A Stitch in Time

by Amanda James

  It was very odd, but Sarah missed it in a strange way. She definitely missed the people. Martha was a bloody hero in her eyes, just like her ‘poor ma’. The women of the plains back then had virtually nothing, but they just got on with it. When Sarah thought about the things in her life she took for granted, and all the things society are told they need, must strive for, her mind boggled.

  Do we really need to hurry on down to Sofa Universe to get that half-price this or that? Do we really need to take the family to a land of people dressed as Mickey Mouse and various other cartoon characters, shovel our money into the already full coffers of that establishment, and all this just to show that we love our children?

  Thoughts of children sent Artie’s smiling face swimming up before her eyes, so she opened them and shook her head. She missed him, too, and couldn’t really grasp that he had grown up, grown old and died, many years ago.

  Sarah resumed forking the earth and tried to shake Artie out of her mind. There was no point in dwelling on it, but emotions couldn’t be switched on and off like a tap, could they? She admitted that she missed being someone’s mother, too … so it was no wonder she felt emotional, taking everything into consideration.

  A few minutes later, she saw John walking towards her balancing a tea tray, but because of his hand, he wasn’t having a lot of success. Sarah could hear him curse every so often as the tea slopped over the edge of the cups.

  ‘What are you doing up and working so early?’ he asked, setting the tray in a wheelbarrow.

  ‘Well, you said this bit needed digging over so here I am. No point in lying abed when there’s crops to be planted, cows to be milked and water to be hauled,’ she said, in an over-exaggerated American drawl.

  ‘Ha! Sounds like you’re back in Kansas, eh?’

  She nodded and picked up the half-cup of tea, flicking the drips from her fingers. ‘I’d love to go back there one day with you, John. The scenery was breathtaking.’

  ‘We can’t just pop back through time on a whim, you know.’

  ‘No, you daft sod, I meant jump on a plane and go over there. It wouldn’t be the same, but there are still huge unspoiled bits. I’ve seen documentaries on it and stuff.’

  He grinned at her and she realised that he’d known what she’d meant all along.

  Sarah smiled back wistfully. ‘I’ve been thinking about 1874 and getting a bit upset, to be honest.’ She told him her thoughts and he drew her to him.

  ‘That’s why I love you. None of the holes needing your expert stitching were just jobs, were they? You really cared about those people, wanted to do your very best for them.

  ‘I still do care now. I miss them all.’

  John went to the wheelbarrow and picked up his mug. He took a sip and gazed thoughtfully over the hills. ‘I bet I can guess who you miss most of all out of all the ones you saved?’

  Sarah walked over to him and slipped her arm through his. ‘OK, guess away. I’ll give you three.’

  ‘I don’t need three. It’s Artie, isn’t it?’

  She looked up at him. ‘Yes … how did you know?’

  ‘The spindly ones, as you call them, were moaning about it, but I knew anyway. It’s obvious. We never did get the chance to discuss the fact that you had to be someone’s mum and all the emotional baggage that went with that, did we? You think that your ex-husband robbed you of your chance to have babies.’

  Sarah blinked rapidly. ‘Well, yes, he did. When we’d talk about starting a family over the years, it was always, “Yes we will, but not yet,” or, “We can’t afford them just now,” … always an excuse. Then he has a one-night stand with my best mate and lo and behold she’s pregnant. They get together and play happy families.’

  ‘You’re still very bitter about that, aren’t you?’

  She gave a huff and raised her eyebrows. ‘Ya think; what gave it away?’

  John sighed and held her close again. ‘Now listen, there are a few things we have to discuss today regarding our future and the spindly ones. I have had a few email conversations with them while you were asleep. They urgently wanted to speak to me about the whole 1928 trip.’

  Sarah stepped back; she didn’t like the serious tone in his voice. What the hell had happened now? ‘What did they say? Is there more bad news?’

  ‘I don’t think so, but we do have to make a few decisions. If we are going to be together properly, and hopefully start that family you have always wanted, we must answer their concerns.’

  The words ‘start a family you have always wanted’ whirled into her heart and whipped her pulse into a crazy beat. ‘You want kids with me?’ Her voice trembled.

  ‘I thought it might be a nice idea, yes.’ John laughed, as he watched Sarah leaping around the freshly forked earth, laughing and yelling at the top of her voice like a demented hyena.

  ‘Come on then, breakfast and then email time,’ he said, grabbing her hood and dragging her back to the path.

  An hour later, Sarah, still on cloud nine, collected the breakfast dishes from the table. John had gone up for a quick shower and then they were going to make contact with the spindly ones. He’d not told her very much about what they’d said to him so far, just that they needed assurances and certain conditions met. Sarah didn’t really care what they asked them to do; she’d do anything to make a life with John … well, apart from murder, or handing over their first born.

  First born … Jeez Louise, she still had to pinch herself when she thought of the now-very-real prospect of having children. Her life at the moment was one very large see-saw. One moment she was down, as down as she could possibly be, the next she was soaring into the heavens, courtesy of Pink Fluffy Clouds R Us.

  Even stacking the dishwasher and wiping down the counter filled her with delight. She looked around the kitchen and wondered if this lovely place would eventually become her home. It would be the logical thing to do. If she were to go part-time, she’d manage to just cover the mortgage, but if she sold her house and moved in here, things would be a lot more comfortable financially. It wasn’t so long ago that she’d chastised herself for getting ahead of herself when she’d imagined living in this lovely old cottage. Now it wasn’t a dream, but a real possibility.

  Sarah pottered around the living room, straightening cushions and humming the ‘Wedding March’. She presumed marriage would be on the cards; in fact, she would have to insist on it before children were planned. Though very liberal in most of her views, she still had the ‘old-fashioned’ idea that it was best to be married before having a baby. Explaining exactly why she felt like this wasn’t easy, but …

  Blam blam blam!

  Who was at the door at ten o’clock on a lazy Sunday morning? She hoped it wasn’t a relative or friend. Much as she’d like to meet anyone who was close to John, they had very important business to attend to. Should she answer it or …

  ‘Can you get that, Sarah? I’m just getting dry, down in two minutes!’

  Sarah opened the door and her heart and stomach had a race to see which could plummet the fastest. Josephina looked less than pleased to see Sarah, too. She removed her sunglasses, tossed her glossy hair and tutted. ‘So, Seera, you’re back on the scene, huh?’

  Before Sarah could take charge of her faculties, Josephina barged past and into the kitchen. She threw her sunglasses on the table and whirled round, face flushed and eyes flashing. ‘Where’s John, I need to speak with him.’

  Sarah’s eyes quickly appraised her. Black shorts, emerald halter top, long tanned legs, red lips. Sarah hated her. Here she stood, barefoot, overalled and a bit grubby from her work in the field. Not waiting for a reply, Josephina stalked through to the living room, her unfeasibly high, high heels, clack-clacking on the tiles.

  Sarah padded after her, her anger growing with every step. How dare she just flounce in here like this? ‘He’s in the shower, not in here, and I never actually invited you in,’ she said, glaring at Josephina as she turned to face her.

  ‘I need
no invitation to my Johnny’s home!’

  Sarah felt her courage sweep up from her toes, gather momentum and then burst from her mouth. ‘I think you’ll find you do, and he’s not your Johnny, he’s my John!’ Phew, that felt good; this is what she should have done before, fight not flight!

  ‘Ha! He’ll never be yours, look at the state of you, if you think …’

  She stopped as the door opened and John walked in. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt, his hair was still damp from the shower and his green eyes flashed in anger. Sarah looked from him to Josephina and she felt like she’d been hit with the ugly stick. Perhaps he would never be hers like Josephina said, why would he, when he could have …

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘Darling! I thought I’d pop over and see if you needed anything … You look fully recovered now, quite magnificent if I may say so,’ Josephina purred. ‘Oh my dear, you have a bandage, what happened?’ She stepped towards him.

  John held up his hand. ‘Get the fuck out of my house before I do something I regret.’

  ‘What? Why? What have I done?’ Josephina put her hand to her mouth and slumped down theatrically on the sofa.

  John didn’t answer. He strode towards her, yanked her up with his good hand and propelled her out of the living room and towards the front door. Josephina protested and yelled all the way there and Sarah followed behind, stifling peals of laughter. Because she was being frogmarched along, Josephina stumbled and tottered on the ridiculous heels, her legs even bowed once or twice; she had lost her glamour and appeared slightly cartoony.

  John flung open the door and practically threw her out. Josephina’s arms pinwheeled in an effort to keep her balance and she had to lean against her car for support.

  She gasped and looked at John in disbelief. ‘Johnny, how can you be so cruel, after everything we meant to each other?’

  ‘Ha! Cruel? You wrote the book on that! I heard what you said to Sarah, and she’s more of a beauty than you’ll ever be, and the name’s John. I always hated Johnny!’ He went to close the door. Sarah’s heart swelled with pride.

  ‘My new sunglasses are in there!’ Josephina wailed.

  Sarah sped to the kitchen and returned with the flimsy diamante-edged shades. John took them and threw them at Josephina. ‘Just like you, aren’t they, Jose: expensive, flashy, but of no practical use whatsoever!’ He slammed the door and turned to Sarah. ‘That felt good!’ he said and burst out laughing. She joined him and they leaned against the door howling like a couple of wolves until tears ran down their faces.

  ‘OK, here goes,’ John said, typing a series of letters and numbers into the address of his email. Sarah noticed it didn’t have .com or co.uk after it, but then it wouldn’t, would it? They were sitting cross-legged in the middle of John’s bed and he had the laptop on his knee. Though Sarah had felt over the moon that Josephina had got her comeuppance, she was beginning to feel apprehensive about what the spindly ones wanted. A few elephants had arrived in her tummy and were limbering up for a cartwheeling extravaganza.

  ‘What did they say to you whilst I was sleeping?’ she whispered, as if the spindly ones were about to jump out of the wardrobe.

  John sighed and moved a stray hair from her forehead. ‘That they were angry about your behaviour and mine, too. Even though you were one of the best Stitches of all, you let emotions rule you too much. They said again that they wanted to wipe your memory and felt you couldn’t be trusted. I begged them to reconsider, told them that you were extremely sorry, and they eventually agreed that you could be in on negotiations now.’

  Sarah’s elephants went into action. ‘OK, better get on with it then.’

  John wrote:

  John Needler reporting. Sarah is here and willing to do whatever she can to allay your fears. What are your demands?

  Seconds later a reply:

  Sarah, you have shown yourself to be an outstanding Stitch and have compassion and love beyond measure for people in the past and we are eternally thankful for your endeavours. However, your last trip and your relationship with John have given us grave cause for concern.

  There have only been three relationships between a Needle and a Stitch in the last 100 years. (One couple, as you know, were John’s parents.) They were allowed only because we were entirely convinced that they would be true and long-lasting. We were also sure that the Stitch wouldn’t try to stop the Needle doing his job and persuade him to settle down to a ‘normal’ job.

  We are far from convinced that you will behave in a similar way and therefore wish to wipe your memory of all your stitching and consequently your relationship with John will be at an end.

  Sarah looked at John open mouthed. ‘Oh shit! What do we do now?’

  John took her shaking hand and said, ‘Don’t panic, we’re here to try and change their minds; if they were set on wiping your memory they would have done it by now.’

  She nodded. ‘Ask them why they’re not convinced about us.’

  ‘I think that’s obvious, given the fact that you went a bit crazy in 1928 and I blatantly disobeyed orders to come and rescue you.’

  ‘Yes, but there was the line about them not thinking we will be true and long-lasting.’ She traced the line on the screen. ‘That needs explaining.’

  He shrugged but wrote:

  Sarah wants to know why you aren’t convinced that our relationship is true? She is willing to do whatever it takes to make you understand how much she loves me and assures you that she will never try to interfere with needling.

  Before he pressed send he asked, ‘Is that OK?’

  She nodded and squeezed his hand.

  Again a swift response:

  Sarah was tested and found wanting. We deliberately told you that Sarah was due back later from 1874. When she came back early and found Josephina at your house, we had to be sure she loved you enough to fight for you – she didn’t. This, coupled with the last debacle in 1928, means that we feel it would be kinder to disallow continuance.

  Sarah flopped back on the bed and covered her face with a pillow. She’d been right about all of that then. Of all the conniving, spindly, medievally-sleeve waving …

  ‘Hey, help me here, come on, what do we say back?’ John pulled the pillow away. She looked at his pinched expression and the fear behind his eyes. This was no dress rehearsal. The next email had to cut the mustard or she and John would be history. She guessed she would have to do something pretty drastic for them to change their minds.

  She swallowed hard. ‘Ask them if I’m allowed to type the next one.’

  John raised his eyebrows but did as she asked. The request was granted.

  Sarah wrote:

  Thanks for letting me communicate directly. I realise how very stupid I have been and I can fully understand why you have arrived at this decision. I should have fought for John, but I was too scared of having my heart broken again. I recklessly strayed from my recent task and drew John in to save me with disastrous consequences for him. If you allow me to remain with him and make a life together, I will swear to do two things: 1) I will be available for stitching whenever you ask for the rest of my life, and will carry out my duties willingly and without straying from my task. 2) I will take John’s injury instead. Please turn his hand back to normal and if you could be sure to maim my left hand, as I’m right handed.

  I hope these two things will assure you that I am serious about making amends.

  ‘You can’t do that, I won’t let y—’ John stopped in shock as Sarah had already pressed send.

  They waited in silence. The reply didn’t come. Perhaps they were having a chinwag about it all. A surreal thought forced its way through her anxiety. Did they actually have chins, or did they just have …

  ‘Sarah, my injured hand is burning!’ John yelled, held it to his chest and grimaced.

  ‘Here, let me see,’ she said, unfastening the safety pin and slowly unwinding the bandage.

  ‘It’s stopped now
, feels almost—’ he murmured as Sarah revealed his hand ‘—normal.’

  John’s hand was indeed normal. He wriggled his fingers and turned it first one way and then the other. Sarah kissed it and then bravely held her left hand up, tuned her head away and screwed up her eyes. She waited … and waited …

  A reply:

  Sarah, it has been agreed that you have learned the error of your ways and are ready to make sacrifices to show your love for John. You will be spared injury, but not the first promise. You will be required to stitch as you described and should be prepared to journey to the past a month from now. If you ever renege on this promise in the future, yourself, John, or any offspring you may have will suffer. I trust you understand this is no idle threat.

  The laptop screen went black and it was clear the computer had shut down.

  They both sat in silence looking at it for a few seconds and then John grabbed her round the waist and threw her back on to the bed. ‘We won, Sarah! We’re allowed to be together and my hand is completely healed.’ He showered her face with kisses. ‘You were so brave, I love you so much.’

  She smiled and kissed him back. ‘No braver than you were when you came to save me the other day.’

  He stopped kissing her and frowned. ‘You do realise you’ve just signed your life over to stitching? That was a huge thing to promise.’

  ‘Yep, well you have signed your life over to needling, and I do enjoy it mostly. I’m still going part-time, so it won’t be so stressful juggling school work with time travel. Besides, it will look great on my CV.’

  John laughed. ‘You are crazy, Sarah Yates, do you know that?’ He started to kiss her neck and ran his hand along her leg.

  ‘But you love me, right?’ she murmured slipping her hands around his waist.

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘Hadn’t you better stop all that? We have soil to dig, veggies to tend.’ Her sky-blue eyes locked on to his.

  ‘They can wait,’ he said, and placed his mouth on hers.

  About the Author

  Amanda James (aka Mandy) was born in Sheffield and now lives in Bristol with her husband and two cats. In her spare time, she enjoys gardening, singing, and spending lots of time with her grandson. She also admits to spending far too much time chatting on Twitter and Facebook! Mandy recently left her teaching role to follow her ambition to live her life doing what she most enjoys – writing.