It was one of those emails that circulates forever. As she read it, she remembered she had seen it before. This seemed to be a slightly altered version but it was worth reading again.
‘Fleming was a poor farmer and one day, whilst working in the boggy fields, he heard a child cry out for help. With some difficulty and risk to himself, the farmer pulled the sinking boy from the bog, thus saving his life.
‘The following day, a fine carriage stopped at the farmer’s tumbledown cottage and the rescued boy’s father introduced himself. In gratitude for saving his son’s life, he wished to reward the farmer. The farmer was graciously refusing payment when his own young son came to the door.
‘The gentleman asked the farmer if the boy was his own. “Yes,” replied the farmer proudly.
“I should like to provide your son with the same education mine will receive. If the boy is like his father, he will become a man to be proud of.”
‘And so it happened that young Alexander Fleming attended the best schools and graduated from St Mary’s Hospital Medical School in London and went on to become known throughout the world as the discoverer of penicillin.
‘Years later, the same gentleman’s son, the one saved from sinking in the bog, was stricken with pneumonia. Penicillin saved his life.
‘The gentleman was Lord Randolph Churchill; his son – Sir Winston Churchill.’
Laura wondered again if there was any truth in it. Matt had told her so many times to beware of what came through on her emails and he’d declared this one to be fiction. She’d been so disappointed. It had made a good story and, besides, she’d said to herself, one can learn from fiction too. Suppose the young Winston Churchill had died in a bog? Wasn’t he a war hero of some sort? Or the young Alexander Fleming had not been educated? What would life be like today?
As she was pondering, the intercom buzzer startled her. It was Matt. He bowled in clutching a box of chocolates and said they were the very thing to go with her cup of coffee. “Oh Matt, it’s good to see you. I thought you were going away.”
“I am,” he replied. “And that’s why I’ve brought these chocolates. There are twenty, one for every day I’m gone.” He sniffed the air. “Coffee smells good. Any chance…?”
“Oh forgive me, Matt, I was a century away.”
“Well that’s an improvement. You’re usually two centuries away.”
Laura gave him a wry smile. “Of course there’s some coffee for you.” She went into the kitchen and brought out a tray of shortbread biscuits, coffee pot and cups. “Can I say that?”
“What?”
“Centuries away.”
Matt’s smile lit his eyes. “I should stick to ‘miles away’ in general conversation, Laura.”
“Ok, thanks.” She wondered how many times she’d said thanks to Matt in total, then quickly changed the subject. “Are you off to somewhere sunny?”
“Your voice sounds a bit husky, Laura,” Matt said looking at her carefully.
She blushed a little. She never could hide anything from Matt. “I’ve got an appointment with the doctor this morning. It’s just a sore throat that’s been hanging around. Not swine ’flu, I’m sure of that.”
“Have you tried this throat spray?” he said as he picked up the one she’d purchased that morning.
“Yes.” She sighed and explained, “I’m so fed up with the nagging pain when I swallow, I’ll try anything.”
“That might do the trick, but it pays to see your G.P. if it’s something that won’t go away. Like me,” he said with a broad smile. “You can tell him about me.”
Laura laughed and poured him a cup of coffee. “So where are you going? You haven’t told me.”
“Ah.” He paused before he continued, “I’d hoped you might be able to drive me to the airport for three o’clock, take the Jaguar back to “Foxhills” and housesit for me.”
“Housesit? But you have servants.”
“Jeeves will be there but I’ve given the other staff some time off – to visit the family, that sort of thing. You don’t have to, of course. But it might be nice to have Jeeves look after you while you’re not feeling so good. I thought you might like to read Alexandra Foxley’s diaries. I’ve brought them from the Foxley Centre to the house for you and, as the Centre is always closed during February, it seemed a good time for you to get to know them.”
Laura froze. To read the diaries would seem like spying on a good friend.
“I’ve been reading them myself again. She nearly died, you know. I might never have been born – now there’s something it’s too late to worry about!”
“Of course I’ll drive you to the airport,” Laura found herself saying. After all, the chance to read the diaries was not to be missed. To know what Xandra thought of Adam… “I’ll have to go to the doctor first and then maybe the chemist. I don’t think it will matter if I’m not in the office for the rest of the day,” she said as she checked her watch.
“You have so little time off, Laura, and you’re not feeling…”
“You’re right, Matt.” Laura caught his drift. “I’m not feeling tickety boo, I’ll take some time off.” Then she added quickly, “But I can handle all those horses. How many?”
“The Jaguar? Oh around four hundred.”
“Four hundred horses! Oh bliss. If only they could see me now. Four hundred Hollies.”
Matt frowned; a little puzzled, a little worried, it seemed. Laura soon realized it was his car he was thinking about. He’d long ago learned not to let her linguistic goofs worry him. “You don’t need to crack the whip, Laura, they’ll canter along quite well without a heavy hand. Or foot.”
Laura bustled around clearing and washing the coffee things. “Do you want to wait here, Matt, while I visit the doctor?”
“Thanks, but I’ve a few things to sort out. While I think of it, here are the keys to home just in case Jeeves isn’t around when you get there.”
As Laura went off to the doctor’s, she began to feel a bit of a fraud. The spray seemed to be working well, and the very thought of four hundred horses, the run of “Foxhills”, the diaries, no cooking and a quiet time at the office had lifted her spirits from gloom to the moon.
~
“You are wonderful to trust me with your Jaguar, Matt,” Laura said as they arrived at the drop-off point at Gatwick airport. She leant across and kissed him on the cheek. He looked so calm, so casual in his heavy waterproof jacket and dark chinos.
“You drive better than any woman I’ve ever known. In fact, I think you could give Lewis Hamilton a run for his money.”
“I stay on the road! These boy racers are all over the place.”
Matt laughed as he retrieved two huge grab bags from the boot and put them down. Then he leaned into the car, smiled that devastating smile, put his finger under her chin and tilted her head upwards. “You are the only one I would ever wait for, you know that, don’t you?”
Blushing, Laura pressed the ignition, waved, and accelerated rapidly.
~
There’s no doubt about it, Laura thought as she settled into an armchair that drizzly, cold evening, “Foxhills” is still the perfect house. She no longer felt she had to stay away. The time she had been forced to spend there with Xandra, though disturbing, had helped her to see the house as now belonging to her friend, Matt – a different person, a different time. She looked at the fireplace in the sitting room and closed her eyes. Drat! It was still Adam she visualised standing there, legs astride. It was like ‘Windows’ on her computer. Layers. She had only to close the latest window and she could access the one underneath, the one with Adam. She opened her eyes, he was still there; she reached out as if to touch him, and a tear fell onto her skirt. She brushed it away quickly. It had only just missed the diary she’d opened.
She reached for one of the chocolates from the box Matt had given her. Where did Jeeves say he’d gone? Wales? Even though the driving conditions were dreadful it still seemed a bit odd to fly to Wales.
But then Matt was a bit odd – always disappearing, like Adam. Perhaps that’s why he’d avoided the question when she’d enquired; she’d only just noticed. Why must men keep secrets? She put the lid back on the chocolates and put them out of sight. Jeeves would probably spirit them away and produce them again tomorrow evening. Would Jeeves ever marry? He didn’t seem the type. His family had served the “Foxhills”’ families for generations but those days were surely gone now?
She put on the white gloves Jeeves had brought with the diaries and turned to the first few pages. These were the pages she had read when she’d gone back to see Xandra. Yes, there it was, nine mentions of Adam in a very short section. Laura smiled; initially she’d wondered if Xandra and Matt should link up. That was before she felt the creeping realization of fate being stronger than she was. The chance, not to bring happiness to Matt, but to give to Adam the joy of falling in love with someone he could treasure and admire. Someone who would appreciate him too. Love him, as she loved him. She blinked away the tears and turned the pages, flicking to the end. No, she mustn’t do that. The doctor had given her antibiotics and suggested she might take a few days off work. There would be plenty of time to read the diaries through from the beginning.
Jeeves came in with a cup of hot chocolate, his way of saying it was close to bedtime, no doubt. Laura wondered if he had read the diaries.
“Indeed, Laura, I have.”
“Matt said something about Alexandra nearly dying. Do you know whereabouts that is?” She felt a little cross with herself; she should stick to the plan and start at the beginning.
Jeeves put his head on one side, as if he were listening for the answer. “She hadn’t been in the family long. She contracted a fever. It is thought now that she had pneumonia.” He thought for a moment then said, “Why I believe it was in February. February 1815. Try there.”
“Thank you, Jeeves. I shan’t require anything more tonight. Leave the fire; I’ll make sure I rake it through.”
“Goodnight, Laura. I’ve set the alarms but not the internal ones. Just put them on, like I showed you, when you go upstairs.”
Laura nodded, smiled, then was soon lost in the diary. She flicked through January noting Xandra had changed from jewellery-making to writing as it cost less. February. She’d find today’s date, February 24th. Alexandra’s handwriting was difficult to decipher and there were still too many ink blotches to make reading it easy. Not only that but she also resorted to shorthand sometimes. Matt had warned Laura about this and said proudly that it was another sign of her genius. The diarist Pepys also used a shorthand, but Isaac Pitman had chosen to develop Alexandra’s form, though this was not something they laid claim to publicly. Laura chuckled; it was the other way round, of course. Would Matt ever realize? Probably better he doesn’t, she thought, and began to read.
‘February 24th – Friday: Feeling much worse. The dry cough hurts my chest. My temperature is high and my pulse races. Everyone is being so kind. They all look most concerned.’
Then annoyingly there were a couple of shorthand squiggles and the next entry was not until:
‘March 4th – Saturday: Feeling considerably better today. Well enough to write my journal. Catherine administered the last of the tablets and the doctor said he can prescribe no more as he did not prescribe these in the first place. His tincture lies untouched. He clearly does not approve. Catherine tells me he is too old for his responsibilities, forgetting what he’d prescribed. It was thought I would die; such was the severity of the fever. She says I was confused and calling out, though I can recall nothing of this.’ Then there were more squiggles – how annoying.
Laura closed the diary. She was too tired and sank back in the armchair. It had been a long day and she should take her own tablets; her doctor had been concerned that she had a bacterial infection, she realized her temperature seemed a little high now; she swallowed a tablet. She thought back to the email. Was it true, that story about penicillin? Could life hang on coincidences? No life was more than that; had her own not shown some sort of plan? Alexandra Foxley; how well it had turned out for her. She looked down at the cover of the diary, then she felt every sinew in her body tighten. She shot out of the armchair, raced upstairs and banged on Jeeves’s door.
“Jeeves, Jeeves, hurry, please hurry.”
Jeeves came to the door in a silk dressing-gown and, perfectly composed, enquired, “Is anything the matter, Laura?”
“Forgive me Jeeves, I have just realized there’s something I must do urgently. Please can you take the alarms off while I get my coat; I shall need to take the car too.”
“Forgive me, Laura, but you may want to consider waiting until the morning unless someone’s life depends upon you.”
“It does, Jeeves, it does.”
Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Driving Matt’s Jaguar was a dream. He kept threatening to get a more eco-friendly car. Laura hoped Jaguar would develop one – perhaps they were working on it. Next to her was a rucksack packed with instructions for returning – most important. She’d remembered to pack a few essentials for herself – water, chocolate, that sort of thing, and some sprigs of rosemary to help with her memory; her throat spray too. And the antibiotics. She was already on the Pelburton by-pass and doing, good lord, one hundred and thirty miles an hour! How had that happened? She’d better rein in these horses or they’d never take the corners.
Once on the motorway to the coast though, she could really let rip. There was little traffic so late at night and Xandra’s life depended on her arriving in time. She looked at the clock on the dashboard. Just past midnight. It was now February 25th and no entry had been made in Xandra’s diary for today; she was clearly too ill. She put her foot down further. This car is so easy to drive, she thought, as she checked the mirror to see if the funny little blue flashing light had disappeared. Yes, all was well. It couldn’t be the police as they always made so much noise. Besides, if it were, they would not have given up so easily.
~
They hadn’t.
“Would you get out of the car, please,” enunciated the traffic policeman at the car’s closed window.
It wasn’t a question, she realized, as when she just stared wide-eyed at him, he reached for the door handle. He couldn’t get in, of course but she’d have to open the door and get out; there was no way round this. She had eluded them all the way to her usual parking place near the tunnel entrance but suddenly they appeared, or were they different officers telephoned by one of her favourite gadgets – the mobile? She reached for her rucksack and her coat, then turned and opened the door, got out slowly, head spinning with the exhilaration of the drive, and stood beside the bonnet. She tapped it, “Four hundred horses in there.”
The policemen glanced at each other.
“Is this your car?”
“No.”
“What are you doing in this car?”
Laura saw a way out. She knew how policemen were known for their compassion for damsels in distress. Hadn’t they been wonderful when Xandra had been kidnapped. “I’m trying to deliver some antibiotics urgently to a very sick girl. She has pneumonia.”
One of the policemen, who had been answering his radio, said, “The car is registered to Mr Matthew Redfern. What is your connection with Mr Redfern?”
“Matt?” Just what was her connection? Friend. Very good friend. He cared about her and she cared about him.
“Does he know you have his car?”
She could not get him into trouble, yet somehow she must get herself away from these meddlesome people. They clearly did not realize what was at stake. “I have his permission to use this car.” Say as little as possible; that’s the way to deal with this. And smile. “His butler, Jeeves, will confirm this. I can give you the number, if you like.” Smile. Not too much.
They glanced at each other again. What had she said wrong? Or should she stop smiling? She wished Matt was with her.
“Do you know what speed you were doing?”
“I just know that someone’s life is ebbing away and there was no traffic on the road. I’m so sorry,” yes, that’s the thing to say – or was that admitting guilt? “I needed to go fast.”
“Blow into this please,” said one of the policemen.
Laura looked at the odd contraption in his hand. DNA, they wanted her DNA. What secrets might that give away? They weren’t going to get it!
“It’s to check your alcohol level. There’s no need to be afraid.” The radio strapped to his shoulder crackled into life and he spoke into it, moving away from her and consulting with the other policeman. Not ordinary mobile phones then.
She had to take the chance. Grab the rucksack, hurtle around the corner and she’d be within sight of the entrance to the cave. Then all she had to do was fling herself out of their eyeline and crawl into the tunnel entrance when they were searching elsewhere.
It worked. Furthermore, as she lay hidden behind one of the outer advertising hoardings, she pressed the key and locked the car doors which emitted their customary high-pitched squeal, distracting her pursuers’ attention sufficiently for her to crawl through into the tunnel entrance unnoticed. Matt’s car was safe and she was on her way to Xandra. And Adam. She had caused Adam such sorrow; it would be quite unforgivable for her to be the reason for his loss of Xandra too.
~
The tunnel had been freezing cold and Laura, though wearing knee-high boots and her warm coat, was shivering by the time she got to the top of the seventy-seven steps. She made herself stop and consider before she allowed herself to continue. She hadn’t had much time to think through the consequences. The all-important tablets were in the rucksack on her back. She must be very careful not to tire of it, take it off, and put it down, for then, untouched by her, it would be visible. What was paramount now was how to get to “Foxhills”. She glanced at her watch – just gone four. Still dark. It was possible she had arrived at the right time of year for it was very cold. Please God, let it be February 25th 1815. Since that first time she had gone back and found it was not in synchronisation with time in the twenty-first century, she could never quite be sure, but then she’d crawled at an angle through the curtain of light – now she’d done exactly as she’d told Xandra. No time to think of such things now, she chided herself. She just managed to squeeze past the scraggy looking bush at the top of the steps; there was no time to remove it properly. She leapt over the tufty grass to get to the road where the early morning mail coach would pass. All she needed to do was scare the horses, poor things, then as the coach came to a halt she’d climb aboard.
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