by David Munro
“In 1929 and 1938, but they didn’t remember me from 1929.”
“Why not, you don’t age?”
“In that timeline, I sported a beard.”
“How long were you in that timeline?”
“A slow four months.” James sighed. “When you are used to modern comforts, and travel back to a period with little technology, it’s frustrating.”
“Did you long for an electric razor?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Anything else?”
“A television, however, since it hadn’t yet been invented, I listened to a radio.”
“Experiencing past historical events as they happen must have been fascinating.”
“When the Wall Street Crash unfolded, hospital staff were ‘glued’ to a radio in the rest room.”
“On your travels, were you ever tempted to reveal forthcoming events?”
“I told you in 1967 about the Beatles splitting up in 1970.”
“I should have put a bet on how long they would last.”
James smiled.
Abbie glanced sideways.
James looked at Abbie, turned round, and a middle-aged couple stood smiling. The man wore a grey suit and the woman a long pink dress, which touched the grass.
“Hello, James,” said the woman.
“I trust you remember us?” said the man, as he removed his horn-rimmed spectacles.
The woman looked at the man. “Philip!”
He glanced at the woman.
“You cannot see without them.” She looked at James, and smiled. “Philip’s vanity does not diminish, no matter how many decades pass.”
Abbie laughed.
James got up, approached the couple and the woman gave him a warm hug. As she stepped back, the man shook James’s hand.
“Why did you not tell us your identity at Nancy’s funeral?” said the woman, “you’re part of our family.”
“Would you have believed me?”
“The woman glanced sideways. “Abbie did.”
“After meeting me on two previous occasions, she twigged.” James glanced at Abbie.
Abbie looked at the woman. “Mind you Charlotte, it took me twenty-seven years!”
Charlotte laughed. “As someone once said.”
“Better late than never,” added Philip.
James looked at Charlotte. “Did you recognise me in 1929, at the hospital?”
“In Lochgilphead?”
“You were with William, and approached me seeking a nurse.”
“I do now.” Charlotte looked at Abbie. “He didn’t suit the beard, it made him look scruffy.”
Abbie laughed.
Charlotte moved closer to James, stared at his eyes, then looked at Philip. As her voice grew raspy, she wiped a tear from an eye. “I saw the resemblance with James and Geoffrey all those years ago.”
Philip put his arm around Charlotte, and looked at James. “Your grandfather and great-uncle await your arrival.”
Charlotte took hold of James’s hand. “Thank you for preventing serious injury to my sons.”
Whilst Charlotte let go of James’s hand, Philip replaced his horn-rimmed spectacles and straightened his necktie, then their image started to fade.
“Maya sends her best wishes, James,” cried Charlotte.
Seconds later, James’s great grandfather and grandmother were gone, and he sat down.
“You appear drained.”
“It’s meeting people from the distant past again.” James sighed. “Even in death, it can be overwhelming.”
“There is someone else who wishes to thank you.”
James took a deep breath.
“You saved her life a century ago.”
“Elizabeth?”
Abbie nodded.
“For me, it is less than two years.”
Sensing someone behind him, James turned round and saw a well-groomed lady with bobbed blonde hair in a medium-length dress.
“Hello, James.”
He rose.
“Lovely to see you.”
“Your appearance is as when we first met.” James approached Elizabeth.
Elizabeth glanced at Abbie. “He never struck me as being a coachman.”
“His hands are smooth.”
James glanced at Abbie, then at Elizabeth. “But you still hired me.”
“Because I liked your manner and how you conducted yourself.” Elizabeth looked at Abbie. “The other coachman made a pass at me!”
Abbie laughed.
“In 1930, you were not receptive.”
Elizabeth touched James’s arm. “I did not know it was you, and you don’t suit a beard!”
“Fortunately, when you painted my portrait, I didn’t have one.”
“If you had, there may not have been a portrait!”
James laughed.
“Your namesake sends his best wishes.”
“Pass on mine to your husband.”
“Which one?” Elizabeth smiled. “I have been married twice.”
Abbie laughed.
James snapped his fingers. “Of course, Adam.”
“He also sends his best wishes.”
“I prefer your Scottish dialect.”
“As do I. New York took its toll.” Elizabeth stared at Abbie. “It almost killed me.”
“Killed you, how?”
“It is a long story, James, and when we next meet, one that I will tell you in full.”
Seconds later, Elizabeth’s image disappeared, and James resumed his place next to Abbie. “My intuition tells me that if Elizabeth had been single?”
“When I first met her, she was fifteen years younger than me.”
“In 1912, it was not uncommon for men to court women many years younger than themselves.”
“Perhaps, but I’m from an age where the couple tend to be of a similar age.”
Abbie watched a butterfly land nearby.
James studied it. “Is this of some significance?”
“No, just the warm climate.”
James grinned.
After the butterfly took off, James cast his gaze around the area and then looked upwards.
“What’s up, James?”
“It’s too perfect, Abbie.”
“You’re hard to please!” Abbie took James’s hand. “The problem is that you have not yet transcended.”
“Therefore, after my graduation ceremony, I will feel different?”
“You will qualify to become part of a Supreme Order for all time, similar to the people you have met.”
“They are good people.”
“And each of them care for you, as I do.”
James put his arm around Abbie, and the small sparrow returned. It circled above and then flew off.
“There is another person who is looking forward to greeting you.”
“Who?”
“Someone you helped in 1896.”
“The first occasion I travelled back in time.”
“This person was undisciplined, plus he had a wife and baby son to support.”
“As I recall, he also had an addiction to alcohol.”
“However, he mended his ways, and started a company that still exists to this day.”
James sighed. “Angus.”
“You also met his son?”
James nodded. “Andrew, in 1912, when he was working in his father’s business premises.” James paused. “Sixteen years had passed in moments.”
“No ill effects?”
“Some initial dizziness, however, it soon disappeared.”
“Similar to you leaving me in 1967.”
James laughed. “I couldn’t avoid my exit.”
Abbie smiled.
“Is Andrew with his father?”
“He lived to a good age, and did a lot of work within the local community.” Abbie stared at James. “He became aware that you were a time traveller, but never revealed it to anyone.”
“How did Andrew find out?” James snapped h
is fingers. “At Nancy’s funeral, Andrew would see that I had not aged from 1912.” James touched his chin. “Mind you, just because I hadn’t aged, that doesn’t make me a time traveller.”
“The alternative is that you are born lucky!”
James laughed.
“In the early twentieth century, people aged rapidly.”
James nodded. “Two wars and a depression would take its toll on society.”
“Many people died before their time.”
“Including me, I’m in my mid-forties.”
“Think of the experiences you had.”
James remained silent.
Abbie nudged him. “Be grateful.”
“Is that allowed?”
“I will soon find out.”
James laughed, looked upwards and then at Abbie.
“You must have deserved it.”
He stared at Abbie.
“What’s up?”
“It couldn’t have been easy for you.”
“Because I had to bring up April, without a father?”
“Yes.”
“I had my mother to support me.”
James sighed.
“Don’t blame yourself, James, it’s who you are.”
“You mean, what I became.”
“If you had led a normal life, we wouldn’t have met.”
James gripped Abbie’s hand. “An unmarried mother in 1968 would have raised eyebrows.”
“It’s not as if I was a teenager.”
“Then, you only looked thirty instead of thirty-seven.”
Abbie kissed James on the cheek. “The people in Dochar were still receptive.”
“Maybe they were coming to terms with the permissive age.”
“And the retail resurgence of Ardrishaig’s main street.”
James glanced at Abbie.
“Many businesses owed you a debt of gratitude, I discovered how it all came about.”
“A consequence of my arrival in 1938.”
“Philip embraced the concept of marketing, then advised Ardrishaig’s business community.”
“However, fruition took almost thirty years.”
“Better late?”
James nodded.
“It’s a pity the retail revolution stalled.”
“What happened.”
“The people who ran successful businesses were lured to Glasgow by large companies, and the main street never recaptured those vibrant times.”
James looked at Abbie. “Ardrishaig’s retail prowess won’t be of consequence to us anymore.”
She laughed, then pondered.
“What’s on your mind?”
“You never had the opportunity to spend time at Docharnea.”
“I was there in 1896, that’s well over a century ago.”
Abbie laughed.
James pondered.
“The past?”
“When I came to in 1896, the coachman’s quarters looked similar, and only after leaving it, realised something was wrong.”
“Wasn’t it just!”
“No trees, bushes or hedges!”
“What did you do next?”
“I went down the driveway, and at the bottom, discovered a muddy dirt track instead of a road.”
“My mother’s property would not be there.”
“Only two properties existed.”
“Did you panic?”
James shook his head. “I walked along the track for about fifteen minutes, then a horse and cart approached.”
“That must have been a strange sight.”
“The driver stopped, and asked if I wanted a lift.”
“That was a kind gesture.”
“As I sat next to him, he stared at my wrist.”
Abbie put a hand over her mouth. “Oh no, your digital watch.”
“Eight decades before its time.”
“Did the driver enquire about it?”
“I explained that it was a gift from an American relative – a clock watch.”
“Did he buy it?”
James stared at Abbie. “I wasn’t going to sell it.”
“Did he believe you?”
James frowned. “I think he did.”
“I trust, later, you took the watch off.”
“Yes, I kept it concealed in my pocket at all times.”
“Your watch no doubt raised the driver’s eyebrows.”
“As did wearing a coachman’s outfit.”
“Why were you dressed as a coachman?”
“Before passing out, I came across a closet, which contained the outfit, and being curious, tried it on.”
“Did it fit?”
“Yes, perfectly.”
“Prior to going outside, why did you not take off the outfit?”
“The clothes I had been wearing were gone.”
“Did the cart driver take you into Ardrishaig?”
“Coincidentally, he was making a delivery to Docharnea.”
“To who?”
“The original owner.”
“So, home-delivery took place in the nineteenth century!”
James laughed.
“What happened next?”
“A tall, well-built woman stood at the driveway entrance and when the cart stopped, she looked at me.”
“And?”
“She presumed I had hitched a lift to Docharnea, and had come for an interview.”
“For a coachman’s position?”
“Yes.”
“That was indeed a coincidence.”
“It’s not as if I could tell Mary Carsell-Brown I was the current owner of her property.”
“But you were.”
“Yes, over a century later.”
Abbie laughed. “What was she like?”
James hesitated. “Bossy, but fair.”
“What did her husband do?”
“Manager of a local bank.”
“Dressed in a conservative manner?”
James nodded. “A regular coachman duty was to take him to Ardrishaig and back six days per week.”
“And to clean out the horses’ stable.”
“I can still smell it!” Abbie laughed.
“Speaking to Charles, I got the impression he longed for a great adventure, and
Africa certainly fulfilled his ambition.”
“A stark contrast from working in a bank.”
“Indeed.”
Abbie caressed James’s hand. “Had it not been for your intervention, Charles would not have achieved that dream. Furthermore, he would have lost his life in a coach accident, with Mary later dying from injuries she sustained. Because you spotted a faulty axle, no crash occurred.”
“Also, working as a coachman in 1896, allowed me to meet Olivia’s grandmother, and her father. Then, Edward was a young teenager.”
“And, during the First World War, became a war hero.”
James sighed. “But died not long after Olivia was born.”
“The reason why Olivia’s husband didn’t want to fight in WW2?”
James nodded. “William felt he could not live up to his father-in-law’s reputation, and would disgrace the family name.”
“You prevented his motor accident, which resulted in Olivia and William being together for another twenty years. Charlotte spoke of her other son, your grandfather.”
“In 1940, a British agent asked me to act as an observer at Leith Docks.”
“Why?”
“He was convinced a German agent worked there, and required an outsider to infiltrate.”
“Did you have a choice?”
“He offered me money, I needed it.”
“Did you uncover anything?”
“I spotted a person acting in a suspicious manner near a ship and alerted security personnel, who discovered a bomb on the ship timed to go off whilst at sea.”
“Terrible.”
“My grandfather was a member of the crew.”
“All of us owe much to you.”
“The credit should be directed at the coach house.”
Abbie laughed, then wiped a tear from her eye.
James stood up. “Let’s walk.”
She rose.
The couple strolled across the lush green field close to where rabbits had gathered to eat grass.
“They’re not afraid,” whispered James.
“Why should they be?” Abbie looked at James.
“In the grounds around Docharnea, even at the sight of someone they run off.”
“This is not Docharnea. Here, there is nobody they fear.”
James looked into the distance. “How far does this stretch?”
“Stretch?”
“Is it a landscape?”
“It can be what you desire.”
James pondered.
“During your travels through time, you must have witnessed wondrous sights.”
“I was going to write a book.”
“It would not have been fiction.”
“Complete authenticity.”
Abbie laughed.
James grinned.
“What was your favourite era?”
“1967?”
“Apart from when we met.”
“All of the eras were interesting.” James paused. “I think viewing Docharnea as it changed became fascinating.”
“In what way?”
Decor, furniture and how fast trees grow!”
Abbie smiled.
“Those initial coachman duties came as a shock to the system.”
“Hard labour?”
“That plus the smell of the stable.”
Abbie laughed.
“With technology in its infancy, and no cars or buses, life would have been simple and uncomplicated.”
“More walking.”
“Less people with weight problems.”
“You would have been the first, and last coachman of Docharnea.”
“After I left in 1896, another coachman was hired, however, he had an injury and I replaced him.”
“And you were on hand to push Elizabeth out of the runaway horse’s path.”
“After being hit by the horse, I ended up in the local hospital.”
“How long were you there for, James?”
“Between two and three weeks and then I returned to Docharnea.”
“Did you resume your coachman duties?”
“I couldn’t, the coach and two horses had been made redundant – replaced by an automobile.”
Abbie laughed.
“Technology began to affect Docharnea.”
“You then met Charlotte and Philip.”
“When I met them in 1930, the depression started to bite.”
“Dire times.”
“But a spirit amongst local people ensued and whilst working as a porter in Lochgilphead Hospital, I witnessed it at first hand.”