Time After Time

by Wendy Godding

  At lunch I met Beth and Laura at our usual spot in an isolated section of the cafeteria, intent on asking them about the dance. Instead, however, I was greeted with a barrage of their own questions.

  ‘Has he kissed you?’

  ‘Is he going to sit with us today? Or are you going to ditch us and sit with him and the lovely Lilly?’

  ‘How do you stand looking at him, with those insanely dreamy eyes?’ Laura was the one who said that, making me laugh.

  ‘Are you going out again?’

  ‘What does your aunt think about it? She must be thrilled! My mum would be if I started dating someone so normal.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘Enough!’ I cried, holding my hands up in defeat. ‘Enough about me already! I don’t know where he is. But I wanted to ask you guys about the dance.’

  Beth and Laura exchanged a fleeting look, but it was long enough for me to notice. ‘What? What’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  I narrowed my eyes. ‘What aren’t you telling me? You have to tell me everything.’

  Seeing Beth shoot Laura a warning look, I turned on Laura, knowing she’d break easier than Beth. ‘Laura? Spill.’

  ‘Beth kissed a boy,’ she blurted out, ignoring the horrified glare Beth gave her.

  ‘What?’ I cried. ‘Who? When? Where? Not at the dance? Who would you kiss at the dance?’

  Beth kept her mouth drawn in a thin, straight line, refusing to answer, and I wondered why she was being so secretive. We were best friends; we shared everything. Well, almost everything.

  Laura gestured across the cafeteria towards a group of boys. Jocks. I recognised them as the basketball team, although I had no idea of any of their names.

  ‘You’re kidding me, right?’ I rounded on Beth. ‘A boy from the basketball team?’

  ‘The one with blond hair and blue eyes,’ Laura answered again, sounding awfully like a giddy, excited girl. ‘The one Beth’s mummy would be thrilled to have her date.’

  My eyes were fixed on the group, scanning them all. There were four with blond hair, but I was too far away to judge their eye colour. I wondered how Beth and Laura could tell them apart—they all looked the same to me.

  ‘His name’s Deacon,’ Laura continued, full of information, ‘He got her number, too.’

  ‘Laura!’ cried Beth.

  I considered my friend for a moment. ‘I don’t understand. Why don’t you want me to know?’

  Beth looked uncomfortable, not meeting my eyes. ‘Well, you know.’

  I shook my head. I really didn’t know.

  ‘Because you…you have such strong opinions on this stuff,’ Beth mumbled, ‘and I knew you’d think I was a lemming if I went out with a high school jock.’

  I blinked at her. Then I remembered my tirade of the other day, how I’d accused them of betraying me and of being false friends. Guilt bubbled up inside me. No wonder Beth’s mum hated me. I was turning not only myself, but also my friends into high school rejects. I’d made them just as unpopular and weird as I was.

  I shrugged. ‘It’s cool. I’m sorry if you thought I wouldn’t approve.’

  ‘Really?’ Beth asked warily.

  ‘Of course,’ I confirmed. ‘Who am I to say who you can and can’t date?’

  ‘Maybe I can start dating someone from the basketball team, too,’ cooed Laura, stabbing her food with a fork, ‘then we can all double date. Triple date, whatever.’

  ‘Hey, there’s Marcus,’ announced Beth, breaking the banter.

  I stiffened and thoughts of anything other than Marcus fled my mind. I felt him, sensed him, behind me, and had to stop myself from spinning around. Instead, I glanced over my shoulder to where he stood with a tray balanced on one hand, his eyes searching the crowd. When they fell on me, his face lit up. Me. He’d been looking for me. It was only then that I realised I’d been holding my breath, unsure of how he’d react to me now that we were in full view of the entire school. And in full view of Lilly Hamilton.

  Making his way through the cafeteria, he seemed completely oblivious to the curious glances following him. Not to mention the sly gibes and sneers. Reaching us, he sat down next to me, his body close but not touching me. I trembled as the warmth of him seeped beneath my skin.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, his voice low and warm in my ear.

  I smiled just for him, my eyes lingering on his full bottom lip. I had the strange urge to bite it, before I realised with a shock that it wasn’t an inclination at all. It was a memory.

  Flushing deeply, feeling the colour pooling in my cheeks, I looked down at my food. Beside me, Marcus chuckled, and I wondered if he could read my mind. I would hardly be surprised.

  ‘So I checked out your painting in art,’ he said lightly, ignoring the staring eyes of Laura and Beth opposite, ‘and it’s really good.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘It’s really familiar, too,’ he said. ‘It’s so real, and almost alive. I can really picture you there.’ He watched me carefully as he spoke.

  I glanced at Beth and Laura before carefully replying, ‘It must have stuck in your memory when you saw it last week.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose,’ he said, his eyes seeming to devour mine. ‘That’s what I thought. But, man, it is real; I can even picture the laneway leading up to it, and there is a little cemetery behind it, right?’

  I blanched, and my stomach turned over. Why was he saying this to me? Did he remember? I wanted to ask more questions but was aware of Laura and Beth watching us. Now was not the time.

  Marcus, however, had other ideas. ‘You know, it must be a famous place or something. I was looking at it and it was like I’d actually been there. Like I’d met the brother and sister who lived in the big house on the hill.’

  I felt sick and light-headed as the blood left my face, pooling in my feet. I stared uncomprehendingly at Marcus. What was happening? Was he remembering?

  ‘Brother and sister?’ Laura asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ he laughed, oblivious to my distress. ‘Did you paint it from a movie or something?’ he asked me.

  I coughed. I was hot and itchy all of a sudden, but could feel everyone looking at me, waiting. ‘Um, er, something like that.’

  ‘Hey, Marcus, what are you painting?’ Beth asked conversationally.

  ‘I’ve started doing a skyscraper, like, a really, really high one that touches the clouds.’

  ‘It’s meant to be landscape as well,’ I said, finding my voice eventually. I was grateful for the shift in conversation away from my painting.

  ‘I’ll add some tall trees next to it,’ he laughed, and nudged my chin. ‘And maybe a little pixie girl like you in the clouds. A little bit of heaven. Does that make you happy?’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘I know! I know!’ I cried, scurrying to a halt in front of Simone and cringing under the frown she shot me. ‘Sorry!’

  ‘Of all the days to be late, Abbie,’ hissed Simone, ‘you had to pick today?’

  ‘What’s so important about today?’ I asked. I was fifteen minutes late for work, but since I’d never been late before, I didn’t think it would be that big a deal.

  ‘Mr Frank’s here.’ Simone cast a furtive glance around the library. I followed, half expecting Mr Frank to pop up from behind a stack of books. ‘He’s been here all day complaining about everything, and I don’t think he would need an excuse to come down hard on you. Or me, for that matter.’

  I gulped. ‘Sorry.’

  Simone peered at me. ‘Well, at least you’ve toned down the makeup like he asked. And you’re here now, so we’ll just pretend you were—’

  ‘Abbie Harper!’ cried Mr Frank, creeping up behind Simone and making me jump. ‘It says here you were meant to start at four o’clock.’ He waved a clipboard in the air for my benefit.

  ‘Abbie did an errand for me before she started,’ Simone quickly offered as a reprieve.

  ‘Oh?’ He wasn’t going to let me off easily.


  ‘I asked her to drop off some books at the nursing home,’ she continued, her cheeks darkening slightly with the lie.

  He peered at me over his round spectacles, his exaggerated Adam’s apple bopping in his throat. ‘Well, you’re here now—get to work.’ He moved away, scribbling something on the clipboard.

  I ducked behind the counter and stashed my bag. ‘Geez, what’s up there?’

  Simone shrugged. ‘He’s just a bored old man who doesn’t have anything better to do than to make my working life a misery.’

  ‘Your working life? Which is different from your personal life?’ I asked wryly, making a distinction that before now had never existed. ‘Now, spill: how was your date?’

  ‘Very nice, thank you,’ Simone replied stiffly.

  I eyed her thoughtfully. ‘Are you going to see him again?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘On the weekend, and before you ask, no, I won’t need you to work any extra shifts. Daniel has agreed to close up.’

  I made a face. ‘Well, it all sounds lovely!’ My voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘And tell me, did he bring you flowers and kiss you under the porch light when he took you home? Or did you bring him in and make wild, passionate love to him all night long?’

  ‘Abbie!’ Simone scolded, outraged.

  I was about to reply when I spied Lilly and Emma in the foyer. Grabbing a half-filled trolley, I pushed it away, calling over my shoulder. ‘Never mind. I’ll find out later.’

  I pushed the trolley in the direction of the nonfiction books, anxious to avoid Lilly. Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed the girls had stopped and were examining something on their phones. Suddenly, my trolley careened right into someone and tipped over, its books spilling across the floor.

  Closing my eyes and praying it wasn’t Mr Frank, I mumbled a rushed ‘sorry’ as I knelt to collect the books. Behind me I heard Lilly and Emma snigger.

  ‘Here, let me help,’ came a firm, solid voice.

  I froze, my heart thundering to a halt. Keeping my gaze fixed on the books, I refused to look up, feeling the coldness that emanated from his body. It was as if his aura was made entirely of liquid nitrogen.

  ‘Do you want me to stack these for you, Abbie?’ he asked, his voice oddly patient and kind.

  He knows my name.

  I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, but somehow I managed a nod, despite being unable to move. He held out a book, and I stared at the strong, thick fingers I knew so well. The hand of my murderer.

  Run, run, a voice screamed inside my head. Run now!

  But my limbs wouldn’t move. They were just as frozen as my heart. All I could do was blink numbly at the floor, the beginnings of a crick sneaking into my neck.

  Time seemed to stand still.

  ‘Do you think she’s ever going to get up?’ snickered Lilly behind me.

  ‘I think she’s finally cracked. Maybe she’s catatonic. Should we call the loony bin?’

  Abruptly, the frost vanished and I relaxed. My legs gave way beneath me and I fell back, sprawling across the marble floor. Lilly and Emma hooted with laughter.

  Drawing in a slow, steady breath, I looked up, expecting to find cruel, grey eyes glaring at me. Instead, all I found were the hostile, but somehow less frightening eyes of Lilly and Emma, their faces twisted with glee as they took in my undignified display.

  He was gone.

  ‘Abbie Harper! What are you doing on the floor?’

  I groaned as Mr Frank descended on me, his voice like thunder. ‘Get up and get on with your work. Honestly, I’ve never come across a stranger child…’ He wandered off again, shaking his head.

  Lilly, too, decided to leave; obviously she’d had enough entertainment at my expense, and she and Emma meandered away to another section of the library.

  As I picked up the books and righted my trolley, my head was in a spin.

  I hadn’t looked at him, hadn’t even glanced in his direction, but I knew without a doubt it’d been Sebastian who’d spoken to me, picked up the books. It’d been his icy aura that touched mine. Sebastian from two hundred years ago. He’d found me here. Now.

  Fear trembled through me as I finished stacking the books, my legs weak and slightly numb. None of this made any sense at all. How could he be here when he was there, at Broadhurst? How could he be after me when he was after Penelope?

  For the first time in a long, long time I couldn’t wait for sleep to come so I could dream those dreams I’d fought against for so long.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  1806

  ‘Are you sure you won’t stay?’ Heath asked, his voice low and slightly pleading.

  Penelope shook her head. She wanted to stay—she loved the Manor and loved knowing that Heath was close by—but she wouldn’t. Sebastian set her on edge, made her nervous, and she wanted to go home.

  ‘No. Father will be expecting me.’ Penelope glanced beyond him, towards the manor house. On the porch, surrounded by twilight, stood Georgina, Harry and Sebastian.

  ‘At least let me walk you,’ Heath said.

  Penelope nodded. She would like nothing better than for him to walk her home, walk her away from Sebastian who watched her so carefully. Her skin prickled, and she had an urge to run. But she wasn’t sure if she wanted to run to or from Sebastian, a thought which terrified her more than anything.

  ‘Heath, you said you’d look through those books I brought back from London with me,’ Harry called impatiently.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ he replied. ‘I’ll just walk Penelope home.’

  ‘Yes, you will!’ cried Harry, sounding like a petulant child. ‘You’ll dawdle with her and be gone for hours.’

  ‘I can walk Penelope home,’ Sebastian growled, his eyes never wavering from her.

  Penelope swallowed hard and was amazed she could find her voice. ‘There’s no need, thank you. I’ve walked it many times on my own.’

  ‘Please allow me,’ Sebastian said, his voice firm. ‘It’s getting dark. And it will give me a chance to get to know my new sister-in-law a little better.’

  Heath smiled as Penelope glanced at him. ‘Do you mind? I did say I would examine those books with Harry. And I’d really like it if you and Sebastian became friends.’

  Penelope was trapped. Heath, Sebastian, Harry and Georgina all waited for her to agree to something she rebelled against with every fibre of her being. But what could she do? Accuse Sebastian, Heath’s brother, of spying on her? Refuse to be alone with him, without proof of anything? What would Heath think?

  In the end, all she could do was nod, her throat tight and mouth dry. She couldn’t look at Sebastian as he sprinted eagerly down the porch stairs to where she stood. As he proffered his arm, his eyes raked over her, devouring her and making her tremble beneath his intense scrutiny.

  Desperately, she looked at Heath.

  ‘I shall call on you tomorrow,’ he promised.

  She smiled weakly, wanting to reach out and grab him, cling to him and ask him to never let her go. But she didn’t. Her rearing and decorum wouldn’t allow it.

  Glancing back at the house, she saw Jane Smith paused at one of the windows on the second floor, watching. The girl’s face was drawn and serious, and as her eyes locked with Penelope’s, she frowned, giving the slightest shake of her head.

  Penelope had no choice but to accept Sebastian’s arm and let him lead her away.

  ‘It’s wonderful to finally meet you,’ Sebastian said as they walked down the meadow and towards the parsonage.

  Penelope kept her gaze fixed on the familiar landscape before her. Sebastian was cold, and, as soon as she could, she let her arm fall from his and stepped a little away from him.

  ‘Heath has told me so much about you, I feel I already know you,’ he said after a few moments.

  ‘Is that so?’ she said, wondering how and when Heath would have had a chance to tell him anything about her. Hadn’t he been away at sea until a few days ago? Or had he reall
y been hiding in the forest, spying on her all this time?

  ‘Yes. We’re closer than most brothers.’ He stepped lightly towards her, and his arm brushed against hers. Instinctively, Penelope recoiled from the chill of him. ‘He says you paint?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Sebastian sighed. ‘He says you’re very talented.’

  ‘He’s very kind.’ She hastened her pace, but he easily kept up.

  ‘Perhaps you could show me some of your work,’ he continued, ignoring her rudeness.

  Penelope thought about taking Sebastian up to the small attic room. About being alone with him there, away from the world below, the only escape a narrow ladder. It didn’t seem like a very good idea at all. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘I could sit for you,’ he offered, ‘if you’d like to improve your portrait skills.’

  Stopping dead in her tracks, Penelope turned to look at him, her heart thumping wildly. ‘How do you know my portraits need work?’ She hadn’t mentioned it to him; the only person who’d even seen her feeble attempts in recent months was Heath.

  Sebastian leaned forward so closely that Penelope froze, frightened that if she exhaled she would touch him. She was terrified of what that would mean. Did she want to touch him? Is that why her fingers trembled? Is that why she hid them within the folds of her gown? To keep from reaching out and touching his marble perfection?

  ‘Heath told me,’ he said lightly. ‘He said you had drawn him, but that you weren’t confident in your skills. Perhaps you would like to draw me?’

  The whisper of his breath brushed against her forehead and Penelope quivered. Swallowing hard, she marvelled at the difference between the two brothers. One was so warm, and the other was so cold, and yet to both of them she felt pulled as if by a strong magnet. As if she was completely and utterly helpless before them.

  No. Not entirely helpless. She could not forget who she was or how her father had raised her.

  Dragging herself from him, she continued to walk. ‘No. Thank you for your offer, but I’m perfectly happy painting landscapes.’

  He chuckled beside her. ‘Perhaps you’ve already drawn me?’

  ‘How could I have drawn you? I only met you today.’