When Fate Dictates (30 page)

“I am Libby,” replied the child.

“Well I am very pleased to know you, Libby.
Tell me something, Libby. When were you born?” Simon asked.

“In 2005. When were you born?” she asked.

“I was born in 1666,” Simon whispered.

“That’s the same year as the Great Fire of
London,” she said. “You don’t look that old.”

“That’s because I’m not really that old
Libby.”

“Libby, come on, I can’t keep your brother
down here forever,” shouted a woman from downstairs.

“I am sorry but that’s my mummy, I’ve got to
go. Thank you for the story. I will remember it forever,” she said,
running toward the stairs.

“Be careful going down those stairs,” I
called to her as she disappeared through the hole in the floor,
“they can be dangerous,” I whispered to myself.

When the crowd had subsided and we were once
again alone in the space that had been our bedroom I turned to
Simon with worried eyes.

“Where are we Simon?”

“I can’t be sure, Corran, but sense tells me
we are a long way from where we should be.”

“What do you think that little girl meant
when she said she was born in 2005?”

“Just what she said. I think we have come to
the future. Why or how, I do not understand.”

“Corran, Simon?” A voice called from the
bottom of the stairs.

I moved to the wooden rails that ran along
the landing of the room and looked into the space below. It was the
girl in the men’s trousers.

“We are closing up for the day. I have your
wages, if you’d like to come down.”

Turning for one last look at the room, I made
my way cautiously down the stairs. For all their new timber, their
descent still bothered me.

“Here you go.” she said, pushing a small
white paper pouch into my hand, “and one for you too, Simon.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled, not sure what the
girl had just given us.

“I could do with you both again tomorrow, if
your calendars are free. That story you told, Simon, was gripping.
Have you ever done any stage work?”

He shook his head. “No, the stage is not for
me, lass, but we would like to take you up on your offer for
tomorrow.”

“Excellent. Can you be here for ten?”

“Aye, ten it is then. Tell me, Rose, where is
a good place to get a meal around here?”

“Well if you are not looking to go too far, I
would try the Ye Old Starre Inne. It’s on Stonegate, you can’t miss
it. Just look for the big banner across the street. They do a
lovely meal and good pint of ale.”

“Thank you Rose, we will see you
tomorrow.”

I ran my fingers over the crisp white paper
of the pouch in my hand as we left the yard and merged with the
street. “What do you suppose it is?”

“What?” Simon asked.

“The pouch that Rose gave us, what do you
think is in it?”

“Our wages,” he replied simply.

“Our wages? What would she be paying us wages
for?”

“We worked today, Corran. People paid to be
told about the past of the place and that’s what we did. We told
them about its past.”

“Oh, I see,” I said.

“So all those people wandering around our
house, paid to do so?”

“Aye, lass.”

“But why would anyone want to pay to wander
around our house?”

“Because they are curious about the past and
that is why Rose paid us, because we gave those people what they
paid for.”

“It looks nothing like it did. I don’t
understand. Why would people pay to see what it looked like in the
past when it looks nothing like it did in the past?”

“Corran, when we lived there, the place was
already many hundreds of years old. They have made it look like it
did when it was new, long before we lived there.”

“I don’t know, Simon. This is a very odd
place but right now I am tired of thinking. I would just like to
find somewhere to sleep and something to eat. Do you think we have
enough money for something to eat?”

“Aye, I am sure we have enough to pay for
some food. Come on, let’s see if we can find this tavern.”

It didn’t take us long to find. In fact it
was all very familiar to us. Obscured from the main street by new
buildings and missing its gates, it was essentially the same place.
Stark white walls, blackened window frames from which trailed a
blaze a colorful flowers and an array of tidy wooden tables and
chairs in the small courtyard all welcomed us back to the Post
House. What I could not shake from my mind was the bitter memory of
the last time I had been at this place.

“I can still see him, Simon.”

“See who?” he said as we made our way toward
the entrance.

“The man who gave Polly to me,” I said,
following Simon through the heavy oak door.

“I don’t think there is much danger of
bumping into him. I should think he is long since dead.”

“Aye, but Angus might not be.”

He stopped just inside the Inn and turned to
face me. “I don’t think there is much danger of us bumping into him
here either, Corran.”

“Perhaps not, but it does not change the
uneasy feeling I have, being back here again.”

“Well, do you want to go somewhere else
then?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m just tired Simon,
and a bit confused. It will be fine. At least we know this
place.”

“Take a seat, Corran, I will go and order us
some food and ale,” he said, ushering me through a doorway to my
left. The space was empty so I chose a table at the back of the
room and seated myself at a table next to a counter along which
some stained glass paneling ran. I sat with my back against the
wall at the far end of the room, my eyes scanning the space around
me for familiar signs. I recognized the fireplace and some of the
designs of glass painted panels, but little else about the place.
There were no candles on the tables, instead, magic light which had
no flame, protruded from the walls. The floor was covered with a
large woolen rug, which extended across the full length of the
room. I watched as Simon returned looking confident.

“For the lady, a chilled glass of white
wine,” he said, smiling broadly.

“White wine? I’ve never drunk white wine and
from a glass!”

“It would seem that is what all the ladies in
this world drink,” he said, setting the glass lightly on the
table.

I sat for a while, looking at it cautiously.
“It looks very delicate.”

“Pick it up and drink it woman. It won’t
break.”

“You have ale in a glass as well?”

“Aye,” he said, raising the glass to his
mouth. “Cheers, Corran.”

“What made you order me white wine?”

“I heard a man in front of me order the same
for his woman. Right,” he said, seating himself opposite me. “Let’s
have a look at how much money we have and decide what we are to
do.”

“How do you suppose they get the paper so
white?” I asked, taking the pouch from the pocket of my skirt and
laying it on the table.

“I don’t know,” he said, taking the pouch off
the table and lowering it to his lap.

“I have just paid six pounds for this pint of
ale and your wine,” Simon said, frowning in concentration.

“Your pouch has one hundred and five pounds
in it, as did mine. By my reckoning that gives us two hundred and
ten pounds between us, less the six pounds for these drinks. The
man that served me said we should get a room, here in the city, for
sixty pounds.”

“Things seem to cost an awful lot here,” I
said, wrinkling up my nose in disgust.

“Aye, lass, but then earnings are
greater.”

“I like this wine,” I said, enjoying a sip of
the cold drink.

“This ale is not too bad either. I am looking
forward to trying their whisky.”

I smiled across the table at him. “You don’t
change, Simon.”

“I dare say I don’t wee Corran, but then
neither do you, my love.”

“Do you think we could get something to eat?”
I said, holding my stomach as it growled loudly.

“Well that makes a change. It’s usually me
that looks for food,” he said, taking another mouthful of his ale.
“Let’s look around the city for a room first. Then we can get some
food,” he suggested, swallowing the last of his ale from the
glass.

Everything was different in so many ways,
that I began to wonder if we had moved, not only into a new time
but also into some new world. The streets were clean and wide. The
people spoke in an odd accent and used words we had never heard
before. Most of them wore clothes that looked as though they should
freeze and there were no animals or horses anywhere, only strange
looking carts that moved as if by magic. Everything about this time
seemed to operate on magic.

******

Of all the bizarre ironies, we eventually
ended up that night in an inn called ‘The Queens’, which just so
happened to be built on the same spot as Simon’s warehouses had
been. The location was arrived at purely by chance. Having inquired
at several inns, only to be informed that they were full, we were
finally pointed in the direction of the river, where, out of
curiosity, we ventured to find the old warehouses. After a lengthy
and awkward process of what seemed to be called ‘booking in’ we
made our way toward our room.

“So how do you think this here thing works
then?” Simon said, holding up the odd-looking card.

“I don’t know but I am guessing that we are
about to find out.”

We stopped in the middle of the hallway, as
Simon bent to do up his shoelace. I watched nervously as he fiddled
with his lace, which obviously had not come undone. I knelt next to
him. “What are you doing?” I whispered, a man and woman disappeared
through a door into what I assumed was their room. Simon
straightened, taking my hand and slipping it into the crook of his
arm.

“In answer to your question, Corran, I was
watching what to do with this here card.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling a bit dim.

“Well the man did say it was the key, so I
guessed that pair would need one to get into their room.”

“While we are on the subject of your
obviously superior intelligence, could you tell me how you knew
what to do with the funny-looking quill the man downstairs gave you
to write with?”

He laughed. “Well I must say it behaved very
oddly when I used it, but knowing how to use it was easy. I let him
use it first.”

Thanks in no small part to Simon’s ingenuity,
entry to the room proved relatively simple. He simply slipped the
card into a slot by the side of the door; a click followed as the
lock opened and the door freed itself. Again, as if by magic, Simon
fitted the card into a similar slot on the inside of the room and
any need for candles was eliminated.

“Okay, so how did you know how to do that?” I
asked.

“The man downstairs suggested that to get
light, I had to put this card into this slot.” he said, pointing to
the wall-mounted box.

“Simon, look, it’s a giant looking glass,” I
said, staring at my reflection. Cautiously, I ran my hands over my
cheeks. “Is that what I look like?” I whispered.

He moved across the room and stood behind me
and I saw his reflection, as clear as if I were looking directly at
him.

“Aye, lass, I would say that is a fair
likeness,” he said, wrapping his arms gently around my waist.

“How do they make it so clear?” I asked,
still not able to take my eyes off the giant slab of glass.

“Corran, I don’t know, but what I am more
interested in is this pane of glass,” he said, moving his hand and
pointing toward a smooth black object. “I saw one, this afternoon,
in a window and it had portraits of people and animals in it. But
you know what was really special about it, Corran?”

I shook my head, still watching my
reflection. “No, Simon, I don’t.”

“The portraits moved and they looked as
life-like as the reflection you are looking at now.”

“Do you think it’s magic?” I said, turning to
face him.

“No, I don’t but I would very much like to
know what it is,” he said, reaching his hand out to touch the black
object.

“Don’t touch it Simon, you don’t know what
might happen,” I warned, suddenly feeling panicked.

Ignoring me, he moved his hand to the top of
the object, where a thin rectangular box lay. I moved closer to
look at the thing in his hands. It had tiny, raised areas that had
numbers written on them. I watched as Simon ran his fingers over
the numbers. Then he pushed one and suddenly a loud noise came from
the black object. I grabbed hold of his hand, clinging fearfully to
him. “Put it down, please, Simon. You are scaring me.”

“Don’t be so silly woman.”

“What have you done to it?” I shouted, as the
sounds grew louder, “Stop touching the numbers, you are making it
angry.”

He moved my hand away from his. “It’s not
angry, Corran, I have just made it louder. Look, I can make it
quieter as well,” he said, pushing down on the raised areas with
his finger.

Suddenly a face filled the centre of the
object and started to talk to us.

“Make it stop, Simon,” I demanded, trying to
grab the rectangular thing off him. “Get the man out of here.”

“He is not in here, Corran, he’s in the box
and I can make him go away any time I want.”

“Well I want you to make him go away now,” I
said, forcibly.

“Alright, don’t panic,” he said, pushing
another raised area with his finger.

The face and the noise disappeared and I sank
onto the bed with relief. The mattress was the softest I had ever
felt and the quilt was covered with brilliant white linen. I
watched as Simon moved across the room toward another door.

“What do you think is through there?” I asked
as he raised his hand to the handle.

“No idea, but I am quite keen to find out,”
he said, turning the handle and pushing the door ajar.