by Amanda James
Sarah stood and caught Ollie’s eye again. He was watching her intently, the hate replaced by love. Realisation hit her between the eyes like a sledgehammer. Bloody hell! The hiccups – it’s him I have to save!
She beckoned to Veronica and the two of them made their way to the kitchen. Veronica found the cleanest glass on the drainer and ran water into it. Sarah tipped her head upside down and took a sip. ‘Thanks, hic! I think I, hic, know, hic, who I have to, hic! save.’ Sarah straightened up and faced Veronica.
‘Are the hiccups a sign, like you said?’ Veronica patted Sarah’s back which irritated rather than relieved the hiccups.
Sarah, red-faced, nodded vigorously and swallowed another hiccup along with more water. Gerry came in and joined Veronica in patting Sarah’s back. ‘Will you both, hic, bloody sto-hic-p that plea-hic-se?’
Veronica knitted her eyebrows and planted her hand on her hips. ‘Now, really, Sarah. Geraldine and I are only try-hic-ing to help. Hic!’
‘Blimey, Ronnie, looks like you got ’em too,’ Gerry said, smirking. ‘Can’t be the beer because you didn’t have one.’
Sarah and Veronica looked at each other agog and did a synchronised HIC! Gerry shook her head and went back to the other room. Veronica took Sarah’s water and gulped it down.
‘Hold your breath, that works some-hic-times,’ Sarah said.
Both women held their breath. Sarah wanted to burst out laughing at the red-faced bulging eyed face in front of her, all topped off with a crazy haystack. Veronica looked like a deranged clown.
Veronica released her breath slowly and said, ‘Do you think I have to help you save someone?’
‘I have no idea. Anything’s possible in this unorthodox situation.’ Sarah sighed, noting the absence of hiccups. ‘But we agreed that you would stay put here, with your mouth shut, out of harm’s way, so let’s stick to the plan. It’s probably safest.’
‘But who needs saving?’ Veronica said, puzzled.
‘I reckon it’s Ollie and so I’m going back in there to keep tabs on him.’
Veronica looked crestfallen. ‘Yes, but what shall I do?’
‘Sit at the kitchen table and read that magazine, make a cup of tea, anything except spew out more nonsense about 1939.’ Sarah pointed a finger. ‘If anyone talks to you, just say you don’t feel well and keep quiet, okay?’
Veronica gave her a doleful stare and then made a big show of scraping her chair back and plonking herself down.
As she stepped back through the living room door, Sarah caught the tail end of a conversation about Ollie meeting a dealer. Just marvellous … not. She’d suspected drugs would feature in the set up, but it looked like Ollie was off to score some right now. Still, perhaps that was her mission, maybe she was meant to save him from an overdose or something. Trouble was, she had the feeling that he wouldn’t take too kindly to her tagging along if the 1979 Sarah had just dumped him for someone else.
‘I’ll be off then,’ Ollie muttered avoiding Sarah’s eyes and pocketing a wodge of notes from Laz. ‘Cheers, Laz, I’ll bring you yours later.’
Right, this calls for drastic action. Sarah’s heart raced up the scale and her tummy did a somersault. ‘Um, Ollie. Can I have a private word, please?’
Ollie narrowed his eyes. ‘What about?’
‘Well, if I told you now it wouldn’t be private would it?’ Sarah shot him a hopeful smile.
Ollie looked at Laz and Gerry and shrugged. ‘Okay, but you will have to walk with me, I’m late already.’
Sarah told him she’d have to get her bag and ran back into the kitchen. Veronica was exactly as she’d left her, looking horrified at the problem page in a magazine.
‘I can’t believe how utterly shameless these girls are. Nothing but whores if you ask me—’
‘Just shut your face and listen. I’m off out with Ollie, this might be my chance to save him so do as I said before, remember?’
‘Well, how rude? And of course I remember, you only told me a few moments ago—’
Sarah held up her hand in a ‘palm-face’ gesture and ran from the room.
Veronica finished the magazine and drummed her fingers on the table. This time travelling lark was turning out to be pretty boring. Sarah, it seemed, was to have all the exciting work while she was left at home like a modern day Cinderella. But then, she’d never been one to go to the ball, had she? Her mother had seen to that. All those years fetching and carrying and then she’d become her nurse when mother had contracted TB. Before Veronica had known it, her youth was behind her and so were her chances.
Catching sight of her reflection in the hall mirror, Veronica had to concede that her chances had never been marvellous, not with her looks. When she was little her mother had once said that she looked like a horse. How could a mother be so cruel to their own child? As an adult, Veronica realised that all the insults and brow beating had been to undermine her confidence, a way of keeping her tied to the house and to servitude. But then along came Edward and with him the always longed for, but never expected, prospect of romance.
Poor Edward was all alone in 1939 though, wasn’t he? And you are too concerned about saving your own skin to go back there. Shame on you, Veronica. But then what did she expect? Self-preservation had been paramount during the dark years of Hettie Ratchet’s reign. That’s why she’d turned down the stitching lark in the beginning, always looking out for number one and—
Veronica’s thoughts were interrupted by the rise and fall of angry voices from the other room and she crept nearer to listen.
‘But you said I could play the guitar like an angel the other day … you said I had prospects!’ Geraldine yelled.
‘But that was before Jakey Harris said he’d join the band last night … Jakey Harris, Gerry! He once backed the Stranglers before they got famous!’ Laz growled back.
Geraldine’s voice returned, quieter, but Veronica could detect the desperation in it. ‘And so, what, you thought you’d drop me from the band just like that?’
‘Just for now, love. We’ll still be together as boyfriend and girlfriend—’
‘Boyfriend and girlfriend? Where are we, in the fucking schoolyard?’
‘Don’t be like that. You know how I feel about you, babe—’
Veronica heard something crash across the room and Geraldine yell, ‘Don’t you dare “babe” me! And don’t come anywhere near me! I hate you and your crappy little band!’
‘You broke me favourite chair!’
‘I’ll break more than a chair in a minute. GET OUT!’
Veronica heard footsteps approaching. Yikes! She dashed back to the kitchen table put her head down on the magazine and pretended to be asleep. A door slammed, and then a wail of despair cut the silence. A few minutes later Geraldine plonked herself down opposite Veronica, and snuffled and sobbed quietly to herself. Taking a quick peep from under her lashes, Veronica spied a whisky bottle on the table and a very long, strange smelling cigarette in the other woman’s fingers.
‘So dumped again, eh?’ Gerry sighed. She touched Veronica’s arm lightly. ‘I know you’re asleep, my old mop-head, but it helps to talk to somebody.’ Gerry took a swig from the bottle and sucked on her cigarette.
Veronica snorted inwardly. Mop-head? Well, really! And that damned cigarette smells … smells … hmm, quite nice actually.
‘Serves me right, I guess, for dumping my boy on my parents. But what would you have done if you had a kid at sixteen, eh, Ronnie? Social workers all over it, parents treating you as if you were The Whore of Babylon?’ Gerry swallowed more whisky, drew a lungful of smoke, held it and in release said, ‘Cut and run that’s what, just like me.’
A child at sixteen? My God, if Veronica had been her mother she would have given her a good hiding! Veronica found herself trying to breathe more deeply to catch a whiff of that cigarette. She’d never smoked in her life, but she could definitely see why people did. It was sooo relaxing.
‘And then at last after years of living on the streets,
into drugs … and worse, being picked up and dumped by the world and his wife, I finally get a house and a man who seemed to care. But you know what was best of all? I thought I might get somewhere with this guitar lark.’ She put her lips close to Veronica’s ear. ‘Actually be someone, you know? Huh! Fat chance.’
Some time later Veronica took a cheeky peek at her watch and found an hour had passed, but Geraldine was still talking … well, slurring mostly. A good part of the whisky had gone and she’d rolled up another two of those cigarettes. Veronica found that she had to keep resisting the urge to giggle. Not at anything Geraldine was saying, as all that was pretty grim, but just giggling for no apparent reason. The idea that dancing in bare feet on the cold lino might be a fun thing to do also had begun to flit across her mind intermittently.
She had never had these kind of frivolous thoughts before and began to worry that she was going a bit odd. The worry was edged with a warm fuzzy glow though, so not really worry at all. And now the position of her head on the wooden table was beginning to make her neck ache. Could she turn her head and still pretend to be asleep? Just as she was about to try it Geraldine tapped her arm again.
‘There was one really happy day in my life though, Ronnie, that was a day to remember. In my head … the memory of it is wrapped in the finest blue silk and placed in a jewel-studded box. I was twelve, it was summer and we went on a school trip to the docks down the road here. It was before boys, teenage angst, pressure from parents or anything and I just felt free, happy and as if my life was stretching out to infinity before me, you know?’
Veronica didn’t know, but she liked the idea of life stretching out. At thirty-nine she felt that life’s elastic was due to snap soon-ish. Her dad had died at forty-two, her mother five years ago at fifty-four … dear God she was beginning to feel a bit maudlin now. What she needed was another sniff of that ciggie, Geraldine to shut up, Sarah to save Ollie and then she could go home and start making the best of the time she had left with Edward. Geraldine seemed in no hurry to shut up though.
‘That school trip was bloody fantastic!’ Gerry giggled and took another swig of whisky. ‘We had a boat trip then we walked up to the bridge and Kelly Hall pretended to push me off!’ She chuckled again and began to laugh hysterically. ‘We got told off by Miss Grant and Naomi Thorpe was pulling faces behind her back the whole time! Such a happy day.’ Gerry’s voice took on a wistful air. ‘If only I could turn back time and start afresh from that day … things would have been so different for me.’
Veronica rolled her eyes. Time is something you didn’t fool around with as she had learned to her cost. And if she didn’t turn her head soon, her neck would seize up.
‘You know what, Ronnie, me old bird, I think I might pay a visit to the bridge now. Relive that day and then … and then … float away across the clouds …’
Even in her woozy state the tone of Geraldine’s voice ran a cold finger of warning down Veronica’s spine. What did she mean by that?
Geraldine pushed back her chair, turned in a circle and sang Somewhere Over the Rainbow quietly to herself. Then she left the kitchen.
Veronica sat upright and rubbed her neck. How odd that this modern creature knew the song from that new Wizard of Oz film back in her time. People said how marvellous it was. Perhaps she and Edward would go and see it. But what on earth was the young woman doing now? She could hear Geraldine banging about upstairs and then … nothing. A few minutes later she had to pretend to be asleep again as Geraldine came in and put something on the table next to her face. Then she heard her go into the hall and the front door slam.
On the table was a pad of paper. Veronica read:
Right guys. I’m checking out … Today was just a bridge too far and when you find out what’s happened to me, you will understand my cryptic little note.
Sorry to do this to you, Sarah, you were a real mate. Have a happy life. PLEASE don’t make such a mess of it the way I have.
Love G xx
The cold finger of warning became an ice block. Veronica jumped up, her hand fluttering to her mouth. That note looked pretty final to her. But what the hell was she to do? She’d promised Sarah she’d stay put, but if Geraldine was off to do something terrible …
Before she could talk herself out of it, Veronica grabbed a coat from the back of a chair, ran out and followed the hurrying figure of Geraldine down the street.
Chapter Twelve
The sunshine that Sarah had enjoyed earlier in the park with Veronica had done a disappearing act. Down by the waterfront the wind whipped off the river and across her bare arms like knives. Now early evening with dark clouds rolling in, the run-down wharfs and alleyways of the decaying industrial harbour area looked foreboding. It was certainly not the ideal place Sarah wanted to be hanging around.
Briskly rubbing her arms, she watched Ollie stride over to a huddle of men at the end of an alleyway. He slapped a few on the back and then a moment later threw his arms up in a gesture of exasperation. Voices were raised but she couldn’t catch what was said and then Ollie came back over to her, his face like curdled milk. ‘Just brilliant! Because you made me late, the dealer’s gone. So no score for me or Laz tonight.’
Really? Could it be that easy? Had she averted a drugs overdose just by making Ollie late? If so, that was her ticket back to John! And anyway why shouldn’t it be easy? God knew she deserved to be cut a bit of slack.
Ollie was still glowering at her. ‘I suppose you are happy about that, aren’t you? Probably made me late on purpose. You’re like bloody Snow White since you dumped the heroin.’
Yay! She was so pleased that the 1979 Sarah had quit drugs. It also gave her a response in an otherwise unknown territory. ‘I am pleased as it happens. It’s a mug’s game after all … you could end up dead and colder than this bitter wind.’
Ollie rolled his eyes, shrugged his leather jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders. It smelled of lemon and aniseed and felt strangely comforting. She wondered if his arms wrapped around her would feel comforting too. Eh? Hang about … no! The 1979 Sarah must have made her think that. Honestly, she was a newly married woman!
Ollie stepped closer and as she looked into his cool blue eyes she began to wonder some more about his arms and his mouth so close to hers too. This misplaced ‘affection’ malarkey had happened to her when she’d gone to 1874 Kansas, she remembered, but the feeling of attraction for the guy there hadn’t been as strong as this. Sarah figured that it was because the 1979 Sarah and Ollie had been in a sexual relationship, and very recently. She swallowed and folded her arms protectively across her chest.
Ollie stepped even closer until she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek. ‘Why would you care about what happens to me anyway, Sarah? Thought all you cared about now was Steve.’ He traced a crimson painted nail across her jawline.
Sarah gulped, stepped back and intuition made her blurt, ‘I’m over Steve. I made a mistake. It’s you she … I mean I loved, but I just couldn’t cope with your drug taking any more.’
Ollie raised his eyebrows and a daft soppy grin shone the light of innocent youth through the darkness of his carefully erected rude-boy punk image. ‘Love? You never talked about love!’ He picked Sarah up and whirled her round. ‘If you had I would have tried harder to quit!’
Sarah looked into his face wreathed in smiles and nodded. ‘Well, I do, so will you try harder now?’
His face grew solemn. He raised her hand to his mouth and tenderly kissed the back of it. ‘If this means you’re giving me another chance. I’d do anything for you, Sarah.’
Sarah felt the depth of emotion of the 1979 Sarah, but she needed to keep her distance. ‘No. It has to be for you, Ollie, okay?’ To avoid the inevitable kiss, Sarah took his hand and turned for the road. ‘Come on, let’s go home.’ And as they walked, Sarah prayed with all her might that she soon would be.
A few minutes later they crossed a footbridge and a little way further off Sarah noticed a huge
bridge suspended between two steep cliffs. Underneath a wide muddy river meandered, dotted with a few small boats. Sarah immediately recognised it as Brunel’s Clifton Suspension Bridge as she’d taught the kids about him many times during their lessons on the Industrial Revolution. It would be great to go and have a closer look, but she could go and visit it any time when she got back to the present. And that was all she could think about at the moment, forget bloody bridges.
She quickened her pace dragging Ollie along with her. He’d try to slow down a few times to kiss her but she’d told him that they had to take things slowly and they would have more time for all that later. Waiting at a crossing they were surprised to find a biker waving them over at the lights.
The man flicked the visor back from his helmet and studied them with concerned grey eyes. ‘I think I just saw one of your lot as I crossed on the bridge. Looked like they wanted to jump but a few folk were gathered round.’
‘One of our lot?’ Sarah said.
‘Yeah, a punk. Think it was a woman … had pink hair.’ The lights changed and the man sped off.
Sarah and Ollie looked at each other opened-mouthed and at the same time said, ‘Gerry!’ Sarah’s thoughts went into free fall. Was Gerry the one she was supposed to save after all and not Ollie? But she’d felt sure that it had been Ollie, all the signs had been there and the gut feeling she’d had too. And if Gerry was about to jump from the damned bridge there was no way she’d get there in time, not on foot anyway. Oh hell, what should she do? All she wanted was to go back to John, thought she would be doing so very shortly, and now this!
‘Come on, we have to get up there!’ Ollie grabbed her arm and started towards the bridge.
Sarah shook her head and stopped. ‘We won’t get there in time, in fact how do you get up there?’
‘Eh? What do you mean how do we get up there? We’ve been up there hundreds of times, but you’re right, we need some kind of transport. Shit I don’t know which buses go …’ Ollie’s voice trailed off and he turned in a circle putting his hands to his head.
