A Stitch in Time (14 page)

Sarah said nothing but raised her eyebrows, sat back and folded her arms.

‘Life isn’t a romantic novel where all ends are sown up neatly, all questions answered and problems magically resolved, Sarah. Time is messy and the holes that appear take a lot of sewing up, as you’ve discovered. Sometimes there
is
no happy ever after.’

Sarah held her hands up. ‘Hey, I didn’t say a word.’

‘No, but the look you’re giving me speaks volumes. So do you want to hear the rest?’

‘Yes, OK, Mr Grumpy.’ She took his hand across the table. The whole thing seemed incredible, but then why should that surprise her? She
had
recently returned from 1913.

He squeezed her hand. ‘OK, the holes appear because the link between past and present in certain areas becomes weak. As a history teacher, you know how important it is to know where we all come from and to learn from our mistakes. Also, we all know on Remembrance Day that we should be grateful to those who have made sacrifices for the wellbeing of others and stuff. Well, too often people forget. They just pay lip service to the past. Then holes open up in time’s thread and can only be strengthened by the bravery, determination and love of people like you, Sarah. Stitches must go in and demonstrate that they are prepared to undergo traumatic situations in order to save the lives of others. The past isn’t dead and gone; it’s crucial for our passage to the future and even our very existence.’

Sarah felt strangely emotional all of a sudden. She loved the idea of past, present and future being held together by love and determination and other emotions. What had John called it … human essence? But why weren’t important events affected by a person from the future like her, just dropping into the past and changing things? And why hadn’t he answered her question about other Stitches?

‘That sounds incredible, John. So you say Stitches save lives to make the future as it should be, and when people muck up, bad things happen?’

‘Yes, like when Norman refused and we got Hitler. Apparently he’d agreed at first and then pulled out at the last minute; no one else was available at such short notice.’

‘But like I said the first time we met, how can I be alive now and change things in the past that have already happened in the present. It makes my mind boggle, to be honest.’

‘Again, it is a bit complicated, but like I said yesterday, you aren’t really yourself in the past, are you? You don’t appear to others as you, you appear as the Sarah they know. You kind of work in tandem, your spirit is with them, rather than you physically intervening as a separate entity. So even though you go back in time,
you
are not wholly you. Most importantly, time isn’t set in stone, it’s in flux, and changes can be subtle or dramatic depending on how good or bad a Stitch is at their job.’

Sarah sipped her tea for a few minutes. It all made a weird kind of sense, but there was just the question of why, if there were thousands of Stitches, didn’t anyone know about them? Even if they were all sworn to secrecy, one of them would have let something slip over the years. She put down her cup and said as much to John.

He had a shifty look about him and fiddled with a spoon this time. ‘Err … there’s no easy way of saying this. Once the mission is completed they—’ he swallowed and looked over the fields ‘—they have their memories wiped of all connection to the mission.’

Though the morning was warm, a cold wind seemed to blow right through her. Sarah shook her head. ‘Will that happen to me? And all connection … that must include you, us?’

John looked back at her; his green eyes seemed darker, drawn, and full of uncertainty. ‘Not if you listen and agree to what I’m about to tell you. There have been quite a few trusted Stitches over the centuries who were allowed to keep their memory intact. The powers that be were a hundred percent sure that they would never divulge their experiences to a living soul. The thing is, Sarah, if you give up now…’ He set his mouth and shook his head.

‘So if I give up, I get my memory dry cleaned and you’ll disappear along with 1940 and 1913?’

He nodded.

She stood up and kicked the chair. ‘Oh, great! So I have no choice then, again … just for a change. One minute I’ll be, oh I don’t know, let’s say on the toilet at home, the next I’ll be in the Old West in a stage coach with my knickers round my ankles, huh?’

John shook his head and pursed his lips. Sarah could tell he was trying not to smirk at her scenario. ‘No, that won’t happen next time,’ he said, standing and drawing her close. ‘For those trusted and exemplary Stitches like yourself, there can be leeway in when you go. You have been tested and passed with flying colours. So next time – if you choose to have a next time – I’m guessing that you’ll be able to be a bit prepared at least.

‘You should take your time to think about it. Until I saw you standing there yesterday up to your knees in muck I
had
thought about it and decided it just wouldn’t work, wasn’t worth the heartache, but then when I looked into your eyes, my heart soared and I knew you were the one. If you choose to stitch – choose me – our life won’t be ordinary, and it certainly won’t be easy … This game can take its toll. I know from experience … You see, the same thing happened to my parents.’

‘What? Your mum is a Stitch, too?’

He blinked and swallowed hard. ‘She was, Sarah, and a bloody good one. She cared so much about her job. She died a few years ago and I miss her so much.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry … Did she die because of a trip back …?’

‘No, nothing like that. It was cancer … but perhaps the stress of such a, let’s say, “unusual” life style for Mum and Dad didn’t help.’

‘Ah, I know what that’s like. My dad died of it, too. There’s not a day goes by that I don’t think about him. My mum was a mess at the time, but she copes the best she can now. She has a job in a charity shop, and that keeps her mind occupied, but she’s not the same mum anymore. She just goes through the motions sometimes, alive but not living, you know?’

‘I do know; my dad is much the same,’ John whispered into her hair. ‘So taking all that into consideration I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to call it a day, nobody would.’

Sarah was at a loss for words. She rested her head on his chest and listened to his rapid heartbeat. He was obviously anxious about her response. He smelled of lemon shower gel and the fresh sunny morning and she was shocked to realise that even though she was apprehensive about all the problems their relationship was sure to face, she had never felt as happy, safe or calm as she did right at that moment.

Despite everything he had told her, the logical, sensible, safeguard-against-hurt argument had at last been defeated. There was no way she would run the risk of losing him, and if that meant a trip to Mars without oxygen and a fire hose, she’d do it. And why would she do such a crazy thing? Because even though she’d known him for a just a nano-second in the marches of time, she felt right then that she would love him for eternity.

She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. ‘I don’t need time to think about this, John. I’m back on the job,’ she said, and pressed her lips to his.

John had negotiated the next two weeks as ‘time travel free’ for Sarah. The first week was half-term and the two of them spent every minute together. Sarah spent more time at his house than hers; she had to keep pinching herself to check that she wasn’t dreaming. And floating all along her blue horizon were pink fluffy clouds as far as the eye could see.

Although Sarah had tried to get more information about how he negotiated, and who with, she was none the wiser. He just said he did it by email and he didn’t know who the powers that be were. It was something that they would never know and had to live with. In the end, she believed him. As he said, life wasn’t a romance novel. But lately, when she was in his arms, Sarah felt that’s
exactly
what life was.

The question about why she had been selected as a Stitch had been answered, though. As John had said the first time she had met him, in general Stitches were chosen because of their strength of spirit, courage and potential to do the right thing. It was because of this, her job, and equally importantly, John surmised, because the powers that be had decided that it was time for him to settle down. He had been sadly mistaken with Josephina, but perhaps they thought that Sarah was a good match.

There was maybe some connection between them that only the powers could see; he didn’t know, but that was his best guess. Because of the obvious problems associated with living such a life, most Needler wives hadn’t been Stitches and were oblivious to their husband’s Time-Needling. Keeping something like this hidden was very tricky, but necessary. John had asked his dad once if all Needles were men as his personal history seemed to bear that out, and were all Stitches women. His dad hadn’t known for sure but he thought that these jobs were interchangeable. Once again, secrecy prevented knowledge of all the facts. He’d also guessed that women were better at stitching given their natural intuition and innate sense of caring. John wasn’t too sure about this assumption. He’d met a few women who would give Genghis Khan a run for his money.

Most Needlers abided by the sensible rules of never getting romantically involved with a Stitch, too. If they had flouted the rules like his father had, and now, John himself, was doing, it was a good indication that the match was a good one because there were so many problems associated with such a relationship; both parties would risk heartache and sadness. His dad suspected (because he had never been told explicitly) that his mum had been chosen for him in this way, but had had to prove that she was determined to stick at stitching
and
by her husband when the going got tough.

The powers had made it as difficult as possible for the relationship to flourish between his parents, but they had stuck at it and in the end the powers were satisfied. Sarah was determined that they would be satisfied with her and John too, even though she had a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn’t be easy.

Wandering around the market garden with John had been informative and interesting. She had learned more about vegetables and flowers in a few hours than she’d learned in her whole life. John was in his element there. His face lit up when he showed her this type of onion, or that particularly juicy vine tomato. Roy and Helen, the husband-and-wife team who ran the shop selling his produce and taking orders for larger concerns, were lovely. They welcomed her with open arms and she felt like she’d known them forever. Helen had taken her to one side as they walked along the cabbages. ‘I’ve never seen John so happy; he obviously adores you.’

Sarah’s heart did a happy dance. That must mean he was happier with her than he had been with ‘not tonight Josephina’.

The following Sunday evening crept up on them, as, unfortunately, they are wont to do. John had brought her home and Sarah was torn between asking him to stay and doing a bit of work for the next school day. She hadn’t so much as marked a textbook and felt woefully under prepared.

‘I’ll get off home and you do the work, hon; I would hate to think of you more anxious than you need be in the morning. Don’t forget that by next weekend you will probably be asked to stitch again, so best get school work sorted.’

She kissed him goodbye, watched him walk down the path, get into his car and drive away. They had arranged to meet mid-week, but she felt as if her soul had just left with him. They hadn’t said the L word to each other yet, but she guessed it would be soon. In fact, she would say it to him on Wednesday; bugger what had happened in the past with Neil and Karen and bugger her gran’s daft sayings.

The school week hurtled past at breakneck speed. Sarah always felt as if she’d stepped into a whirlwind from the minute she entered school to the minute she left. The fact that she had loads of work to do and things to catch up on because of her lazy week with John, made it pass even quicker. But she didn’t regret even a second of their time together.

The only slow spot had been the meal on Wednesday. It was like a clear cool oasis in the middle of a desert. They’d opted for Chinese and during a lull in conversation, Sarah had plucked up her courage. She took his hand and looked into his eyes, opened her mouth and then
he
said, ‘I love you, Sarah.’

She laughed. ‘That’s just what I was going to say!’

He frowned and then a smile curled his lips. ‘My name’s not Sarah … or did you mean you were about to tell me how much you love yourself?’

‘Just shut up and kiss me.’

John had obliged and as he pulled her on to the bed later that evening she said, ‘I never did say it properly earlier. I love you, John … I love you more than I ever loved anyone in my whole life.’

Their eyes met and both were suddenly filled with tears of happiness. ‘I feel exactly the same,’ he said, kissing the salty moisture from her cheeks.

Friday morning found Sarah in the middle of the staffroom, laughing her head off. A few members of staff looked at her sidelong and nudged each other, but most were too busy to notice. In spite of worrying about what was to come over the weekend, Sarah enjoyed the light relief Gary Keynsham was providing.

‘I don’t see what’s so funny, I only asked if you had been anywhere interesting over the holiday,’ Gary said, flushing at the attention Sarah was drawing.

Sarah fought to get her giggles under control. ‘I have as a matter of fact, Gary, though why you are pretending to care, I don’t know.’

‘I’m not pretending.’ He frowned. ‘I realise we parted on less than good terms on the Friday before the holiday. I just thought I would try and be more polite, I guess.’

‘Well, I’ll let you into a secret,’ Sarah said leaning in close. ‘On that very Friday night, I shot back through time to the year 1913. Had such fun, I can’t tell you. I think I’ll shoot off again somewhere over the weekend, too.’

He shook his head. ‘That’s the last time I’ll make an effort with you, madam, that’s for sure!’ Gary stomped off, his ‘peacock in heat’ shimmy well and truly absent.

In the corridor on her way home, Sarah saw Janet Simms emerging from her classroom with an armful of folders. She hadn’t yet seen Sarah and was juggling folders and keys whilst trying to lock the door.

‘Let me help you, Janet,’ she said reaching her hand for Janet’s keys.

Janet leapt in the air a good few inches, which was no mean feat for a lady of her stature. ‘God, Sarah you scared the bejesus out of me!’

‘Sorry, I guess I’m light on my feet,’ Sarah said, noticing how wary Janet had become of her. The other woman’s eyes darted up and down the corridor as if looking for help.

Janet jiggled the key in the lock. ‘Oh, don’t bother, I can do it. You must be exhausted at the end of a long week, eh? Perhaps you should just go home and rest.’

Go home and rest? What was she on about? Sarah suddenly realised that perhaps it was because of the last time they had met in the toilets. A little giggle capered up from her tummy and demanded release. ‘Ha ha, you think I have gone a bit potty don’t you, Janet?’

Janet backed away slowly. ‘No, of course not, perhaps you are under stress.’ The backing away strides got longer and quicker. ‘I blame this teaching lark; there’s never enough time to do anything properly, is there?’

Sarah giggled again, ‘To be honest, there’s loads of time, but it sometimes gets big fat holes in it; that’s the real stress maker.’

‘Holes in it? Hmm, yes, I’ve noticed that before.’ Janet flashed another hopeful glance at the empty corridor. ‘Anyway, must be off, have a nice weekend.’ Sarah watched her haring away, her red hair pumping up and down like a huge candyfloss confection. As Janet disappeared round a corner, Sarah expelled a huge guffaw that echoed around the empty corridor like the call of a giant Kookaburra.

The light relief, courtesy of Janet and Gary, buoyed Sarah’s spirits a little and she could almost forget about the next quest. Almost. Back home, the scent from the honeysuckle in her garden wafted enticingly, beckoning her outdoors.

Cup of tea in hand, and barefoot, Sarah enjoyed the feel of the grass underfoot and the warm, late afternoon sun on her face. The tinkle of her mobile phone broke the calm. A message … Sarah read:

Hey, Sarah, sorry to ruin your weekend but you knew it was coming. Your next trip will be tomorrow morning around 6 a.m. You will be in Kansas 1874, and the sister of a Martha Klearny. More than that, I can’t say. I have been forbidden to see you before you go. It is believed I may unwittingly reveal too much and cloud your judgement. I love you, and we’ll be together again soon. Be brave, you can do it, John xxx

Though the afternoon was still warm, the scent of honeysuckle still lingered and birds sang in the trees, Sarah felt a deep chill, as if she stood in a winter garden, or a freezer. All she wanted to do was have a quiet weekend with John, a normal couple, in love and enjoying each other’s company. They weren’t a normal couple though, were they? He was a Needle and she was a Stitch. ‘Needle and Stitch’; that sounded like some crazy detective agency or children’s animated movie. She pressed the keys on her phone and sent back just four words:

I love you, too. xxx

Sarah walked inside and ran upstairs. Her hands grabbed a tower of books from the shelves in the study and then, returning downstairs, she spread them all out on the floor in the living room. For the next three hours she pored over every little bit of information to do with the Old American West she had, just to make sure she was as prepared as she could be. Sarah realised that she knew it all anyway, and that it probably wouldn’t make much difference when deciding who she had to save, but at least it made her feel like she was doing something to feel more in control.

At bedtime, the alarm clock felt heavy in her hand as she set the time to 5 a.m. Didn’t they say time weighed heavy on your soul? It was certainly true this evening. Still, the early bird catches the last stage to Kansas, as they say. Closing her eyes, Sarah was determined to look on the bright side. This time she knew when, where, and the date of where she was going. Hopefully she shouldn’t have to act like a dopey Dora too much. Most importantly, she was doing it to save lives, to strengthen the ties of humanity across time, and of course, to make sure she and John could be together.
Positive thinking, Sarah. This will be the last time and then everything can get back to normal.

In the end, the alarm clock wasn’t necessary, as by half past four, Sarah was up, dressed, breakfasted and wondering if she should try to smuggle some painkillers and travel sickness pills in her bra – just in case she felt nauseous or had a headache. John hadn’t mentioned anything about not taking physical objects through time, just that it wasn’t a good idea to mention anything from the present in the past.

The packet of paracetamol looked light, innocuous and very necessary as she tossed them from one hand to the other. She sighed and put them back in the medical box. Better not tempt fate. Running back upstairs she pulled a scrunchie and a few grips from her bedside table and tucked those down her bra instead. If she was going to be out on the windswept plains, she wanted to be able to keep her hair tidy. Sarah shook her head. That wasn’t the reason at all. She just wanted something familiar to help her through whatever crazy plan the powers that be had up their sleeves.

Sarah spent a few moments wondering what kind of sleeves powers that be would wear. Did they have arms, or were they just ancient entities, shapeless, formless, controlling time and mortals and whirling about being powerful? If they did have sleeves, they would probably be long and sparkly, perhaps a bit medievally? She went back downstairs. Next time she saw Janet she’d share these thoughts. Sarah giggled at the imagined expression on Janet’s face if she did.

The kitchen clock said 5.45 a.m. Time for a last cup of tea? She checked herself; she wasn’t going to the gallows, just to 1874. A blue tit perched on the cherry blossom tree outside the window as she filled the kettle. The garden looked so mysterious and otherworldly in the grey morning light. She flicked the kettle on. Perhaps she would take her tea outside; there may be a nip in the air, but a bit of fresh air would …

Before her eyes, the garden began to waver and flicker, as if seen through the intense heat of a summer day or an open fire. Though the kitchen window was closed, her hair was lifted from her forehead by a warm wind, and the smell of detergent in her washing-up bowl was replaced by wild sage and dust. The waving and flickering quickened and then, creeping up from the grass, like watercolours seeping across a canvas, an entirely new scene pushed her little garden out of existence.

Grabbing the sink for support, Sarah was surprised to find warm, rough wood beneath her hands instead of cold steel. Glancing down, she saw that the sink had turned into a wooden railing. Sarah took deep breaths and tried to calm her heart rate. Her heart was having none of this and insisted on doing a perpetual drum roll against her ribcage.
Come on, you expected this, go with it, don’t fight it. This trip through time is a damned sight easier than the last.

The scene settled like the dust at her feet. A vast flat plain rolled to an endless blue sky as far as the eye could see, but immediately in front of her was one of the weirdest sights she had ever witnessed. What looked to be a large cornfield, or
had
been a cornfield, had silvery brown mounds of soil moving and writhing at its roots.