The storm diminished and as always, the heat began to lose its intensity. A cool breeze came in the open windows, touching us gently and freshening everything up as it passed through. The light began to fade, but I knew we wouldn’t be going out to dinner anytime soon, if ever.
After a long while he turned to face me. He gently took the empty cup from my hand and put it on the floor, then held my hands and looked at me carefully as he spoke.
“Your memories... exactly how important are they to you?”
“They are only important because they tell me that my life with you was real.” I told him honestly.
He nodded. “I understand that, really I do. I feel exactly the same about mine. But, and think carefully Grace, is there anything you’d give them up for?”
I thought for a moment, choosing my words carefully.
“I’d give up this life I’ve had with you only and I mean only if there was a chance to have another.”
“But what if that other life had none of those adventures in it, what if it was a mundane, ordinary life?”
He spoke slowly, but his gaze never wavered.
I smiled. “Oh Jack, didn’t you hear a thing I said earlier? Weren’t you listening to me at all?”
He looked confused, so I went on, trying to find the right words.
“This me had all those adventures with this you, or the you that you were, anyway. Like you say, sometimes something remains somewhere. But this life of ours caused you to suffer for a hundred and forty something years. That’s not right, the price is too high. If you’d known that at the beginning, you might have made a different choice.”
“I might have Grace, but do you trust me enough to put it to the test? If there was a way that a second chance could be had, do you trust me enough not to waste it?”
Now there was a question and a half. I stared for a long time into those watery blue eyes. There was something bright burning there, something deep inside him had come back to life. I saw hope, but in my own mind there were other questions that needed answering. In the time that he’d been without me he’d changed, of course he had. But had he become the kind of man who would have preferred not to suffer from acute loneliness for all those years? And if so, didn’t he have the right to try to avoid it a second time round, if indeed a second chance was possible? Wouldn’t I want that for him, isn’t that what love is supposed to be about?
My mind was in turmoil; there were so many things to think about. The first were all about him. But then I thought, what about me? And what about us? My happiness was something that he’d always tried to put first. Even all this nonsense today had been his way of trying to do the right thing. He’d been wrong of course, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d tried. That told me something and I realised that it was only about trust, plain and simple. I trusted him more than I’d ever trusted anyone in my whole life, but it was more than that though. It was such a huge responsibility for him; he knew that if he was wrong, I had the most to lose. In fact, I would lose everything.
I remembered the first time I took his hand and stepped into the unknown. I’d never had any regrets and I also knew that I would do it again. Whatever had to be done next... well, the decision had already been made. I trusted him then and I trusted him still. The risk was high, but the prize was worth having. It was easy really, when you came right down to it.
I smiled again. “I do.” I said, with breathless anticipation.
“Then we need to write a letter. It will have to be in my language, but you will probably have a better idea of the words that we should use. Let me explain my plan...”
He stretched as he spoke and I listened carefully to what was being proposed. After all, a lot was at stake for both of us. But once he’d finished explaining, I agreed that it was the only thing we could do.
Part two: Jack
Chapter eleven
Friday 5th May 2000
I’d been in the cafe for more than half an hour and my initial curiosity was turning to frustration. My tea had gone cold and the waitress was eyeing me in a bored way. I pulled the note out of my pocket for the hundredth time to double-check the instructions. It definitely said this particular street, this particular cafe, this particular date and time and it specified a window seat. It also mentioned a proposition for me to consider. Then, just as I was thinking about leaving, the door opened and a courier came in. He looked around the almost empty cafe and then walked towards me.
“Excuse me, are you Jack?” he asked.
I nodded and he pulled an envelope from the bag slung over his shoulder, gave me a grubby pad and pointed with his dirty index finger where to sign. I scrawled my name in the space and he left. I signalled for another cup of tea and carefully opened the envelope.
Inside was a letter and two thought pods. I already knew that someone from my own time would be making contact with me, because I’d received the unsigned note in 1938. It had been written in my mother tongue and I was wondering now, as I had then, why they couldn’t come in person and what might be so urgent that it couldn’t be dealt with back at the base in our own timeline. To say I was intrigued was an understatement.
I’d also received a summons from Javier, my boss and mentor, but I’d chosen to respond to this instead. It was probably going to cause me trouble, but I rationalised my decision with the thought that he of all people would appreciate this captivating situation and once I’d explained it all to him, I was reasonably confident he would forgive me.
I carefully picked up the pods, one in each hand, holding them gently between my index fingers and thumbs. There was nothing unusual about their small size and hard roundness and as I held them my curiosity fired up again.
The waitress seemed to be as interested as I was as she replaced my cold mug of tea with a hot one. Realising that with something to listen to I could be there for a while, I happily dealt with my hunger and ordered sausage, egg and chips. Food was one of the pleasures of my job, although many of my colleagues disagreed, not trusting the inoculations to keep them safe from the consequences of some of the things that the past served up.
I settled into my chair and gingerly unfolded the letter. It was handwritten and the large, scrawly letters were spidery and a little shaky. It was also familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. The first few words made me gasp with shock and I almost left it and the pods on the table and fled. But how could I not read on?
Jack
I am confident that in writing to you, we are not breaking the golden rule.
I have enclosed two pods as you will already have seen. The first one contains the records of almost six years work. They are mainly fragments and are not in any particular order, which will tell you something of my life; for as we both know, you currently work methodically and sequentially.
The second contains a single conversation, recorded during the course of a Sunday in Paris in 1912. This conversation is between myself and Grace. You have not met Grace yet and you will have to decide very soon whether you will or not. I recommend that you listen to this one first.
Both Grace and I trust that you will make the best choice and we do not want you to let your conscience alone force you into making a particular decision. You will understand soon enough and I wish merely to confirm that should you choose to let events take their natural course, she will of course die.
This fact need not trouble you; it would just be one more death that you witness and you have already witnessed so many since joining the HG Unit. The only difference will be and it is an important difference, that this one will not be remembered, because this letter and those pods that you are currently holding will not exist. Without Grace they cannot.
We are giving you a second chance and we trust that you will use it wisely.
Jack and Grace
I read the letter probably twelve times. My tea remained untouched and the food grew cold on the plate. I picked up the second pod and held it. Did I want to listen to it? Did I want to
know what was said in this conversation?
I found several interesting points in this letter from my future self. The first was that his working methods had changed considerably and I guessed that this had something to do with the mysterious Grace.
The second was that he was almost, but not quite, breaking the rule that governed all others. Again I guessed that this woman had something to do with it and wondered what on earth could have pushed this man so far away from the one I knew myself to be.
Thirdly, it intrigued me that he spoke so confidently for both of them. I could not even begin to imagine being in such a relationship; where one person could trust another enough to give up their own voice. She was giving her life to him, to me in fact and I didn’t understand why.
I could just get up and walk away. After all, doing nothing was a viable option I told myself. I didn’t have to witness this death and what would be the point, if I wouldn’t remember it anyway? However, I couldn’t ignore the fact that part of me, quite a big part of me, wanted to see this woman who seemed to have such a hold over my future self.
I wondered what Javier would have to say if I followed this course of action. My boss relied heavily on me to bring relevant and objective information from the past to inform the policy and ethics teams.
“Sequence is important to understanding.” he often told me.
Did letting the great man down, not matter to this other me?
He must be in trouble I reasoned; why else would he have written to me? He must want something to change. But what? The more I tried to think logically, the more curious I became, as of course he would have remembered himself being at this point in our life. It’s strange, thinking of yourself in plural.
I sighed and activated the thought pod, letting the voices flood into my mind.
“There are times Grace, when I enjoy my job. Mornings like this are one of them. What do you recommend I order?”
I listened to the entire conversation, then replayed her last words several times, trying to find a catch or some kind of clue in them; a message even. But all I found was trust. The simple way she answered his, or rather my, potentially life ending question with just “I do” was breathtaking.
I paused, wondering how I became the kind of man a woman like Grace could love. Or more than that, the kind of man she could believe in and trust so completely. I thought it unlikely that I could ever love a fool, and decided that she must have found good reason to feel that way about me. That they loved each other was crystal clear, but what they wanted from me was not. The thought that crept in next was... did I want to be that man? After all, I had a choice.
Perhaps they couldn’t help me with the question I needed an answer to. Perhaps I needed to find it for myself. Slowly, it began to form in my mind. Was I prepared to let a very bright future go, one I had spent years preparing for? And was I prepared to turn my back on everything I had always thought to be important and made sacrifices for, in order to spend time and not very much of it by all accounts, with the unknown Grace?
Before I’d even begun to think those thoughts through, another appeared in my mind with alarming clarity. Just supposing for a moment that I was prepared to walk away from everything, would we have to repeat the story that I’d just been told, or could it in fact be different?
I felt sure that my being in the cafe was a small difference that my future self had already fixed. He hadn’t been here, but he’d probably been somewhere else on this street. That brought me to another series of questions: why here, why now and why a window seat?
I put the pod next to my stone cold mug of tea and pushed the congealed plate of untouched food aside. I couldn’t see through the window, so I rubbed it with my hand to clear some of the condensation and looked out. I saw a woman walking down the street and somehow, I knew the voice that I’d been listening to was hers; something radiated out from her. She’d just rounded the corner and was bundled up in ill-fitting clothes; a baggy coat over some sort of uniform and was walking slowly, looking at the ground. She began to cross the road and in that same moment I saw a car approaching.
I pushed the chairs out of the way and scrambled to the door. There was a crash of china behind me and the waitress shouted something, but there was no time to stop. I was on the pavement, running faster than I had ever run before.
“Grace!” I shouted, pounding towards her. “GRACE, MOVE!”
She turned her head at the sound of her name being called, then looked up and saw the car. She froze and didn’t or couldn’t move. I heard someone scream. Everything was happening in slow motion and I was still too far away.
I launched myself through the air and collided with her, my weight carrying her sideways. We landed hard on the road and there was the sickening sound of bones breaking. A shot of fire went up my arm and everything began to shift out of focus.
“Grace, are you alright?”
What came out of my mouth was little more than a whisper, but she heard it, despite all the other noises going on in the chaos that surrounded us.
“Yes, I’m fine. Try not to move.”
Her face swam in front of me, her honey brown eyes full of concern.
In the distance someone was still screaming and I heard someone else say that the flow of blood should be stopped. That made me panic; was she bleeding?
“Grace, are you ok?” I asked again, more urgently.
“Yes, I’m fine, really I am. Try not to move, the ambulance is on its way. What’s your name?”
“Jack.”
“Ok Jack, stay with me. How old are you?”
It was hard to speak. “Twenty... I’m twenty seven.”
“Good Jack. Where do you live?”
She was holding my hand as she spoke. I realised I was cold and I wasn’t able to think straight, because my mind was full of thick fog.
There was another voice nearby, but I didn’t know that one.
“He was in the cafe,” said the voice. “I thought he was trying to get away without paying. He’s been there all afternoon, sitting with his eyes closed, ordering stuff but then not touching it, just sitting there. There was a package delivered to him a couple of hours ago, maybe that will have his details on. Ooer, what was that...? No wait a minute... that wasn’t him, that was last week I think... or was it? No it wasn’t, silly me; it was on the film last night. What am I like?”
“It doesn’t matter. Jack, Jack. Look at me Jack.” Grace was saying insistently.
I tried to hear her properly, but she was getting lost in the fog.
“Jack stay with me, open your eyes. Jack, can you hear me?”
I tried to open them and focus on her face. She appeared to be shimmering, but surely only time travellers shimmer...
Chapter twelve
“Urrrrgh...”
The dreadful sound seemed to be coming from me. My lips were parched and my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth.
“Easy now tiger.” said a soft lilting voice, floating towards me from somewhere else.
For a moment, I panicked. “There’s a tiger?”
Where on earth was I?
“No my lovely, no tigers, only us nurses.”
“Nurses?”
I struggled to open my eyes. Everything hurt, but not as much as the pounding in my head and the back of my neck.
“Easy now, don’t try to move.” said the voice, now nearer.
My eyes began to adjust. It wasn’t quite light, but nor was it dark. The light that the nurse seemed to be bathed in had a greenish quality to it, making everything look unreal. There was a faint smell of disinfectant and a general hum of machines filled the air. Nothing was too loud or even very distinct, except the occasional beep.
“My head hurts.”
“Well it would now, that’s quite a nasty crack you gave yourself, Sir Galahad.”
Sir Galahad? I thought about it, or rather I tried to, but it didn’t feel right.
“I don’t think that’s my name.” I said un
certainly.
She laughed softly. “No, I don’t suppose it is.”
She sounded preoccupied, as though she was busy doing or checking something, but I couldn’t really focus on her or on what it was that she was doing. It all seemed such a long way off.
“I think you’ll live.” she said. “Try and get some sleep now, the doctor will be along shortly.”
It seemed the easiest thing in the world to just do as I was told.
When I woke again, I was still in that eternally green twilight place, but this time Grace was there, by my side. As I opened my eyes, she smiled.
“How are you feeling?” she whispered, bending her face closer towards to me.
“Thirsty...” was as much as I could croak.
“They said that if you could sit up, I could give you a drink.”
Tempting though the idea was, the effort to even try was too much and I must have drifted off again.
I don’t remember waking up again, but I became aware that I was awake. I seemed to be alone; just me and the gentle background hum and I lay there for what felt like a long time, my eyes closed, trying to get my brain to work. It was so hard to think; everything was jumbled and fragmented, nothing made much sense. I felt so tired. Not sleepy, but exhausted. Every part of me seemed to be lacking energy. The will to do anything except lay there was completely absent.
I heard a soft click, a swish and then the sound of metal. Chair legs, my befuddled mind told me. Then there was a male voice.
“Jack... are you awake? Can you hear me?”
I opened my eyes, forcing them to focus.
“Yes.” I said.
“Good. How many fingers am I holding up?”
It seemed quite a stupid question to me; it wasn’t that dark in there.
“Three.” I replied.
“Good.”
“Where’s Grace?” I asked.
He smiled. “She’ll be along shortly no doubt, quite the bedside angel. You are a lucky man Jack.”
What about us? Page 13