by Amanda James
She sat back down, did her buttons up and looked at him coyly. ‘Now, Mr Ames, that’s naughty, but if you do as I ask, I will show you how grateful I can be.’
Ames gulped and wiped moisture from his top lip. ‘What, you mean that … that … you’ll let me …’ He stopped and shook his head in disbelief.
‘Yes, I’ve admired you from afar for some time now, and I’ll let you do whatever you like … but first, I want them permanently off the premises in the next ten minutes, alright?’
Ames nodded and then shot out of the storeroom like a speeding bullet. Sarah giggled and followed hot on his heels. She hoped she wouldn’t be whisked back to the present before he could fulfil her wishes.
Hiding behind the door, she listened as Ames told Chef and Danny that their services would be no longer required. Chef obviously demanded to know why.
‘It has come to my attention that you have been inappropriately making advances to female members of staff,’ Ames said.
Sarah tutted in her head. That was rich coming from Ames.
‘Is that what the cow said to you?’
‘I do not wish to discuss the whys and wherefores.’
‘But what about Danny, what’s he supposed to have done?’
‘He is rude and obnoxious; he has also smashed Mr Fleming’s disinfectant. I saw the professor a little while ago, and he expressly ordered that Danny remain far away from his lab, or anyone else’s.’
Yay! Sarah grinned. That bit must be true because she’d not told Ames. Fred hopefully would now be back on top.
‘But I can’t just up and go like that. Who will do the cooking? And anyway, I need a week’s notice!’
Sarah peeped through the gap in the door. The kitchen staff were faffing around pretending to work but were obviously earwigging on the altercation at hand. There was open delight on many faces at the prospect of Chef’s departure. Ames pulled Chef away from the rest of the staff and moved closer to the door. Sarah was able to hear every word, though Ames spoke quietly.
‘Doris is more than capable of running the show, and if you keep arguing I may have to say why you were dismissed in any reference you may require. Now that wouldn’t look good, would it? If you go now, I will say you left of your own volition.’
‘That smacks of blackmail if you ask me,’ Chef hissed.
‘I’m not asking you, and if you don’t get your things and your wretch of a child and leave, I will write a damning reference and add in a few embellishments. Do I make myself clear?’
Chef didn’t answer; he turned and stormed over to Danny, who was still slumped on the chair pretending to be terribly injured. He yanked him up by the arm. ‘Come on, get your things, we’re off!’
‘But wot have we done, Dad? Can’t you stand up to that Mr Ames? He looks like a strong wind will blow him over … give him a punch on the nose.’
‘I’ll give you a punch on the nose in a minute – now get movin’!’
Sarah had to put her fist in her mouth to prevent herself from guffawing. She put her eye to the gap again and saw Ames go over and whisper in Doris’s ear. Doris took a step back and put her hand to her mouth. Then she smiled widely and nodded enthusiastically.
Behind the door, Sarah mirrored that smile. OK, superhero, your work here is done … again! She hoped that returning to the future was imminent. Not that she wanted to go, but the situation with Ames could prove a little tricky now. Chef and Danny appeared a few minutes later from the offshoot, with murder burning in their eyes. She had a feeling that they wouldn’t leave without coming to find her. But where should she hide? That question was answered as Ames shot out of the kitchen ahead of them, grabbed her hand and dragged her into the storeroom again.
Ames slammed the door shut and rested his back against it. The lemon-slice smile had appeared again, and he started to unbutton his collar. Sarah didn’t like the look in his eye. Surely he didn’t think she was going to do it there and then in the bloody storeroom?
‘Well, you certainly got rid of them, eh? Thanks, Mr Ames. We should arrange a trip to the pictures soon,’ she said as lightly as she could muster, given the fact that Ames had just taken a key out of his pocket and locked the door.
‘Pictures? You have got to be joking. No, we are going to do it right here and now. Get your dress off; in fact no, I’ll take it off for you.’ He ran over and pawed at her buttons.
‘Hey, stop it! We can’t do it here!’
‘Oh yes we can. I just sacked two people for no reason, just because you asked me, and now I’m getting my reward.’
He pulled her hard to him and yanked her buttons open. She couldn’t believe how strong he was for such a thin, gangly man. He pushed her against the wall and pinned one arm painfully up behind her back and ran his vile tongue across her neck and cleavage; at the same time, with lightning speed, he shoved his other hand up her dress.
Sarah yelled, clawed at his face and brought her right knee up with the aim of smashing it into his balls. Somehow though, he twisted her round just before she could make impact and forced her face to the wall. She could feel his erection against her bottom and he yanked her arm up again so hard that a white hot pain blazed the length of her shoulder, arm and back.
‘Just stay still, you bitch. It was different earlier when you were teasing me. Now you want to go back on it. Well, that isn’t an option, madam!’
‘Leave me alone, you fucking bastard!’ she yelled, trying to raise her foot and kick backward at his shins. She didn’t manage it because he moved so quickly; he was as slippery as a bloody eel.
All of a sudden, she felt his grip slacken, his body jerk twice as if under the impact of an unseen force, and then, releasing her, he thumped to the floor. She spun round and saw that Ames was out cold, his ski-jump nose bent at an impossible angle, and blood pouring from his open mouth. She also saw the reason for his downfall.
John stood by the door nursing a bloodied fist. He winced, tucked it inside his jacket and looked into her eyes. ‘I think it’s time we left, don’t you?’ he said coldly.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
A second later Sarah stepped forward to hug John, but instead found herself stepping up on to decking. They were no longer in 1928 but standing in her garden under the pergola. Something in his eyes prevented her from hugging him now. He glared at her and sat on the bench, still cradling his hand. She couldn’t see the extent of the injury as it was curled into a fist and covered in blood. Sarah sat down next to him. ‘John, thanks for … How did you …?’ Her words refused to form a coherent sentence as she noticed that anger darkened his face like clouds across the sun.
‘Thanks, she says … For fuck’s sake, Sarah what were you playing at?’
She was taken aback. She’d seen him angry before, but never like this; he blew noisily down his nose and the corners of his mouth curled in a grimace. She lowered her eyes. Sarah couldn’t bear the anguish in his when he looked at her. ‘I wanted to make life better for Doris and Fred … and it went wrong,’ she mumbled to her feet.
‘Went wrong? You could say that!’ John jumped up and began pacing. ‘You could have actually made life worse! I won’t know until I see the report.’
‘How could I have made it worse? Chef’s gone and …’
‘Think about it, Sarah. I’m not sure Ames will be too chuffed with the 1928 Sarah, are you? Especially if he thinks she somehow broke his nose, smashed his front teeth in and laid him out cold. Didn’t you even consider what would happen to her afterwards?’ He stopped and shook his head at her. ‘And if I’d not broken every Time-Needling rule and come to save you, you would have been raped.’
Sarah felt like a complete idiot and began to realise just how incredibly stupid she’d been taking risks and playing with Ames like that … playing with Sarah like that. ‘What rules did you break?’
John stopped and held up his index finger on his uninjured hand. ‘First, never go back in time without express permission. I told you that when we first
met but I don’t expect you remember.’ He flicked up his middle finger. ‘Second, never let emotions rule your head.’ He flicked up his ring finger. ‘Three, never touch anyone while you’re there.’
Sarah raised her eyes. ‘I really am sorry, John. I was full of triumph over what I’d achieved and I wanted to go that little bit further … I guess it all went to my head … I was reckless.’
‘Oh, yes.’ He glared at her and started pacing again. ‘You were reckless, alright. Have you any idea what trouble you have caused me? You shouldn’t have dabbled in things not related to the mission, should have kept your personal feelings separate from what’s going on around you.’
That rankled. She tossed her hair and stood up to face him. ‘Well, unlike you I can’t just shelve how I feel. It was partly because I was so miserable about coming back home to emptiness and life without you that I did what I did.’
He stopped and waved his good hand in the air. ‘Huh? Let me remind you, it was your decision to end it all between us! And shelve my feelings? Why the hell did you think I just risked everything to come and get you?’
She stuck out her chin. ‘I don’t know, John, why did you, considering I’m such a bloody liability?’
‘Why? Because I love you, and you were in danger, you dopey mare!’ He spat, wincing at the pain in his hand.
He loved her! His words did a pirouette in her heart and gathered up roses thrown on stage. Without stopping to think, she blurted, ‘But how can you? You’re with Josephina now!’
John pulled his head back, opened his eyes wide and stared at her in disbelief. He opened his mouth and took a deep breath.
What the hell did you say that for, Sarah? He looks like he’s going to go crazy now.
But John didn’t go crazy; he just ran his hand through his hair and looked at his feet. He flicked his head up and held her gaze for a few seconds; she saw hurt and bewilderment in his eyes. ‘Oh, what’s the point?’ he said, and walked quickly away down the steps and up the garden path.
‘John!’ Sarah hurried after him.
‘Bye, Sarah,’ he tossed back and walked through her kitchen door.
By the time she’d done the same, he was nowhere to be seen. Sarah checked the living room, the bathroom and finally ran out into the street. Putting her hand to her head, she looked frantically up and down, but there were only a few people wandering along, none of them were John. He couldn’t have left and jumped into his car in such a short time, not with his injured hand, so she concluded that he must have done one of his time tricks.
Sarah stepped back through the front door, slammed it shut and with her back against it, slid to her haunches. Tears welled and the emptiness in her heart threatened to engulf her. She dashed the tears away with the back of her hand, sniffed and quickly shook her head. There would be no luxury of wallowing in self-pity. She had made one hell of a balls-up, so she should take it like a woman, instead of a snivelling wimp.
Sarah stood, walked to the kitchen and filled the kettle. She needed to think, and copious amounts of tea always helped her come to decisions when she had dilemmas to sort. They were not always the right decisions, however, but Sarah knew this time she had to get it right; her gut told her that this might be her very last chance.
An hour later she was showered, wearing a cotton floral yellow-and-blue halter-neck dress, had applied make-up with a light touch, had styled her blonde hair into loose curls and had chosen ‘sensible’ strappy wedge sandals. The mirror told her she looked just right and, as she kept telling herself, everything must be right.
Downstairs in the living room, she picked up the phone and went into the kitchen. On the side of her fridge were a few business cards under a magnet. She took one out and punched the numbers written across it into the handset.
‘Yes, I would like a taxi as soon as possible, it’s pretty urgent … Um … 10 minutes?’ Sarah suddenly realised she had no idea of the time. She’d left for 1928 at around 5.15 a.m.; she didn’t even know if it was still Saturday. ‘Ah, half-one, yes, that’s fine … Great that you can come so quick on a Saturday … where am I going? Handsforth, there’s a market garden on the main through road. I need the cottage just before you get there.’
The countryside, dressed in its early summer finery, whizzed past the taxi windows. It was still Saturday. That gave her all weekend to do what was right; she just hoped she could do it. Five more minutes and she’d be there. An Amazon rainforest of butterflies flapped around her stomach and she absently picked the skin at the side of her fingernail until it bled.
It was a good job she’d not driven; she’d plumped for a taxi because she was a bag of nerves. In her head, she rehearsed again what she’d say to Josephina, what she’d say to John, and then what they might say back. Each scenario sounded like the dialogue of a bad soap opera, so in the end she abandoned it and decided to just go with her heart.
Watching the taxi disappear down the road, her tummy did a few somersaults, the rainforest of butterflies went round with it – tumble-dryer fashion. What if he wasn’t in? What if he was in, but wouldn’t let her in? What if Josephina slapped her and spat in her face? What if she slapped her back and they had full-on fisticuffs while John looked on, aghast? What if Sarah’s head exploded with so many silly bloody questions hurtling around it?
She raised her hand and rapped tentatively on the door. It was only just loud enough to disturb a mouse with a hangover. Perhaps she should forget the whole thing and nip off now, before it was too late. Sarah sighed and smoothed her dress. Nope, she needed to get a grip. After all, she’d recently delivered a baby, saved lives in the Blitz, survived rattlesnakes, helped forward equality for women, and hopefully protected the discovery of a wonder drug. She knocked a second time, this time loud enough to start an avalanche in Switzerland.
The door opened. John stood there in black jeans and green T-shirt, accessorised with a white wrist-bandage and sling. Blimey, his hand must really be in a bad way.
Sarah looked up from his bandage. His face was expressionless, unreadable. Why didn’t he say something? She expected questions, shouting, anything but silence.
‘Um … are you alone, is it convenient for me to come in?’
John cocked his head on one side. ‘Hmm, not really. I have three strippers in the kitchen, a few prostitutes waiting in the living room … oh, and I’ve a film crew coming over later to make a porno; they want me in the starring role.’ He opened the door wide and walked to the kitchen.
Sarah followed him and then hovered by a chair next to the table. John filled the kettle, raised his eyebrows at her and pointed at a cup. She nodded and slid on to the chair.
‘Tea or coffee?’ he asked
‘Whatever you’re having, don’t put yourself out.’
‘No, I would never do that for you, obviously,’ he muttered, pulling milk from the fridge.
She flushed at the barbed remark and wondered how to proceed from there. Perhaps she should start with her daft comment when he’d opened the door.
‘When I asked if you were alone, I meant was Josephina here. I didn’t want to intrude, but I have a few things I’d like to say if—’
‘Oh, not this again,’ He slammed the milk carton down on the side. ‘You’re like a broken record; how many times do I have to tell you, she’s history!’
Sarah blinked in disbelief. But what about the day she’d visited the shop and Josephina had told her she’d moved back in with John, about the photo, about her looking after him while he was ill? What about when she’d asked John on the phone if he’d seen Josephina and he’d lied through his teeth? What about all of it?
Though she could feel indignant anger building like a mini tornado she was mindful of John’s mood and the fact that she wanted to get things back on an even keel. Sarah cleared her throat and tried to keep her voice calm and manner conciliatory.
‘Sorry to harp on, but she told me she’d moved back in with you.’
John came over and set a mug of
coffee before her. ‘Eh, when did she do that?’ He sat opposite, puzzled. ‘When did you see her after that day here?’
‘I came to see you after school at the shop last Wednesday. She was in the shop and she told me she’d moved back in and was helping out in the shop as you had flu.’
John leaned back in his chair, folded his arms and rolled his eyes at her. ‘You came to the shop to see me last Wednesday and didn’t tell me?’
She nodded. He made her feel like a naughty schoolgirl.
His emerald eyes fixed on hers, drew her in like a magnet. ‘Why did you come to the shop?’
Sarah took a sip of coffee and sighed. ‘Because I wanted to tell you I made a mistake, and that I wanted us to get back together,’ she mumbled.
John’s expression was a picture. He looked caught between tears and laughter and ran his hands through his hair. ‘I don’t believe this … So, the ever-resourceful Josephina tells you that we’re back together, and what, you just believe her and bugger off home?’
Trying to keep her voice calm and her manner conciliatory was proving to be a tougher task than Sarah had imagined. Nevertheless, she bit her tongue and said, ‘Not at first. I mean yes, she was in the shop, but I guessed that could be down to you just being ill and desperate … but there was something else … something else she said which made me believe her. I was still prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt though, until I rang you later that night … and then I did believe everything she’d told me without a shadow of a doubt.’
John leaned forward, his face pale and drawn. ‘Really? I’m waiting.’
Sarah didn’t like his attitude. Of course he was angry, had a right to be given what she had done earlier in 1928, but he seemed to be suggesting that she was gullible, stupid. What about the fact that he was a big fat liar? Calm and conciliatory abandoned her. ‘Then I’ll tell you, John. She told me that you had loved me once but that you would never take me back now because I was far too possessive and clingy. And what evidence did she have of my insecurity and clinginess?’ Sarah stopped and leaned forward, mirroring John’s pose. ‘She said that you couldn’t believe that I was so jealous of the engagement photo that you had to remove it! So what would you have thought in my position? And the real gut-wrenching clincher was when I called and asked you if you’d seen her and you lied your bleeding head off!’