The Last Beginning

by Lauren James

  So sending Matthew straight home to 1745 seemed like the less complicated option. She would take her time, though, and not panic and do something crazy again, like go into the past and bring someone back with her.

  But first, she needed to have something to eat, clean her teeth and have a nap. Urgently.

  When Clove woke up from an uncomfortable but much-needed doze in a waiting-room chair, she was told that Matthew was still sleeping. Clove was desperate to talk to him, but at least the police hadn’t managed to take his statement yet. Too impatient to sit still and wait, she started looking through the messages on her watch. To her surprise, there was one from Meg.

  Nuts_Meg 12:56:03 Can we talk? I miss you

  Clove’s mouth felt dry. “Spart, call Meg. Audio only.” She didn’t think she could handle looking Meg in the eye just then.

  “Hello?” Meg sounded tentative, but at least she’d answered.

  Clove was suddenly hot all over. After everything she’d done in the last week, talking to a girl shouldn’t be this terrifying. “Hey,” she said, and then cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. “I wanted to apologize for the other day. I was being an idiot.”

  Clove heard Meg shift position before she replied. “It’s OK,” she said.

  “I made everything into more of a deal than it was,” Clove added. She really had, she realized. What had happened with Meg was nothing compared to destroying the universe. She had completely overreacted to the kiss.

  “That’s … good?” Meg said, sounding surprised, which made Clove feel even worse. She must have acted like a real monster the last time she spoke to her.

  “Yeah. Meg, you know … I’m not upset that you didn’t kiss me back. I know you’re straight.” Clove thought of Ella, and pushed the image away. “I was just panicking about losing you to Alec.”

  “Y–yeah,” Meg said quietly. “I know. I’m sorry too, for not replying to your messages. I didn’t know what to say.”

  There was an awkward silence.

  “So, how was work experience?” Clove asked eventually, trying to keep her voice bright. “Did the kids behave?”

  Meg launched into an excited anecdote, which would usually have had Clove in half-hysterics. Instead she found her mind drifting to Ella, wondering what she was doing. It was almost a physical ache, how much she missed her.

  Ella was so challenging, so in-your-face. She had always wanted Clove’s attention, always forced her into bickering and messing around. Clove missed her obnoxious teasing, her sharp, slightly pointed chin and the blurred quality it lent the rest of her face. She missed Ella.

  “So I had to wear one of the teacher’s shirts!” Meg said, giggling. “Mum still hasn’t got the paint out of mine.”

  “Powerful,” Clove said, switching back into the conversation. “That’s a lot more exciting than my week. I’ve just been—”

  “Programming, programming, programming,” Meg teased. “And you loved every minute of it.”

  “I did love it,” Clove agreed, smiling. “So … did you hear from Alec?”

  “Are you sure you’re OK talking about him?” Meg asked, a little cautiously.

  “Yeah. I’d like to know.”

  Meg drew in a huge breath, ready to update Clove on an entire week’s worth of Boy Interactions. Clove settled in to listen, looking through her rucksack for a toothpaste tablet as she did so. She pulled out all the things she’d taken to the past: the old-fashioned clothes, Tom’s Swiss army knife, her first-aid kit. And there, at the bottom of the rucksack, was a dried flower, browned and a little worse for wear.

  It was the violet Ella had given her the first day they met, as they were walking by the river. Ella had been teasing her, drawing her out of her shell, and she’d picked a flower and handed it to Clove.

  The sight of it made tears well in Clove’s eyes. Ella was dead. She was nothing but a long-forgotten gravestone somewhere, with no one alive now but Clove to remember her, and nothing more than a flower to show for her life.

  “I met a girl,” Clove found herself saying.

  Meg paused, took in a breath, and immediately squealed, “WHAT?!”

  Clove sighed. “She was … powerful.”

  “Have you fallen in love, Clove Sutcliffe? Without telling me?”

  “I think I have,” Clove admitted. “But I’ve lost her.”

  Ever the romantic, Meg said confidently, “True love is never lost. We can figure this out.”

  “I think in this case it might be.”

  “Is she from the university? Is she a student? Wait, is she a professor? Is she an older woman?”

  Clove laughed, remembering Ella declaring that she was in charge, because she was older. Clove had been furious with her. “Yeah, she’s older. She’s eighteen.”

  “Tell me all about her!” Meg said.

  Clove laid the violet down on her knees and tried to find a way to describe Ella.

  CHAPTER 31

  The Comprehensive Guide to History Control

  The diagram shows the universe shifts due to Clove Sutcliffe’s initial time displacement activities. They are represented in circular coordinates where the axes indicate time-landscape versus % displacement from the baseline universe. The universe distortions are the result of a metaphorical wobble in the space-time landscape.

  File note: Extract from The Comprehensive Guide to History Control, first published in 2351

  CAMBRIDGE, ENGLAND, 2056

  After Meg and Clove had finished talking, a nurse came over to tell Clove that Matthew had woken up. He led her to Matthew’s hospital room. “He’s been awake for a while, but he’s still a little woozy,” he said. “He’s hallucinating some stuff about a castle? Talking with him might be a bit weird.”

  Clove grinned. “I think I can handle it.”

  “But he’s recovering well. He hadn’t had any of his childhood vaccinations for some reason, so we’ve had to give him a few. His injuries are healing well, though. He should be fit for release later today.”

  “Thanks,” Clove said, and let herself into the room.

  Matthew was hooked up to an IV and several machines, all of which beeped intermittently. He looked exactly like she imagined a corpse would look. She touched his hand, just to check he was actually alive.

  “Clove,” he said, squinting at her. His voice was low and hoarse, and it sounded just how he looked: ashen.

  “Matthew. Listen, Matthew. Don’t panic. But you’re in the future.”

  “I had guessed as much,” he said dryly. “The Sparts everywhere made that easy to deduce.”

  Clove tried very hard not to laugh. “Computers. They’re called computers. Only mine is called Spart. It’s a nickname.”

  “Right.” He coughed, and winced. “Thank you for saving me.”

  “No problem.” She frowned at him. “Why aren’t you freaking out?”

  “I’ve had a while to come to terms with the idea of travelling to the future. I did see you disappear through a hole in mid-air quite recently. This is actually less strange than I had imagined.”

  “Well.” Clove was desperate to know what he had imagined. “Anyway, the only reason you’re here at all is because you broke your promise, Matthew Galloway. You said you wouldn’t stop Katherine from sacrificing her life, and you did!”

  He frowned. “I wasn’t going to let her die.”

  “But you were perfectly happy to die yourself? You got shot!”

  “But Katherine survived. Didn’t she?”

  “Yes,” she said. “She survived the siege.” Clove decided not to tell him about the second version of Matthew now keeping her company. When this Matthew went back to 1745, they could sort it out between themselves. “But you should never have interfered! You destroyed the future! I nearly died! I had to fix your mess!”

  “It was worth it,” Matthew said resolutely.

  She gaped at him. “‘Worth it’? ‘Worth it’?!”

  He nodded.

  “You
’re insane! You’re actually insane! You destroy the entire world and it was ‘worth it’.”

  “I love her,” he said, and his face broke into a smile. “I love her. She loves me.”

  Clove exhaled angrily. “What a mess.”

  “So – can I go home?” he asked, meekly.

  “You’ve still got a bullet wound in your chest,” she said, scowling. “You idiot.”

  “When I’m better,” he amended.

  “You can go home. When the doctors say you are better, I’ll take you home. If you promise to never ever do anything else that could in any way affect the future.”

  He nodded. “I’ve learned my lesson. No more doing things.”

  “Good,” she muttered.

  “What year is this?” Matthew asked. “Everything is very … white. I can’t imagine living long enough to see the world look like this.”

  “You would never have seen this,” she admitted. “It’s … it’s 2056.”

  “What? How? If you are our daughter? Surely we can only have travelled a few decades into the future, despite all of these advances in science? When does Katherine arrive?”

  Clove sighed. She wasn’t going to tell Matthew about the reincarnation. “Nope. I’m not telling you anything else about the future, Matthew. I’m not a total idiot.”

  He looked wounded. “I wasn’t going to do anything!”

  “I don’t trust a single word you say. Katherine has sent you crazy. You’re a loose cannon.”

  “You have to tell me something!”

  “I’m sorry, but this is your punishment for breaking your promise. You don’t get to hear any more secrets.”

  Matthew sighed. “That’s reasonable, I suppose.”

  “Good. Now, how do you feel?”

  “I feel … not as terrible as I would have expected. Your doctor is really good. I always knew women could study like men.”

  Clove grinned. “It took a while, but gender equality got there eventually. Anyway, be ready to leave this evening. We’re going to have to break you out of here.”

  Matthew’s eyebrows raised. “Uh … how?”

  “Trust me. The police are waiting to talk to you, and we can’t risk them working out who you are.”

  “Shouldn’t we tell them the truth? Won’t they understand?”

  “That would definitely not help. I don’t know what you think the future is like, but time travel is a new thing. No one would believe you.”

  Matthew nodded his agreement, even if it was reluctant. “I’ll trust you, then.”

  “Do you need anything?”

  “A drink?”

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, and stood up. “Try and rest.”

  When she returned, Matthew was asleep. She left a cup of water by the bed and told the nurse she’d be in the waiting room. Apparently he was scheduled for regeneration of his wounds in two hours, and after that he would be free to leave. There was plenty of time for Clove to nap before then – and plan how she was going to get Matthew out of the hospital. Everyone seemed to do it in films all the time, so it couldn’t be that hard. She could probably just wing it. She would have to do it soon, though, before people thought he was well enough to start filling out health-insurance forms and making police statements.

  Folios/v1/Time-landscape-1745/MS-12

  File note: Sketches found on the back of the newspaper The Carlisle Courier dated 15 September 1745. They are believed to have been drawn by subject allocation “MATTHEW”, showing how he thought clothes would look in the future

  CAMBRIDGE, ENGLAND, 2056

  Clove was walking back to the hospital eating a burger and fries, while listening to Spart lecture her about the things she was and wasn’t allowed to do when breaking Matthew out of hospital and sending him home. Apparently she wasn’t allowed to do anything at all until he’d told her it was OK. That seemed fair, after the chaos she’d caused so far.

  “I know I messed up, but technically it wasn’t my fault,” she said, brushing her hair back. “I mean, it was Matthew’s. It was definitely Matthew’s.”

  Ahead of her on the footpath was a girl, all curls and eyeliner. Her neck was wrapped in an enormous green scarf.

  Clove shifted to the left, to give her room to pass. “Spart, I promise I’ll—” Clove broke off, staring at the girl. The girl had walked right up to her. The girl—

  The girl—

  —who Clove realized she’d seen around St Andrews University, back before she’d ever decided to travel back to the past—

  The girl was Ella.

  It was Ella.

  It was Ella.

  “Ella?” Clove said, certain she’d made a mistake.

  The girl hooked her chin over the top of her mountain of a scarf – the very same scarf that Clove had stress-knitted, then left in 1745, she realized, stunned − and quirked an eyebrow at Clove. “Hey.”

  Clove gaped at her, gaped some more, and then abruptly sat down on the pavement.

  CHAPTER 32

  34 likes

  Ella-is-swell Happy anniversary, boo! 3 years today by my count [citation needed].

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  Nuts_Meg You guuuuys!

  LuckyClover We should go to Cambridge next year, take a trip down memory lane.

  Ella-is-swell By memory lane, do you mean sitting in the street while you refuse to look at me, LuckyClover?

  LuckyClover Isn’t that how all of our dates end, Ella-is-swell?

  Like • Comment • Share

  File note: Interactions on social media between CLOVE SUTCLIFFE and ELENORE WALKER from 22 July 2059. Included in the fictionalized biography Ella & Clove: A Love Story

  CAMBRIDGE, ENGLAND, 2056

  Ella sat down on the ground next to her. Clove turned her head away, not quite able to look at her.

  “What are you doing here?” Clove asked. “How?”

  “I’m a time traveller. Hey.”

  “You’re a— I’m the time traveller. Not you!”

  “What, you wanted me to stay in the past and let you leave me?” Ella laughed. “I’m not letting you get away that easily.” She shifted position, trying to get Clove to look at her, but Clove didn’t turn her head. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Ella, not quite yet. She felt too overwhelmed.

  “I can’t believe you never worked it out,” Ella added. “It’s not like I blended into the eighteenth century.”

  Ella had been a time traveller, this whole time. How had Clove not realized? How had Ella not told her?

  “What year are you from?” Clove asked.

  “The future,” she replied easily. “Your future.”

  “What year?”

  “I don’t know if I should tell you that. But you know one of my ancestors. Megan Walker?”

  “Meg is your … your ancestor? What?”

  “I think she’s my … great-great-great-grandmother? Something like that?”

  Clove tried to stop herself from spluttering and failed. “You can’t— I can’t— What? I mean, what?!”

  Someone walking past said, “Excuse me,” and Clove shuffled back against the wall, out of the way. She was still looking anywhere except at Ella.

  “Sorry I never told you sooner. I didn’t want to interfere with what was supposed to happen.”

  “What does that mean? Interfere?” Clove asked.

  “Your first trip to the past was known to go a certain way, and—”

  “My first trip? What do you mean? Do I go again?”

  Ella was quiet. “That’s up to you.”

  “I don’t understand,” Clove said. “How do you know anything about me? Why were you even there? Did you go to the past knowing I would be there?”

  “You’re famous. I wanted to meet the real person, behind the textbooks.”

  “TEXTBOOKS?”

  “Yeah. Look, we should talk about this somewhere more private. People are staring at us.”

  “But you just—”

  “In a bi
t, OK?”

  “Fine! Let’s go!” Clove stood up.

  Ella stood up too. “Clove, look at me. The world isn’t going to end if you look at me.” Ella touched Clove’s cheek.

  Clove felt her skin go flaming hot. She finally, finally turned to meet Ella’s gaze.

  “Hey,” Ella said, a little breathlessly. Clove’s cheeks were hot, and every movement suddenly felt meaningful.

  “Hey,” Clove repeated. Now that she was looking at Ella, she couldn’t look away. The make-up couldn’t hide her features, and it only brought out the colour of her eyes and her long eyelashes.

  When Ella smiled, it lit up her entire face.

  A lump rose in Clove’s throat. She couldn’t ever remember seeing anyone the way she was seeing Ella. She was a supernova, an explosion. She made everything else seem insignificant.

  “This is why you were so good at lying,” Clove realized, suddenly annoyed. “You were lying about everything the whole time!”

  Ella shrugged. Her eyes never left Clove’s lips. Clove had always thought her lips were too plump for her face, but now that Ella couldn’t look away from them, she didn’t mind them so much. “It’s my job.”

  “Job?” Clove asked.

  “Let’s go somewhere and talk. We have a lot to cover.”

  Ella handed Clove a mug before sitting down opposite her in a quiet corner of the hospital cafe. It was so strange to see Ella in a modern environment, and under fluorescent bulbs rather than candlelight.

  “OK.” Ella clapped her hands. “So, let’s start from the beginning. You’re famous.”

  Clove made a noise that was the audible equivalent of question marks.

  “You’re the first time traveller. Of course you’re famous. You established a whole new area of scientific study: History Control.”

  Clove prodded her cream and chocolate sprinkles with her spoon. She had? “What is History Control?”

  “It’s a way of adjusting history, of changing minor events to try and improve the quality of life for humans as much as possible. You’ve saved more lives than any other person in all of history.”