I spent most of the night reading the papers Henry had given me. They were actually very interesting from a historical point of view. The small details gave a clear insight into everyday life for the ordinary person in that part of London and although there were names, there was nothing there that gave me reason to think that there was a link I should trace.
Generally speaking, my other self had continued just as he had been trained to do, even if he had forgotten a fundamental part of that training. He observed and he recorded and it was the untrained young woman that added colour to the facts. It was she who brought them all to life, she who gave them faces. It was she who laughed with them, she who mourned them and it was she who suffered with them, not my other self. At around four in the morning I gave up. There was nothing there to connect anyone to anything in this time or the future and I went to bed feeling heavy hearted.
As I woke, I realised that the year 2000 would give up no more of its secrets to me. I had found everything that I was going to find; there was no one else that I knew of or knew how to find that I needed to speak to. The only possible way of identifying the other two people was to be in the street moments before the accident, but as there would be two other versions of myself in close proximity, I could not and more to the point would not take that risk. It would cause many more problems than it could conceivably solve, of that I was in no doubt. I sighed; the enjoyment of having such a complex puzzle to solve was beginning to turn to frustration, a state of mind that could usually be improved with food.
Over another large and very enjoyable breakfast at the hotel I considered my options. I could not return to my own time just yet; I had learnt nothing that would change anything. The puzzle remained a puzzle and anyway, the situation that I would be returning to, would be one of chaos. When and where should I go next? I wondered and why?
As far as I could ascertain, the link between the young woman and the events that were to unfold centred around Sal Grundy, but what could she tell me that her grandson could not?
It was a nice day, so I decided to go to the local park. As I walked, I pondered on what Sal could possibly have known that would cause such a shift in the continuum so far in the future. There was also another question. If she had something to share, when would she give it up? I was going to have to choose a period in her life very carefully indeed, but given what was happening in my own time, I was not sure that the system would allow me to do it.
Using the timepiece to travel to anywhere other than home was going to be risky; because all travellers would have had their coordinates reset for the base as a default. I might get caught up in the recall and then once back would not be able to leave again, but I reasoned that it was a risk worth taking. I had some of the pieces to the jigsaw and it was becoming clear to me that if the picture could be completed, I might have very valuable information indeed; information that just might change the balance of things for everyone.
I thought about Charlie Grundy’s father; the ‘bad blood’ in the family. It was more than likely that this man would have fathered other children, probably both with his wife and outside his marriage. But it was not reasonable to assume that there was a link between them and Sal and her child, who had lived when they should have died. His other children would have had a right to existence, completely removed from the meddling of my other self and the young woman. As far as I could tell from the inherited memories and the documents Henry had given me, the father’s name was never mentioned. He never came to visit, nor had anything to do to with his bastard son. I was certain there was no point in tracking him down; it would be a blind alley, nothing more.
As it started to rain, I decided on my next move. The period that Sal grew up in was one of change, but it was very probable that some older traditions had been deeply ingrained in her. On her deathbed, or as close as I could get to it, would be when she would be most agreeable to revealing any secrets that she might have, in order to move on to whatever it was she believed in with a lighter soul. There was a secret, I was sure of it and she had taken it to her grave for one reason or another. I needed to find out what it was.
Later, when I was sure that Vicki would be there giving Henry his tea, I called round to return the papers and to ask my final question.
“Henry, your grandmother on your father’s side; where and when did she die?”
Chapter twenty
I set the coordinates on the timepiece for London, 14th January 1941 and tried scrambling its identification code, hoping that I wouldn’t be pulled off my chosen course by the power flux returning all travellers home. During the evening of that day, Sal Grundy would slip away peacefully; alone, but loved. Luckily my modification worked and I arrived at the safe house in Deptford in the early hours of the morning, which gave me time to wash and change at leisure.
The safe house was tucked away near the creek and as soon as I heard the ‘all clear’ siren and stepped out onto the street, I saw that the area had already suffered badly from the bombing. I knew of course that the house would be totally obliterated at the end of its eight days and I was anxious to be gone as soon as possible. After all, there are no inoculations against being blown to pieces. London in that period was a dangerous place for everyone who had a reason to be there, myself included.
In the normal course of events, anyone travelling to a potentially dangerous place or time would be able to download any relevant information into the implants. In this case; when and where the bombs were due to fall and so be in a better position to avoid them, but returning to base for this information was a luxury I didn’t have the time for.
I walked to Guy’s Hospital, following the directions given by an assortment of helpful people, taking detours as advised by wardens and firemen. Despite the mess that London was in, people were going about their business as best they could and most were still able to smile and pass the time of day with each other.
I arrived at the hospital early afternoon and made my way past the sandbagged entrance to the reception area where I enquired after a Mrs Sally Grundy. I knew her daughter in-law would be minding the shop and that Henry would already be away serving his country, so there would be no danger of him remembering me later.
The nurse took me to a quiet ward where I found a frail and pale woman, propped up on some pillows, looking older than her sixty-seven years.
“Sal, it’s me, Jack.” I said, as I sat down beside her bed.
She looked at me for a long time, then nodded. “I always knew you’d come back. Winnie and me, we just knew. Where’s Grace?” she asked, trying to peer behind me in case she was there.
“She died.” I said truthfully.
“Happens to us all it seems. She was a nice lady, a real lady.”
She looked away slightly and spoke more to herself than to me and I found I could only agree with her sentiments. Then she shook off her sadness and turned back to me. “Seems time’s been kinder to you than to me.”
She was staring hard at my face, which as far as her logic was concerned, should have been a little more than a decade older than hers and while I had undoubtedly aged, medical science being what it is in my time had certainly lessened the effect.
I shrugged my shoulders; there was nothing I could say.
She nodded, although I wasn’t sure what she was thinking as her shrewd eyes continued to watch me.
“Saved your stuff we did, all of it and the money.” she said, with an air of pride.
“Thank you Sal.” I said softly. “Grace and I knew that it would be safe with you. She always trusted you, Grace did.”
It felt strange to me, using the young woman’s name so familiarly.
“I used some of the money mind, but I paid it all back with interest. It’s all there, every penny and a bit more on top.”
She spoke proudly and I didn’t want her to waste any of her precious energy. She probably knew as well as I did that she had only hours left.
“I know, your daughter in-law told me
. She’s given me the trunk back; it’s all there, everything. Thank you.”
She nodded at my words. The lie made sense to her and it gave her a reason for me being there, one she could accept.
We sat in silence while she gathered what little strength remained in her diseased body.
“What else you come for then?” she asked.
“One good turn deserves another.” I said slowly.
She looked at me quizzically.
“Sal you’ve got a secret and it’s weighing heavily on you. Tell me it before you go; leave it behind. Perhaps I can help make something that’s wrong, right again.”
She didn’t laugh at my suggestion, or tell me that I was being foolish. She was old and worn out, but still as sharp as a pin. I waited, knowing that she was thinking over the offer I’d made.
She looked directly at me. “You do owe me a good turn, that’s right enough, but I can’t see how you can help. What’s done is done, there’s no going back in time to do sommat different and I’m not sure I would, even if I could.”
I could see that she wasn’t entirely convinced. I had one chance and one chance only.
“You’re right Sal. We can’t go back, but we can go forward. Maybe you’re not supposed to do anything differently, maybe someone else is, but they can’t make that choice if they don’t know that it’s there for them to make.”
I looked at her as I spoke. I couldn’t tell her the whole truth, but I was not lying to her and she knew that.
She understood exactly what I meant and could see beneath the words. She understood me; it was a revelation. In that moment I admired this woman who had come into the world with almost nothing and had fought for her right to survive, even though the odds had been stacked against her. Armed only with sheer bloody minded determination and helped by an act of kindness, she had built a better life for the generations that followed her.
Slowly she came to a decision. She moved her bony hand to bring me closer; she wasn’t going to risk anyone else hearing what she was about to say.
“He ain’t dead.” she said, quickly but quietly.
“Who isn’t dead?” I asked.
Relief flooded through me; she was going to tell me something, something that would help, I felt sure of it.
“My lying bastard son Charlie, that’s who.” she whispered.
Thoughts began to fly about in my mind, then started dropping into place, bringing isolated pieces of the jigsaw closer together.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“Last I heard, over in Bishops Road in one of them grand houses. Goes by the name of Sidney Green these days. Don’t tell him about me being here, I don’t want him at me funeral. I don’t want him meddling where he ain’t got no right to meddle, not anymore. Not now and not when I’m gone.” she said firmly.
“I promise Sal, I promise. And thank you.”
I sat with her for a while longer and only when she drifted off to sleep did I leave. I was saddened by her pitiful state; she had been so strong once. It almost felt as though the other me, the one who had known her all that time ago, was standing beside me and that the feelings I was experiencing were his, although I knew that he’d never witnessed this event. Something else to think about later I thought. I tried to shrug the feelings off and made enquiries at the taxi rank as to where Bishops Road might be.
Once there I knocked on a few doors and eventually found someone who knew him and was able to tell me the right house to go to. A maid opened the door and informed me that Mr Green was at work and would not return until after six pm, but that Mrs Green was in and did I want to see her? I found that I did.
Mrs Green was both charming and lovely. Her English was faultless, but it was clear to me that it was not her mother tongue. It was also obvious that she was a little anxious about my visit. As I had given no reason for it, I wondered why that could be.
She took me into the drawing room and asked the maid to bring tea.
“I’ve been expecting you.” she said quietly.
She asked me to sit down and then sat opposite me, but on the edge of her chair. She twirled her wedding band nervously and I noticed it was on her right hand, not her left. That and the faint accent she was trying to conceal led me to believe that she was German.
“Will the children be able to stay with their father?” she asked softly. “They have already had so much upheaval in their short lives. I wish to avoid more, if it is possible to do so of course.”
This was my cue; I was able to smile and tell her the truth.
“That is not why I am here Mrs Green. I am not taking you to one of the internment camps. I cannot promise that it will not be necessary later, but it is not the purpose of my visit today.”
As she looked at me I saw both hope and confusion flare in her intelligent brown eyes.
“I wish to confirm and explore some interesting facts about your husband and your life together. Will you assist me?”
I leaned forward as I spoke and held her eyes in mine for a moment.
“Yes.” she agreed, sighing softly, “If it will help matters.”
“It may indeed.” I assured her, knowing full well that we were talking at cross purposes, but choosing not to enlighten her to the fact.
I was able to leave the large and comfortable home of the Green family before Sidney, or rather Charlie, returned from work. With me I took an interesting tale and was marvelling, not for the first time, at the things men and women will do for love or what they believe to be love.
I walked some way down the street until I was sure there was no one about, then lifted my wrist and set the coordinates for the year 2895, thankful that I was able to leave wartime London before nightfall, when the bombs would start raining down again. I needed access to the database of the library of that period and once at another safe house, I made myself comfortable and mulled over what I had learnt from the delightful Elsa Green.
Charlie Grundy and his friend Sidney Green had been wounded and were taken prisoner on the Western Front in 1916. They were both treated at a German field hospital, where a sweet and very young Elsa had been assisting the nurses. While Charlie survived his wounds, Sidney did not and somehow, in the chaos of transferring Charlie to a POW camp, their identities got mixed up; something Charlie had always meant to put right as soon as he could. Elsa had been quite firm on that point.
Late in 1917, he and some others managed to escape, but as they made their way back towards the Front, meaning to rejoin their battalions, they were ambushed. Charlie was wounded again and taken to a German hospital, where as luck or fate would have it, Elsa was working. Their acquaintance was renewed and they fell in love. He was transferred once more to a POW camp, but it was not far from the hospital, so they kept in touch and romance was able to blossom. When the war ended and prisoners were being returned to British orders, he managed to slip away. In my opinion, he clearly saw a benefit in leaving the administrative mistake as it was.
Elsa’s family was wealthy and Jewish, but this wasn’t a problem in 1918 or the immediate years that followed. When they married in 1922, Elsa and her family were not aware of the deception that Charlie was weaving them into. They didn’t know that his name was not his own, neither did they know that he already had a wife. But to be fair to the man, he was unaware that his son Henry existed. Divorce was a taboo subject in those days and he didn’t want to risk losing Elsa and in my view, the life that came with her. For Elsa, I am sure it never crossed her mind.
However, I had seen the life Charlie would have had. It would have been better than Sal’s had been, but nothing compared to what Elsa could offer him. He made a choice; one that I’m sure he never regretted. But times changed around them though, and eventually Charlie could see what was coming. By November 1938 they had three children; a girl born in 1925 and two boys, born in 1928 and 1933.
The terror of Kristallnacht forced him to make a decision. He was English, even with his borrowed name. And they had money, so he
brought his family home to safety.
The problem of course, was that their safety depended on Elsa being married to Charlie. Bigamy was a crime and there could be trouble ahead, so Charlie was forced to confide in her. He could never be sure that he wouldn’t run into anyone from his previous life and at her insistence they turned to his mother for help.
While Sal could never condone what he’d done, or what he’d put them all through for the years they’d believed him to be dead, she couldn’t turn her back on her only son and the three grandchildren she’d never known she had. Family, it appeared, was always family, no matter what had been done and family had to stick together, so she didn’t turn him over to the authorities and she never told a soul about his return from the grave. That is, apart from me. While she hadn’t wanted to meet Elsa and the children, she helped them settle and did what she could to let them start a new life; untroubled by the old one.
As I was leaving, I advised Elsa to do the same as her mother-in law had done; she had to keep the secret and tell no one else, no matter who they were and to forget that her husband had ever been Charlie Grundy. She was the only one who could encourage him to do the same; sever all links with his past. I knew that by saying all this I was doing much more than gathering facts, but it was the only way I could keep my promise to Sal. I felt I owed her something, although I couldn’t explain what it was or why.
I brought my mind to the time period I had come to. The last decades of the twenty-ninth century were desolate, despite the lack of bombs, but the library was the best in history and one that travellers used frequently for reference. My clearance level gave me access to its files directly from the safe house, so I did not have to venture out into the dismal sprawling city that lay outside; a city that having consumed the countryside around it, was about to implode in the most unforgiving way possible.
What about us? Page 23