by Annie Seaton
“Can I use your phone before I go? I need to call the—“
“Sorry, dear. I don’t have a telephone. You’ll have to use the phone box in the village.”
David reached out and took the elderly lady in his arms. “You take care, Alice.” Her cheek was soft beneath his and she reached up and held his face between her hands.
“I was meant to meet you at the festival last year.” She stared at him intently. “It all happens for a reason you, know. I am sure the only reason you met me was so you could find your young woman when the time came. Now you go and find your Megan.”
With a last wave to Alice, David walked back along the road to the village and stopped at the red phone box outside the post office. He pulled Bear’s phone number from his wallet and dialed, smiling as he tried to fit his fingers in the circular numbers to turn the old fashioned dial mechanism.
The phone picked up on the first ring and Bear’s sleepy voice came over the line. “Hello?”
“Bear, it’s Davy.”
“Hey, man. How’s the old lady?”
“She’s fine. Everything’s good.” David stared out over the village as the sun dropped towards the hills and golden clouds streaked the pink sky to the west. “How did you go with Rothman?”
“We celebrated most of the night.” The guitarist’s voice was excited. “You did it, man. Your singing clinched the deal. That performance was unreal. Mick’s drawing up the contracts now and wants us in the studio in London as soon as the festival is over. We’ll start recording our next album. Mick wants the first single released before the end of summer.”
David let go of the breath he’d been holding. The first single of the Davy Morgan Band, which was their first big hit, had been released in the middle of July 1971.
It seemed everything was on track. As long as they recorded the single, it would all be okay. All he had to do was turn up to the studio. At least he knew he could get to Taunton in 1971. What he wasn’t quite so sure about was if he could go back through the ley lines now. It was the longest he’d ever stayed away without going through the stones. His future and his income for the next forty years were secure. And then he could go back to 2011 and the island. But first, he needed to say good-bye to Megan and let her go.
“Okay, I’ll make sure I’m back here by then.”
After making arrangements to meet Bear at the Glastonbury pub next week, David placed the solid black receiver into the cradle and stepped out of the small red phone box.
Then he had to find Megan. David stepped outside and looked at the sky. Not long to go. Now he had to get to the stones and hope like hell Megan was still at the cottage. He had to cut ties with her for good—in both times.
Taking a shortcut through the back of the village, he followed the same path he had taken with her only yesterday. It seemed as if years had passed. The sun was bright and the cows looked at him curiously as they munched on the grass while he strode past, his guitar slung over his shoulder. The sun reached its zenith and he stepped to the back of the middle stone and placed his hand on the surface, still warm from the sun.
Chapter Twenty-Four
She was gone.
The cottage was empty.
Silence surrounded him.
David welcomed the despair that settled over him like a dark shroud.
It was for the best. Megan had her own life and her own future. He had his success and his life and his privacy with no worries about anyone in the Caymans. He leaned forward in the chair, dangling his hands between his knees. He had songs to write and music to record. His life would be full. So why did he feel so fucking empty?
It was for the best. He had to convince himself of that. Rubbing his hand though his hair, he stood, picked up his guitar, and opened the front door. He stared at Violet Cottage as the rays of the setting sun highlighted the yellow roses spilling over the fence between the two homes. If he closed his eyes he could still see her wandering though the garden.
He pushed open the gate to Alice’s place and smiled as a whiff of sandalwood brushed by him. He’d just sit over here for a while and play some music.
As the sun dropped below the horizon and the sounds of night surrounded him, David closed his eyes and began to sing. He let the words come from his heart and the music soothed him.
The song flowed and he faced the truth as the night passed. He had to learn to open his heart. Now he’d found Megan. He’d fought falling for her, trying to use the time barrier as an excuse, but as he sat on Alice’s patio, trying to be close to Megan, he admitted the truth.
I love her. And I need her in my life.
At midnight he put the guitar aside and stood, looking out over the dark garden. An owl hooted, breaking the silence, and he smiled.
Megan was responsible for herself, and she had known what she wanted. The connection between them was meant to be…and he had let her go.
“I know you’re gone, Alice, but maybe you were right?” he whispered into the still night.
Maybe I can find happiness?
So all I have to do is bring her back to me.
It was time to write the words that would bring Megan back to him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Well done, Megan.” Tony hugged her before they left the small office outside the vice-chancellor’s suite. Miss Robinson, the vice-chancellor’s secretary, pursed her lips in disapproval and Megan was tempted to blow a raspberry at the old cow. Instead, she smiled sweetly but got a rude grunt in reply.
The hearing had been rescheduled to allow her enough time to fly back from England, and she’d left the cottage as soon as the festival was over. Winning her case after only one meeting with the disciplinary committee was a huge victory, and she grasped the written letter of apology from the vice-chancellor between her fingers. Greg Cannon had been dismissed for making false allegations and hacking her password, and Megan had been totally cleared of any wrongdoing. The police record had been the key; Greg Cannon was a false name and he’d falsified the documents and qualifications to get the job at the university. His computer hacking skills had been tracked on an audit trail, and he’d been charged with numerous offences.
Megan’s trip back to London on the train, and then the flight back to Australia were a blur. And now, not only had she got her job back, with a good shot at the permanent promotion she also had the excitement of getting her notes out and working on her thesis with the wealth of material she’d picked up in Glastonbury.
Life would be good.
“Celebratory drink?” Tony glanced down at his watch. “Kathy and Beth should be at the pub by now. Kathy’s looking forward to finally hearing all about your trip.”
“I don’t know, Tony.” Megan smiled at him apologetically when he opened the glass door at the end of the corridor leading to the parking garage. “I think I’d prefer to go straight home. I’m really keen to get to work on my thesis.”
“Come on, Megan, you’ve been home three weeks and you’ve been avoiding us like the plague. Kathy’s been trying to get you over for dinner for the past two weekends. She’s upset that you haven’t even asked how the pregnancy is going.”
The last thing Megan wanted to do was talk about the trip to Glastonbury. While she hugged the thought and the memory of Davy to herself, he stayed real to her. For some strange reason, she felt that if she talked about her experiences at Glastonbury, she would wake up and realise it had all been a dream. For the time being, she didn’t want to share it with anyone. On her living room wall, she’d put up a huge poster of Davy and had spent hours looking at it since she’d come home. His smouldering dark eyes followed her around her apartment.
Now that she’d won her appeal, and knowing she still had a job, maybe she’d get back to normal.
And forget him. It had been a pleasant visit and a once-in-a-lifetime experience that she couldn’t tell anyone about…
Maybe spending time with her sister would help.
“Okay, just one drink.”
The Oaks Hotel at Neutral Bay was crowded and Megan was greeted by a few friends as Tony led her out to the small bar at the back. Kathy was sitting with Beth at a table by an artificial-log fire and she jumped up when Megan and Tony entered the room.
“Such great news!” Kathy hugged her. “You must be so relieved.”
“Yes, It’s a huge relief. I couldn’t have proved it was Greg without Tony’s help.”
“What a bastard,” Kathy said..
“Yes, and apparently he’s done it before. I was just unlucky enough to be in his sights.”
“No one needs to worry for a while,” Tony said as he lifted his glass. “The police said with his previous record, he’ll go to prison this time.”
“Now tell us all about the festival.” Beth looked at her eagerly. “And I want to hear all about my Great-Aunt Alice’s cottage. Was it quaint?”
Megan sat down and waited for Tony to bring her a glass of wine from the bar. She picked up the drink and the light caught the deep red of the wine in her glass. She closed her eyes, the memory of sharing the bottle of vintage red wine at the cottage with David filling her thoughts. A warm hand on her forearm alerted her to her sister’s concern and Megan opened her eyes. Kathy was looking at her with a frown wrinkling her forehead.
“Megs, what’s wrong?” Kathy leaned in and spoke softly to her while Tony and Beth chatted on the other side of the table. “You’re pale and listless and not yourself. Winning the appeal should have put a bit of spark back in you. We’ve been worried about you since you came home.” Kathy’s face was full of concern. “I thought it was the case but it’s not, is it? What’s happened? You’re not sick, are you?”
“I met someone in England.” Megan’s throat ached and her eyelids pricked with tears as she finally put David into words. The emotion she’d kept bottled inside her tumbled through her and she put her hands against her chest. “Oh Kathy, I miss him so much.”
“You were hardly over there long enough to meet anyone.”
“Oh, believe me—it seemed like a very long time.” Megan gave a short laugh. “Don’t worry about me, Kath. I think I’ve picked up some sort of bug. I’ll be fine.”
For the rest of the night she put everything she had into being sociable, asking Kathy about the nursery she was decorating, and the baby clothes she was knitting. By the time she got home, Megan was exhausted. She collapsed onto the lounge and flicked on the CD player with the remote and lay back as Davy’s voice surrounded her. The words washed over her and she drifted off for a few moments until the mellow notes of the last song woke her.
How can I live without him?
Suddenly, she sat bolt upright and listened to the song.
Really listened.
She’d known this song since she was a teenager and hadn’t taken much notice of the words but had smiled at the title. It had been the first Davy Morgan song she’d ever heard and it had caught her attention because it was called “For Megan.”
Jumping up from the sofa, she went over and flicked through the old albums on the floor by the bookcase. Pulling out Wandering, his second album, she turned it over and read the back of the sleeve.
Excitement began to build in her stomach as she looked at the dates. “For Megan” had been written in early July 1971 and released as the last song on their big hit album. It said it was recorded at the studio in London and had been written by Davy Morgan alone.
The CD clicked back to the first song, but with shaking fingers Megan pressed the button on her stereo to select “For Megan.” Sitting on the floor in front of the stereo so she could go back as soon as the song finished, she listened to it again and again. Grasping the album cover in her hands, her lips moved as she read the words of the song written on the back cover.
Certainty filled her and she relaxed, taking deep breaths. A lightness filled her chest and she smiled. The words of the song had been written for her. She was sure they had, as sure as the breaths she was taking in would sustain her. Something must have happened to keep David from coming back to her that night. There was no girlfriend—that was newspaper gossip. It wasn’t because he’d been taking advantage of her. He’d had the same intense feelings she did. Maybe she should have waited, or maybe he hadn’t been able to get back at all. She had to trust.
Come back to me, Megan.
Together we will conquer time.
He’d written the song to get the message to her. The tension that had filled her body since that night slowly eased out of her body and her limbs relaxed as the chorus swelled.
Come back to me, I can’t find you.
I need you, I love you.
The song ended and Megan clicked the stereo off. With surprise she reached up to her wet cheeks. She’d been so immersed in the words of his song for her, she hadn’t even been aware she was crying. Wiping her eyes, she logged on to her laptop. There were flights to book and she would have to apply for more leave from the university. The only problem she could foresee was finding David if he hadn’t been able to get back through the time slip. If it meant she had to go back in time again, so be it.
Whatever she had to do to find David, she would do it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“McLaren.” David tried to keep his tone patient as he spelled out the surname. He’d spent two days scouring the Internet for all the McLarens he could find in the Sydney white pages, and last night he had spent hours dialling Australian phone numbers. No one had heard of a Beth McLaren, and he was beginning to wonder if he’d remembered the name that Megan had said correctly.
Now he was onto the local borough and trying to get the Australian address of the owner of Violet Cottage, but had come head-to-head with British bureaucracy.
“Yes, sir, that is correct. The owner is Ms. McLaren in Australia, however I cannot divulge her address. It is against the privacy law. I probably shouldn’t even confirm that name for you.”
“But what if I wanted to buy the cottage?” David was prepared to do anything to find out a way to get in touch with Megan.
“You would have to contact the solicitor who manages the cottage.”
Thank God. Finally he was making progress.
“So can you give me that name and number?”
“Certainly, sir. Just give me a moment.” Over the phone line, keys clicked as the clerk retrieved the information and finally came back to give him the name of a law firm in London.
Two phone calls later and he had managed to get an assurance that an e-mail would be sent to Ms. McLaren asking her to contact him.
The morning after he’d written Megan’s song, he’d gone down to the village and discovered that Jules’ husband, Ned, the village taxi driver, had driven Megan to the train station to catch the train to London.
No privacy issues there. Jules knew all about Megan’s plans as Ned had relayed them back to her. Megan had gone straight to Heathrow and would be back in Australia by now.
Christ Almighty. I don’t even know her last name.
##
“One of your best, man.” Bear nodded at David as his fingers strummed the last notes of “For Megan” and Mick Rothman gave them a broad smile through the glass wall of the studio. David had written the song for Megan in the cottage the day before he’d come back through the stones to meet Bear and Slim, and they’d headed off to the studio. The trip had been cramped in Bear’s van overflowing with their instruments and amplifiers.
One more song to record and the album was finished. Mick was ecstatic and he was predicting a hit album. David didn’t tell him that three of the songs would reach number one in the States over the summer and challenge the Beatles for the longest place in the number one spot.
Knowing his future when he was back here was surreal. He came back occasionally to play the festivals and record some more albums—and they did a hugely successful tour, but mostly he stayed in the twenty-first century.
Bear wouldn’t make it through the eighties, but he hadn’t shared that
with the guys either. He’d found his grave in the small village cemetery in Glastonbury when he’d read about the lives of the band on Wikipedia.
“We’re done. Fabulous job, guys.” Mick opened the door of the studio, the cigarette that was permanently in his mouth hanging from the corner. “Now, to the promotion. I’ve scheduled an appearance in London for you guys next week.”
David shook his head. “Right, I’ll make sure I’m back by then.”
“Back from where?”
David caught Bear’s and Slim’s grins and he shrugged as he lifted his guitar from his shoulder. “I might sound arrogant, but we’ll be big. Trust me.” He walked over to Bear and held out his hand. “I’ve organised a lift back to Glastonbury.”
Bear held his eye and David could tell he understood that they wouldn’t see him for a while.
“Take care, man. It’s been fun.”
Slim walked over and punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You look after yourself, man. Have fun spending all that dosh.”
David grinned at the look on Mick’s face. His mouth was hanging open and the cigarette had dropped from his mouth.
“Bye, Mick.”
***
The second time the taxi dropped her off in front of the cottages, Megan walked up the shady lane leading to Violet Cottage and she knew where she was going, and didn’t end up on the wrong porch. Her stomach fluttered and her heart pounded as she walked past David’s place. His front door was closed and all was quiet, but she wasn’t going to let that bother her. It was a brilliant late-summer morning and the slight breeze ruffled the shiny green leaves on the hedge lining the narrow laneway.
David had written the song for her to get her back, and now she was here, and they would find each other somewhere, somehow, in some time. That was the one thing she was sure of. A tremble went through her as she thought of going back through the stones. She walked around to the back of the cottage and put her bag down on the porch, closing her eyes as the heady perfume of the roses surrounded her.