The Next Together

by Lauren James

  “That isn’t going to work, Matthew.”

  He stirred, turned over onto his stomach and then pulled the blanket over his head like her mere presence was disturbing his sleep. “Shush…” he slurred. “I’m sleeping.”

  She rolled her eyes and prodded him with her foot. “I don’t believe you.”

  When he made no reply, she said archly, “Fine. If you’re asleep, I won’t have to leave the room to change into my nightclothes, then, will I?”

  He opened one eye. “You are already wearing your nightclothes.”

  “And you’re awake.”

  He yawned dramatically, throwing a hand over his face. “I’m too tired to move. Please don’t be so cruel as to make me get up now.”

  “Because it would be so terrible of me to make you sleep in the bed?”

  “Exactly,” he muttered into his arm. She had a suspicion that he was hiding a smile.

  She looked between him and the soft, cosy cot that had been so comfortable last night. It had a proper pillow and everything. She couldn’t resist climbing into it. “You can’t expect to get away with this every night,” she warned him.

  “You can make it up to me with a cooked breakfast,” he mumbled sleepily.

  She let out a loud, obnoxious yawn in reply and then stretched out. “I’ve had a long, hard day providing food for my family, Matthew. I’ve been hunter-gathering. I probably won’t be able to stand up in the morning.”

  He laughed, despite being almost entirely asleep, like it was a reflex.

  Folios/v3/Time-landscape-1854/MS-6

  Folios/v3/Time-landscape-1854/MS-7

  UNIVERSITY OF NOTTINGHAM CAMPUS, ENGLAND, 2039

  Kate returned to Matt’s room to find him still reading diary entries. They had been working on it all morning. She handed him a plate of toast for lunch. “I got you peanut butter,” she said.

  “Ooh, thanks! That’s my favourite.”

  “I … know,” she said and shrugged. She was getting used to just knowing things about Matthew. “What does the diary say?”

  “Nothing we didn’t know already. Katherine is talking about telling the other staff what’s going on. She must have written this shortly before they decided to send that email asking for a meeting.” He took the mug of tea, gulping it down. “We need to hurry up and read the rest, though. We’re meeting Tom in half an hour.”

  “I’m already looking forward to it,” she joked.

  Matt’s expression froze into a polite smile, and she grinned, ducking her head to look at his downcast eyes. “Hey,” she said softly. “You know we’re teasing you, right? Matt, I’m not interested in Tom.” She gulped nervously. “I’m interested in you.”

  He didn’t speak. She took a bite of toast to fill the silence, trying to appear casual and not at all as if her insides were tearing themselves to shreds.

  “Kate,” he said quietly, almost inaudibly.

  She didn’t reply, suddenly panicked. Had she read all the signs wrong? Had she just made a massive fool of herself?

  “Will you go on a date with me?” Matt asked.

  Kate couldn’t help her huge smile. “Yes!” She felt lit up from the inside out.

  Matt just looked at her, pleased.

  “This counts as me making the first move, you know,” she insisted, watching him with bright eyes.

  “You can think that if it makes you feel good,” he agreed easily, pulling her towards him. He dipped his head to press a smudge of a kiss on her lips and then kissed her more firmly, like he was unable to help himself.

  > First objective achieved in time-landscape 2039

  > System progressing as desired

  Kate suddenly shivered as a feeling of déjà vu swept over her. All at once the saying “someone walked over my grave” made a whole lot more sense. She could suddenly see everything, oh, so clearly. She had done this, exactly this, before.

  Matt had kissed her, just the way he was now. Except – it had been different. He had been different, slightly taller than her, and he had cupped her chin to tilt her face upwards. She leant into him now as she had then, her body boneless and utterly open. He pulled back, his lips parting from the kiss. It had been too short, but achingly sweet. She wanted more. Her mouth pressed closer to his, closer, closer, reluctant to part.

  Her eyes fluttered open to meet his. He pushed a strand of hair from her face, and she was momentarily distracted from the kiss. Her hair was short. It hung down across her eyes in a way it hadn’t since she was a child. Matt’s clothing felt rough against her skin in a way synthetic fabric never usually did. There was a smell of smoke in the air around them, the scent of old tobacco. She barely recognized it: cigarettes were banned and almost impossible to find.

  “I bet Lloyd George doesn’t kiss like that,” Kate said, cheerily.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Matt replied.

  She pulled back quickly. They stared at each other.

  “What did you say?” he asked.

  “Nothing. What did you say?”

  “I don’t know…” He paused. “It made sense at the time.”

  Kate couldn’t think of anything to say to that. In her mind, she kept picturing Matt dressed in old-fashioned clothing and looking dashingly handsome. They stared at each other, both lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, he looked away, frowning at the ground. He had obviously decided not to discuss it any further.

  She thought it best to follow his example. At least, she reflected, it had detracted from the inevitable awkwardness of a first kiss. She hoped it wouldn’t happen next time, though. She’d completely missed the actual kiss.

  “Shall we, uh, read the rest of the diary?” Matt asked.

  “Yeah,” she agreed in relief.

  As they reviewed Katherine’s diary, Matt kept shooting glances at her, but she couldn’t look at him. Her mind was full of crazy ideas. Why had that kiss felt so familiar? Why did she keep seeing Matt in different periods in history, both in her dreams and when she was awake? She was so close to blurting out her suspicions of magic and reincarnation and time travel that focusing on Katherine’s diary was the only thing keeping her grounded. She really hoped that something was going to be explained soon, because this was what going mad must be like.

  The feeling didn’t get any better. As they read more and more of the entries, Kate felt like she had seen the end of a film early. She seemed to know what Katherine had written before she read it.

  Then Matt kissed her again, leaning into her like he couldn’t wait any longer. It was quick, barely a peck. She tensed, waiting for another vision to overtake her. Matt seemed to be waiting too, and after a moment he kissed her again, properly this time, cupping her cheek and pulling her against him. His lips were soft and he tasted of tea.

  She relaxed against him, enjoying the moment. It still felt like they had done this many times before, despite the fact that this was almost their first kiss. But then, everything they’d done had seemed like a repeat of something they’d done many times before.

  They kissed for a long time, discovering – or, rediscovering – each other’s mouths. Finally they parted, pressing their foreheads together and just breathing each other in.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he said, biting her bottom lip gently, a brush of his teeth against the tender skin.

  She gasped, dazed, trying to remember anything except the shape of his mouth against hers.

  “Me too,” she said when she had regained the power of speech.

  Folios/v7/Time-landscape-2019/MS-167

  CHAPTER 16

  Folios/v7/Time-landscape-2019/MS-156

  Carlisle, England, 1745

  Katherine sat in the carriage, next to her uncle and opposite Elizabeth and her young cousin, as they approached the edge of the city. They were all silently looking out of the windows at the dark sky and the eerily empty streets. The only sound was the echo of horseshoes on the cobblestones. Everyone who hadn’t already fled the
city was safely barricaded inside their homes.

  Katherine shifted in her seat anxiously. She couldn’t flee at the first sign of danger like this. It went against everything she’d been working towards. What was the point of having defences if you immediately left them at the first sign of danger?

  She folded her arms, while her mind desperately worked on a way to avoid having to leave with her family, to avoid abandoning Matthew. He had stayed behind in Carlisle with the other servants when Katherine’s aunt and uncle had decided to flee the city.

  Their carriage joined a queue of several others waiting to be let out of the gates of the city in secret. It seemed that there were plenty of other citizens who weren’t brave enough to stand and defend their city.

  When it was their turn, her uncle handed the guard a large bribe, and the gate slid open soundlessly. Their carriage was the last to pass through into the open countryside. Katherine could hear the relieved sighs of the guards as the gate began closing behind them. The citizens had escaped and the Rebels had not been alerted to the open gates.

  This was Katherine’s last chance. Once those gates were closed, the soldiers would not open them again. She couldn’t leave the city now, at the moment when everything was happening. She hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye to Matthew. She had to go back. Resolve hardening, she flung open her door and leapt from the carriage. She squeezed between the closing gates and dashed back inside the city. The guards were too shocked to react, and she ran past them, skirts held above her ankles, shooting straight down the road.

  “KATHERINE FINCHLEY!” her aunt shrieked from behind the closing gates, but it was too late. Katherine was gone, already weaving her way down Carlisle’s narrow back streets, and the gates wouldn’t open again.

  Katherine ran until her lungs were bursting and a stitch had developed in her side. When she stopped, she looked at the darkened buildings around her. Now she was alone, the impact of what she’d done hit her, and she suddenly couldn’t breathe. She’d left her family, in the dead of night, and her home was on the other side of the city. The lane was deserted. She brushed her skirts flat, trying not to panic. She just had to walk home. She had walked across the city every day to the castle – except then she hadn’t been wearing a dress, and it hadn’t been the dead of night, and she had been with Matthew.

  She took a deep, calming breath. She was perfectly all right. It was only a ten-minute walk from here.

  When she reached the gate that separated the drive of her aunt’s house from the street, Katherine’s heart sank. It was locked. Of course it was. She rattled the chain hopelessly. She was stuck outside. What a fool she had been. She dropped down onto the ground, her back against the gates, head in her hands.

  “Hey!” a voice shouted, making her jump. “What are you doing?”

  A lantern was making its way down the drive, and she could make out the candlelit features of the man who was carrying it.

  Matthew.

  She stood up. “Matthew! It’s me!”

  “Katherine?”

  “Please let me in,” she begged, half-choked up with relief.

  “What are you doing? Did you…? You idiot!”

  “I needed to be here. I couldn’t leave.”

  “You’re so … urgh!” he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Why did you do that?”

  “I had to,” she said quietly. “Please let me in.”

  He unlocked the gate silently. Katherine bit her lip, worried he was angry with her. As soon as the gate opened, though, he tugged her inside and pulled her close to him. He tucked his head against her shoulder and let out a noise that was almost a sob.

  “Anything could have happened to you in the city in the dark,” he mumbled into her neck.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just couldn’t leave after all our work.” Silently she added, I couldn’t leave you.

  She shyly touched her hand to the small of his back and then leant her head against his. They didn’t pull apart for a long time.

  Folios/v3/Time-landscape-1854/MS-8

  File note:

  Orders from England that began the invasion of the Crimea

  Folios/v3/Time-landscape-1854/MS-9

  File note:

  Journey of the British Army through the Ottoman Empire to the Crimea. By the time the army set sail from Varna, Bulgaria, its number had been reduced, largely as a result of a cholera outbreak, to 27,000 men. The French army was severely depleted too, to around 30,000 men, and the Turks had 7,000. The Allies were in a desperate situation, with inadequate food supplies and tents that were not waterproof

  Crimea, Ukraine, 1854

  Katy leant closer against Matthew, trying to muffle her shivers in his collarbone as they waited in a queue to get a tent. She didn’t care what the other soldiers thought. She needed the warmth. She could barely feel the extremities of her body from exhaustion and bitter cold.

  They had waited weeks in Varna for orders to arrive from England. Finally they had come and the regiment had left Varna for the Crimea, where the battle against the Russian army would take place. The ship had been full of drunken soldiers, cheering and hollering along to the national anthem. There had been a lot fewer of them than had set out from Southampton all those months ago. Cholera had killed hundreds of men. Aboard the ship, Katy and Matthew had stuck together, talking quietly and avoiding the rowdy men.

  The voyage had lasted a week, and much of it had been spent waiting for scouting ships to decide where the troops should land. Eventually, they had all disembarked and then marched to the temporary campsite in the wind and rain. Katy was worn out now. She felt at the end of what she could handle and the war had scarcely begun.

  The next day the British troops would march to meet the approaching Russian army and then the fighting would begin. They had already had their first sighting of the enemy: a group of Russian officers on the clifftop had been counting the number of English and French troops.

  “Not long now,” Matthew whispered. “We’re nearly at the front of the queue.”

  She nodded, trying to keep her eyes open. They just needed to get their tent and then she could sleep. She swayed as Matthew moved away from her to speak to the soldier assigning tents. She regained her balance quickly and then made more of an effort to look like she was at least partly conscious.

  “I’m Matthew Galloway, of The Times newspaper,” Matthew told the soldier. “I’ve been promised accommodation while I travel with the regiment.” Matthew handed over the letter from Lord Raglan, which the soldier stared at blankly for a moment, and then handed back.

  “I don’t know anything about that,” he said. “Go and talk to the general.” He pointed vaguely in the direction of a larger tent, which was obviously the centre of operations.

  “Thank you for your help,” Matthew said politely, and turned towards the tent, looking a little nervous.

  Katy followed him with apprehension, knowing they were probably going to have to fight to get accommodation. In Varna it had been easy to get a tent, but as more of Matthew’s articles had been published in The Times he had begun to be treated with increasing distrust and even aggression.

  “Matthew, wait,” she called, dropping her bag and pulling him close. “It’s going to be fine. You can do this.”

  He held on tight to her as if she was the only thing keeping him upright. His breath was hot against her throat.

  “What would I do without you?” he replied.

  She shivered against him, and bent her face into his hair, smiling as she absorbed the heat of his skin. “Probably shrivel up and die, like the delicate little flower that you are.”

  “Most likely,” he agreed easily. After a moment, he drew back. She took the hint and pulled away, even though she felt like she could hold him for ever. A strand of hair had fallen into his eyes, and she was unable to resist brushing it away. She didn’t care that the soldiers would think her behaviour odd.

  He turned and walked
over to the tent. He held up a hand as if to knock, then stared at the canvas, at a loss. Katy, who had followed him, cleared her throat noisily. A soldier poked his head out. “Yes?”

  “We, er, we were told to report to the general,” Matthew said. “Is he here?”

  The soldier exhaled through his teeth. “He’s very busy. Do you have an appointment?”

  “No. I need to speak to him about accommodation. I’m a journalist for The Times: Matthew Galloway.”

  The man grunted as he gestured for them to follow him inside.

  “The general is in a meeting now,” the soldier said, pointing to a man with his back to them who was with a group of officers gathered around a table. They were probably discussing supplies, or lack of them, Katy thought.

  The soldier indicated a bench along the side of the tent and they sank down on it gratefully to wait. It was the first time they’d sat down since they’d left the ship. Katy watched the backs of the soldiers with curiosity, admiring how neatly pressed their uniforms were despite the dirty surroundings.

  Eventually the meeting ended and the general turned to face them. Katy stared at him in horror.

  It was the officer who had caught her reading Lord Somerset’s library books.

  He knew who she was.

  Katy closed her eyes tightly and supressed a disbelieving groan.

  > ALERT: Crisis imminent in time-landscape 1854

  > Actions of subject allocation “KATY” may soon become known to subject allocation “MATTHEW”, which will be detrimental to the progress of the objective

  > Intervention recommended

  >> Intervention denied

  CHAPTER 17

  From: Katherine

  Subject: Can you print this? My printer’s bust

  From: Matthew

  Subject: Katherine, this isn’t even work. It’s a comic strip