Time After Time

by Wendy Godding

  I tried to swallow but a hard lump was lodged in my throat. No wonder I couldn’t breathe. ‘What book?’

  ‘Nineteenth-century love stories.’

  That’s right. I vaguely remembered Simone saying she was reading them, but Simone was always reading crappy books. Then I remembered Jane Smith’s words. You are part of a love story.

  But still I didn’t speak, despite Simone watching expectantly.

  ‘The story is about a girl called Penelope Broadhurst,’ Simone began carefully, ‘and a boy named Heath Lockwood. Have you heard of them?’

  I shook my head. Heard of them…no. Remembered them…yes.

  ‘They were planning to marry when Heath’s brother arrived. Sebastian Lockwood. It turned into quite a nasty love triangle.’

  I stared at her. My heart suspended its erratic beating.

  ‘Penelope chose Heath, but Sebastian was angry. He was so in love with Penelope that he killed his own brother to be with her,’ Simone continued, ‘and when Penelope still refused to be with him, he killed her too. They found her body after a wild storm one night, dumped in the middle of the forest. She’d been strangled.’

  My own throat hurt. He had strangled her. I felt as if the air was being squeezed from my lungs. Of course I had known she died, I had known it. I just hadn’t known how.

  It was the end I was missing, the one I’d been spared due to Meredith’s meddling.

  ‘Abbie, that girl,’ Simone moved forward and edged the book out from under my hand, ‘that girl looks an awful lot like you.’

  She held up the book. The evidence. Penelope. It was her all right, in a lovely drawing, a portrait I didn’t remember sitting for. It must have been done not long before her death, as there was a glow in her eyes and a curl in her lip that had only been there since she’d met Heath.

  ‘It was quite a scandal at the time,’ Simone went on, ‘and the Broadhurst family was never quite the same. Georgina and Harry, as you know, became obsessed with science and with reincarnation, as if they could bring Penelope back somehow.’

  I didn’t know what to say. No sharp, witty, retort entered my mind, which remained completely blank.

  ‘Abbie,’ Simone began quietly, ‘you asked me about Georgina Broadhurst. Why?’

  I licked my lips. ‘School.’

  ‘No. It wasn’t for school. It was for something else, wasn’t it?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Tell me.’

  Desperately I looked around. ‘I can’t.’

  Simone stared at me for a long time. Then she nodded. ‘I see. You know, Abbie, that you can trust me.’

  Silence.

  Simone handed over the book. ‘I have to go, but I’ll leave this with you. I think you might want to read it.’

  Picking up her bag and scooping up her books, Simone watched me carefully before leaving me alone in the darkened foyer of the library. With the book.

  Sitting down on the chair, I read the story. The characters from my dreams of Penelope’s life were all there. Harry, Georgina, Sebastian, Heath, Penelope.

  Someone had cared enough to write their story. Jane Smith?

  I flicked through the book, half-fearful I might find the story of Becca and Anthony too, or of another of my past lives, but was thankful when other love stories greeted me.

  I returned to Penelope’s picture. Even though it was a drawing, and two hundred years old, the similarities were irrefutable. The same slant of the eyes, the same mouth, the same face. Especially now that my face was bare.

  I felt itchy, needing to quickly return home and reapply my makeup before anyone else saw me.

  Suddenly, a dark shadow flew overhead, and I froze, a chill creeping up my spine and a rush of goosebumps sweeping through me from head to toe.

  I looked up.

  Something moved upstairs, casting a human-shaped shadow on the marble floor of the library, which was lit only by the flickering light of computer screens.

  ‘Who’s there?’ I called, my voice jangling in the quiet foyer. I felt a little silly but also scared.

  Picking up my bag, I made to leave, not looking up as I swiftly crossed the foyer. A breeze swept over me and I quickened my pace. My skin prickled, and I knew I was being watched.

  Rem.

  You have to get out of here, a warning voice rang in my head, and I pushed against the thick glass doors, only to find them locked. Simone had locked me in? That didn’t make any sense. No. Someone else had locked me in. Quickly, I fumbled in my bag for my keys, ignoring the frantic flutter of my heart.

  They weren’t in there.

  Running back to the counter, I pulled out a drawer, dropping it to the floor in my fumbling. Falling to my knees, I searched through the items for the spare keys I knew were there.

  The sound of slow footsteps descending the stairs filled the library, and I began to really shake. Is this how it ends? I thought. In the library? Here, tonight? He got Penelope, and now he will get me too.

  Standing, I drew on all my resources and faced my nemesis who hid in the shadows.

  ‘Rem?’ I called, my voice wavering slightly.

  At the top of the stairs a dark shape moved, but I couldn’t make it out clearly. It seemed to flitter across the landing and down the stairs, remaining hidden in the shadows.

  He was toying with me, wanting to completely freak me out before he sprang.

  Suddenly, a noise clattered behind me—someone thumping on the thick glass doors—and I whirled around in relief. The police? Marcus?

  Rem.

  My blood ran cold as my wide, panicked eyes met his through the glass.

  If he was out there, then who was in here?

  ‘Abbie!’ he cried, his voice calling through the thick window, ‘Let me in!’

  I stared at him, the world closing in around me. Someone was in here and Rem was out there. There was no escape.

  I shook my head. ‘It’s locked.’

  He disappeared, running around the back of the library, and I could only watch him vanish; fear kept me petrified to the spot.

  Turning around, I stared into the darkness. Over by the bookshelves I saw a shape move and the glint of a knife, its silver gleaming in the dim light. Steeling myself, I lifted my chin.

  ‘What do you want?’ I called bravely. Who was there, hidden in the shadows? It wasn’t Rem. He was outside now, trying to find a way in. Who was it? I was just beginning to think the unthinkable when Lilly stepped out into the foyer.

  I felt a whoosh of breath escape me, and only then did I realise what I’d been afraid of most. I’d been afraid it was Marcus, that I’d gotten everything wrong and it was Marcus who wanted to hurt me, kill me, not Rem.

  But it wasn’t Marcus.

  Just Lilly.

  And Lilly did not look pleased. She advanced steadily, the knife in her hand catching the light with every few paces, threatening me with each step.

  ‘What do you want?’ I repeated. My eye fell on the book open on the desk and I quickly closed it.

  Lilly, though, had already followed my eyes. ‘You needn’t bother. I know who you are, Penelope. Rebecca.’

  I gaped. She knew about Rebecca? My mind flashed to Rem’s words. That bitter little cow, is she here again? ‘Who are you?’

  Lilly smiled, her eyes narrowing. ‘I thought you knew who I was. Rem said you remembered everything. That’s why you have always hated me.’

  I swallowed. Almost everything. What I didn’t know had been filled in by Harry’s book. But there’d been no mention of Lilly. None at all.

  No. That wasn’t quite true.

  ‘Do you remember my name?’ Lilly demanded, her voice sharp.

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t know.’ I glanced at the closed book. ‘The book didn’t say.’

  Lilly laughed scornfully. ‘It never says! It’s never written down. Your name is written all over the place—Rebecca, Penelope—all of them. But no one ever bothers to write my name down.’

  I gaped at her.
Is that what this is all about? She wants her name immortalised in the history books?

  I didn’t believe that was all she wanted. I eyed the knife in Lilly’s hand as I inched away.

  ‘You want to be remembered…’ I said, my voice low and steady despite the turmoil coursing through my veins and the panic that had my heart tripping over itself.

  ‘I don’t just want to be remembered. I want what was promised me.’

  ‘Which was?’ I whispered, backing away.

  ‘Anthony.’

  I gaped at her, Rem’s words swimming in my head. Don’t worry about her, she’s ancient history. ‘You’re mad. Completely mad.’

  ‘You’re right, Abbie. Mad. But not crazy mad, angry mad.’ Lilly circled me like a lion stalking its prey. ‘Angry you stole him from me.’

  ‘Rem?’ I blinked at her. ‘Sebastian?’

  ‘Yes. Anthony too.’

  I blinked. He was expected to marry a rich merchant’s daughter.

  Rebecca had taken him from her.

  Then I remembered something more.

  ‘You and Sebastian…’ I whispered. ‘You were…’

  ‘Yes, we were,’ she spat. ‘In London our affair flourished and we were so in love. Then he flung me aside as soon as Heath found you. I followed him, of course, but was only second best whenever you were around.’

  Images of Sebastian, with his drawstring pants and messed up hair, flooded my mind. I felt an emotion stir, which I immediately stifled. Jealousy. Rem was right. I was jealous.

  ‘Abbie?’

  The cry came from behind and I turned to now see Marcus pressed against the glass doors, shaking them desperately in a feeble attempt to get to me.

  ‘Marcus!’

  ‘Stand back.’ He ran back like he was going to charge the doors, and I staggered away, only to find Lilly lunging towards me, the knife cutting through the air.

  Crying out, I knocked away her hand that held the knife as we fell to the floor. We landed with a slap, the wind briefly knocked out of me, but I had no time to think about it, my attention entirely focused on the knife.

  Holding back Lilly’s hand, not looking at the girl’s face, which blazed at me, I kicked her in the stomach and scrambled away. At the same time, Marcus burst through the doors, landing amongst the shattered glass, which had scattered about the floor.

  Scampering over to him, I was helping him up just as Rem came down the stairs.

  He flew at Lilly, knocking the knife from her hands. I had grabbed it in a split second, and I turned it on them.

  ‘Enough!’ I screamed. ‘Enough of this!’ I meant enough now, and enough forever, and I hoped they understood.

  Rem, out of breath, stared at me, the rise and fall of his chest almost mesmerising. I looked away. Now was not the time to think about or to even acknowledge Rem’s devastating beauty. There would never be a time for that.

  Lilly stared at me, then her eyes dropped to the knife before she laughed, the sound odd. ‘You won’t use that against me.’

  ‘Kill her,’ Rem commanded, and despite myself, my hand trembled. ‘She’s mad. She’s always been mad. Kill her and we won’t have to worry about her again.’

  I swallowed. I hated Lilly, but could I kill her?

  ‘Kill her, Abbie,’ Rem commanded, his eyes locked on Lilly’s. ‘Straight through the heart.’

  I glanced at him, and that was all it took for Lilly to pounce once more. She flew through the air, her face twisted like a grotesque beast from a horror film.

  Like a gargoyle from Broadhurst Manor. The House of Horrors.

  I failed. I screamed and felt the knife loosen in my grip. Rem was quicker, grabbing the knife and pushing me behind him as he slid it cleanly through Lilly’s chest.

  The sickening crack of her ribs filled the air, along with a muffled, gurgled cry from her lips. I screamed again and looked up just in time to see Lilly’s shock-filled eyes light on Rem with disbelief. A trickle of blood escaped the corner of her mouth.

  Rem let her go, watching as she crumpled to the floor like a doll. The knife clattered to the floor next to her.

  I couldn’t breathe. My lungs felt as if they were on fire, burning a hole through my chest, begging for relief.

  Turning, Rem reached for me, his hand outstretched, his fingers entreating me to come to him, but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t drag my eyes from Lilly’s body. The blood was flowing thick and fast from it, pooling at my feet.

  I couldn’t believe what I had just seen. What I had just witnessed. Nothing in my dreams, nothing in my memories, had ever been that real or that horrific. Lilly’s eyes stared unseeingly up at the ceiling, her mouth open as if she would speak.

  ‘Is she dead?’ I whispered.

  ‘Yes.’ It was Marcus. He was behind me. I could feel the heat of him and turned, burying my face in his chest, feeling his arms wrap around me. ‘Don’t look at her,’ he said ever so softly.

  The tenderness of his voice opened something in me, and tears exploded from my eyes. The days, the weeks, the months, the years of torment were overwhelming. Marcus held me as I cried.

  ‘Abbie.’ It was Rem.

  Lifting my eyes to him, I didn’t know what to say. He’d saved my life. After all this time, and all the times before, he’d saved my life. ‘Why didn’t you just let her kill me?’ I whispered. ‘It’s what you want.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ he said. ‘How could I ever want that when I know there’s hope for us?’

  I shook my head helplessly and opened my mouth to respond, but Marcus spoke instead. ‘No there isn’t. Even if you kill me now, she still won’t go to you. And you know it.’

  It took Rem a few minutes to comprehend Marcus’ words. ‘You remember?’

  Marcus levelled his eyes on him. ‘It didn’t work then, and it won’t work now. Your best course of action is to turn around and walk away.’

  ‘No, little brother,’ Rem replied, his voice low, ‘that I cannot do. Abbie remembers everything, and she knows it’s me she’s meant to be with. We’re soul mates. From the beginning of time we’ve been soul mates. Nothing can tear us apart.’

  ‘Tell him,’ Marcus whispered in my ear.

  I lifted my tear-stained face to Rem’s, my heart wrenching of its own accord. ‘It’s not you. I remember, Anthony,’ even saying his name, my tongue felt thick, ‘and it’s not you. It never was. I’m sorry.’ I felt better once I’d said the last part, and when I glanced back at Marcus, he kissed away some of my salty tears.

  ‘You remember, and you choose Marcus?’ Rem couldn’t believe it.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You would choose a boy you’ve met just once before over what we had? What we can have again?’

  A memory of Anthony entering the tent and the way he filled the small space, flooded my mind. I shivered as I remembered him touching Becca. As I remembered Sebastian touching Penelope. As I remembered Rem touching me that day in the library.

  I looked at Marcus and something moved in my chest. ‘Yes,’ I told Rem, my voice sounding stronger than I felt. ‘Yes, I do.’

  Rem walked towards me, his palms facing upward as if appealing to the heavens. Without thinking, I grabbed the bloodied knife from the floor beside Lilly’s body and pointed it at Rem. The silver dagger glimmered in the light.

  I swallowed, hardly believing what I was doing. But I knew what he was capable of; I’d seen it countless times in my dreams, and I had just watched him coldly kill Lilly. Even if it was to save me.

  ‘Stay where you are, or I’ll kill you.’

  His laugh was low and mocking. ‘You won’t kill me. You couldn’t even kill her.’

  I didn’t even flicker, unsure of where my sudden surge of strength came from. Or from whom it came. Was it Penelope? Or Rebecca? Or someone else entirely?

  Or everyone at once.

  ‘I will. I promise you that.’ The words came of their own accord, strong and clear, despite the tumult inside me.

  Rem watched me carefu
lly, his eyes wide.

  ‘Becca, promise me you will never love another?’

  ‘Yes, Anthony. How could I ever love another after what we’ve shared?’

  I choked, the memory overwhelming me. I stared at Rem and saw that he remembered too, his face pale, his eyes distant. Was he remembering the same moment?

  ‘You cannot win,’ Marcus said, his voice low and threatening. ‘There’s no way for you to win. All you’ve ever wanted is for Abbie to remember and now she does. She remembers. And she doesn’t want you. Even if you start again, it won’t change anything.’

  Rem staggered back, as if Marcus’ words had physically impacted him like a blow to his chest. His eyes flew to me.

  ‘There’s nothing more for you,’ I said quietly. ‘I’m sorry for what I…Becca…did to you. But I’m not her.’

  ‘You used me,’ he said, his voice cold. ‘You used me for your own ends and cared nothing for me? Was there ever anything more?’ He was appealing to me, asking for some hope.

  ‘Becca, you go, then I’ll come. We have to make you safe first. We will get you out of here.’

  ‘But how will you know where to find me?’

  ‘I will always be able to find you.’

  I swallowed hard and squeezed my eyes shut. I wasn’t asleep, I wasn’t dreaming, but I knew it was another memory of Rebecca’s.

  I had loved Anthony. I could feel it, even if it wasn’t written in Harry’s book.

  I’d loved him. Just not enough.

  Lifting my chin, my gaze met the haunted silver shards of his eyes. I couldn’t speak, but I hoped my eyes told him everything he needed to know. I hoped they lied.

  I continued to point the knife at his heart, even as my own cracked slightly.

  Eventually, understanding dawned on Rem’s face. He swallowed, the movement slow and exaggerated, and blinked in disbelief as he stepped backwards.

  ‘Abbie…’ He held out his hands as if in prayer, as if beseeching me, but I turned my head. Looked away. Looked past and beyond him.

  When I glanced back again, long moments later, he was gone.

  There was an empty spot where he used to be, his absence hanging painfully in the air around us.

  I remained wrapped in Marcus’ arms for a long time, his warmth easing the trembling in my body, his kisses taking away my tears.