Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
T he Tower of London, 1536
Cara noticed the familiar signs. The air in the cell was freezing, but when she was about to time travel, there was a distinct edge to the cold. The atmosphere whirled with icy crispness. It was time again—the vortex beckoned.
This was the perfect way to escape. She would disappear into the ethers. If she could teach others to time travel, she’d be the most popular woman in prison. But her power was bittersweet. She wanted to stay in Tudorville. How could she leave Thomas and May? And she couldn’t bear to abandon George. She must know what happened to him. She felt the familiar wrench of loss. How would she be able to make sure they were all safe if she went now?
‘Edward?’
The tutor was trying to distract the children by tracing letters on the dusty floor. It was working. They threw themselves into the guessing game with gusto, oblivious to their dreadful surroundings.
‘Yes, my lady?’ He raised his head.
‘I’m sorry.’ She mouthed the words in a low tone, hoping the children wouldn’t hear. ‘I think I’m about to slip away. Please do whatever you can to petition the officials to send you all to Willow Manor. They have no interest in you; there’s no reason to hold you here after routine questioning. You know what to do. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
She was gone before she heard his reply.
When Thomas looked up a few minutes later, he smiled at the version of his mother who remained behind. She was unconscious of her ability to move between timelines.
London, present day
Eddie’s tall, lanky frame bobbed about with excitement, unable to stay still when Cara appeared.
‘Here you are! Back so soon. I didn’t know what to expect.’ He hugged her. ‘How did it go? Let’s have a cup of tea, and you can tell me all of your news.’
‘I’m afraid I’ve let you down, Eddie.’
‘That’s quite impossible. I was so worried about you; it’s such a relief to have you back in one piece; you could never let me down. I’ve been wondering whether the risks were too high and perhaps I shouldn’t have pressed you to go. Me and my lofty ambitions.’ He grimaced and shook his head.
Cara smiled. ‘How odd, you said something similar in Tudorville.’
‘Really? At least I’m consistent then, if nothing else. Five hundred years of dogged determination to get my own way. I do hope you’ll forgive me if I’ve caused you distress.’
He noticed her eyes welling up. She tried to hold back the tears, but they seeped from beneath her lashes as the emotion rumbled deep within her chest.
Cara was like a volcano about to erupt, but she was determined to keep it together. There was too much to do to allow herself to fall apart now.
‘What’s the matter, my dear. Whatever it is, remember we always get another chance. That’s the beauty of having the ability to live in quantum time.’
Eddie went through the comforting motions of making tea in the tiny kitchen which was more like a cupboard, in his office at Royal Holloway.
‘There, there, sit here and take a moment. There’s no rush. I’m sorry to push you so. I can be a real bully when it comes to my experiments.’
He put a steaming cup of tea on the table, and she embraced the hot, blue china with her cold hands.
‘Thank you. How are you?’
‘Um. I’m fine. . .had trouble sleeping though cause I was worried about you.’
‘Bless you. How long have I been gone?’
‘It’s been a couple of days, at least. Let me check my notes. I lose track of the days when I’m working.’
He rummaged in the desk; extracted a clipboard and a crumpled sheet of paper which was wedged onto it.
‘Don’t you keep your notes on your computer, Eddie? I would have thought a quantum physics professor would be more hi-tech than that.’ Laughter interrupted her misery. There was something about Eddie which always lifted her spirits. His goodness was palpable. She felt safe with him despite the chaos in her life.
‘You can’t beat good old-fashioned pen and paper. I love the feel of the ink pen between my fingers as the nib scratches the paper. Let me see…’
He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his tweed waistcoat to check the calendar and then referred to his sheet.
‘Okay, you’ve been gone forty-four hours and twenty-two minutes precisely.’
‘I have no sense of time whatsoever when I come and go.’
He reached over and patted her hand. ‘Can you tell me what went on? I can barely wait to hear!’
Cara didn’t know if it was the hot tea or being in Eddie’s soothing presence, but she already felt better. The sense of dread had lessened its grip; she was steady enough to reveal what had happened. She filled him in on the details of how she’d arrived in Tudorville instead of in 2100 as they’d planned.
‘I’ve already explained this to the 1536 version of you. We were arrested together in the carriage on the road to Berwick-upon-Tweed.’
‘Oh, how frustrating, it will catch up with me soon, no doubt. It seems to take a little while for me to update; the memory transfer is wildly unpredictable. I’ll probably need to travel again to be able to get it all. I recall some things about the past in great detail, and others seem to elude me altogether. I can’t get the measure of it; it’s most annoying for a scientist.’
They sat on wooden university chairs, a quiet camaraderie connecting them as they sipped their tea and pondered the situation.
‘I’m not sure what the best thing to do is, so when that’s the case I usually come to the conclusion that when we don’t know what to do, it’s a good idea to do absolutely nothing. Let’s wait until an idea comes to us,’ he said.
‘Yes, I think you’re right. I’m dying to dash back to try and fix things, but I think I’d better hold on or I may make it worse. I’ve done enough damage. My impulsive behaviour doesn’t help matters.’
Eddie chuckled.
‘I must rectify things with George. I will find him today and apologise for disappearing like that. I had this dreadful premonition in Tudorville that I’ve messed everything up.’
‘Try not to worry. He’ll be waiting for you.’ He shook his head. ‘Who would choose to fall in love? Not me, I can tell you.’
‘Have you never been in love, Eddie? I can’t remember a lady in your life, but then I only meet you in the same period when you’re tutoring Thomas and May at Willow Manor.’
Eddie sighed. ‘I’ve been in love, all right. But I shan’t be doing it again if I have any say in the matter. Horrible, painful ordeal it was. Would rather have a tooth extracted with a pair of pliers than go through that again! At least you know toothache will stop with a dose of medication.’
Cara laughed and almost spat out a mouthful of tea. ‘Oh, you are a delight, Eddie. It certainly feels like hell on earth sometimes. But when it’s good, there’s no other feeling like it in all the world. That’s why we love to be in love. Although I don’t think we choose it. It just comes at us out of nowhere.’
‘You and the earl are two sides of the same coin. I haven’t found my soul mate. I thought I had, but it wasn’t to be. I’d rather be alone than suffer like that. Not everyone has the good fortune to meet their one true love. Most of us fumble about for several lifetimes, trying to talk ourselves into believing that the wrong person is the right one.’
‘That’s sad, but I do think perhaps you’re right. I’d never experienced a connection like this until George, even though I believed myself to be madly in love when I was younger. Then—with my fiancé, Daniel, I was pretending we were right for each other because it was convenient and I didn’t want to risk being hurt again.’
Eddie could feel Cara’s pain. If only he could do something to make things better between her and George. Not for the first time he wished he had a magic wand. He blamed himself for sending her off on the mission.
‘Sylvia says when you meet your counterpart, they are your Twin Flame; the missing half of your soul that Plato refers to in Greek mythology,’ said Cara.
‘Maybe in my next life, I’ll meet my Twin Flame. I’m gay, Cara. One man, in particular, caused me a lot of heartache.’
Cara hugged him. ‘Thanks for telling me, Eddie. Even these days it must be tough. I’m sorry. I should have known.’
‘Oh, you do know. You don’t remember yet, that’s all. It can be tough but not as tough as it was in Tudorville.’
‘Speaking of Twin Flames, I’m such a fool. I let my pride hijack my intuition. If I hadn’t run away in a rage, we wouldn’t have been arrested. I can only hope Swifty made it to the border to warn George. By the way, did you manage to get my letter to him?’
‘Yes, I popped it through the workshop door, just as you instructed.’
‘You didn’t see him?’
‘No. I rang the bell and peered through the window, hoping to see how he was doing, but there was no one there. The place looked different, but I’m not sure why.’
‘I wonder where he was. Thank you. What would I do without you? I’ll head back to York to find him shortly, and I’ll call you tomorrow.’
‘Okay, my dear. Try and get a good night’s sleep. A flash of inspiration will come to us soon. It always does.’
York, present day
Cara approached George’s workshop; her heart drummed so fast she couldn’t think clearly. She longed to see him but was embarrassed to tell him how she felt. What if he didn’t want her anymore? What if she’d hurt him irreparably and he’d decided it was for the best to let her go?
No matter how difficult, she must now tell him she regretted running off as she did. It had been a mistake. The letter would have wounded him. It seemed stupid and cruel now. Why had she thought it was her only choice? Her heart was raw, and she’d been punishing him because she was angry about the piece in the newspaper.
She now understood it was pointless to try and break it off. Whenever she did, they were soon back in the same painful on-off cycle because they were destined to be together. They were both in so deep there was no turning back. If he still wanted her, she would allow him to be however he wanted. She couldn’t bear the thought of life without him.
Sylvia had tried to explain at the beginning, but Cara hadn’t been able to grasp the truth about the inevitability of their union. She was so used to making things happen; to pushing things along. No more. Now, she would let go. There was no strength left in her to push. She would surrender to unconditional love, and trust that things would work out for them as they were meant to. A sense of relief washed over her, and she was calm for the first time in days.
No. 20 The Shambles loomed before her. Despite her foggy mental haze, it struck her that the front door was a pale blue rather than the usual rich, glossy black. There was something different about the window too. The blinds were new, and there was a tall cactus plant in a blue pot, next to the doorway, which definitely wasn’t there on her last visit.
There was no Cavendish Fine Manuscripts sign either, but Cara hadn’t noticed that yet. It’s one of life’s truths that people walk around not registering what’s under their nose. The thought flashed through her mind that George was obviously getting on with his life remarkably well without her. A dull ache settled in her chest. The weight of it trapped her breath, and she gasped for air. She paused a moment to pull herself together, drew her shoulders back and raised her hand to the brass knocker on the pale blue door.
Hold on; even the brass knocker looked unfamiliar.
A petite woman appeared in the doorway.
‘Yes?’ She smoothed her hands across her pleated skirt as if she didn’t know what else to do with them. Then she looked expectantly at Cara, a tight smile stretched across her lips.
‘Hello.’ Cara coughed. ‘I’m looking for George. Is he around? I’m sorry. . .I don’t know your name. Are you his assistant?’
‘Assistant? George?’ She looked confused. ‘No, I’m not an assistant, although my father may think otherwise.’ She let out a stifled, self-deprecating sound. ‘There’s no George here. This is a private residence. It’s my father’s house actually.’ She leaned closer to Cara as if to share a secret of great importance. ‘He’s not so good lately. I’ve come to stay with him for a week or two. Do my bit, you know.’
‘Right, yes, quite. I see.’
Cara did not see, but she had no idea what else to do or say. She seemed to be awake in her worst nightmare.
‘Thank you. I’ll be on my way. I must have got the address mixed up.’
‘Are you okay? You look a little pale.’
‘Um, yes I’m fine. Thanks again.’
Cara gripped the door frame to prevent herself from toppling backwards off the step; her legs were like jelly.
‘One more thing, please. How long has your father lived here? If you don’t mind me asking.’
‘Oh, let me think.’ The woman stared into space and then counted on her fingers.
Cara had the urge to scream at the woman’s slow movements, but she managed to maintain the fake smile pasted on her face. She thought she might die if she had to keep it going much longer, such was the panic that gripped her.
‘We lived here as children. I think my parents bought this house shortly after they were married. Let me see. . .’ Another show of counting—‘It must be close to forty years. Does that help at all?’
‘Oh, thank you, yes.’ Cara’s words barely made it through her dry lips; she squeezed each one out as if it cost a fortune. ‘You’ve been very helpful. I must go. Thanks again, and sorry for bothering you.’
Cara stumbled away. She was reeling. Her worst fear had been confirmed. George wasn’t here. She’d ruined it all. She’d killed him with her vain, reckless behaviour.
She threw herself onto a wooden bench and stared ahead. Groups of people buzzed around, going about their lives. People who knew nothing of George. They marched by as if nothing of any significance had happened; as if her whole world hadn’t collapsed with one innocuous conversation. She didn’t want to see anyone or anything. She wanted to disappear with George.
He must never have existed in this new version of the timeline.
A violent rage burned through her and she began to sob; loud, desperate sobs which poured out of her and shook her entire being. She couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop. She sat there wailing long enough to cry out all the tears she’d been choking back for months, and until her throat was as dry as a teetotaller’s kitchen cabinet.
When she could cry no more, she stood up and walked home in a daze, not feeling anything but her own pain-filled heart. She thought this must be what dying was like. She pulled herself along, but her spirit had deserted her.
To lose one’s true love is dreadful in any circumstances. To have one’s true love die is to be grief-stricken, but to be confronted with the reality that the man she had loved for five hundred years no longer existed, struck terror into Cara’s heart.
George wasn’t alive. She’d known it the minute they were arrested; when she realised her timing for making the trip was off. But she prayed she had imagined it. George often teased her about her superstitious tendencies. That was one thing she’d brought with her from her old life. In Tudorville, everyone was superstitious. Superstition was the norm.
She caught sight of her puffed, tear-stained eyes in the car mirror as she drove in the direction of George’s townhouse. Even though she knew the truth in her bones, she was compelled to go there and see for herself. There was still a tiny flicker of hope that she’d made it all up and she was wrong.
She found a parking space a couple of houses over from George’s front door, blew her nose and settled down to wait. It had only been about ten minutes when the door opened, and a man appeared. He was roughly the same height and build as George, with similar hair colour. Her spirits rose. But then she caught sight of his profile; it wasn’t him. She would know George anywhere. A woman stood in the doorway, to see him off, but Cara couldn’t make out her appearance. The man kissed her before he turned to leave the house. Cara and the woman watched him walk along the path and turn towards town.
What had she done? Where was George? When was George?