to sleep in and waste another day on God's good Earth. You never know when it could be your last."

  When he said ‘used to say,’ I felt a feeling of loss. But I knew he was right. It was time to seize the day and make the best of it.

  We had lunch that day and then Phillip walked me to Big Ben. He said he would be at the library late tonight. I said I would probably stay at the Headquarters tonight and we kissed goodbye. I made my way to the basement and then down through the lift. Mathias and I studied Timekeeping throughout the day and eventually, I fell asleep on his sofa. When I awoke, I realized it was nearly midnight, and then I stopped breathing.

  I was watching Phillip—he was sitting in his office—studying like always. One of his colleagues appeared in the doorway of his office.

  "I'm out for the evening, Phillip," his colleague said, "don't forget to lock up."

  "Will do, Professor," Phillip responded. His colleague left and Phillip returned to his book.

  A picture of me sat on Phillip's desk. He started to look at it and put his book down, picking up the picture in return. He held it in his hands for a few moments before placing it back on the desk.

  Time seemed to skip a little, because it was suddenly a while later. I looked at a clock and saw that it was nearly two in the morning. Looking back at Phillip, I could see he had fallen
asleep. He suddenly stirred and looked at the clock—upon seeing what time it was, he cursed and then got up and left his office—locking the door behind him. I followed him into the hallway of the library and I could see the moonlight coming in through the windows. It was later than he normally stayed. And then the worst possible thing happened—the air raid sirens sounded.

  I could see the look of panic on his face as he made his way to the back of the library, most likely for better protection. I ran to the front of the library and out the front door—it was as if I was made of smoke. As I stepped out of the library, I could see the familiar tiny dots, making their way into the city. I could see the familiar shape of the bombs, falling from the aircrafts above. I could hear the horrid whistle that each bomb made as they fell toward the city below and its citizens. One of them was heading straight for the back of the library.

  I ran back inside and down the hall. Windows were cracking as I ran to where Phillip had taken protection.

  "Phillip!"

  I was shouting, but I knew he couldn't hear me. I knew this was simply something I was watching—not something I could control.

  I found him—I found him just as the ceiling gave way and smoke and rubble eclipsed my vision and then time skipped again. It was days later and I was staring at his gravestone.

  "Phillip Hughes," it read, "loving son, loving fiancé."

  And then everything went dark.

  "Abby."

  Mathias had his hands on my shoulders, and when I opened my eyes, I saw his looking into my own. I immediately sat up and looked at the clock. It was after midnight. I had lost about thirty minutes.

  "There is going to be an air raid tonight," I said. "I have to contact the library, Phillip is there. He is going to die. I have to get there."

  "You can't."

  I looked at Mathias. "Yes, I can, and I will."

  "Abigail, you can't.” His voice was rough. "Consider this a test. If you try and save Phillip, you will be changing the course of time and death. Death will take you instead."

  "I don't care," I said. "Let it take me. There is nothing for me here. He has both of his parents, his grandmother even. He'll move on. He'll be fine. I won't let him die."

  "What about that woman you told me about?" Mathias asked. "She died. You didn't save her. Her husband didn't get a premonition to allow him to save her. How is this fair if you get to save the one you love?"

  I stood up. I was speechless. He was right, but that didn't change anything. I couldn't even begin to explain why. What was the point of me seeing this premonition if I couldn't change it? What was the point of any of it?

  "People save their loved ones every day," I responded.

  "Yes, but they do not know that they are saving them from their death. They did not have a preconceived premonition of what would happen. You do. If you did not have this premonition, then you would not technically be there to save him tonight."

  Why was I standing here arguing? The man I loved needed me.

  "I didn't ask for these premonitions," I yelled, "I didn't ask to be this Timekeeper. I didn't ask for any of this. I just wanted to know where I came from. I need you to help me, I need a phone so that I can call Phillip."

  “Abby,” Mathias began, but I interrupted him.

  “Now!”

  He sighed and led me over to a table at the far side of the room that had a black phone on it. I didn’t say anything further. I simply picked up the phone and tried to dial the operator, but the phone wouldn’t work.

  “Why isn’t it working?” I asked.

  “It should be.”

  “Well, it isn’t.”

  Mathias walked over, took the phone from me, and tried it, but couldn’t get it to work. He hung it up and a look appeared on his face.

  “Time,” he said, “but also death.”

  “What?”

  “Time and death are trying to stop you,” he said. “I’ve never had this happen before, because I’ve never tried to change anything. They are both trying to prevent you from interfering with their course.”

  “Then I’m going to him,” I said.

  I turned and left and Mathias let me go.

  I looked at my wristwatch. It was a quarter to one. I had to hurry. I didn't even think; I just started running. I turned onto Victoria Embankment and ran down the street. Some people were watching me. They didn't know what was going to happen. Surely people would be smart enough to get into their houses, but this wasn't like a few years ago when the raids happened almost every night. Everyone supposed they were just happening now and again, I'm sure. But it would happen tonight.

  As I turned left onto Northumberland Avenue and made my way to Trafalgar square, a tree on the side of the road suddenly snapped and fell in front of me. I screamed and tripped, landing on the concrete. I took a deep breath and then stood up, examining the tree. There was no reason for it having snapped, but then I remembered what Mathias had said. Time. It would fight back.

  After taking one more look at the tree, I continued on until I reached St. James' square. The library was there. The air raid had not come yet. I had time. As I made my way to the door of the library, I stopped. I stopped, because I remembered the night that I met Elijah.

  It had only been a week or so ago, but I had buried it deep within me amidst everything that had happened since then. If I did this, if I intervened with death, it wouldn't take me. Instead, my interference would upset the Time Line. It would cause horrific and terrible things to happen—because I was not a normal Timekeeper—I was an original Timekeeper. In addition to that, time was already fighting back, first with the phone and then with the tree. It didn’t want me to intervene.

  My chest was heaving up and down, up and down, up and down. My heart was racing a mile a minute—because I knew, in that moment, that I was going to let the man I loved, the man I had poured my heart out to, die. I was going to let him die in the most terrible of ways. Because if I didn't—if I intervened—then everyone else would die too. Bridget would die. Mathias would die. Ian would die. People I didn't know would die. And I couldn't do that. I wouldn't allow myself to make that decision for other innocent people.

  And so, I walked away. I didn't run. I just walked. I didn't care if the air raid started and it took me. Because in that moment, there was no possible way I could keep on going. Mrs. Baxter was dead. My parents were dead. And by the end of the night, Phillip would be dead too.

  Phillip Hughes died on Ash Wednesday, February 23, 1944, shortly after two in the morning when a German airtime bomb was dropped in St. James' Square, where the London Library stood. The forensic pathologist's report said his death had been quick. He had been struck in the head by some kind of object as the library caved in. He was the only person there. He had died surrounded by what he loved. The library could be repaired—it would be repaired. While the damage had been severe, they said that if the bomb had been any closer to a certain point of the library, it could have been ten times worse. It was ten times worse for me, however, because Phillip was still dead.

  At some point in my walk back to Big Ben that night, Ian found me. Mathias had sent him out in a panic to come look for me and he coaxed me into coming with him. It wasn't hard. I was practically lifeless. We made it back to Big Ben just in time, and even though Ian asked me not too, I went up to the clock tower to watch the bombs drop. It seems morbid now that I think about it, but in that moment, there had been nothing left in me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The next day, I sat in the study underneath Big Ben. I did not understand why everything had come to pass. I had wanted to find things out about myself. I had wanted to know where I came from. But in the end, I ended up losing everything I cared about. Where was the justice in it all? Is this always the outcome for someone who tries to find out who they are?

  I looked at my leg. It was propped on a stool because I had cut open the fresh wound that I’d sustained in the air raid attack with my parents the week before. It h
ad apparently come open as I had run to the library the night before, but I had not noticed amidst all the commotion. Mathias had stitched it back up and cleaned it. He was surprisingly good at doing that. I supposed it had come from living on his own for many years.

  Mathias entered the room. I still couldn't call him father or papa—those names were reserved for the man I lost, the father I cared about, and for Phillip, who would now never be a father. I was meant to have children with Phillip. Or was I? Maybe everything was fate. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be.

  Mathias sat down in his armchair by the fireplace. I didn't look at him. In some ways, I despised him. I know it wasn't his fault. He was just trying to protect me. There were laws. Even if I didn't want to be this person, I had to be. I hated time. I despised it. Time was the enemy. Time took my father, my mother, and Phillip. Time stole everything and in return gave nothing.

  "Why did you not intervene?"

  I looked at him, and then poured out everything I had been keeping from him. I told him about the threatening notes and the helpful notes and how I knew they both must have been from Bessie. I told him everything about the contact I’d had with Bessie. I told him about Elijah and how he had approached me at the ball and how I knew he was telling the truth because he knew about my mother’s letter. I told him that if time hadn't been different for me, I would have sacrificed myself for Phillip. And I told him I chose to let Phillip die, because I couldn't make that decision for the rest of the world. I couldn't.

  Mathias, the man I couldn't call father, looked at me. He didn't say anything. His eyes questioned me. They were my eyes. It was like looking at myself in the mirror.

  Finally, he spoke.

  "Your mother had her secrets, that is now obvious. Abigail, I believe you and maybe I will be able to speak with this Elijah at some point. But I don't want to worry about that now. I want you to know you made the right decision, and please don't think I'm saying that I knew Phillip, but from what I know about him and from what you say about him, I think this is the decision he would have wanted you to make."