Chapter 3
THREE
‘’Ere we are.’ Nancy reached into a cherry wood box on a shelf near to the hearth and took out a glass ball and a large square of black velvet. She gestured at me to sit opposite her at the round table.
Evelyn’s journal had helped me cross the timelines, and had given me some knowledge about whatever arcane mystery allowed me to be here. I owed a lot to the Willcock family.
Nancy seemed unperturbed, hearing my story.
‘Why do you believe me?’ I asked her. I watched as she took a small earthenware bowl, upturned it and placed it on the table. She covered it with the velvet and then sat the glass ball on the top.
‘Because of what I said – you aren’t the first traveller that has come ’ere, maid.’ She gave me a deep look. ‘My mother told me the secrets. I know what this cottage is, an’ I know what you are.’
‘What am I?’ I asked, as she polished the glass ball.
‘Some might say, gifted. Some might say, cursed.’ She shrugged.
‘I couldn’t say. But some of us, what has lived on the line of power, some of us are able to slip through time.
An’ some of us do, an’ some of us choose not to.
’ She pursed her lips. ‘I chose not to. But I ’elp the ones that do.
The Willcock pellars are sworn to ’elp those that need it, whatever time they are from,’ she added.
‘I’m very grateful. I can’t tell you… I can’t say what a relief it is to have someone who understands.
’ I let out a long sigh. ‘I know that my story sounds crazy. But I need help. I’m desperate to know what happened to William.
I… I need to know he was all right. Whatever happened…
I…’ I broke off, not knowing how to express the grief that was expanding in my belly and my heart.
William had been torn from me; he should have been here, now, in Nancy’s little cottage.
I had the overriding feeling that we were supposed to be together, though I still didn’t entirely know why.
With William it was almost chemical, molecular, even: a sense that wherever he was, I should be, too.
‘That is why we will look into the glass,’ Nancy said, simply.
‘What is that?’ I looked at the ball curiously. It wasn’t a crystal ball; it was made of a light green glass and looked like it was hollow.
‘Fishin’ float.’ Nancy smoothed the ball with her hand. ‘Pellars’ve used them for a long time for seein’.’ She closed her eyes for a moment and rested her hands on the velvet.
‘A fishing float?’ I looked at the ball again; now, I realised it looked familiar. I sometimes saw balls like this in antique shops in some of the Cornish fishing villages, or used as décor in pubs and museums. I hadn’t ever exactly known what they were.
‘Aye. Blown glass. Fishermen tie ’em to ropes, crab cages, an’ the like.’
‘And you use them to… see the future?’ I asked.
‘My mother an’ her mother an’ most o’ the Willcocks were pellars. I keep my ’and in.’ She opened her eyes and looked at me. ‘The black velvet helps keep the eyes focused. A blank canvas, if you like. You want to know what happened to your Lord William.’
‘Yes. Please…’ I replied, wanting to get up and pace around; I was panicky as a startled horse. ‘He was…’ I gulped, hating the memory. ‘He was being… restrained by the police when I left. I want to know that he’s all right. Please tell me he’s all right…’ I trailed off, my heart in my mouth.
‘But, maid. You ’ave to know that… if your Lord William didn’t come through the slip in time wi’ you, then ’ee ’as to be… ’ee’s passed, now. Long ago,’ Nancy said, as kindly as she could. ‘You do understand that?’
It was 1867, over a hundred years later.
I had met William when I accidentally travelled back in time in the grounds of the ruined Trevarron House. The portal had opened in the same moment I had climbed the wrought-iron fence surrounding a derelict rose garden, and into the arms of the man I had been dreaming about for years.
The realisation hit me, hard. I had been so intent on saving him by bringing him back to my own time through the portal, and, because I had failed, William was dead.
The man I had fallen so deeply in love with would have died of natural causes by now, if not in prison or even execution if things had gone badly.
I didn’t know. I didn’t know what had happened to him, and it broke my heart, not knowing what his life had been.
I only knew one, crushing fact: that he was dead now, and that I would never see him again.
‘William!’ I let out a sob and covered my mouth, my eyes wild.
Nancy regarded me kindly, and reached over the table for my hand.
‘I’m sorry, maid,’ she murmured. ‘Time is cruel. It’ll take everyone from you in the end.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I sobbed. ‘I just… It hadn’t occurred to me. I… woke up lying on the grass at Trevarron House, by the rose garden. The house was still intact. It wasn’t a ruin, so I knew immediately that I hadn’t made it home–’
‘Back to your time,’ Nancy prompted.
‘So I thought that I was still in 1755. I thought that it hadn’t worked, but then William wasn’t there. I thought I had to get away as soon as possible. If the police were still there, they’d be looking for me, and him…’ I trailed off. My heart ached deeply.
I had loved him. And we had been separated, just as we had found each other, across time.
I thought of my recurring dreams of William: of standing on the rock dais at the edge of the cliff with Trevarron House behind us, silhouetted in the sunset.
He had dreamed of me, too. He’d told me that later; he’d been scared of it, scared of our connection, just like I was.
It was so intense: when we kissed, when we made love, I felt as though I was dissolving to become part of the ocean of him.
That I was part of the Cornish Sea beneath us; its white-tipped waves crashing on the black rock.
Hungry, relentless, full of a wild power that neither of us could fully comprehend.
‘Don’t cry, maid. I’ll try to get some peace for you.
And then I’ll look at this.’ She touched Evelyn Willcock’s journal on the table next to her with some reverence.
‘I never thought this morning when I woke up that I’d have a traveller come.
Not that I ever know when one will come.
But you’re the first one to bring me something like this.
From my own family.’ She shook her head. ‘’Tis a lot to understand.’
‘I can imagine that it must be,’ I agreed. ‘Thank you.’
‘Let us find out what happened to William, Lord Trevarron, then,’ Nancy said, closing her eyes again. She let out a long breath. I waited, expectantly, wiping the tears from my eyes.
‘Oh…’ Nancy opened her eyes, focusing them on the glass ball in front of her. ‘How strange.’
She stared at the ball intently for a moment, then looked at me.
‘’Ee’s not ’ere,’ she said. She closed her eyes again; there was another silence. ‘I can’t find ’im.’
‘What do you mean?’ I frowned.
‘What I say.’ Nancy squeezed her eyes shut. ‘I don’t see ’im,’ she repeated. I watched her face; her expression was confused, and she moved her head from side to side as if she was trying to see through a crowd.
‘He was the Lord of Trevarron,’ I repeated. ‘We were running from the police. He was injured. Is he dead? He must be, by now.’
‘I know, maid. I wouldn’t see him on earth if he had passed, but spirit would show me ’is grave, or ’ee’d speak to me, disembodied, like. But… nothin’.’ She opened her eyes. ‘It’s like ’ee never existed at all.’