Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
2010
Laura had to push with all her might. The door from the tunnel to the twenty-first century would not budge; it had been nailed up again. Some over-vigilant Health and Safety official was no doubt zealously ensuring the tunnel was out of bounds. At least it stopped explorers accidentally getting lost in time. She weighed her options. Hmm… there weren’t many. Daylight seeping through the cracks and the wind-up torch showed her the tool case from the car was still there. Phew! If she couldn’t kick it in, that might prove useful. She briefly wondered if an invisible toe performed as well as a normal one. She’d already ascertained that the rest of her foot was visible; she’d do a thorough check later. Fortunately, she was wearing her black trousers and strong walking shoes. She’d start with the damned good kicking – not as easy as she’d hoped but eventually the whole of the quarter panel gave way and she crawled out.
She peered out from behind the other hoardings to see if anyone had heard. Making their way towards her was a group of people, mostly middle-aged, and they were definitely not what she had expected. Regardless, she stood up and walked hastily towards them. Her heart was thumping. Something had gone very wrong. She must speak appropriately.
“Good day, sir,” Laura said to the middle-aged man leading the group. “My apologies for alarming you. I slipped and fell into the hoardings. A frightful noise.”
The man took off his black top hat and bowed low. “I am honoured to assist such a charming damsel in distress.”
Laura glanced at her black trousers, her long-sleeved T shirt, the backpack she was clutching and the tool box and contrasted it with his garb. A blue, double-breasted tailcoat, smart trousers, and the black top hat still in his hands. The ladies standing behind him were wearing bonnets and colourful dresses with long skirts as round and wide as – well they’d never fit in a car. Oh, please God, no! The women in the group were looking at the two of them and smirking. With a sinking heart, she realized it was almost a repeat performance of her emergence into the twenty-first century after the shipwreck. That was the first time she’d seen Matt and he had rescued her from the crowd’s derision. Now she was on her own. Well, apart from this solicitous man. She wanted Matt.
“It would be my pleasure to accompany you to the festivities,” the man said, ostentatiously offering his arm.
She had no intention of taking his arm; he was making fun of her distress. She looked around at the tall terraced houses, old and in need of repair. A faint hope was born. “What festivities?”
“Come and I will show you the delights of the age.”
The women burst out laughing. “Stop it, John,” said one taking his hand and dragging him behind her. “My husband gets carried away sometimes. The more years he’s involved in the Dickens’ Festival, the worse he gets.”
Dickens’ festival. Fancy dress! “Oh thank God!” Laura exclaimed. “I thought I’d stumbled through a time warp.”
“Yeah, well thanks for the compliment,” said a woman who glared at the man, “but this silly old lech is going to make us late.” They went off arguing as to whether or not he was a lech. One day, Laura thought, one day I’ll be able to laugh at all this. Now where had she parked the car?
~
“Hello Jeeves, is Matt there?” Laura twirled around with the hands-free phone and peered out of the window. The street below bustled with people wandering to and fro. It was definitely a weekday.
“Hello Laura. Sorry but he’s not.”
“Wales again?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“When will he be back?”
“I’m expecting him to fly home tomorrow or the next day at the very latest.”
Laura felt something was wrong. What was he doing? Was there someone in particular he would see there? Had she missed that…? She mustn’t let these concerns show.
“Oh good. I’m at work. I’ve been away for a few days but I really want to see Matt as soon as possible. I’ve tried his mobile but it’s switched off.”
“I am sure he would not mind if you came to stay. I’ll be here all day, so come as soon as you like – if you wish, that is.”
“Thanks, Jeeves, but I’ve a fair bit to do here in the office. Better catch up, I suppose.”
“You could arrive in time for dinner tonight perhaps?”
Laura gave in; a spot of spoiling would not go amiss. “That sounds good. I’ll work like blazes, then pop home, pack a bag, and be with you by seven. Is that ok?” It might give her the opportunity to ask Jeeves if there was…no, of course there wasn’t. Matt had asked her to marry him.
Jeeves seemed genuinely pleased for her to come. Such a nice guy.
She wondered what day it was. She should have asked him but he probably already thought she was a bit doolally. She consulted her diary. She’d left early on June 15th, that was a Tuesday, and arrived at “Foxhills” the same day (she congratulated herself – she hadn’t called it ‘Adam’s’) but June 15th was a Thursday in 1815. Try as she might, she could not remember what day she had left – left them all for the last time. The coach had stopped overnight in Rochester, Parson Raffles had farewelled at that point, then she’d reached the seventy-seven steps leading down to the beach the following day but very late in the evening. She’d picked up her torch on the other side of the curtain of light (how unreal it all seemed now) and kicked her way through the entrance to the tunnel the following morning. What morning? It hadn’t occurred to her to check the day or the date when she’d arrived home; she just wanted to sleep. What day was it now? Monday? She should have paid more attention to the radio before she came out. It was surely now Monday morning and she hadn’t heard from Matt. No messages on her answerphone, nothing. He nearly always contacted her at the weekends, even if it was just a text. “Frankly, I don’t care what day it is,” she said aloud. “I just want to see Matt.”
It was not unusual for his mobile to be switched off and for her not to be able to leave a message; Wales must have poor reception in places. But when she rang his number now, there was not even the ring tone so no chance of leaving a message. It was as if the battery had run down completely. She puzzled over this for a moment then buckled down to sorting out her answerphone messages and emails. This would also confirm the date.
~
By three o’clock she was so very tired but there was one more job to do. She picked up her handbag and the pen on her desk, locked the office, and crossed the road to the jewellers. She handed the owner the black Parker pen engraved with the name ‘Cornell’. “I believe you lent this to me some time ago and I’ve had it ever since. I’m sorry. It’s about time I returned it. And here is one of my company’s pens – the least I can do to make up for keeping yours so long.”
It’s not enough just to say sorry. It was a satisfying feeling – this putting things right.
She drove home, showered, packed a small suitcase, threw it in the boot and removed the backpack – she’d sort that out later – and set off for “Foxhills”. How much easier things would have been if the tunnel was close to Matt’s – none of this racing back and forth from town to the coast. Still, she wouldn’t be doing it again. In the shower she’d checked herself carefully once more to make sure no other little bits of herself were missing. Not the underside of a toe, not a toenail, not an ear lobe; nothing more had disappeared, but she mustn’t push her luck. Now here was Jeeves, meeting her at the door, taking her case, sorting out the parking of her car, and asking her if she’d like dinner on a tray. She would; in front of the telly.
The seven o’clock news was just starting as Jeeves brought the tray in to the sitting room. Although much had changed in the world outside since 1815, this was, essentially, the same room. The fireplace remained the same, even the arrangement of the chairs. The colours were similar and she was sitting on a cream brocade armchair facing the television on a side table by the hearth.
She was famish
ed. The cook usually had time off when Matt was away and Jeeves enjoyed pottering in the kitchen, it relaxed him he said, and he’d gone to some trouble to prepare Laura’s favourite – lamb shank. She noticed that, despite being wholly courteous and attentive, he did not look at all relaxed.
“Have you heard from Matt, Laura?”
“No, not yet.”
“I haven’t heard in the last forty-eight hours either. Most unusual. I’ve got a few other numbers I could try. I’ll let you know how I get on.” Jeeves set the tray on the little table alongside her and hurried away. The food looked good, smelt good and would no doubt taste even better. She knew she could live here now with Matt.
Suddenly, with eyes heavenwards, and fists clenched, Laura exclaimed, “Oh, God, please no, God, no, no, no!”
Jeeves turned and saw what had startled Laura. There on the television was a picture of Matt.
“Matthew Redfern, better known to many of his supporters as ‘The Guardian’ is thought to be lost overboard from the ‘Guardian of the Seas’ one of the ships which patrols the Southern Ocean striving to prevent illegal whaling.”
The television showed film of raging waves and the ‘Guardian of the Seas’ holed just above the waterline.
“The ship was rammed by a pirate boat, thought to be in the pay of whalers, in retaliation for his financing and planning of the disruption of the dolphin drives on the south-east Pacific coast where thousands of dolphins are slaughtered annually. Mr Redfern was due to return to England after spending time aboard the ‘Guardian of the Seas’.”
Laura sat spluttering, “What…? Why is he there? Jeeves?”
Jeeves muttered despondently, “Just as I’ve always feared.”
The film cut to the ship’s helicopter attempting to land as the ‘Guardian of the Seas’ pitched, making the pilot’s task seemingly impossible.
“Captain Shaw stated that due to storm force winds, the crew and Mathew Redfern had all been wearing life-jackets at the time of the ramming but nobody could be expected to survive for long in these conditions. The pilot had radioed to say that Mr Redfern had not been sighted.”
Tears streamed down Laura’s cheeks.
“Repairs to the ship are under way and the crew are confident of being able to stop the ship taking on more water. As one of the engineers pointed out, this is not the first run-in they have had with pirates and whalers, and they are well-equipped to…”
Laura heard no more. Jeeves came forward and listened as if for both of them then took a few steps back. “He’s always thought this could happen.”
Laura stared at him, her eyes huge with horror. “You’ve known about this, Jeeves?”
"Why yes, of course. Rolf is his bodyguard on sensitive trips, he’s with him now, well… was.” He looked very uncomfortable and despair crept in as he said, “You yourself have begun to realize, surely? You’ve mentioned whales for some time now.”
“Whales? I thought he’d gone to Wales!” Laura pointed in what she thought was the general direction of Wales. She’d thought he was rich enough to indulge his passion for travel, the titular head of a few charitable causes, kindly assisting a few waifs and strays, that sort of thing. And in these last few hours she’d doubted him – how could she. Now here he is, just like Adam, righting wrongs in a most decisive manner, with no thought for his own safety. Oh how assumptions can deceive. Had she learned nothing?
Jeeves drew up a chair, sat down heavily, turned the sound off, and said, “He didn’t really want you to know until you were ready.”
Laura stared at the floor. “I had no idea.” How could she repeat the same mistake? This outwardly cool, charming man turns out to be just as passionately wild and caring as the man she’d left behind. Was she blind?
With surprising venom, Jeeves launched into a tirade. “He’s not like these politicians, spending other people’s hard-earned money on their own pet projects, boosting their world profiles. Every penny he donates is his, and backed by personal research, making sure there’s no skimming off.” Jeeves thumped the arms of the chair, stood up and began pacing the floor with one eye on the television.
Laura listened as Jeeves became angrier and increasingly red in the face. There were about a dozen wealthy donors involved in the ‘guarding of the seas’ – prancing pop stars; bankers chained to monitors fourteen hours a day; oil executives, and oh by ginger, if he’d had enough money he’d be doing much more himself. How proud he was to be a part of the back-up team. These damned gangsters plundering the oceans’ resources, stripping out whole species. Did she know that dolphins have a structured language? And Matt had told him he’d heard a bull whale scream when it was harpooned. Its mate hurled itself at the whaler but it, too, was harpooned. Tragic. He finished with a heartfelt, “There’s no respect for life. We’ll all be like the dodos soon,” and flopped in the chair.
Laura was aghast; she’d never seen Jeeves like this. They both fell silent and the flickering television drew their gaze but neither knew what they were watching.
She’d almost had it all – even peace of mind for her past mistakes and a future with a fine man. The finest, the very finest. Everything was slipping away. She stared at the empty hearth. She’d been so wrapped up in her own crusade she’d not noticed what was happening in his life or the wider world. And now she was free of ‘baggage from the past’ (as her clients often confessed to) he’d been taken away!
The sound of the phone ringing in the hall snapped Jeeves into action. Laura’s taut nerves immobilized her. For a few minutes, Jeeves was at his professional best – then he fell apart and all Laura could hear was Jeeves swearing like a trooper, yelling incoherently and slamming the phone down. It rang again and he went through a similar performance. And again, and again. “I can’t give you any news. I’m stuck here waiting!”
Laura sat glued to the television, changing to a twenty-four hour news channel, but there was no further information. How could this happen? Just when she knew she loved him more than life itself. She ached for him. She no longer cared about her past – it was dealt with. She was free to do as she wished; being a woman rarely hampered her now. Her life was just as Adam had hoped but she didn’t care one jot about herself. Nor did she care about “Foxhills” – not without Matt.
Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Two chaotic days followed two sleepless nights. The following morning, Laura remotely accessed the answerphone in her office and changed the message. “The office is closed for annual holidays,” it now said. She hadn’t any events for a couple of weeks, so she didn’t have to arrange a deputy host. She couldn’t face dealing with the messages building up – they’d just have to wait.
As for Jeeves, despite his best efforts to find some diversion in cooking, he’d given up. “I’ve lost all sense of taste,” he’d said to the cook when she’d returned at his request, “and Laura isn’t eating at all.” Admirably, the cook had refrained from giving advice on the importance of keeping one’s strength up and simply offered to make some comforting soups. Despite her leaving the kitchen door wide open so that a constant aroma of soup pervaded the air as never before, neither Jeeves nor Laura had been tempted until, unasked, she brought each a tray of soup and freshly baked rolls. Though under-employed she had freed Jeeves to handle the phone calls with a little more of his returning aplomb. They made a good team.
Laura decided a shower would infuse her with a little energy. Oh that was better, so much so that she chose something pretty to wear, Matt’s favourite blue dress. She wandered around the deep red and cream room, similar in style to Alexandra’s blue room which had once been hers. She sat on the stool in front of the dressing table and reached for her mobile for the umpteenth time. There was a text. Her hopes soared, her hands shook. She didn’t recognize the number and her hopes dwindled.
‘All is well. See you soon.’
Who was this idiot who didn’t say who he or she was? She all but flung herself do
wn the stairs to find Jeeves; he was in the kitchen and at any other time Laura might have noticed that his appetite was evidently returning. “Jeeves, look!” Shaking, she thrust the phone in his face. “All is well! But who is it from?”
Jeeves took the phone carefully and went through the details. “It came in half an hour ago. You must have been in the shower.” Then he said after some consideration, “I think it could be Matt.”
Laura sat down on a kitchen stool. “But…” she stalled, though her mind raced, “if it were Matt, wouldn’t he say so? And it’s not his number.”
Jeeves replied gently, “Well, he doesn’t use his usual mobile on the boat, Laura.”
“Why not?”
Jeeves looked as though he was turning several phrases over in his mind before he said simply, “There’s no signal. He uses satellite communications.”
Satellite? The conversation had veered into the unknown as far as Laura was concerned. She took the phone and read the message again. “This is the way he speaks, isn’t it?” She was beginning to feel faint. “I’m not sure if it’s hunger or this, this… this awful tension, but I feel quite ill, Jeeves.”
“Let me ask cook to make you some scrambled eggs, Laura. Go and sit down somewhere comfortable. We shall just have to wait, I’m afraid. In cases like this, the relatives are sometimes pestered by cruel hoaxers.”
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