The Girl Who Lived Twice

by Tina Clough

  Thomas took it out of her hand and opened it. “This one was made in France about 1760. Snuff was very fashionable among the upper classes. The aristocracy and wealthy people had boxes for all occasions - like fashion accessories. They made popular gifts and people commissioned them with a particular colour scheme or a scene that had some significance to the person who was going to use it.”

  Mia lifted another tiny box out of the case. “Look at this miniature portrait of a young girl and a spaniel – it’s lovely! And isn’t it funny they’re called boxes when they are mostly oval or round.”

  She opened the lid and read the engraved text on the inside of the lid. “Sir William Knowles from his daughter Caroline on 18th December 1808”.

  Thomas smiled. “You’ve picked one of my favourites. It’s special because there’s documented provenance – which means that I know who made it, where it was made and what the inscription relates to. And I know who’s owned it after the original owner and so on; it’s a very interesting one.”

  He took it and closed the lid, and then flicked it open using only the fingers of the hand holding it. “That’s a little piece of snob-value dexterity from the era. In London the elegant Regency dandies had little mannerisms, and that’s one – I suppose it singled out the ones who were in the know, from those who just aspired to be fashionable. When I read about it I practiced with this particular box till I’d learnt the trick!”

  Mia was delighted. She had never met anyone with a hobby like this. The historical connection, the beauty of the boxes, the tiny perfection of them enchanted her. She smiled at Thomas. “Thank you for showing them to me – I’ve never seen anything so lovely! Some other time I’d really love to look at them all properly and in daylight and hear their stories. But we’d better not keep Carl waiting.”

  As they walked across the dark garden Thomas told her that he had bought his first antique snuffbox in England about fifteen years earlier and had collected them ever since. “Some I’ve bought in auctions in Europe by being an absentee bidder. Technology has made it much easier, but I still like it best when I can wander round galleries and antique shops and actually see and touch them, before I buy them.”

  Carl was busy at the stove and Thomas set the table, obviously a familiar routine. Mia leant against the dividing counter between the kitchen and the room itself and listened to the two men talking. I guess Thomas is late thirties or maybe early forties and Carl is in his eighties. They are obviously very good friends. How lovely it is for Carl to have this friendship and to be secure and a bit looked after as he ages. His life would be so lonely otherwise.

  They ate pasta with pieces of bacon and red peppers in a cream sauce, and had what Carl called a winter salad from his garden. “I’ve got this perfect corner you see, where the sun blasts down more than half the day even in winter and it’s up against the wall, so it stays warm. In the summer I grow tomatoes there, but during the winter I raise a crop of leafy salad things, just bits and pieces and some winter veges.”

  It was not until they had finished dinner and were sitting down with a cup of coffee in front of the fire that Mia brought the conversation back to her story. At some stage during the evening Thomas had become another trusted person and she felt no reservations about being frank.

  “What I’d like to do is to get a copy of the audiotape that was made during the second meeting at the police station yesterday. John McFarland -he’s the older of the two policemen - said he’d duplicate it and if you both listen to it you’ll have the full story, complete in every detail as I told it to those who were at the meeting. And then we taped the discussion that followed, when we all debated where to take things from here.”

  She gave them a brief outline of what they had done to warn Steve Irwin about the possible accident and mentioned the uncertainty of whether it could be assumed that what had happened in her That Time would occur again in This Time. Thomas and Carl both had plenty of theories and it was obvious that they had discussed this many times before. Mia simply sat and listened until Carl interrupted himself.

  “Sorry Mia! Thomas and I are old hands at theorising about this. Over time we’ve developed a range of ideas, but we’ve always been working from the only thing we knew – that I was moved forward in time. Your case has added another dimension, and then there’s your interesting prediction experiment. More grist for the mill!”

  Thomas stood up and walked to the kitchen bench and picked up a bottle of wine to fill their glasses. Mia studied him and thought how strange it was; when he moved across the room towards the kitchen she saw his face from one side and saw an intelligent and good-natured face with a ready smile. When he walked back she saw his other side; the scar combined with his height and muscular build gave a completely different impression. He looks brutish from this side – I bet many people find his face off-putting. Poor man, it must be hard to live with the negative reactions.

  Suddenly it was quarter to midnight and Mia jumped to her feet. “Goodness! How did it get so late – I had no idea. I must go home, it’s a working day tomorrow. Thank you so much for having me!” She got up and started looking round for her things. “It’s been great - I hope you’ll both come and have a meal at my place soon. You can’t imagine how wonderful it is to have people who understand things!”

  She picked up her bag and her car keys and kissed Carl’s cheek. Thomas walked out to the car with her and watched her drive away before he returned to help Carl clear up. While they were doing the dishes Carl said: “If I was forty years younger I’d ask her out. She’s just something else again, that Mia! I think she liked you.”

  Thomas made no comment but continued drying cutlery and putting it in the drawer, his back turned. Carl looked at his reflection in the window over the sink and wondered if he dared push things a step further, but thought better of it.

  Thomas walked across the garden to his own house, let himself in and locked the back door. While he cleaned his teeth he studied his face in the mirror. He turned his head first one way and then the other. He was a scary sight from one side and OK from the other, but he had deliberately sat down at the table, so Mia would see the scarred side while they ate. He had a perverse need to show women his bad side, as if challenging them to like him. He pushed the thought to one side and went to bed. His life was quiet and contained, he had more than enough money, his house was debt free and he could travel once or twice a year without having to deprive himself of anything. He had developed a taste for art, antiques and reading and his solitude was voluntary.

  I don’t need anything more, he thought as he turned off his bedside light. I am perfectly content. I have family, a few friends and I have Carl.

  CHAPTER 11

  The office had suddenly become claustrophobic and everything Mia did seemed irritatingly trivial and uninviting. She longed for this endless Monday to be over, so she could go home and see if Steve Irwin had replied. She tried to understand the underlying reason for her listless mood and why it made everything she tried to work on seem so boring; maybe it was like the post-baby blues you hear about - the build-up is intense and full of anticipation and excitement, and then suddenly it is over – and nobody would dare admit that after the first week they think: “Is that it? Where are the tickertape parades and the brass bands?”

  The previous week had been so full of activity and new ventures, new people and discoveries, that time had flown. She had been full of energy and had felt capable of anything. Now she sat at her desk armed with a pen and looking blankly at the pages of a report she must edit and wondered how she would last to the end of the day. The thought of Irwin’s reaction to her letter and CD had been uppermost in her mind since she first opened her eyes that morning.

  Grant Clarkson came by to discuss her involvement in his project. “Alan seems pretty relaxed about it, he said he was happy for us to map it out between us.”

  “OK, that’s good. How long will it go on for? I can be flexible with my time most weeks, but
sometimes I might have to negotiate with others to be available.”

  “Oh, it’ll definitely need to be flexible. I’m giving the teams two weeks for the preliminary brainstorming sessions and a bit of detailed workup in amongst it. And you’ll be up-to-date with their suggestions and plans and able to critique them from a business angle. I think I’d like to involve you for a bit longer with whichever creative team gets the go-ahead.”

  Mia entered the first project meeting on Wednesday in her computer calendar and felt marginally more upbeat when Grant left. This was something new and different and it would give her an insight into the whole development process. Until now she had only contributed to projects on an ad-hoc basis when her skills were needed; the opportunity to see the entire process was exciting.

  Just after three Alice rang from reception and asked if Mia was ready to go for a cup of coffee. They met in the corridor and went up the stairs discussing their respective weekends. Mia sensed a restraint in Alice, as if she was bracing herself to talk about something difficult. She decided to provide a relaxed opening.

  “I loved that shawl you bought on Saturday – you looked gorgeous prancing around showing it off.”

  “Did you really think so? I was a bit worried afterwards that I’d got carried away and behaved like a real twit?”

  “Goodness no, not at all!” Mia was genuinely surprised. Surely this wasn’t what Alice was worried about. “You looked so sweet and funny, like a little girl with a new dress.”

  “Mia,” said Alice in an up-tight voice. “Are you keen on Callum?” Mia knew instantly that she must make a very clear statement here, but she was also acutely aware of the fact that Callum might be more interested in her than she was in him.

  “Not in the slightest, if you mean in a romantic way. I don’t know him that well. He only called in casually on Saturday. He offered to rescue me and my huge carrier bags on Thursday night and drove me home. That’s the only other time he’s been to my place before Saturday.”

  Alice relaxed visibly, relieved and pleased. “I don’t know him very well either and I never thought he’d be my type. I’d never really had a proper conversation with him before, but I really like him now. We had such fun talking on the way home from your place – he’s good company. But then I got worried in case you were already interested in him – I wouldn’t want to get in the way or anything.”

  “You go for it, Alice! I think he’s really nice and I’m bound to get to know him better, because I’m going to work on a project with the creative teams. But forget the romantic bit, he’s not my type.” She knew with absolute certainty that she would never fall in love or even have a casual affair with him. Here’s hoping he’s not keen on me, or not seriously. But it would be nice if he and Alice got together. She smiled at herself and her plans for Alice’s future.

  Aloud she said, “He seemed very taken with your performance with the shawl. And I thought he took it really well when you teased him. Actually now that I think about it he seemed to like being teased.”

  Alice brightened up and finished her coffee in one gulp. “Duty calls, Ellen wants me to be back bang on time today, because she’s got loads of mail-outs to put in envelopes. And if I don’t let her go she’ll come out at the end of the day and ask me to help her. She’s just looking for an excuse.”

  When they parted outside Mia’s room she reached out and touched Alice’s arm. “I really mean it – go for it. I have a good feeling about you and Callum.” Alice giggled and walked down the corridor with a new spring in her step.

  Alone at the desk she reflected on the many little things that made this time strand different from That Time. Everything that was different so far had been instigated by her. She thought through it: I made a decision to change my style for Sarah’s dinner evening, to publicly denounce Barb, to change the apartment – even a little detail like telling Josh not to sit on my desk – none of those things happened in That Time and all of them will have consequences downstream. I’m sure this proves one of my theories. She felt a prickle of excitement. I haven’t come across anything yet that’s different due to the actions of anyone else, though it might happen yet. If I’m right, then Alice and Callum getting together could mean that Alice won’t get into a relationship with the Bad Man. Has the meeting on Saturday at my place changed the course of events completely as far as that’s concerned? She found herself planning to mention it to Carl and Thomas on Sunday. In fact she wished she could talk to them right now. Thomas has such a thorough way of thinking things through, he never replies right away - when I talk to him I feel he’d never reply just for the sake of having something to say, I bet he always considers what he says.

  She forced herself to abandon speculation and returned to the boring report and the rest of the day’s tasks.

  That evening she gave in to the urgency she had kept at bay all day; dropping her bag and jacket on the floor in the hall she went straight to the study and turned the computer on - but there were no emails.

  It felt as if someone had slammed a door in her face. A completely dismissive response from Steve Irwin would have been better – at least she would have been able to ring him or start a dialogue or get John or Lorraine to ring him in the hope of convincing him. This way she had no way of communicating or reinforcing her warning; it was a dead end.

  Seething with frustration she kicked off her shoes and changed into ‘home’ clothes. What about trying to find a private phone number for the Irwin’s? If she could reach him she might be able to convince him that the warning wasn’t a hoax. Lorraine had come to the conclusion that the Irwin’s private number was unlisted, having tried in vain to find it last Saturday. Mia Googled and read everything she could find on the Internet but in the end she had to admit defeat; short of going to Australia and knocking on his door it seemed impossible to reach Steve Irwin.

  Wednesday morning Mia went to the first meeting with the creative teams. She sat quietly while Grant set the scene, outlined the process he wanted them to follow, gave them a deadline and then left the room. As soon as he had gone complete mayhem broke out. Mia sat back with her pad and pen untouched on the table in front of her and said nothing for the rest of the meeting. At times she found it hard not to laugh out loud. But as time passed she began to see that there was a mad kind of structure developing. Though they all seemed to find it natural to constantly exclaim, interrupt and contradict each other, they were actually developing ideas and going forward. She wondered if they borrowed each other’s ideas sometimes, and if it led to trouble, or if the things they tossed around in sessions like these were without ownership. By the time Grant returned at the end of two hours, they had made progress of sorts and she felt that the meeting had been productive. Grant set a time for a meeting the following Wednesday and everyone drifted off in different directions.

  “So what did you learn?” Grant laughed at Mia’s face and she had to admit she was amazed. “Well, now I know how creative people hold meetings – that’s a start, I suppose. I’ll have to get used to the chaos aspect and practise how to make myself heard in case I need to contribute or ask questions.”

  “We tend to be a noisy lot, I must admit, but you’ll see some results emerging next week. They’ll continue to work on it in their own individual ways between now and then, and we’ll discuss what they come up with and let them critique each other’s concepts. Normally I wouldn’t continue to involve both teams after that, and if I did I’d meet with them separately, but this time we’re trying a new model.”

  Mia could see some advantages. “Maybe this mass approach means they’ll reach a critical mass of creativity and the result will be brilliant?”

  “Yes, or they might just kill each other – I wouldn’t like to bet on it. In any case it’s a good thing that you see it from the start and understand how they develop things. Your input will be needed sooner rather than later. If either team asks you to talk to them between the meetings I’d like you to do that, if you can fit it in
. You are their rational fact and cost resource.”

  Mia had only been back at her desk for five minutes when Callum turned up. “So how did you like it?” He hovered in the doorway, uncertain if his visit was welcome. Mia gestured towards her visitor’s chair. “Come in and sit down. Well, I must admit it was a bit of an eye-opener for me – but I’m glad I’m getting the chance to see how you work and be in on it from the start. Very interesting and no doubt I’ll learn a lot. I felt a bit like the fifth wheel today.”

  “You’re right there – you’ll learn a lot. But we’ll involve you as things go on, so you’ll be part of it.”

  He made no move to leave, so Mia decided to try and find out what else was on his mind. “I didn’t realise until Alice told me that you two didn’t know each other. I thought everyone knew Alice more than just in passing. She’s a great girl and she’s a great friend, too.”

  She watched as a little spark appeared in Callum’s eyes. He’s interested all right. Maybe he’s worried because he kissed me the other day and then he turned round and got intrigued with Alice five minutes later!

  Aloud she said, “If you play it right I think you could get invited to be her partner at that wedding. I know she hates the idea of going on her own. She hasn’t anyone she wants to ask.”

  “Really? I would have thought she’d have guys lining up to be asked. She said she doesn’t have a boyfriend, but she must be in demand, surely?”

  “Yes, she has plenty of admirers, but she’s a bit choosy.”

  The rest of the week was no better than the start. By Thursday evening there had been no response from Australia. Mia rang Lorraine to vent her frustration, but Lorraine was more philosophical. “Don’t fret! We just have to wait and see what happens. If Steve Irwin isn’t injured or killed before your sister reaches London, then we can ask him if he changed his plans or took precautions or whatever. Or maybe his fate is different this time round.”