“That’s weird,” said James, “There’s usual a truck to carry the bags to the terminal. Perhaps there wasn’t room for all yours.”
“Perhaps that’s the price one must pay for not travelling first class.”
Before James could reply I said, “However as no porters are to be found we must carry them ourselves.”
James did his best to carry what I thought was his fair share.
The fog was thick upon the ground. I could not see the other passengers but I could just see a building ahead of us. It looked remarkably like a provincial train station.
.
As we approached the building I was sure I could smell something familiar to me. I asked James.
"I think it's the local farmers muck spreading."
"No, James, something else." Then I remembered - it was steam, the smell of a steam engine.
We were back in the nineteenth century but in the wrong clothes!
---~---
Chapter Fifteen
E.
I never thought when I first met James on that cricket field at Hamgreen that it would result in finding myself in a coal yard at the back of a train station in a state of considerable undress with him in a similar state trying to change our clothes. I can only tell you that the thought of being caught by the local constabulary wearing a modern skirt which reached only to my knees spurred me on. Thank God for the fog!
This time travel might sound like a wondrous adventure but one needs to be prepared to abandon all modesty when the need arises.
---~---
J.
I was quite surprised how quickly Elizabeth was prepared to remove her clothes when the need arose, though I kept that thought to myself.
---~---
E.
We dressed as well we could given the limited facilities available in a coal yard. I had not been able to arrange my bustle properly which gave me more of the look of a country girl and I had also forgone a corset. However I was reassured by James who had found a scrap of newspaper which suggested we were in 1895 and was able to point out that bustles were not as popular in society at this time. I would have been surprised at his knowledge of such things if Jill had not told me recently at one of our afternoon teas while James was working in his attic or his 'shed upstairs' as she called it, that he had taken quite an ‘interest’ in understanding the ‘workings’ of Victorian ladies’ clothing during the early days of our courting.
Too late I realised I had forgotten a mirror.
"James, is my face clean of soot? I would not want to be regarded as a blackamoor."
"No, your face is clean. However, when we get back to my time we may have to have a discussion on how things have changed with regard to our attitudes to the people of your Empire.”
“Ah, yes. I understand. I’m sorry. Old habits are difficult to change. However, I do feel I need to powder my face.”
“I could do it for you."
“Thank you, James. I don't want to question your skills in this area but I do not want to be regarded as a mad clown who has escaped from the local circus."
"Then how about we pass ourselves off as missionaries? I believe the wives are usually quite sparing with the makeup."
This seemed a passable idea until I remembered and pointed out that there were not many openings for missionaries in my age for those who had not read the bible, could not speak a word of Latin and had a questioning attitude towards God's existence.
Thankfully James persisted.
"How about we said we had an accident and were late for the train?"
Looking at the amount of coal dust I had attracted this seemed better.
"Yes. We will fabricate a story that the wheel fell off the cart and we had to run for the train."
The list of virtues I had abandoned was getting longer.
---~---
J.
I managed to get two tickets for Thirsk, first class with a change at Northallerton. I was really looking forward to this.
It was like getting on the Pickering steam railway. I could even hear that long forgotten rhythmic clickity click, clickity click of the rails. The carriage had upholstered seats and unlike the second-class carriages it had glazed windows which you could open and hang your head out of. Elizabeth advised against this as it usually resulted in a covering of soot. This was not going to stop me fulfilling a childhood dream. However, the blast of steam and soot was quite surprising. On withdrawing my head, Elizabeth felt she had to comment.
'Why, James, you seem to have received an extraordinary amount of soot, which I presume by its mixture with the hot vapour emanating from the chimney has caused it to adhere to your visage and clothes quite wondrously."
'Yes, Elizabeth," looking at myself, “and if I may attempt your vernacular: one notices one is alone in a carriage, which is not expected to halt for another half an hour, with a lady who in one's humble opinion needs 'a good seeing to'."
"Oh, Sir. How could a lady resist a man who demonstrates his intentions with such poetic language?" She demurely leant back into the upholstery and revealed a beautifully embroidered, red stockinged, calf. "But pray tell me, Sir what shall we do with the other twenty minutes?”
I began to suspect that those afternoon tea conversations with my sister were not entirely about flower arranging.
The other twenty minutes, by the way, were used in frantically removing as much soot and coal dust as possible from our clothes and carriage before we arrived at Northallerton.
---~---
E.
On the train to Thirsk we shared a compartment with a couple of a similar age. They were much concerned about our unlucky 'accident' and how James had received blotches of soot on his face and collar. James was reticent to recount how he had arrived at this condition so I helped by saying that despite my advice he had wished to get a better view of the countryside from our carriage. We ladies then exchanged some pleasantries on how men never grow up but I went no further when James, who by now had felt that I had taken too much advantage, whispered that he was quite happy to draw attention to the spots of coal dust and sooty hand marks on my jacket and blouse and how they got there.
Having heard our ‘story’ the lady then produced a knapsack from which she offered some game pie. I had to help James resist taking too much. We found during our conversation that they were spending a few days touring the Yorkshire Moorlands ghost hunting which I remembered had recently become very popular. James attracted much interest though not necessarily credulity by suggesting they visit Loch Ness where he assured them he had personally seen the Loch Ness Monster.
We then enquired whether they knew anything of the folklore of Rievaulx and they told us sometimes the bells were heard at midnight. But they were more interested in Helmsley Castle where a mysterious green lady had been reported and also pixies seen dancing in the grounds.
---~---
J.
These stories of ghosts were interesting. Though I hoped no one noticed Elizabeth's embroidered green skirts and jacket and made a connection.
When we got to Thirsk Elizabeth arranged what is called a Hansom Cab to take us to Helmsley though when it turned up I couldn't see anything handsome about it. It looked like it had been retrieved from a swamp and the nags look like they would welcome being shot. Even Elizabeth felt that it wasn't quite what she expected and likened it to a dog cart.
I don't know whether you have been up Sutton Bank in a dog cart but I think even dogs would refuse the journey. It was not helped by Elizabeth enjoying the view and pointing out the steep cliffs and lake below. I found myself holding her quite tight which she took to advantage and said,
"James, this is very cosy is it not and you hold me so nicely considering the distraction of the precipices and the ruts in this steep road, not to mention the age of the driver and the squeaking wheel on your side. But even with the White Horse above to aid a romantic frolic, I feel this is too a public place to encourage your amorous advances."
I love her.
---~---
E.
Poor James. He does allow me to tease him so. We took a room in the Coaching Inn at Helmsley. The landlord was just generous enough to not comment on our attire or virtue, though his wife regarded me with a look that only a woman brought up steeped in Calvinistic values and abstinence can give to another. She reminded me of the old spinsters and widows who lunch in the dining rooms of Chichester and who claim they have forsaken men but in truth it is men who have forsaken them.
But to Rievaulx which unfortunately for James required another dog cart. He did not seem too enthusiastic so I offered him a horse.
---~---
J.
Up to now my only experience of riding horses was pony trekking in the Brecon Beacons where the stupid nag I was on decided that it had got lost and proceeded to gallop (or canter as I later found out) across the bogs looking for its mates! The lack of synchronisation between the rising and falling of my backside and the saddle affected my gait for quite a few days afterwards and made me realise why cowboys walk the way they do.
Now I was going to get on a real horse. It was big. No, it was gigantic and by its look, hated me. The stable lad's smirk when I asked for assistance indicated he had nearly correctly guessed I was some Londoner who had come out to try the countryside to impress his new wife. Once I got the right foot in the stirrup it only took him three attempts to get me over the saddle. This was watched with some amusement, but also I was grateful to see a little sympathy, by Elizabeth who was already sitting comfortably in her saddle and whispering sweet nothings to her horse which seemed, unaccountably, to have adopted her as a lifelong friend.
If we get back I'm going to take her bungee jumping or white-water rafting... and in her Victorian underwear!
---~---
E.
I had to hold James reins to get him up the hill. I hoped we did not meet any people on the way as he had given up with the reins and had his arms wrapped tightly around the horse's neck. I must admit I had expected more courage. Though perhaps this was a price we must pay for increased equality between the sexes. I mentioned this to James and qualified it by saying from my limited experience it was a price worth paying. This mollified him somewhat though he could not be persuaded to adopt a position more fitting to a gentleman escorting his wife for a pleasant ride in the countryside.
---~---
J.
We arrived at the Cistercian ruins about lunch time and had more delicious game pie at a cottage nearby. Elizabeth had tethered the horses for us and obtained fodder for them for a few pence. I hadn't even thought about feeding them and her action had reminded me how far my world had left the natural world.
The Abbey hadn't changed at all. It stood in a secluded wood, quietly away from the world. I was still walking like I had been doing the splits and was wondering whether my thighs would ever meet again.
"Are you OK, James?"
"Yes, but if you’re thinking about starting a family, could you hold off for a couple of days?"
"I'm surprised, James. In my day the heroine of popular books was always ravished after the hero returned from a good ride."
My look stopped her.
"I've managed to do it again haven't I, James?"
"Yes, I love it. However, I'm thinking that we would both welcome a returning home that avoided horses and planes. Anyway, let's have a look at this Abbey."
---~---
E.
There was definitely a similarity between this abbey and the one we found with the diary except there were no gravestones.
James said. "Let's have a look at the diary. Perhaps it will respond here."
There was nothing unusual.
"Perhaps you should have brought your flashing light."
"I have." And to my amazement he produced it from his pocket.
We stood together in the nave holding each other’s hand. James played the light on the diary. The surrounds shimmered. I knew there was no going back.
---~---
Chapter Sixteen
J.
"God! What are we doing here?"
We were in the middle of the courtyard of Helmsley Castle in the company of five sheep. The ruins of the keep towered above us. Near the entrance were a few people, some of whom looked like tourists. I pointed them out to Elizabeth.
"Do you think this is still the 1890s?"
"Their clothes do suggest we are still in the 1890s though I cannot account for the fashions in Yorkshire. Two of them do seem to be wearing the sporting clothes of Mr Burberry which were popular in Surrey in my time."
“And still are, Elizabeth. In fact, in my time when you're in the countryside that's how you can tell people are from Surrey."
As I looked around the castle wondering what I should be looking for I noticed she was looking at me rather strangely.
“James, there is something different?”
I quickly scanned around me. The sheep were still contently grazing. “What is it?”
“We are still in our bodies and standing on terra firma.”
I looked down and then at her. I touched her hand. She was right. We weren’t an ethereal projection. We were actually here. The diary had transported us physically to Helmsley!
“This is madness. We seem to have no control over this blooming thing what so ever.”
"I know James, but as we have been brought here by this infernal machine, I suggest we take advantage of the evening light and explore."
Oh dear. Time to get Captain Intrepid out again. I hope she hadn’t noticed how battered he was looking.
We went up to the keep and entered. I could tell by the absence of guard rails and ropes and the presence of abundant vegetation not to mention shrubs growing out of the moss-covered walls and floors that it hadn't had the benefit yet of an English Heritage makeover.
There was nothing unusual so we agreed during another moment of what I can only describe in hindsight as an attack of collective brain fever, to try the diary with the strobe again. I realised we really didn't know what we were doing any more. Once again we held hands, hoping against hope that we would find ourselves back in my cosy attic again.
The room shimmered and the walls and floor looked a little smoother than before but now from above a green glow could be seen. As our cerebral delirium had not subsided we found ourselves floating? up the stairs to explore its origins. I tried not to think about the absence of handrails and the rather nasty drop to the ground below if we slipped. I hid my fear by constantly asking Elizabeth if she was OK. I hoped she was embellishing the truth as much as I was. At the top we entered a large hall where there was a large bulbous vessel which judging by its size had not arrived via the door. As we stood there I thought I could hear a faint humming sound though I couldn’t identify its source. A green glow similar to what we had seen through the diary at Rievaulx emanated from the machine illuminating the room. But what awoke a cold fear in me was the three articulated joints and legs supporting it.
"I know what this is, Elizabeth. What's it doing here and in this time?"
"I do not know, James. But if it is one of those hateful monstrous Martian Tripods, I think we should leave quietly."
This was just the kind of encouragement I hoped for in a girl. We went down the slippery staircase as fast and as quietly as fear of falling would allow. Captain Intrepid was firmly back in his box and the lid closed and locked.
But as we descended the stone stairs to the cellar, the humming became inexplicably louder. And it was coming from the ground. At the base the floor was now smooth, like metal; I tried it with my foot. It was solid. For some reason, which still escapes me and is still a topic of conversation, I tried the strobe on the diary again. I should have asked Elizabeth first for the floor started to dissolve. We stepped back quickly as a large chamber appeared. I looked down. I wish I hadn't for I saw it was full of small white creatures who up to that point seemed to have been sleeping.
---~---
E.
Sometimes James impresses me with this heroic deeds and other times he does not quite meet my expectations. That is the way of men I believe and I have no quarrel with it. However there are also times when he performs inexplicable feats devoid of all sensible reason. His application of the strobe in the keep was one of these.
At first I thought I was looking into some charnel house or a vision from Dante or Bosch. There were hundreds of them pressed together in sleep or death, none bigger than two or three feet. Imperceptibly at first they began to rise out of the pit. They floated upwards towards us, turning and tumbling over and over. And then.... they awoke.
Pandemonium ensued, not least within my mind, as these creatures writhed in panic trying to grasp anything that they could as they rose up through the chamber and out through the windows and doors. Some had wings.
"My God, James! What have you done! You have unleashed the demons of Hell."
---~---
J.
What had I done? Had I really opened the gates of Hell? It truly was a vision of that other place buried deep in my psyche. They were struggling to keep still, grabbing anything they could as they rose through the air. Those that failed drifted helplessly out of the windows and gaps in the ruins and up into the sky. Others were crawling slowly up the steps. I suddenly realised they were trying get to the capsule. My God, they must be Martians. How long had they been here? Some held on but others drifted off. Gravity seemed to have no influence on them. Like Wells in Rievaulx they seemed to be trying to keep in time and space.
They did not notice us at first but then I realised we were almost transparent. I had to find out what they were doing. Elizabeth was trying to drag me out but I couldn't leave. I grabbed her hand and pulled her unwillingly up those steps again.
There were by now dozens of them on the stairs. They were weak creatures. Their skin pale white and smooth brushed against me and a single touch would send them off into the air. I had the distinct impression that they had a third leg which they used to propel themselves. When we arrived at the capsule we saw that a small aperture had opened and the creatures were scrambling inside. Were they trying to escape? Against all reason I peered inside. There must have been already a dozen of them in there struggling to reach and hold levers and dials. Two globes hung in the middle of the room, each like the one in the Control Room at Midhurst which I immediately recognised as Earth and Mars.
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