Chapter 11
It wasn’t the most noble instinct she’d had, but Hetty had noted a new tendency towards curiosity. She decided to exercise it on her way to top up her water glass that evening after a long bath when she overheard the aunts talking in their sitting room.
‘Do you think she’s missing her mother and brother?’ Jemima asked Aggie.
‘No, Jemima, I think she’s overwhelmed. And I suspect there might be more – I am wondering if she’s been experiencing depression?’
‘Well, then, we need to get her to a doctor pronto,’ Jemima said.
‘And out of the house. Some fresh air will do her a world of good.’
‘That’s very old-fashioned, you know, Aggie.’
‘And true. You and I both know it’s not healthy, her just sitting around indoors reading the papers and looking out of the window.’
Jemima harrumphed, but appeared to concede the point. ‘So what do we do?’
‘I’ve got her a phone. Going to set it up now.’
‘What, shove her in at the deep end? That’s so like you, Aggie.’
‘The sooner we can help her get her head around it all, the better. Now I’m not having the telly on if you’re just going to speak over it all evening.’
Hetty had heard enough. It was all rather uncomfortably like the advice the family physician Dr Withings had given her mother before she was dragged all over the countryside for a long, cold, miserable year.
Hetty had breathed fresh air from nearly every part of Scotland and none had solved her problem.
The problem of her future.
It would have been so much easier, Hetty thought, if only she’d given up on her experiments with time. Perhaps things would have worked themselves out.
But Hetty’s heart dragged at the thought, snagged on the thorns of … Of what? She’d never managed to work out what it was. Why the time she lived in failed to fit in with how she saw herself. Well, perhaps it was time to look at herself in a new way.
Aggie and Jemima were squabbling over something called a Wi-Fi password when she walked in and dropped into a high-backed armchair.
‘Hetty, dear! We were just talking about you. We’ve got you a nice little present. Still setting it up, though.’
Jemima’s excited face was lit up by a smooth black rectangle. Aggie looked more wary, leaning forward in her chair.
‘How’s it going with that wish list?’ she asked. ‘We’ve been talking about it, and we’ve got some thoughts.’
Hetty sighed, feeling defeat pressing her down again as she remembered her first two, unachievable wishes, and her terrifying third one.
‘It’s hardly a list, is it, with only one probable item?’
Aggie’s eyes were twinkling. ‘About that. How about we, as your beloved aunts—’
‘Descendants, technically,’ amended Hetty.
‘A mere technicality. Anyway, as your aunts, we each have one wish each to add.’ Aggie leaned back, smiling. ‘Jemima, you go first.’
Jemima huffed, frustrated with the rectangle, and attached a white cord to it. ‘No, you first, Agatha. She won’t like mine.’
‘Very well. Well, my addition to your list is that you should attend a computer class. There’s one down the road. Once you’ve got your head around how to use modern tools, you can move on to other types of formal education.’
Hetty considered this. It would take her closer to her original desires for learning.
‘Yes, I agree. An excellent addition.’
Hetty looked at Jemima expectantly. The older lady placed the flashing object rather precariously on the arm of the sofa, lowering her brightly coloured reading glasses.
‘Boring, Aggie, but I suppose yours was always bound to be practical. Mine’s much better, in my opinion.’
Aunt Aggie smiled. ‘For once, Jemima, I find I must agree.’
‘Of course you do. Here you go, Hetty – your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is this. You will go dancing.’
Hetty blinked, feeling an icy thrill flash down her spine. Terror or excitement? She couldn’t be sure. ‘Go dancing?’ she repeated blankly.
‘Yes, dear. Etta is probably out there dancing her little heart out, isn’t she? Feels like all they get up to on those Regency TV shows.’
Aggie coughed.
‘Well, besides the fucking, of course,’ Jemima added.
‘The what?’
‘Never mind that,’ interrupted Aggie, putting a reassuring hand on Hetty’s arm. ‘If you are to be kissed, it can’t hurt to dance first.’
‘I can teach you. Dancing, that is,’ added Jemima.
Hetty considered this. ‘And I suppose dancing here, alone, doesn’t count?’
The aunts only laughed.
‘But I have felt such a darkness. A bizarre heaviness that defies description – a cloud hanging over me. And it seems it has followed me, even here.’
Hetty sighed, twisting her fingers together on her lap.
‘I have never met anyone who has been able to understand it, and I fear I shall never, ever escape it.’
Aggie reached over, stilling Hetty’s anxious hands.
‘Darling child. It was like this when I was much younger, but we have much better understanding of these things nowadays. And ways of escaping them, too. You will dance again, Hetty. You really will.’
‘How could I ever expect to dance, when at times I have struggled even to move?’
Aggie squeezed her arm. ‘We can help you with that, dear. You must keep talking to us about it, when you’re feeling like this, because we can do things to help.’
Hetty sighed, feeling immensely reluctant. ‘If only you could. My family tried. I think I have seen every doctor in the country. No one could help me.’
‘We have a name for this feeling, now – depression. We have new doctors now; new treatments,’ Aggie said. ‘At least let us try and help you. We’ll do our best to get you dancing. Will you at least consider it?’
Hetty looked between them, at their earnest care for her.
They really seemed like they wanted to try – what was there to lose?
Surely things couldn’t get any worse. She felt a shimmer of possibility run over her skin as she pondered it.
If she had travelled through time, surely advancements even more striking had been made in other fields?
‘Very well,’ she said eventually.
Jemima leapt up excitedly. ‘Oh, I’m so glad you said yes! I know some epic clubs, dearie. So many good ones have closed down now, of course, and our weed dealer died last month, but I’m sure we can still go on a proper rager.’
‘Calm down, Jemima. First things first. Let her settle in for a while. Let’s book that doctor’s appointment.
’ Aggie leaned back, returning to her newspaper.
‘Besides, I’m not sure we’ll need Uzzy. It says here in the Guardian that Generation Z don’t like to take mind-altering substances these days, even of the herbal variety. ’
Hetty bit her lip pensively. What on earth had she just agreed to?