by Nhys Glover
‘Stand back a little, I’ll show you what happens.’ Jane pressed the first button she had indicated, and a torrent of water gushed from the ceiling, flooding the cubicle.
Liv jumped back with a little yelp, brushing water droplets off her dress.
‘You get naked, close the door, and the water stays inside. Soap your body with the liquid, and then rinse it off. For the time being, use towels to dry yourself. I’ll find some for you later.
‘Now the basin is for washing your hands. The water comes into the bowl just as it has in the bath and shower. There are plenty of mirrors, as you can see. Have you ever looked at yourself naked in a mirror?’
Liv flushed bright red and looked away, mortified by such a question.
‘Sorry, I don’t mean to embarrass you. Your time was a lot more modest than mine. I only mentioned it because when you shower you will see yourself in one mirror or the other. That might challenge you for a while.’
Jane stopped and studied her for a few moments, until Liv felt obliged to look back and meet her eye. Liv squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin. ‘I will avert my eye when I must shower.’
‘Whatever. Just giving you a heads up, as Maggie would say.’
‘Heads up?’
‘A warning. Now this is the one that is going to really challenge you. This seat thing over here is a toilet. You had water closets and pottys, if I remember. This does the same job. You remove your underclothes and sit on there when you need to urinate or defecate. There is paper there to wipe yourself. Just drop the paper in the toilet, and when you are finished, stand up and press that button.’
She pressed the button and water gushed into the bowl and disappeared. Water gushed everywhere in this room, she was finding.
‘That water flushes everything away and then you wash your hands with soap from this dispenser.’ She pointed at yet another button which she didn’t press this time.
‘Let me get this right. This is a commode with water?’ Liv asked.
‘Commode. That’s the word I was looking for. For little kids, we call them potties. Do you think you’ve got that? If not, please ask me anytime, and I’ll go over it all again. It will take a while for stuff to sink in.’
‘Jane, I am most appreciative of all you have done for me since my arrival. But I think Rene is right. Is it possible for you to adjust your language to suit me for the moment? I am struggling to understand you. What does “stuff to sink in” mean?’
Jane laughed, and covered her beautiful face with her hands. ‘Sorry, sorry. I get carried away. We all speak English here, but there are so many versions of it, depending on when and where a person comes from. Let me see if I can translate. It will take some time for the information to make sense, and for you to remember it. How’s that?’
‘Excellent. And I will most assuredly ask you if there is stuff that has not sunk in yet.’
Jane clapped her hands in delight. ‘I’ll have you talking like a twentieth century woman in no time!’
‘Twentieth Century? This is two hundred years into the future?’ Liv’s voice wobbled.
‘Ouch! Hmmm. Not quite. Do you truly want an answer to that right now?’
Liv thought about it. Somehow she had imagined this ‘future’ they were talking about was in her children’s time, or her grandchildren’s. But Jane was suggesting it was much further ahead than that. Did she want to know when, right now? Why not? It was only a number, after all.
‘I would like to know when this is.’
‘Okay. Let’s move back into the bedroom, in case you have to sit down in a hurry.’ When they were near enough to the bed, Jane went on. ‘You come from 1810. I came from 1968. This is 2334.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘Oh, dear!’ Liv gasped as her head began to spin.
Before she lost her balance and fell, Rene raced into the room and caught her. He lowered her tenderly onto the bed.
‘Perfect timing, Lancelot. Were you hovering in the hall?’
‘Yes. I had a feeling you might push the envelope just a bit too far. Sometimes you are the wisest and most insightful woman I know. Then, when you get excited, you tip back to being a kid again.’
‘A kid? Jane is a goat?’ Liv couldn’t stop herself asking.
‘No, no. A kid means a child. Jane is very young. It is easy for us to forget that,’ Rene informed her as he stroked her forehead with his cool, dark fingers. It was totally inappropriate that he should be sitting on the edge of her bed stroking her forehead while she reclined. But in that moment, she didn’t care. It felt warm and safe and comforting.
‘Point taken old man, do you want to take over for a while? I’ve covered the basics, and I wouldn’t mind slipping out to sort out a few things for tonight. I was supposed to have worked today.’ She grimaced at him, reminding him how he had disrupted all their lives.
‘Sorry Janey, I didn’t mean to sound patronising. You have been a real friend, and I appreciate it. Go, do what you need to. I will take care of Liv until you return. Apologise to Julio for me, and tell him I will keep my hands to myself.’
Jane giggled. ‘It’s hard for someone as old as you not to be patronising, Frenchie. And I will make sure Julio isn’t lonely while I’m gone. See you later.’
With that, she gave them both a little wave, and disappeared out the bedroom door. Liv was suddenly acutely aware that they were in her bedroom, alone, with no one else in the house.
Rene must have realised the same thing because he cleared his throat, and shifted his position on the bed. His strokes became more tentative.
‘Please don’t stop,’ Liv found herself saying, despite her nervousness and fear.
Rene resettled on the bed. Half reclining beside her, his strokes became more confident. Liv shut her eyes, and thought of nothing but his touch. It had been such an overwhelming day. First, there had been his unexpected arrival, and the meeting with her father. Then there had been the realisation that Rene was a mystery in need of solving. Next had come her outrageous incursion into his bedroom – hiding in his wardrobe, for goodness sake. Finally, there had been the trip through time to this world they said existed five hundred years into her future. Here there were so many strange things, like moving paths, baths, showers and water-filled commodes. Even the house they were in had a strangeness to it that was hard to take in. It was becoming all too much.
She whimpered a little as his fingers began to brush back her hair. Then she felt it. The ever so soft brush of his lips over hers. Startled, her eyelids flew open. She found herself staring up into his almond shaped blue eyes. Eyes that were sending her messages that made her blush. But she didn’t move. Without clearly understanding what she was doing, she licked her dry lips, and with a groan he dropped his head, and claimed her mouth again. This time it was no mere brush of lips. He kissed her in a way that was unlike anything she had ever experienced.
Certainly she had known kisses. She may be a thirty year old spinster, but she had known her share of suitors, in her younger years. And many of them had sought to kiss her. Those kisses were nothing like this. This sent her heart racing. This was an invasion of the most intimate kind, and it made her feel wicked and needy and frightened, all at the same time. This made her yearn for more.
After a moment, Rene dragged himself away, and sat up. He straightened his cravat and cough. ‘I am sorry, Liv. I took advantage of you in a weak moment. Maybe I should ask Cara to find someone else to stay with you. It appears I cannot be trusted.’ He spoke stiffly, and she could see that his dark skin had a reddish hue.
Absently, the thought passed through her head that they call people of his race Red Indians. But Rene’s skin was not red, it was brown, unless he was blushing, as he was at that moment.
‘Rene, please look at me,’ she said. Then she stayed quiet while she waited for him to do as she requested. When his eyes met hers, she could see the passion burning there, and it aroused more yearning inside her.
‘I would not be ab
le to withstand this challenge if you were not at my side. I am overwhelmed, I cannot deny it. But you make me feel safe. Kissing you was the most intimate and wonderful experience of my life, and I do not regret it. I do not want you to regret it, either. All I ask is that you are honest with me. Do you feel for me what I feel for you?’
His eyes did not deviate while she spoke, and when she came to the end, he let a quiet pause fill the room. Then he dropped his head again, and claimed her lips once more, gently this time, with aching tenderness. When he lifted his head, he met her gaze once more.
‘Liv, Jane tells me that what I have been experiencing, over the last months since I met you, is “love at first sight”. I didn’t know. I have never fallen in love before. But what I do know is that I cannot control my emotions when I am around you. You are like an addiction. Your wellbeing is all that matters to me. I cannot go an hour without thinking of you, even when my life’s work is finally coming to fruition. I want – no – I need to be with you, to touch you, to claim you in the most basic of ways. If that is what you feel for me, then yes, I feel it for you.’
His eyes never left hers during the length of his speech. But when it was finished, they closed, and he leaned in to rest his forehead against hers. ‘You have become my heart…’ he whispered.
Liv couldn’t have received a more compelling declaration. It meant more to her than any eloquent poetry that rhapsodized about her appearance, or declared lifelong adoration. This was real. And, though he was exceedingly young, and young love, so she had been told, was fickle and changeable, his sentiments seemed genuine in the moment.
How did she feel about him? Was it love at first sight for her too? Did she have trouble controlling her emotions? Did she think of him constantly, and want his touch, in the most basic of ways? Yes. But it was too soon to know if this feeling had permanence. They did not know each other yet. All she truly knew about this youth was that he had a passion for earth worms, and that he could stand up to her father, unconcerned that his blood-line might not be as pure as some. She knew he came from a future world where unimaginable objects existed that defied understanding. And she knew that someday soon she would go back to her own world, and he would stay here. That was the sadness she had sensed in him since his arrival at Foxmoor Manor.
They were star-crossed lovers, separated by time itself, never destined to be together.
‘Yes, that is what I feel for you,’ she whispered sadly, and reached up to stroke his blue-black, shining hair.
With a sad sigh of his own, Rene drew back and kissed the palm of the hand that had stroked his hair. Then he climbed to his feet, and drew her up with him.
‘Come, ma chere, we will eat. You must be hungry. I will make us a meal.’
‘No, Rene. That is not right. I will make the meal. It is woman’s work. Jane demeaned you by telling you to prepare luncheon.’
That lifted the sadness between them. Rene laughed loudly, drawing her in so he could embrace her, and place a kiss on the top of her head.
‘Chere, the first lesson you must learn about living in the future is that there is no women’s work, or men’s work. We all do what we are capable of doing. And when you see our cooking facilities, you will understand that in this moment, I am more capable of preparing our meal than you. Come, I will show you.’
Taking her hand in his, Rene led her out of the bedroom, down the hall, across the parlour and into the small, strange kitchen. Then he dropped her hand as he opened a top cupboard, selected two numbered packages, and placed one onto a dinner plate and then into another box. He pressed one of Jane’s ‘buttons’ and, in seconds, removed a steaming hot meal from the box.
Astonished, Liv looked into the box and then back at Rene. He grinned and repeated the procedure, as she watched more closely. There was nothing in the box, until Rene put the plate with the package into it. The button was pressed, and almost instantly, he opened the box again, and produced another plate of food. It was a magical trick. It had to be. Or there was a cook, behind a sliding door at the back of the box, who placed the food there when the button was pressed.
‘Come, let us eat. He left the plates on the counter while he retrieved mats and utensils from a draw. He placed them on the whitewood table, and then transferred their meals to the mats. Then he pulled back her chair so she could sit at the table.
‘Would you care for a drink?’ he asked, before seating himself.
‘No, thank you,’ she replied in bemusement.
Rene smiled at her, and sat down. Then he gave a little bark of amusement, and jumped to his feet again. In a moment, he was gone and returned, with table napkins in his hand, one of which he lay across her lap. She felt its texture. It didn’t feel like damask. It almost felt like paper. But that could not be. Could it?
As they began to eat, Rene watched her like a cat watches a mouse. He was intent on her ever reaction. Cautiously, she tried a mouthful of what looked like chicken breast covered with a white, creamy sauce. It tasted wonderful. With more enthusiasm, she carved off another small segment of meat, and ate it with relish.
With a chuckle, Rene turned from her, and began to focus on his own meal. They ate in silence until they were both finished.
‘Good?’ Rene asked.
‘More than good. Excellent. My compliments to the chef.’
‘I will pass that along. All our meals are prepared in an enormous kitchen many miles away. They are then packed in edible wrapping, and then processed. By putting them in the Chef – the box over there – I reconstitute the food into its edible state.’
‘So the cook is not here somewhere behind that box?’
Rene smiled, took her hand, and kissed it. ‘No Chere, there is no cook here. It is one of the many little miracles we take for granted. When I live with the Obejwe for many years, and then came home, it is often difficult to cope with the change. So I know how odd this must all seem to you.’
‘You lived with your mother’s people as you were growing up?’
Rene’s face closed down, and he dropped her hand gently. Without replying, he stood up, and collected the plates and utensils. He carried them into the kitchen. All the while, Liv sat quietly waiting for what was to come. She didn’t know why, but she sensed that what he would tell her next would make the news she had travelled five hundred years into the future seem like child’s play.
He busied himself in the kitchen, and when he came back to the table, it was with two cups of milky tea. She took hers with soft thanks, and continued to wait. Finally, after clearing his throat a few times, Rene started to speak again.
‘When I said I spent many years with the Obejwe, I meant many years – whole lifetimes – with different tribes, across vastly different terrain. I gathered information on nature, and how the First People interacted with nature – worked in partnership with it. You see, my mother’s people did not own the land, as white men would see it. They were own by the land, or by the Great Spirit that made all things. They protected the land, and in turn, were provided for by that land.’
‘That is a truly profound. It is as it was in the Garden of Eden. God made Adam to husband his creation.’
‘Yes, and when Adam started to see himself above the other creations, he was cast down, and the land he ‘owned’ became dry and desolate.’
‘Hmmm. I am not sure about that. We husband our land well, and it provides well for my family and our tenants.’
‘For the short term. In the long term, your farming methods will destroy the land. Not in your lifetime, or the lifetime of your great grandchildren, but one day…’
‘That makes me very sad. But the future now seems wondrous.’
‘We have struggled to sustain the small population left on this planet for hundreds of years. So much has gone. But we are now regenerating the natural world with extinct creatures, like your giant earthworm, and with work, we may well be able to save ourselves and the planet.’
‘I do not know this word “planet�
�.’
‘The world.’
‘Oh. It is that calamitous?’
‘Yes. But we are fighting back, and we take our role of husbandman very seriously now.’
For a moment, Liv sat quietly sipping her tea, considering everything she had heard. It seemed impossible that the world could have come to such dire straits that it required men such as Rene to heal it from species of the past. That he spent years as a native … lifetimes… Suddenly that statement caught her attention. How could he have spent lifetimes as a Red Indian? Surely he would age, if he had done so.
‘You have drunk from the Fountain of Youth then?’ she asked slowly, as she put down her cup.
‘Not in the way you mean it. But, in our own way, thanks to modern science… er natural philosophers, we have discovered something close. We age, and when our bodies are too old, we take on new ones, young ones – like this,’ he said, indicating his own body. ‘A year ago, I was an ancient, wizened man, half blind and almost deaf. That is the man Jane befriended. Otherwise her Julio would never have felt comfortable with our friendship.’ He laughed with a certain arrogant amusement, as if revelling in a memory concerning Jane and Julio.
Liv’s head was spinning again. She consciously dismissed the information he had given her, and focused on her environment. She studied the sea as the storm quickly approached. She studied the enormous glass windows that seemed too thin to withstand the coming storm. She studied the strange napkin that still lay across her lap – anything that would keep her from tipping over into hysteria or unconsciousness.
‘Too much?’ Rene asked, cautiously.
‘I am afraid so. I think it better that I focus on the here and now for the moment. It has all been too much to take in.’
