A Ripple in Time

by Julia Hughes

  ‘S’OK, my cousin’s telling me about a play he saw in London.’ He heard Wren trying to explain away his hysterics. When the footsteps faded he continued.

  ‘According to eye witnesses most crew stand about at first, waiting for someone in authority to take charge. The few that do understand what’s happening are working like men possessed down in the ship’s hold. Annie, I’m sorry. Don’t forget we’ve got the benefit of hindsight, but you’ll understand better soon.’

  Rhyllann trembled harder; for all his bravado he begun to wish he’d stayed in Monkstown.

  ‘That telegram. Carrie said you wanted me to find it.’ He looked at Wren accusingly.

  ‘Do you want me to go on?’ Wren asked again, his face inscrutable.

  ‘Yes. No. No more details.’

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  Rhyllann’s stomach churned. ‘The ship’s sinking. Why … why?’ He licked his lips.

  ‘Why didn’t people rush the lifeboats?’

  Wren turned to lean over the rails, Rhyllann mirrored his position.

  ‘Look down there Annie.’

  He peered downwards. Way way below them the ocean stretched as far as the eye could see. Nothing but blankness broken up by the Titanic’s wake. The churning waters at the ship’s bows gave some indication of speed. He couldn’t begin to imagine the turning circle it would need or how anything could possibly bring the massive vessel to a halt. The great ship ploughed on inexorably; Rhyllann’s head began to spin with vertigo.

  ‘That’s almost sixty feet down. From tomorrow the air is going to get much colder. Below freezing in fact. Until the last moments the ship’s emergency generators keep running. The passengers know messages have been sent. This is a busy route. They know help’s on its way. People looking out to port can actually see a ship on the horizon. And the Titanic isn’t sinking. Until the moment it actually sinks almost three hours after the collision, the Titanic is unsinkable.’

  In the quietness that followed Wren’s speech, those last four words reverberated again and again into the dawn’s stillness.

  After eons of silence Wren stretched an arm across Rhyllann’s shoulders and steered him from the boat deck, guiding him down the metal staircase.

  Rhyllann wouldn’t look at him. He didn’t speak again until they were safely in the saloon lounge and Wren had ordered strong hot coffee.

  He watched Wren spooning sugar after sugar into one cup, then the other.

  ‘You don’t take sugar.’ He said.

  ‘Think we both need a sugar rush. I’m sorry Annie. I never meant for you to …’ He broke off shaking his head, lowering it to sip at his coffee.

  Rhyllann surveyed the blond thatch windswept into a familiar mad professor style.

  ‘But you did. Carrie was right. You left that telegram for me to find.’ He gripped at Wren’s arm, slopping coffee to the table.

  Wren stared up at him, innocence in the blue eyes, a geeky smile on his face.

  ‘Have you been listening to a word I said? In a few days’ time all hell is going to break loose.’ He placed his other hand on Rhyllann’s.

  ‘And if the world’s going to shit around me, I know one thing.’ His eyes creased in a genuine smile. ‘I know one person I want at my side.’

  Rhyllann shrugged modestly. Another thought hit him. ‘Why didn’t you just tell me? We could have both snuck off. Left Carrie behind.’

  Wren seemed fascinated by a small child skipping on the deck below them. A warm tingling started in Rhyllann’s stomach spreading upwards. Ten minutes ago he’d been ready to throw Wren overboard, frightened by the ghoul like stranger calmly detailing the death of innocents. Now his cousin seemed all too human, clutching his coffee cup, avoiding his eyes, flushing.

  ‘You’re in love.’ He said triumph in his voice and waited for Wren to admit it. Wren dipped his head to mouth at his coffee, taking deep breaths in between gulps. Rhyllann sat patiently ready to enjoy this. Finally Wren came up for air. His eyes met Rhyllann’s before skittering away, roaming around the room, then back down at his fingers still clutching the cup, before returning to rest on Rhyllann with the most haunted look imaginable. He swallowed twice but still his voice was tight and strained.

  ‘Is this what it’s like Annie? Because I think I’m going mad.’

  Below them the skipping rope swirled smacking the deck and swishing upwards and a childish chant drifted up to them. The kid mistimed his jump, the rope tangled around his ankles, tripping him up. Within seconds the kid scrambled to his feet, and using the rope as a lasso now, charged across the deck, intent on a new game. Rhyllann watched as other kids joined in, eager to play cowboys and indians.

  ‘Annie?’ Wren wanted an answer.

  Rhyllann swallowed his laughter, delighted with Wren’s confusion. ‘You mean you can’t bear to be near her, because when she’s next to you, all you can think about is holding her, touching her, stroking her skin, until it feels like your blood’s on fire and your heart is going to explode.’

  Wren nodded. Yes! Yes! Yes! He nodded again eager for Rhyllann to go on.

  ‘And when you’re apart, you can’t settle. You can’t think of anything and everything, from a stray cat crossing your path to the colour of the sky reminds you of her, and all you want is be with her, so you can hold her, convince yourself that she really does exist, and she really is that beautiful, and her voice really does sound the way it does, and she really moves the way she does, and it’s all so perfect, because it’s her?’

  Wren’s hands tightened, Rhyllann gently eased the cup from him, it was in danger of shattering.

  ‘How do you know? How do you know all that?’ Wren looked amazed, as though Rhyllann had suddenly acquired physic powers.

  This time Rhyllann did laugh outloud. ‘Fool. We’ve all been there.’

  ‘What am I gonna do Annie?’ He sounded miserable.

  ‘It wears off. Honest. Take my word. You get on her nerves or she gets on yours, and suddenly she’s human again and maybe you still feel love but not so violent, maybe someone else comes along who makes your head spin, and it starts all over again.’

  Sometimes Rhyllann fell in love three or four times a week, and knew what he was talking about.

  Wren accepted this. ‘It doesn’t last?’ He breathed a sigh of relief and drained his coffee cup, a man who has finally grasped a complex equation.

  Rhyllann wasn’t letting him off that easily. He went for the kill.

  ‘So … what’s it like?’

  ‘You just told me.’ Wren frowned.

  ‘Fool. I meant the sex.’

  Wren’s blue eyes surveyed him silently.

  ‘Only joking!’ Rhyllann slapped his shoulder, surely even Wren would realise he was teasing.

  Wren didn’t laugh.

  ‘Joke!’ Rhyllann tried again.

  Wren shivered with misery.

  Oh. Shit. Rhyllann thought to himself. Way to go Jones. He’d put his foot right in it.

  ‘Brawd, listen, these things happen. Happens to the best of us.’

  He spoke as though he knew what he was talking about, although it had never happened to him. His mind raced wondering if it were best to probe for details now or get Wren tipsy and have a man to man.

  To his surprise Wren started laughing. ‘It isn’t what you think Annie. Or I don’t know, it might be, except we haven’t got that far.’ He looked embarrassed suddenly and broke off.

  ‘S’ok, my bad. You’re right. You’re only kids really. It’s good to take things slowly. After all, you’ve got all the time in the world.’ Rhyllann made excuses for him. He thought Wren was going to start explaining again but he just gave a dopey smile and nodded.

  Rhyllann struggled to contain his amusement. This was priceless. The geek who bored for hours on photosynthesis and gave lectures on anything from the correct way to crack open a boiled egg to the manufacture of heavy water at the drop of a hat, lost for words. As he poured them both a second coffee the
sun broke through the morning mist. An immaculately coiffured woman entered, her dress rustling against the floor as she walked. A plainer woman trod two steps behind, carrying a fan.

  Catching her eye, Rhyllann stood nudging Wren to do the same. Before he could open his mouth for introductions, the Grande Dame spoke first.

  ‘So, gentlemen, you couldn’t sleep either?’ She held out a hand for her fan, then fluttered it before her face coquettishly.

  ‘Perhaps you’d care to take breakfast with me?’ Without waiting for an answer she placed a hand on Rhyllann’s arm, slapped it lightly with her fan and led off. Looking back over his shoulder, Rhyllann winked at his cousin, still standing with a bemused look on his face. Talking of sex reminded him he’d lived a positively monkish life for almost two weeks now and the Duchess had a fine figure for a woman her age. If this world was about to end in three days Rhyllann intended to make the most of it. But sometime soon he’d definitely get Wren drunk and explain the facts of life.

  Around twelvish the Duchess threw him out her bed saying she was tired and wanted to nap. Lack of breakfast was catching up with Rhyllann, he felt ravenous and as he was passing Wren’s State Rooms anyway, decided to call in to ask if they wanted anything for lunch.

  He swung open the door expecting to surprise the young lovers, feeling he hadn’t embarrassed Carrie enough yet.

  The room was empty. He drifted over to the table, still laden with blue prints bearing signs of smudged finger prints. While he deliberated whether to wait or leave a note and go for lunch, a door clicked closed, and he looked up sharply towards the bathroom. Then frowned, blinking twice. Carrie stood in front of him, sticking her hands on her hips she shrilled.

  ‘Don’t you ever knock?’

  Rhyllann blinked again. The waist length hair had been hacked off. Carrie had also raided Wren’s wardrobe, the white granddad style shirt reached mid thigh on her. Snatching up Wren’s freshly laundered neatly folded blue jeans from a chaise lounge, she yanked them on pulling them up past her stomach. When she let go they fell back to her hips. Unfazed she turned her back on Rhyllann to rummage through drawers for a belt. Threading it through the loops, she snatched up a fruit knife and began working a new notch.

  Rhyllann watched opened mouthed. He didn’t notice the door opening and closing quietly behind him.

  ‘Carrie, what have you done to your hair?’

  Rhyllann started at Wren’s voice coming from behind him.

  ‘Don’t you ever bloody knock either?’ She tightened the belt and pushed straight past them, heading for the door.

  Wren caught her arm. Snake like she turned and slapped his face.

  ‘You’re a lying bastard. A liar, a liar, a liar.’

  Rhyllann tried to sneak out, he hated domestics.

  Carrie was just warming up. ‘You lie to him, you lie to me – the only time you’re telling the truth is when your mouth’s shut.’ Her eyes glistened then spilled with tears. She swiped at her face.

  ‘I’m angry. Not upset. You make me so angry.’

  Rhyllann couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t bear women crying. Even when it wasn’t his fault. Glaring at Wren, he pulled Carrie towards him. After a brief resistance she allowed him to steer her onto a chaise lounge.

  ‘Carrie, don’t be like this. Don’t. What is it? What’s happened?’ Over her head he muttered to Wren.

  ‘I thought you loved her.’

  Carrie made a choking sound.

  ‘He can’t love. He isn’t human. He can’t be.’ She snatched up a sheet of paper from the table, it trembled between her hands as she pulled it taunt, straightening the creases.

  Rhyllann stiffened. ‘That isn’t fair Carrie.’ He looked over her head again at Wren, who watched impassively.

  ‘Tell her! Tell her what you told me.’ He urged, willing Wren to show some emotion.

  Carrie squirmed away. ‘I don’t want to listen. I don’t want to hear.’ She waved the sheet of paper at him. ‘Do you know what this is?’ She asked.

  He glanced at Wren, who gazed back impassively.

  ‘We left you a note. We went for a stroll. Met a friend of your Gran’s grandmother.’ Rhyllann said, hoping to change the subject, but Carrie refused to be diverted.

  ‘Let me guess. He’s persuaded you of all the reasons for going ahead with this. Letting this ship sink?’

  Wren spoke. ‘Cariad, we don’t have a choice.’

  Rhyllann nodded, the thought that his Mum didn’t die shimmering in his mind like a large iridescent bubble, still too fragile to examine properly.

  She waved Wren’s note at him. On the back was a list of names. Names of second class passengers.

  ‘Yes we do. We do!’ Her throat worked and she sniffed hard, dragging a sleeve under her nose. ‘Because he worked it out. He sat here, and he studied, and I don’t know how he did it, but he’s worked it out. Don’t you see? Don’t you understand?’

  She laughed, a sarcastic sound. ‘No. You don’t. You really don’t get it do you?’

  She straightened then stood up. ‘But he has. And now I have. And I’m going to find Gran’s Grandmother and the pair of us are going to the Captain, and we’re going to tell him what we know.’

  Shorn of its weight her hair stuck up around her face. She looked like a very young, very beautiful punk rocker, daring Rhyllann to stop her.

  ‘And then what Carrie? What then?’ Wren approached silently and pushed her down against the seat. Something like fear flickered in her eyes, then a determination entered her face as she tried to shrug Wren off.

  ‘What are you going to do then?’ Wren’s eyes glittered dangerously. ‘You’re right. I’ve worked it out. Or at least I think I have. Now do you want to be the one who slips into his room like a thief in the night to slit his throat?’ He nodded at Rhyllann.

  ‘Go ahead. Ask nicely. Perhaps he’ll let you borrow Caliburn.’

  Carrie recoiled from the iciness in Wren’s voice. Refusing to be intimated, she lifted her chin.

  ‘Don’t think I wouldn’t. Don’t think I’d hesitate if it saved the lives of all these other people.’

  Wren’s face gentled. Pulling Carrie to her feet, he held her close, stroking her mutilated hair.

  ‘You’re so full of life and fire and so brave. I know you wouldn’t think twice, even if it meant you faced the gallows once the Titanic docked in New York. But Carrie, understand this. That man, no I won’t give you his name, but that man if he lives will change the course of history. But if he dies at the hands of a manic, and that’s what they’ll say; if he dies as a martyr, you cannot begin to calculate the damage you will do. He’ll become a national folk hero, his followers will rally to his cause and uphold his principals. You might kill him and you might save hundreds, thousands today. But you’ll be condemning others. And this is their fate Carrie. With all the will in the world we can’t change it.’

  Instead of soothing his words inflamed. Carrie dragged herself away from him. Snatching up a butter knife she pointed it at Wren’s chest.

  ‘Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare tell me you can’t change it.’ She glared over at Rhyllann, pointing the knife at him.

  ‘And you. If you haven’t yet realised, he’s dragged you along to do his dirty work – you’re a bigger fool than I am!’ Whirling she rushed for the door.

  Rhyllann rugby tackled her just as she reached the corridor. She struggled, trying to claw at his face, screeching horribly. Rhyllann clamped a hand over her mouth, sucking in his stomach to avoid being kneed as he dragged her backwards and managed to hook a foot around the door to swing it closed. Wren was there suddenly, pushing him aside, tugging Carrie into his arms.

  ‘It’s OK, It’s ok.’ He soothed and patted her. Rhyllann clung onto her ankles, as she kicked wildly.

  ‘You’ve seen it haven’t you? It’s beginning to come to back to you. You’ve remembered who you were. What you are. And it scares you.’

  The fight went out of Carrie, and she grew s
till.

  ‘Get off me!’ She ordered. Rhyllann released his grip and leaned back against the door, ignoring the look of distain on her face.

  After a moment’s hesitation Wren scrabbled over to join him. Rhyllann shifted his weight from one leg to another. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Memories that weren’t his invaded his mind and he wanted to believe, but the man next to him was a stranger – somehow he didn’t doubt it was Wren, but a Wren he hadn’t spoken to, not really, for the past five years. And Carrie was changing before his eyes.

  She stared at them both, back ramrod straight as she sat cross legged on the floor. But her eyes were watchful.

  Someone tapped at the door. ‘Sir, luncheon is being served.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Wren called without turning his head.

  Footsteps walked away. Rhyllann’s stomach growled.

  ‘What do you intend to do?’ Carrie asked in a low voice. ‘Lock me in here?’ Her forehead wrinkled. ‘You can’t silence me.’

  Wren slumped against the wall to sit on the floor with his legs pulled up. He rested his chin against his knees.

  ‘Don’t you think I haven’t thought of that?’ He raised his head to give a brief smile. ‘Not locking you in. But I’ve thought of ways to just … take this … just this one man out the picture.’

  ‘Then do it.’ She hissed, chilling Rhyllann.

  Wren rubbed his chin against his knees looking troubled. ‘Carrie, do you know what you’re asking?’

  Suddenly the woman dissolved, leaving a little girl sobbing in the middle of the floor. Wren hugged his knees again.

  A blessed feeling of relief swamped Rhyllann. He groped behind him for the door handle. He could sneak off now. No matter how blameless he always got the urge to turn cartwheels, pull faces and generally act the fool, something inside him shrivelled at the sight of women crying. But this one wasn’t his responsibility. At that moment Wren looked up and motioned him fiercely back in the room. Rhyllann slumped down beside him.

  Footsteps scampered up and down the corridor outside, voices rang out inviting new acquaintances to play squash, or snooker or stroll upon the deck after luncheon. Rhyllann’s head drooped further. Carrie’s sobs died away, Wren cleared his throat and started speaking.