What about us?

by Jacqui Henderson

  Although I never confessed to Grace what I was thinking, she must have known some of what I was going through. I often caught her glancing at me from the corner of her eye, or watching me through the doorway when she thought I hadn’t seen her. I tried to be cheery, but it sounded hollow, even to me.

  Then on Saturday morning she woke me up and announced that we were going to Brighton for the weekend on the train. She hoped that it would be the sort of thing to cheer me up and she got it exactly right.

  So there you are, Javier, or whatever your name is. I’ve told you everything I know. You know the rest of course. We got off the train and two of your men abducted me and brought me here, leaving Grace behind. I also realise now that the voice I heard in my head recently was yours and that you are obviously not my father. There are a number of things that I need to understand however. To begin with, I have to know what has happened to her. Then of course, I want to know just who I am, who you are, why you’ve had me brought here and of course, where exactly is here anyway...?

  Chapter sixteen

  I looked up at the leaden sky and savoured the cool drizzle on my face. I was back in London in the spring of 1889, standing on the pavement outside 29 Napier Street. I hesitated before lifting the doorknocker, then rapped it three times.

  After a few moments a wary voice spoke from behind the closed door.

  “Who is it?”

  “Grace, it’s me, Jack. I’m back.”

  The door was immediately and eagerly pulled open and her beautiful face was there in front of me again, but her delight changed to horror when she saw me. She screamed and staggered backwards into the little hallway of the house I hadn’t seen for nearly eighty years.

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “No, no, no,” she moaned, “It can’t be... you can’t be... oh my god, oh my god Jack. What’s happened to you?”

  “It’s ok Grace; it’s all going to be ok. Let me tell you everything, let me explain.”

  I knew that it would be shocking for her, but there was no way I could have made it less so. I walked forward, reaching for her shoulders, wanting more than anything in the world to gather her close to me, wanting to make something that could never be right again, somehow better.

  Shaking all over, she folded into my arms and buried her face into my chest. “Jack, what happened? Where did you go? And what happened to you?” she sobbed.

  “I got old,” I said softly, “While you stayed exactly the same. You look lovely. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you all of the time.”

  This just made her cry harder and I found my own eyes welling up. We stood there in the hallway, locked in an embrace for a few minutes until the sobbing stopped.

  Then we went hand in hand into the kitchen, where she busied herself making tea. I understood that she needed time to collect herself and something normal to do, so I sat down at the well-scrubbed table, watching her.

  “Sal?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “It’s Sunday, she doesn’t come today.”

  “Of course... it’s only one day later for you.” I murmured, almost to myself.

  “I don’t understand. What do you mean by that?” she asked, putting the cups on the table.

  Her hands were trembling as she poured the tea and almost as much went into the saucers as into the cups.

  “Almost eighty years have passed since I last saw you.” I told her, putting my arms around her waist and resting my head against her side.

  She just stood there, motionless and uncertain.

  “A long time...” I said, breathing in her wonderful scent.

  “You look quite good for someone over a hundred years old...” she said, trying to inject some humour into the situation, but actually, her voice was unbearably sad.

  “Medical science is very advanced in the future.” I said, reluctantly allowing her to pull away from me.

  “Is that where you’ve been then?” she asked, “In the future?”

  I nodded.

  “So what’s it like there... in the future I mean?”

  Her voice sounded hollow. She was in shock and I had to say something to make her believe that it really was me.

  “The future doesn’t have you in it, so it can never be where I want to be. Sit down Grace, let me tell you everything, or at least as much I’m able to. I can’t really tell you about the future, but I can tell you who I really am and what has happened to me.”

  I reached out to her, but she ignored my hand and moved around the table to sit opposite me.

  Grace was a good listener and a good observer, instinctively knowing the truth when she heard it. She was also ready to believe me, despite the fantastic or rather ridiculous nature of the situation. She sat still, with her hands in front of her, waiting for me to explain, but she didn’t touch her tea; always a bad sign.

  I tried to start from the beginning, but it was difficult to know just where the beginning was. I told her that I came from the future and was never from her time. I’d been a historian in the thirtieth century and like others, trained to study the impact of certain historical events on ordinary people, who in turn influenced future policy and politics. The difference was, that in my time we didn’t use books to do this; we had developed time travel, to the past and back.

  I told her I’d only ever been a visitor in her time and I wasn’t sure why I’d been there, because the early twenty-first century wasn’t really my area of interest. Anyway, for reasons that I couldn’t explain, to myself or to anyone else, while I was there I broke one of the primary rules. I intervened; meddled even, and saved her life.

  “Not only that Grace, I fell in love with you and I’m sure that even if I hadn’t lost my memory, I couldn’t have let you walk away. Having broken one rule, I’m sure I would have broken others and done everything possible to stay with you.” I told her, once again reaching for her hand.

  This time she didn’t try to pull away and let it lay in mine. She was still trembling, but less so.

  I then told her how we’d eventually been traced by the agency I’d worked for. She’d been right; the watch was the key. We’d taken money and clothes from what I now knew to be a safe house, but we didn’t take anything else. My watch had never been reactivated, so the last record of me was in Lewisham in 1888. We’d left no clues there and I’d left no clues at the safe house in 2000 either.

  “There are implants in my head that enable me to understand and speak so many languages, as well as record the historical events I’m sent to observe. We also use them to communicate our findings with each other once we’re back in our own time. They got damaged in the accident and were what had shown up as abnormal bone growth on the hospital scans. Because they were malfunctioning, it wasn’t easy for them to scan time for me or contact me. I’d received a few messages, but hadn’t understood what they were. In fact they sent more; they just never got through. So they were left with no choice; they had to look for me the old fashioned way and London in any time is a big place.”

  That Saturday morning in Brighton, only the previous day for her, they found me, more by luck than anything else. Of course they hadn’t realised that she was as out of place in 1889 as I was, so by taking me back they marooned her.

  At first I had no idea where or when I was. The journey back and my immediate surroundings didn’t help me remember anything and of course I was frantic with worry. There were check-ups and an inquiry of course, then months of treatment while I recovered my memories and my identity, followed by a reintegration programme. After that there was The Board. During all those months, no one would listen to me or help me find Grace. My mind was in turmoil, imagining all the terrible things that could happen to her; how she must be feeling, how disappointed in me she must be and how sure she must have been that all the promises I’d ever made to her were worthless. There was no way of reaching her and I felt totally impotent.

  The Board decided that only the first rule had been infringed intentionally; the one where I saved her. Th
e other infringements hadn’t been deliberate, as without my memory I hadn’t known they’d existed. Nevertheless, I had broken the rules and couldn’t deny it, so I was grounded and moved to the analysis team.

  In their wisdom, The Board decided that Grace could do more harm in 2001 than she could in 1889. This was because in order to return her to her own time, she would have to be given some sort of explanation and knowledge of something from the future. Of course by doing so, they would break one of their own rules. So they proposed to leave her there, alone.

  I lived those years as best I could, always trying to find a way to get back to her, all the time pretending that the life I had was more than I could ever have hoped for, but all the time I missed her. Deep inside me was a hole that could not be filled.

  Of course technically, by the thirtieth century she’d been dead a long time, having lived whatever life she could by her own wits and with the money from the safe house. Because I knew where and when I could find her, I couldn’t mourn her, but neither could I get back to her. We were apart for much longer than we were together, but I could never be with someone else, while so much of me still wanted to be with her and only her.

  One day, I was summoned to the office of the elite unit I’d originally worked for and asked to reinvestigate an event in our own recent past. We’d all lived through it and several historians had witnessed it a second time, but no one could agree on why it had come about.

  The technician who kitted me out was a young man who knew nothing of my past and saw no reason not to furnish me with a fully functioning timepiece. After all, by then I was a departmental head; in charge of the analysis section. Of course I went straight back to Grace in 1889.

  After hearing me out, she asked a simple question, one that said everything and made my heart lurch.

  “What about us Jack?”

  “There is no ‘us’ Grace, not anymore.” I told her gently.

  “Because you don’t love me anymore, or because there is someone else?” she asked quietly.

  I couldn’t lie to her and even if I’d tried, she would have seen straight through it.

  “No, it’s because I do love you. There never has been, nor can there ever be anyone else.”

  She sighed. “That makes less sense than anything you’ve told me so far. I love you, you love me. Ok, you’re a bit older than yesterday, well, a lot older in fact, but that doesn’t matter,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “We’ve still got time...”

  I looked at her lovely face, the face I’d missed so much and now would never have the chance to watch grow old by my side. I had to say the hardest thing I’d ever said and I had to say it right. No tears, no sadness.

  “No Grace, time is the one thing we don’t have. You have a whole life ahead of you, but mine is already behind me. We can’t be together and you can’t be here; it’s wrong. You have to go back to your own time.”

  “Well if that’s all you’ve got to say, then I’ll spend whatever’s left of my life right here thank you very much. I prefer it here and at least you’ll know where to find me when you finally see some sense. And then we can have even less time together!” she said crossly, glaring at me with her arms folded across her chest.

  I was appalled at the idea of her being alone in this time, with so many dangers just waiting for her. During her lifetime, if she managed to live that long, two world wars would happen and the second one would bring the blitz; Napier Street would be destroyed.

  “Even if I thought it was a good idea, which I don’t, I wouldn’t be allowed to come back and find you. We have to live in our own time. To have knowledge before its time is a dangerous thing. If I stay, they will only come looking for me again and quite soon I imagine.”

  I wasn’t explaining anything very well, but as always she went straight to the heart of the matter anyway.

  “Jack, listen to me. Either we run, or you leave me right here.” she said, her voice still firm.

  “No!” I shouted, making her jump in alarm.

  I took a deep breath before going on, trying to make my voice calmer. “You can’t be serious and anyway, what would you do?”

  That was the wrong thing to say, like waving a red rag in front of an already angry bull.

  “I’ll go and nurse the poor soldier boys in the Boer War, then when that’s done, as long I don’t get shot for no good reason, I’ll join the suffragettes. Don’t you worry. While you’re sitting in the equivalent of an old people’s home in your own time, feeling sorry for yourself and waiting to die, I’ll be busy. Go on, off you go, you’re clearly done here.”

  I shook my head slowly. “No Grace, I’m not done here yet.” I said sadly.

  She looked puzzled at my words and was about to disagree when she realised there was still another question to ask.

  “So why have you come back then?”

  “I’m going to take you home; back to before I met you, so that you can live your life the way you were supposed to, with the person you were supposed to live it with.”

  She jumped up as if an electric current had passed through her. The cold tea cups went flying, spilling their contents as they rolled slowly towards the edge of the table. Neither of us stopped them and one fell to the floor, breaking into pieces, but we ignored it.

  “You’re going to do what?” she screamed at me.

  I stood up. “Grace you must see, it’s the only thing that makes any sense.” I replied, trying to sound composed.

  “See? Why must I see something that is clearly the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard?”

  She flew across the room at me and pummelled her fists against my chest, calling me all sorts of names, most of which I deserved. I let her get the anger out; we couldn’t talk sense while it consumed her.

  Eventually she fell onto the chair and put her head on the table, sobbing. This was the second time in my life I’d felt completely and utterly useless. I didn’t know what to do and this time I couldn’t ask for Winnie’s advice; I had to find my own way.

  She slowly regained her composure.

  “Do you regret this life with me Jack?”

  I shook my head. “No, not a moment of it.”

  “Then why do you think I would want to forget you, to forget us and the life we’ve had together. Why would you want to take that away from me?” she asked, in a small and troubled voice.

  “Because it’s not fair.” I told her.

  “Can’t I be the judge of that? There isn’t a lot in life that’s fair, ’specially not in this particular age, but don’t you see? That’s what makes those special moments, or in our case, special months, in fact almost two years, even more important. I won’t let you take them away from me, not unless you want to un-live them for your own reasons. Is that what you really want?” she asked, coming to my side and staring at me.

  “No,” I said miserably, “But what else can we do?”

  “We can use our brains for starters,” she said, gently tapping the side of my head. “And we could probably both do with a nice hot cup of tea.”

  She bustled around the little kitchen, clearing up the mess and making a fresh pot of tea. She put clean cups down and was pouring it with her usual confidence when an idea seemed to strike her. “Anyway, you can’t just take me back. That car would’ve killed me.” she said smugly, pulling a chair round and sitting next to me.

  “Maybe I just got in the way and actually prevented the right person from saving you.” I countered.

  “Ah yes, because as I recall there was a stampede of handsome young men fighting amongst themselves to give up their lives to save mine.” she said, wagging her finger at me. “Jack, only you were there to save me, as well you know.”

  She looked triumphant and I couldn’t think of anything to say.

  She took my silence for agreement, which I suppose it was. The thought of Grace being allowed to die was not something I could even consider. Even if she was not mine, she had to be in the world, I was sure of that.
r />   “So... as I see it, we have a couple of options.” she continued.

  “Options?” I asked, looking sideways at her.

  “Yes. Number one: you pop back here in say, fifty years and we spend our old age together in, now let me see...” she did a quick calculation and said, “...1939 as it will be, but there’ll be a war going on by then, or we could go back to 2001, which might be more comfortable for our old bones. It’s up to you, I don’t mind either way. We’ll have had the early years and will have missed the middle, but at least that way we’ll get the end.”

  “Hmm...” I murmured.

  I could see a lot of problems with that idea. For one, she’d be living her whole life waiting for me and there’d be no guarantee that she’d survive. Anything could happen to her and I wouldn’t be there to protect her.

  She took one look at my face and moved on to option two.

  “Or... we both go back to your time and plead our case. They might let me stay with you if we can make them understand...”

  “No Grace,” I interrupted, “Time travel only works to the past. The past exists; it’s real. The future doesn’t, because it hasn’t happened yet. You can’t come to my present because for you it’s the future and you can’t exist in it.”

  “Oh.” she said.

  She thought about it for a moment or two, then nodded slightly, to show that she understood.

  “Well then, that only leaves option three.” she said, picking up my hand.

  “Which is what...?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Well... it’s more of an ‘either or’ option really.” she said, as I pulled a face at her.

  “Well Jack, either we just stay as we are for as long as we’ve got and live life on the run, or you think of something else.”

  “That’s two options in one.” I said accusingly.

  She smiled that lovely slow smile of hers and shrugged. “And anyway, I know you didn’t mean it, so there’s no need to apologise.” she said, with an air of self-satisfaction.

  “Grace, I don’t know what you’re talking about, honestly I don’t.” I told her, genuinely puzzled.