Given Time

by Anthony Burn

  It was already past the time I’d wanted to reach the apartment and it was still a twenty-minute walk away, so I broke into a run. I dodged and swerved to avoid the tourists who were ambling along the footpaths, but my progress was further impeded at the start of the river path. A huge crowd traipsed around the entrance to the Tower of London, and I had to push my way through while silently cursing them for not forming an orderly queue.

  Having extricated myself from the crush, I ran again, only to find when I reached St. Katherine’s lock that the bridge was up to allow a yacht into the marina. I raced for the other end, but had gone no more than halfway before I saw the second bridge being raised too. I should have waited, but impatience got the better of me and I ran along the path that skirted the outer dock. As I approached, the bridge across the entrance to the inner dock was also being lifted for the same vessel. I swore at my stupidity, looking back to see the other two bridges had been lowered again.

  I reached the apartment building at ten past eleven. There was still a remote chance, I thought, that Lauren might not have found the device by that time on the previous day, but I was more hopeful than expectant of it being the case. Breathless and sweating, I took the lift up to the top floor, trying in vain to calm myself down as the elevator ascended. Whatever else happened, she was about to give me a blazing row and I was filled with apprehension at the prospect.

  I stepped out of the lift and into a corner away from both the sliding doors and the entrance to the apartment. Lauren shouldn’t have been in the lobby at this time, but just in case, I squeezed into the corner where no one ever walked. I braced myself and turned back the full twenty-four hours – as far as the device would go.

  The front door was wide open, and when I stepped through I saw the living area was in exactly the same state as it had been when I’d returned home from work. I expected to see Lauren sitting at the computer typing her note, but there was no sign of her and I dared to hope she hadn’t yet found the time turner. Rushing to the spare bedroom, I called her name, but I was greeted by silence and the disheartening sight of the empty hiding place.

  I checked the rest of the rooms and the roof terrace, becoming increasingly confused when I couldn’t find her in any of those places. She barely had time to type her note and save it by eleven thirty-two, so she ought to have been at my desk – but she still wasn’t there.

  The possibility that I’d misread the time-stamp entered my mind, so I checked the computer but there was no open document and nothing saved in the documents folder. I’d checked the time that she’d saved the message several times so it was hard to accept that I’d got it wrong, but in her absence the likelihood became increasingly apparent.

  I moved away from the desk to the far end of the room, so if she dashed in at the last moment she wouldn’t see me straight away and I’d be able to block her exit until we’d had a chance to talk. I perched on the end of a sofa and counted the time away; three minutes to go, two minutes, one minute, but she still hadn’t arrived.

  At eleven thirty-two, it became obvious I was mistaken about the time she had saved her note. Having turned back a day I had no way of double-checking, but I went and looked at the computer again anyway. To my surprise, the document was open on the desktop, and I was just in time to see a dialogue box at the bottom of the screen, which told me before it disappeared that the remote desktop connection had been ended.

  Thirty-three

  I collapsed into my chair and stared in hopelessness at the screen while I read her note yet again. I’d shown Lauren how to make a remote desktop connection over a year ago, and had forgotten all about doing so. As I worked out what she had done, I realised all my racing about had been pointless. She could have, and probably had, found the device much earlier; maybe even before I went to the bank, so I guessed that after throwing it into the river and walking out, she had found an internet café to create the document. She’d left her mobile behind, either by mistake in her rush to leave, which I doubted, or more likely as a deliberate gesture, to show it was impossible for me to call and plead with her to come back.

  With the realisation that I wasn’t going to see her before she left, and the finality of her words in front of me, the comprehension that I’d lost her forever hit me hard. I broke down, unable to stop the sobbing or the convulsions that wracked my body. The seizure gripped me for several minutes, and when it finally subsided I stood up morosely, unsure of what to do next while I surveyed the disarray that I’d already cleared up once before.

  Everything had been riding on me being able to persuade Lauren not to go, but now the opportunity was lost and I was out of ideas. I crossed to the front door to close it, and as I secured the lock it occurred to me that having gone back in time, the gallery was now unmanned while its entrance was wide open. In my current state I couldn’t have cared less, but I didn’t want to cope with any questions or problems because of it. Quickly logging into the security system, I checked through each of the CCTV cameras in turn to make sure nobody was browsing and then, satisfied the place was empty, I remotely closed and locked the front door. I sent a short text to Christa to say I’d gone home and that I’d see her the following day.

  The distraction had been a small respite from my gloom, but now my dejection returned as I reflected on where Lauren might be and I began to absently tidy away the mess she’d made once again. I had to get in touch with her. I needed for us to sit down and talk it through, to find some kind of resolution we could both live with, but right now she’d made any form of vocal communication impossible. I could send her an email but that was too impersonal. What we needed to say to each other had to be done face to face. I had to see the nuances in her expression to make sure I was getting through to her. I sent an email anyway, saying ‘Please call me, we can work this out’ but I didn’t hold out much hope of success. It dawned on me that she might have put something on Facebook or Twitter, but when I checked I found she had blocked me on both platforms and my despondency deepened.

  My thoughts turned to Amy. Surely Lauren must have spoken to her about this, and even if she hadn’t yet, it wouldn’t be long before she turned to her best friend for advice. If I couldn’t speak to Lauren directly, then at least I could ask my brother’s fiancée to persuade her to call me. I knew they were in Italy on the European Tour, which meant there wasn’t a problem with the time difference, so I called Amy’s number but was greeted with a busy signal. I tried Drew instead, even though I assumed he would be playing golf. I didn’t expect him to pick up, but he answered straight away with a cheery greeting. Still concerned that he might be on the green, I asked him if he was okay to talk.

  ‘Yeah, no problem, bro,’ he said, ‘I finished my round this morning, so I’m chilling with my babe in the sunshine. Or at least, I’m chilling. She’s been rabbiting on the phone to her mum for the past hour.’

  ‘Do you know if she’s heard from Lauren today?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know, I don’t think so. Why? What’s up?’

  ‘She’s left me,’ I said, and didn’t elaborate.

  There was a lengthy pause and then he asked, ‘Are you joking?’

  I couldn’t keep the depression from my voice. ‘No, mate, I really wish I was.’

  ‘Why? What happened? What the fuck did you do?’

  ‘I can’t tell you—’ I began, but he cut across me.

  ‘Hang on,’ he said, and I heard him shouting to Amy.

  ‘What is it?’ I heard her ask in a tone that was clearly exasperated at being interrupted.

  ‘Kee’s on the phone,’ he told her. ‘Lauren’s dumped him.’

  ‘Don’t be so stupid,’ she said, her manner not improving.

  ‘It’s true, he’s just told me,’ he whined at her.

  I heard Amy tell her mum she would call her back, and within seconds she was talking urgently to me. ‘What’s going on, Kee? What’s he talking about?’

  ‘It is true, Amy,’ I said quietly. ‘She’s gone.�
�

  They must have put me on speaker because I heard Drew say, ‘See, I told you.’

  Amy told him to shut up, and then she was back to me again. ‘I am not hearing this,’ she said, the vehemence in her words frightening me. ‘Why? How can she be gone? She’s besotted with you. What can you have done that’s so terrible?’

  I suddenly felt overwhelmed with guilt. I’d always believed I could talk to Amy about anything, but there was no way I could tell her what I’d done. ‘I’m sorry, Amy. I can’t tell you, but it’s bad.’

  ‘But she was fine when I spoke to her on Monday before she went to the doctor. What could have happened in two days…?’ Her voice trailed off and in the silence that followed I could almost hear her brain putting the pieces together and coming up with the answer. ‘Oh no! God, no. Not that. Please tell me it’s not what I think it is?’

  I paused while trying to think of a suitable response and I could hear Drew asking what she meant, but my hesitation confirmed exactly what she was thinking.

  ‘You bastard, Kee. You unspeakable bastard.’ Her voice broke with emotion, and she said, ‘I always thought you were a good guy. You arsehole. I can’t talk to you. I’ve got to call Lauren.’

  Before I could reply she was gone, and Drew was asking again what had happened.

  ‘Amy will tell you,’ I began, just as Lauren’s phone started to ring beside me, causing me to jump. I checked the screen to see that it was Amy calling. My voice faltered, and cracked completely as I said to my brother, ‘Tell Amy she can’t call Lauren. She left her phone behind. I can’t talk now. Sorry, Drew.’

  I disconnected my mobile and rejected Amy’s call on Lauren’s phone before throwing them both down on the desk. I took a large gulp of air and fell apart again.

  My dejection turned to numbness over the next few days. I had never felt more alone. I contemplated the loss of the most meaningful person who had ever entered my life, without any way to come to terms with the grief. I’d had girlfriends in the past and had felt sadness at the end of those relationships, but that was nothing compared to the unimaginable scale of regret I was experiencing at Lauren’s going.

  Unable to face the gallery, I paced around the apartment for hours at a time, opening each of her wardrobes in turn to stare endlessly at her clothes, remembering the times she’d been wearing them. I tried to picture her skipping about the room in each outfit, but the memories became harder to summon. I looked in the bathroom cabinet at her array of cosmetics and laughed sardonically at the half-full jar of honey, recalling the occasions I’d had a go at her for still wanting to fade her most beautiful feature. I shut the door quickly as my eyes began to well up.

  I knew I was torturing myself, but simply couldn’t stop. My life was worthless without Lauren, but I clung to the hope that sooner or later I would see her again and somehow win her back. There was a chance that she would come for her belongings, and when she did I could plead with her to return. I knew that in all probability she would wait until I was out, but that didn’t matter; once I knew she had been I could turn back the clock and catch her. Yet, even as I thought about it, I had to admit to the futility of that dream. I’d given her the means to support herself forever, so there was just as much chance that she would buy all new things rather than come back for her stuff.

  Drew called me on Sunday evening, and from his hushed tones I could tell he was doing so without Amy’s approval. After asking how I was holding up, he said, ‘Did you really give Lauren an STI?’

  There was no point in attempting to deny it so, in a voice laden with penitence and cracking in despair, I confirmed I had.

  ‘You complete prat,’ he retorted. ‘She’s the best thing that ever happened to you. Why on earth would you fuck that up by screwing around?’

  ‘I don’t know. It was a mistake.’

  ‘Too right, you idiot.’ His voice was raising and he must have realised because he quickly lowered it again. ‘I can’t believe you would be that stupid. Anyway, what did you give her? Amy says if it’s HIV or AIDS she’ll kill you. As it is, she never wants to speak to you again.’

  I felt his words like a knife through my soul. It was bad enough that I’d lost Lauren, but to have Amy hate me too was another pressure I couldn’t bear. It was made worse by the creeping realisation that her ongoing animosity may also sour my relationship with Drew. It was inevitable that we would see each other again, and if Amy continued to despise me, doing so may well cause friction between them. I asked Drew if it was already the case.

  ‘Yeah, she’s been narked with me ever since you called. I keep telling her it wasn’t me, but because you’re my brother I’m in the dog house too.’

  ‘Guilt by association,’ I told him. ‘I’m sorry, man.’

  ‘Nah, she’ll get over it.’ He laughed, but I wasn’t sure I shared his optimism.

  ‘Anyway, I’m not meant to be telling you this, but I called to say she’s heard from Lauren.’

  My heart jumped. ‘What? When? Where is she? What did she say?’

  ‘Steady on, mate,’ he said. ‘She got a text from her this morning. She just said she’s okay, but she doesn’t want to talk right now.’

  Urgency filled my voice as my mind grasped for the slim opportunity. ‘You’ve got to let me have her number.’

  ‘I can’t. Besides, it wouldn’t do you any good. Amy’s been trying to call her back and text her all day, but she won’t answer. She’s been sending her tweets all week, but she hasn’t replied to those either.’

  ‘Tell me exactly what the text said,’ I asked him.

  ‘I already did,’ he complained. ‘It didn’t say any more than that.’

  ‘I’ve got to see it,’ I implored him. ‘Can you forward it to me?’

  ‘Not a chance. Amy would kill me if she found out.’

  ‘Please, Drew,’ I begged. ‘You could forward it and then delete the thread. She would never know.’

  ‘Hmm, I don’t know, Kee. She’s in the bath so I suppose I could, but if she comes out and catches me, I’m dead.’

  I pleaded with him again even though I felt guilty about the prospect of causing him trouble with his wife-to-be.

  ‘Okay, but if you read my obituary in the papers next week you’ll know why.’

  ‘Thanks, mate,’ I said. ‘Don’t forget to delete the call log too.’

  ‘Yeah, okay, bro. I do know how to work a mobile phone,’ he said, before he laughed and disconnected.

  After a few minutes, the forwarded text arrived from Amy’s phone. I opened it quickly and read:

  Hi Amy. I’m alright. I’m not ready to talk yet. Please be patient with me. I love you. Lauren.

  I read it a dozen or more times, as if somehow I might get more from it by doing so, and with my heart breaking each time I got to I love you. I looked at those three words in dismay, and it dawned on me that Lauren had found a subtle way to hurt me. She had never ended a message to Amy that way before. She knew I would be in touch with Drew and Amy, and must have guessed that I would insist on seeing her text. She would be well aware of the effect it would have on me, after the last words she had sent to me were I hate you. If that had been her aim then she’d scored a direct hit, because the more I read it the more it was killing me.

  I remembered Drew had said that Amy had been sending Lauren tweets, and even though she hadn’t responded to them I was curious to find out, given Amy’s current loathing of me, how vitriolic her messages had been. As I went to my desk it occurred to me that Amy might have blocked me too, or even if she hadn’t the chances were she had sent Lauren DMs instead of public tweets.

  I moved the mouse to bring the screen out of stand-by, but I never got as far as checking Twitter. My Given Time document was open on the desktop. That was odd in itself because I’d moved the file onto a memory stick to finish it privately at some stage. In my surprise at seeing it there, it took me a moment or two to understand that Lauren had made a copy and added to it. She had started exactly
where I’d left off, but instead of a bitter denouncement of my actions, I found a full and frank account of her time with me – from our very first meeting to the point where she got the fuck out of there.

  As I read, my heartache increased with every description of how much she had loved me and how unbelievably happy she had been, but as soon as she started describing the torment she had suffered through my deception, the focus of my emotions shifted. Up until that point, all of my sorrow had been for myself: for my loss and for my pain. With every description of the agony I’d put her through, my self-pity turned to disgust at the way I’d treated the most divine creature it had ever been my privilege to know. All I wanted now was to apologise to her for the grief I’d caused, and to throw myself at her feet, to beg for a forgiveness I would never deserve. But I could see I would not be given an opportunity to do that; from what she had said, I knew I was not going to see her again. Ever.

  My face flushed and my breathing became laboured as I imagined the room becoming airless. With no little effort I struggled to my feet and, panting with each movement, staggered to the door, opening it just enough to access the dark roof terrace. The September evening was cool but not uncomfortable, and as I leaned against the railing, watching but not seeing the lights of the city and the passing river traffic, I fought off the inclination to weep. I would not feel sorry for myself. Not while my beautiful girl was out there somewhere, who knew where, suffering unspeakable anguish borne of my arrogance and stupidity.

  I took the time turner out of my pocket and regarded it with bitter loathing. Lauren had warned me twice about what it might do to me, but I’d ignored her. It had given me everything: the money, the apartment, the gallery and a lifestyle beyond my dreams. In its way it had even brought Lauren and me together. But now it had irrevocably destroyed every one of those gifts. Without Lauren, the rest of them were meaningless.