An Untimely Romance: A Time Travel Romance

by Wells, J

  They would refer to it as a ‘good bath’, but somehow Anna didn’t think so as they held her under to within an inch of her life; dirt-ingrained hands of distorted white-coated beings, looking down into the icy waters. Blue-lipped, Anna gasped for air, fighting for breath.

  “Help!” she wailed, seized from the freezing bath by her long hair and then dragged along the stone floors, shivering.

  With grazed skin and open wounds, semi-conscious, she gagged, passing through a network of corridors whose whitewashed walls were smeared in excrement. She was led into a tiny room, damp and unfurnished, where her bedraggled body was discarded on a bed of straw, and Heather witnessed it all.

  “Holler again, and there shan’t be a next time,” the gruff voice said.

  The heavy wooden door closed, and she heard the turn of a key. There were no words of this earth that could describe the heart-wrenching cries of madness heard as the insane walked the corridors of the sanatorium day after day. Time passed, but how quickly she couldn’t be sure. High in the corner of the room lay the smallest of windows, smeared with dirt, the only way Anna had of differentiating between night and day. Heather could see and feel the lack of any kind of normal emotion, a capability lost by Anna a long while ago. Overwhelmed by an indescribable hatred, she lay, deranged, screaming out one moment, laughing the next, encapsulated by madness as the room took on a visionary picture show in her mind. Through her repetitive humming and rocking, hour after hour, she relived the night of the masquerade and all its guests.

  “Oh, Mr Boswel, I thought y’d neva ask...”

  She stood and curtseyed, swaying in time to the tunes playing in her head, on this occasion graced by no beautiful gown. “Or y’ cum’in to welcome y’bastard into the world, are ya?” Her nails ripped at her stomach. “Get this devil out ’a me!” she screamed as the pains intensified.

  She couldn’t be sure if anyone heard her cries, but no one came. A shock of malevolent faces with demon hands outstretched to take her, and the walls closed around her into darkness.

  ~•••~

  Suddenly wide-awake, having been thrown back to reality, Heather’s perspective was now her own again. Her hazy eyes were filled with tears and distorted realities. As she opened them, warm shards of light filtered through the bedroom window.

  “Mock if you like, Anna, but you’re the one who’s dead, not me. You’re dead, and I’m alive!” Heather chanted, still lost in an intricate maze of bad dreams; a kaleidoscopic reality of sickening colours erupting in her head, deranged laughter and cries mingling together, exploding into the air.

  With white-knuckled intensity, she clawed at the bedclothes, curling herself into the foetal position, away from harm, blood-curdling cries cavorting and rhythmical waves haunting her mind.

  “Well come on then, what do you want from me, Anna?” she screamed out in despair.

  “What are you trying to show me? And why do you hate me so?”

  The taste of salty tears burnt against her lips as she lay shaking and sobbing.

  “What the hell’s going on?” she shrieked.

  Dream or insanity she wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t get rid of those dark pictures, the nightmares in her head, the inhumane way in which she had witnessed Anna die. At this moment she felt only a heartbeat away from madness, her own reality a blur.

  “Mum! Ruben! Anybody?” she pleaded, in desperate need of reassurance and comfort, but her cries of hysteria went unheard.

  Scarcely able to take in air, she recalled the horrific visions she’d witnessed. She’d lived and breathed every breath of Anna’s down to her last as she gave birth lying on the cold floor of an asylum and died alone, locked away like an animal in some madhouse. A newborn baby left cold, unclothed, crying out for its mother, who never came... Could it really be possible she’d witnessed these events, and if so, what was her part in them? Suddenly feeling very sorry for Anna, feeling the depth her pain, she felt a surging emotion aimed at one person as she was hit by a sudden realisation.

  “Mr Boswel...” Heather’s blood ran cold. “Oh my God, it’s you!” she gasped, shuddering at his entrance and the pungent scent of lavender that he disturbed on doing so.

  “Miss Richardson, my aunt requests your company...” He paused as his eyes met with hers. “Are you unwell?”

  It was as though she was piecing together lives from the past, yet without the pieces. Mr Boswel, better known to her as Frankie, looked and felt so alive. She thought back and remembered their kiss. And God it was real. The dated portrait on the landing, how was that possible? Nothing made sense and her mind was a blur; whatever question she asked herself, there was a different answer. Mr Boswel and this room she lay in were both focal points of an unexplained torment, a combination of intertwining destinies.

  “Where am I? Where’s Mum, and Ruben? Where’s Anna’s baby?”

  Confused, Mr Boswel drew breath.

  “My aunt informed me of your amnesia; it is obvious to me that you are out of sorts, therefore I shall detain you no longer.” His demeanour was quite off-hand as he turned and left her alone once again.

  “Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me!” she cried, her words merging into one.

  ~•••~

  “Don’t leave me!”

  “I won’t if you don’t want me to.” His familiar voice was a welcome interruption.

  “What’s your answer then?” Ruben asked, after receiving a bombardment of incoherent words. “Heather, did you hear me?”

  Weak and consumed by fever, Heather couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes, not yet.

  “Back with us then, girl?”

  She held her hands up to her eyes, trembling, hardly daring to look, scared to see which reality and terrifying pictures the room would throw at her. Breathing deeply, she was able to compose herself, and managed to pluck an ounce of courage from somewhere. She peeked through half-open eyes, surveying the room as best she could. Sighing inwardly, she decided all was well.

  “Ruben!” She sat up and flung her arms around him, burying her head into the nape of his neck, tightening her grip around his shoulders. “You don’t know what it means to me that you’re here. Don’t leave me, not ever.”

  “Think you’ve answered my question then.” He smiled, a smugness to his tone, before cradling her in his arms.

  Although confused as to what he was referring to, she felt far too weak to question it. Ensconced in the warmth of his body, the darkened shadows gracing the walls held no fear.

  “Please don’t leave me,” she murmured.

  “I won’t, I’ll never leave you,” he replied, kissing her softly. “I’ll make things right between us,” he whispered. “I promise.”

  “Ruben, there is one thing you must do for me.”

  “Anything, just tell me.”

  “Get me out of this room.”

  “Ya mum and dad won’t be too happy with that.”

  “It’s my decision. Please? I just need to be in my own bed.”

  Without question, he slipped his arms beneath her, taking her weight. Once again she closed her eyes and leaned in to him.

  “Best get ya out of that dress, eh?” he mumbled.

  Too tired to attempt any kind of a reply, Heather’s next recollection was the undulation of the stairs, before being laid down gently in the safety of her room. She felt the release, the silken material of her dress as it was removed from her body, and then the crispness of the bed covers, inviting against her skin.

  The few weeks that followed were a blur, as were the visits from her parents and Ruben; hours filled with lost conversation as she slept her way back to health.

  Chapter Eleven

  Back to Normality

  “Ere y’are, girl.” A cheeky grin appeared around the door.

  Heather sat up, a slight frown on her face as to his choice of vocabulary, but that was just Ruben, and she knew now she wasn’t going to change him. The scent of marmalade toast wafted into the room. Slightly overdo
ne; whatever, she thought, taking a sip of orange juice, its bittersweet companion, both made very welcome by her returning appetite. She munched away at her toast, quite forgetting that she had company. Looking quite embarrassed at her rush, as discreetly as possible she wiped the crumbs from her lips.

  Pulling a chair up next to the bed, Ruben reached for her hand.

  “Saw ya mum on my way in, said you were gettin’ up today?”

  “Yeah, feeling loads better. Pass me the brush, bet I look awful.”

  “Well, didn’t wanna say, but you have looked better,” he smirked. “Anyway, do you feel up to meeting Mum? She’s been out of hospital for a few days, and I’ve told her all about you.”

  She could hear the excitement in his voice. “Yeah, that’d be nice. Give me half an hour to freshen up, and I’ll be with ya.”

  “Okay, I’ll see if ya dad can use me for a bit,” Ruben said, pushing the chair back and standing up.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “Don’t think so,” Ruben answered, looking confused.

  “I think you are,” she said, grinning up at him from the bed. “Come here.” Her face lit up as he approached, and she grabbed the waistband of his jeans, pulling him closer.

  As he leant over her, she could feel the roughness of his stubble, then his moist lips as they met with hers. She responded, closing her eyes.

  “I love you, Ruben,” she whispered between kisses.

  “And I you,” he breathed against her face, kissing her forehead. “Best let ya get ready then.”

  It felt so nice to be out of bed, and Heather closed her eyes as the shower’s warm water caressed her face. She felt an inner glow as her mind wandered to Ruben, and his tenderness and undivided attention over the last few weeks. Wrapping the towel around herself, how she wished she was in his arms. He’s almost told me he loved me, she thought; well, as good as. And taking me to meet his mum ... it must be getting serious. Heather and her towel danced around her bedroom, almost childlike, as she dried off.

  After running the brush through her hair, she got dressed, feeling a sudden gain in confidence. She knew she was pretty, and she knew Ruben knew it too, so playing to her finer points she rummaged through her wardrobe. Wanting to give the right impression, she plumped for a floral peach dress with capped sleeves and a sweetheart neck. Perfect, she thought. And just the right length. She rested it nicely on her knee. Grabbing her white handbag and slip-ons, she left the bedroom.

  It was virtually impossible not to hear her dad’s deep voice constantly booming around the annex, so it wasn’t hard for her to locate Ruben. The lounge door was open, and she stood watching them as they chatted away, the drone of football commentary in the background. With a sixth sense perhaps, Ruben’s head turned and his face lit up.

  “You look gorgeous, as beautiful as a portrait,” he said admiringly.

  Her dad grunted. “Finally back with the living, eh, Hev?”

  Heather shook her head, her dad’s words bringing her back down to earth.

  “Right, Walter, we’d best be off. Probably see you later,” Ruben said, getting up.

  “Okay, son, have a nice time both of you.” He looked up as they left.

  As the car pulled into the private driveway, Heather couldn’t help smiling to herself as she thought back to their night in the hot tub. How on earth was she going to look his mum in the face?

  “Don’t worry about Mum, she’s fine,” Ruben reassured, obviously sensing her apprehension as he turned off the engine. “She just seems to have problems with the medication from time to time ... but she’s quite normal,” he teased.

  On opening the door, the hallway was filled with the smell of baking.

  “Just gunna tell Mum we’re here. Make y’self at home,” Ruben said, squeezing her hand.

  Heather sat in the lounge looking around. It felt more homely on her second visit; a woman’s touch around the place, she thought. The odd cup and glass had been left lying about, and the cushions looked flat and misshapen. She picked up on muffled conversations, presumably coming from the kitchen.

  “Hello, flower,” a stocky woman with long auburn hair said as she bustled into the room.

  She carried a silver tray with iced cakes and bite-size sausage rolls, which she placed on the coffee table in front of Heather.

  “I’m Angie, pleased to meet you.” She beamed, and Heather couldn’t help but notice the similar mannerisms they shared, even down to the half-smile. “Heard lots about you off our Ruben.”

  Heather stood politely, only to be enveloped in the woman’s arms. She stepped back, turning to the sound of Ruben’s voice.

  “Afternoon tea with my two favourite ladies,” he said, pouring milk into three very delicate-looking china cups and then sitting himself next to Heather on the settee.

  Apart from the odd yes or no, Heather hardly managed to get a word in as Angela’s conversation jumped between their visit to Snowdonia, her latest stay in hospital and her husband’s work ventures and visit to the States. If Heather was honest, she spoke enough for all three of them, hardly taking a breath between sentences. She could feel Ruben’s hand on her knee as the conversation turned.

  “Beth was here this morning.”

  Heather felt uneasy as Ruben shuffled awkwardly in his seat at the mention of her name. After they had decided to give things another go, on the proviso of him cutting all ties with Beth, she was quite a sore subject.

  “She’s a good’en that girl, brought all my new medication from the hospital, and she’s taken my washing...” And so she continued.

  It may have looked as if she was listening, but Heather’s interest was lost, and she switched off to the praises Angie paid Beth. Instead, she took a more in-depth look at the middle-aged woman, whose face was open and friendly, with the lightest green eyes that held a genuine kindness. She couldn’t help but notice her hands were always on the move, constantly pulling at the cuffed sleeves of her blouse to stop them riding above her wrists. Her continual talking was probably a camouflage for her nervous disposition, which she seemed to do her best to conceal.

  “...Beth’s lovely, but definitely not the right girl for you. Far too bossy and outspoken that one, and anyway, she’s had her family; she’s at the next stage of her life.” Smiling, Angie looked from Heather to Ruben, and appeared to be more than happy with his choice. “And to think you gave her Grandmother’s engagement ring; I was never happy about that, Ruben.”

  She sat up, her demeanour changing, an anxiousness in her tone.

  “You, er, did get it back?” she enquired.

  “Yeah, Mum, of course. Stop worrying, it’s in the flat, boxed up somewhere with the rest of the stuff she’s yet to take.”

  “She needn’t think she’s taking that; it’s staying in our family, to be passed down to your children.”

  “Mum, stop worrying,” Ruben said, sipping his lukewarm tea. “I’ll sort it, bring it down tomorrow if ya like,” he continued, trying his best to placate her.

  Oh God, Heather thought, her blood running cold, the ring. I remember putting it in my pocket. What if it fell out? No, it can’t have, surely. I put my clothes in the laundry bag... What if Mum’s washed them? Shit, Ruben put the laundry bag in the room, that room.

  “Heather, are you still with us?”

  Heather jumped, startled from her thoughts.

  “Yes, sorry, Ruben,” she stuttered, “I was miles away.” She smiled, not wanting to appear rude.

  “What do you think to Mum’s suggestion then?”

  Heather gave him that ‘fill me in look’, which he must have read.

  “Meal, and shopping; it’ll be a great chance for you two to get to know each other better,” he prompted.

  Feeling rather awkward, but noticing that Angie was awaiting a reply, Heather simply smiled in answer. They helped clear away the plates before leaving, and then Heather sank back in the car seat after waving goodbye. The engine hummed quietly as they drov
e along and she wound down the window, met by a warm breeze. She breathed in the aroma, the sweetness of pollen, crying out summer. It had been an enjoyable afternoon, but in another way she was glad it was over; those first meetings were always rather trying.

  “Well, we’ve still got the rest of the day ahead of us. What do you fancy doing? Anything at all,” Ruben asked.

  “Would you mind taking me home? I’m still rather tired.” It was a white lie, but then she had other things on her mind.

  “Mum was right, ya know, Beth and me would never have worked. She had a past, too much baggage. I dunno, we were far too similar I guess; she always wanted everything her own way. That night we slept together, Beth turned me down, said she’d never have me back. You know what, I thought I’d be heartbroken, but actually I really didn’t care.” Ruben paused. “To be honest, I thought I’d blown it with you, didn’t think you’d forgive me.” His eyes momentarily searched hers. “But we’ve been able to start afresh, you’ve given me a second chance, which I probably don’t deserve, but it’s different with you somehow; you’re all mine.”

  Not knowing how to react to his words, Heather sat feeling quite confused.

  Picking up on this, Ruben was quick to add, “Luv ya,” and reached for her hand, allowing her that half-smile she knew so well. “And you’re for keeps ... we’re for keeps.”

  The grand opening was less than two months away, and the manor’s gardens were a picturesque array of colours still being tended daily. Heather couldn’t put into words the difference since their arrival, and she felt quite excited as they pulled up in front of the steps.

  “See ya tomorrow then, that’s if I can wait that long,” Ruben said, leaning over. “Text ya later.”

  He kissed her on the cheek, but Heather didn’t linger, as the ring was paramount in her mind.

  As the sunlit hallway loomed, her heart sank at the thought of entering that bedroom. She felt a heaviness in her legs as she made her way towards the landing. She felt as though she was being watched by the grandfather clock, whose face held its usual non-committal expression. As she stood outside the door, strategies ran through her mind, but there weren’t really any; she just needed to get in and out as quickly as possible. The hinges screeched as she opened the door; perhaps it was the room’s warning at her intrusive steps. There were no remnants of her occupancy, and all was as it had been, everything in its place. She scoured the very corners of the room, yet the laundry bag eluded her. Her mother must have moved it; she must find her and quick, before its entire contents were thrown into the machine.