Chapter Six

Kate noticed there were a couple of cars left in the museum car park as she came over the stepping stones with her empty coffee cup.

It was some distance away, but she could see a vehicle drive off as she headed across the fields and she wondered if Jenna had been very busy. Fridays through Sundays were sometimes quite hectic, which was why she needed Jenna. The museum was closed on a Monday and Tuesday and she managed fine the rest of the week. But their busy days were full on.

Kate intended to just go straight up into the flat and collect her paintbrushes to continue working on the bike, but as she approached the door she couldn't resist.

She stuck her head in the reception area and Jenna jumped to attention. ‘It's fine,' she said. ‘You don't need to check up on me.'

‘Jolly good,' Kate said, sounding like a school teacher. ‘The clocks haven't gone off today have they? We had some issues yesterday.'

‘No, they've behaved themselves. Oh — someone came in looking for you, but they said it didn't matter.'

‘Okay. Not helpful, but thanks. Are you sure you're all right? Headache better?'

‘Much better,' Jenna said, a little defensively.

‘Good. I'm going to head upstairs and then I'm going in my garden. I'll take that bicycle through and have a go at it in peace. Nobody'll stop to ask me questions if I'm hiding in the garden.'

‘Sure.' Jenna examined a fingernail. ‘Stay out there. Makes no difference to me. I can lock up and pop the keys through the door. To be honest, the end of the day here can't come bloody soon enough for me. You can go off and get covered in bike oil and crap if you want to, I'll be fine.'

‘Very generous,' Kate replied sarcastically. What she really wanted to say, of course, was no, you can't try to lock up ten minutes early and do you really feel that guilty about coming in late?

But some battles you just have to lose to win the war and this, she thought, was one of them.

* * *

Kate spent a good few hours in her back garden working on the bicycle.

By around seven, she had undercoated it and completed the first layer of white on the box. She'd pumped up the tyres and sorted out the chain and the brakes, and was covered in oil and splattered with paint. And she was ready for a glass of wine.

She headed up her back staircase and rinsed out one of the glasses she and Chris had used last night. It was still a little annoying that he'd had to head back to London, and they'd only had the briefest of telephone conversations whilst he was running from the tube station to the office for some "damage limitation", as he called it.

It was so frustrating. It had turned into a beautiful evening and they might have enjoyed a walk along the river tonight. Instead, Chris was back in his end-of-terrace house in Chiswick, close to the Thames, and Kate was gazing idly out of the window at the River Hartsford. A solitary car remained in the museum car park, and she suspected someone had decided to have a walk anyway. Oh, well. Wine called to her and she'd done enough walking for one day, even if some of it had been illegally skulking around the Hall grounds.

Kate decided she might as well take the wine downstairs and enjoy the evening in her garden. She could admire the ice-cream bicycle if nothing else. It was coming along very well and she was sure it would look fabulous at the Living History Weekend. Yes, she was feeling quite self-satisfied as she poured a glass of white wine and sipped it appreciatively.

The wine was cold and the evening was warm. All she could hear was the odd bee buzzing around and the manic quacking of her ducks out front; but even they gave up after a while. The scent of roses and lavender was strong. Her little garden was slightly weedy but full of flowers. Golden marigolds nestled amongst alstroemeria and freesias, and it was summer in Suffolk. What on earth could have been more perfect?

Kate settled down in a battered old wicker chair and put her feet up on a plant pot. If she closed her eyes, she could just relax and—

That clock was chiming again. The one from the Hall. Kate opened her eyes. She had to sort that out, once and for all.

She went to stand up; and realised she couldn't actually do it . . .

* * *

Her leg, the one that was injured when she'd fallen over on the ice-skates, was in some sort of splint. It was sticking out in front of her, her toes poking out from beneath a ruffled pink cotton skirt, trimmed with rose-pink embroidery. She'd abandoned the traditional bustle. What was the point? She was sitting down all day and it wasn't exactly comfortable.

Ice-skates? Splint? Oh, no, what was happening here? It couldn't be . . . but how could she doubt her own eyes? She touched the skirts spread out around her and they felt real enough. And her leg hurt every time she so much as wiggled her toes. Kate was torn between swearing loudly and dealing with a huge sense of fear that she had somehow dropped through time again. Why hadn't she checked out the historical stuff before settling down with her wine? It might have helped her makes sense of her experiences at least.

Kate moved slightly in the wicker chair, panicking whole-heartedly, and it wobbled underneath her. She had wheels. Interesting. And rather terrifying. In fact, the whole thing was terrifying. Why did this keep happening to her?

‘You made your way down here again, I see.'

She squinted against the setting sun. A tall figure was silhouetted there. Golden light was dappling his light brown hair and throwing the sun-lightened streaks into stark relief.

She looked past him and saw faint tracks on the dusty lane where, quite possibly, a wheelchair had trundled along. It was odd, but the main thing she thought was, gosh, just as well we live in such a flat area. The Hall, she knew, was at the end of that track. It was more or less the same way she'd walked this afternoon.

‘I've come from the Hall,' she said, trying not to make it sound too much like a question.

‘I know you have,' said Blacksmith Will — for indeed it was that man who now squatted down in front of her and took hold of her hands. ‘And I've told you, Cat, you should be more careful.'

Kate looked at the offending foot and frowned. ‘Because of this?'

‘No.' He squeezed her hands and it felt very real; and very nice. ‘Because you don't know who's watching and because you'll make your hands all rough pushing yourself around. You're a lady and you should have soft hands.' He kneaded the pad of her thumb with his. ‘I don't want you getting callouses from wheeling yourself down here. If you want my help, you send someone to get me and I'll come to you.' He grinned. ‘I just hope my special privileges last a little longer. They're still quite grateful to me for looking after you when you fell, but it won't last forever. I want you to get better, but at the same time, I don't really want you to go home.'

‘But I am home,' she said, confused. She was sitting in her own garden, wasn't she?

‘Not properly, you're not. Seems to me you're just visiting and we might not have a lot of time together.'

It was a strange statement and could have had more meaning than he realised. If Kate wasn't home, then where did she live? She tried to wiggle her toes again. They felt weird.

‘How long has it been now?' she asked. ‘Remind me. It seems like an absolute age.' It did as well but not for the same reason as he probably thought she meant. ‘And when will I go — back? Back home properly as you say?'

‘Back to London?' He shook his head. ‘I don't know. And we know you did that almost two months ago.' That meant, Kate quickly calculated, that it must be springtime now. He nodded at her foot. ‘It's hard to believe you've been stuck in that chair for so long. But maybe spiral breaks take longer to heal. You twisted yourself up good and proper on that ice.' He shuddered. ‘I hated them resetting your leg. I wasn't allowed in there with you, of course, but I sat in the garden until they told me it was done. I could hear the screams from out there. But I never left, not for one minute.' He smiled and it seemed to Kate that the sun shone a little brighter; her stomach did a sort of gloopy thing and she blushed. ‘But I'm pleased they had chloroform for you,' he continued. ‘They reckoned it would have taken the edge off, even if it hadn't put you to sleep.'

This time it was Kate who shuddered. Thank God she hadn't experienced that part of Cat's story. She knew a bit about Victorian surgery and bone-setting. They had an ‘interesting' display of medical equipment in the museum. Her heart lurched. A compound fracture would have meant, more than likely, that they would have chopped her leg off and Cat was, to be honest, quite lucky she hadn't died during the administration of the anaesthetic either. Five minutes of breathing in that stuff on a rag before it took effect — she could only imagine how she'd cried and fretted and begged that they let Will in, because he had to stay right there beside her, even if it took all night to put her to sleep. Or was she imagining that? Had it actually happened that way? It was hard to know.

‘I can't say I remember any of it,' she said.

‘Just as well.' Will reached up and tucked a strand of her unruly hair behind her ear, his breath soft on her skin as he leaned forward, ‘but it's a fine April evening and we need to enjoy the weather while we can, not dwell on such things as broken legs.' He stood up, releasing her other hand and moved around to the back of the chair. ‘Come along, my lady. I can't send you back hungry or thirsty, so I'll see what I can do. I've got some new bread and some fresh milk — oh, and cheese from the dairy as well, so we can have a feast . . .'

Kate let his words wash over her as they bumped along the track behind the cottages. She realised the little stone wall had disappeared and the gardens just opened out onto the fields. So technically, then, she hadn't been in her garden here, had she? She'd been in the middle of a field in a Bath chair, wearing a long dress with only one functioning leg.

If this was another crazy wine-induced dream, it felt very real. But good grief, she hated having no mobility.

They went into his cottage at the end of the terrace. Well, to be fair, he parked the Bath chair out the back door and lifted Kate out of it.

He carried her into the cottage and deposited her on the comfortable seat which she remembered from her last visit. The footstool wasn't far away and he brought it across. He lifted her leg up tenderly and put her foot on it.

‘Blanket?' he asked, his mouth twitching at some private amusement. Kate understood this was obviously some routine that had developed between "them" and she wondered whether her answer today would buck the trend or not.

She shivered a little, noticing the fire wasn't very high and Will laughed, seeing her. ‘It's not so warm in this old stone house, is it? I should park you up by the furnace. I know too well what you're like. Hector,' he commanded the big lollopy dog who had appeared beside them out of nowhere. ‘Your duty, please.' Hector huffed a bark out and trotted over to what Kate now saw was a trunk under the window. The crochet blanket was folded neatly on top of it and Hector clamped his jaws around a slightly chewed corner and dragged it over to her. He dropped it on her lap and smiled his doggy smile at her, his tongue hanging out.

‘Clever boy,' Kate said, delighted. Automatically, her hand went to a little pocket in her skirt and brought out a biscuit. Hector huffed a thank you, and took the delicacy daintily from her fingers. He carried it over to a trestle table and squeezed beneath the furniture, the biscuit trapped between his paws as he considered the best way to deal with it. He decided to nibble at the edges which made Kate laugh again.

‘And he's loved that spot since he was a puppy, I'll warrant,' she said, watching him.

‘Indeed, he has,' replied Will. ‘Time was, he used to be able to stand up beneath it and still have a space for his head. Now, I would think he'll take the whole thing with him. Let me just set this kettle to boil, my love, and I'll be with you soon. Why don't you close your eyes and have a rest while I arrange our feast? Then I'll have to smuggle you back. You really shouldn't be here. I don't know what your family would think if they knew.'

Kate smiled. ‘I don't really care what they think.' She closed her eyes, and laid her head back. It was so cosy in the cottage, she could stay here forever.

As she drifted off to the sound of the logs crackling and popping in the fire, and the kettle beginning to hiss, and the slow chomping of Hector as he worked on his biscuit, she heard that little clock on the mantelpiece begin to chime again . . .

‘I wondered if you'd gone back down to London too, when I didn't see you earlier.'

Kate opened her eyes and blinked, wondering where she was for a minute. She squinted against the setting sun. A tall figure was silhouetted there. Golden light was dappling his light brown hair and throwing the sun-lightened streaks into stark relief.

Hang on — this wasn't the first time she'd seen that image tonight. She sat upright, her limbs fully functional and her stone wall firmly in place. She was gratified to see she was wearing her jeans as well. Yet part of her was annoyed at the fact she'd left Blacksmith Will and her pretty dress behind in her dream.

‘Can I help?' She asked the question stiffly and formally, her heart beating way too fast as she looked at Theo Kent on the other side of her wall.

‘Not really.' He grinned. ‘I heard snoring. I came to investigate.'

‘Seriously?' she asked, mortified.

‘No. I'm joking.' He nodded towards the car park. ‘I left my car here tonight. I'm heading back to the campsite and took a shortcut back to it. It just so happens the shortcut took me behind your museum. Sorry. I caught you napping, didn't I?'

‘You caught me doing more than that,' she muttered. This was slightly embarrassing. No way could she let him know she'd just been dreaming about him.

* * *

It really was too perfect. Theo had indeed nipped around the back of the museum to get back to the car. It was an added bonus that red-headed Kate was there, napping away in her garden.

There was an empty wine-glass next to her and half a bottle of wine on the grass.

‘Had a good evening?' he asked. He checked there was only one wine glass and there was, so that was very good. ‘Jenna said you'd disappeared after lunch. Like I said, I wondered if you'd gone back to London with your boyfriend.'

Kate shook her head; she grabbed what looked like a growing-out fringe and pushed it back over the top of her head, frowning. ‘No. He had work to deal with. Something about multi-national clients and damage limitation.' She looked confused. ‘Sorry. I think I fell into a wine-induced sleep. So yes. I probably had a reasonable evening. What are you doing in the village then? Campsite not lively enough for you?' He got the impression she was trying to change the subject — it was something to do with the way her words all rushed together and directed the focus of conversation to his activities rather than her own. Oh well; no harm in playing along.

‘It's not lively at all. It's a field and I like it like that. I just thought I'd have a wander around the village. I got a nice little map earlier.' He smiled, still amused. ‘I also got an invitation to the wine bar, but I didn't take her up on it.'

Something shifted in her expression and her eyes hardened. ‘Oh, yes? That would be Jenna's invitation then.'

Theo grinned, remembering Jenna's attempts to spend the evening with him. She wasn't his type — he preferred women with a little more substance to them. ‘You could say that. I popped in here earlier and she sort of asked me along.'

Kate rolled her eyes. ‘Typical. Oh!' Her eyes widened. ‘Were you the one who came in to see me when I was out?'

‘That would have been me,' he admitted. ‘I was hoping to hold you to the extra visit on the one ticket. I'm sorry it failed.'

‘You clearly got a much more exciting offer.' She smiled to take the edge off her words.

Theo laughed. It was nice talking to Kate, with the evening settling around them and the warmth holding in the dusty track and the grass nearby. He leaned on the dry-stone wall and felt the rough texture beneath his fingertips, the softness of the lichen in fluffy green patches here and there. It felt easy and it felt familiar.

‘Yeah, well. I decided against it. Apparently the food's not great, and I'd kill for something to eat.'

Kate's eyes slid across to the track behind him and she studied the pathway silently, seemingly wrestling with something beyond his comprehension.

‘I was just about to make a cup of tea and some cheese on toast,' she said. ‘You're welcome to have some if you want. If you're still hungry.'

He wasn't completely sure who was the most shocked at that offer. She stared at him, her eyes wide, as if she was just about to apologise for even suggesting such a thing.

But something inside him told him that this was a perfectly natural thing to do. In fact, it was something they had done many times before. It was the oddest sense of déjà vu.

‘Yes,' he said slowly, ‘I would love that. Thanks.'

She nodded, a little stiffly. ‘Good. Come in through that gate then. You can wait here while I sort it all out.'

And she stood and hurried over to a door which must have led up into her flat above the museum.

He wasn't going to argue. He was very happy to have cheese on toast and a cup of tea with Cat.

Cat? No. He meant Kate. Of course.