Page 57 of The Runner
‘Now you can choosewhenyou go. Don’t underestimate the power of this fresh development. It puts you in control.’
‘I don’t feel in control. Besides, Sylvia says we’re never in control,’ she reminded him.
‘And she is right—well… sort of. But you are in control of when you go.’
‘But what about when I come back? I’ve been wondering about that.’
‘Um, I suppose it’ll come clear to you soon.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ she replied. ‘Just when I thought I understood how it works, I’m thrown into a completely new time travel system.’
Cara went to bed that night, exhausted, and fell into a deep sleep. The dreams soon came, and this time she saw Caroline in the kitchen sobbing, then trying to reach her chamber unnoticed, but when she heard sounds of the house party approaching, she ducked into the blue room for cover so she wouldn’t meet anyone in the hallway. Tears streamed down Caroline’s face as she sobbed on the sofa, praying no one would come in and see her in such a state before she could get back to the solitude of her room.
Caroline didn’t feel like she could stand any more heartache—something must change because she couldn’t live like this any longer. George had made it clear he had feelings for her, but it was equally clear that they had no future. He had given into his heart for a blissful second, but then fled from the kitchen. Caroline’s thoughts flooded Cara’s consciousness as she slept and she tossed about the bed, overcome by dread of a lonely future without George, or worse still, a future where she was a servant in his new wife’s household.
Cara felt a hand on her forehead and opened her eyes to see George perched next to her, and the bed sloping sideways beneath his weight.
‘Wakey-wakey, sleepy head. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for ages,’ he said. ‘Were you having a bad dream?’
She stretched, her eyes bleary from sleep, and then pushed herself up against the headboard, plumping up a pillow to lean against. ‘I feel dreadful. What time is it?’
George raised his watch in the air and made a theatrical sweep with his arm. ‘It’s gone ten.’
‘Gosh, I haven’t slept that late in years. I was dreaming… about Georgiana.’ She rubbed her eyes, and said, ‘Any chance of a coffee? I am totally zonked.’
‘Yes, of course, but first, I wanted to ask whether you may have seen Cornelius?’
She smiled and reached up to kiss him. ‘Good morning.’ She nodded. ‘Yes, dear Cornelius. Don’t worry, it’s me, or at least I think it is—I remember going through the priest hole.’
George deployed their secret time travel code, which they used to check whether one of them was aware they were time travelling.
‘That’s a good enough start. I didn’t know what to expect this time,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and get you some coffee.’
She placed her hand on his arm. ‘Wait for me, I’ll come down with you, darling.’
He pulled her silk robe off the hook on the door and held it out for her to slip her arms into and then captured her hand and they walked down the sweeping staircase together.
After the stressful dream, her heart flooded with gratitude that they were together now; married and blissfully happy at Willow Manor.
A lot could happen in a couple of centuries.
‘In Georgiana, you kissed me—well, Caroline—in this kitchen,’ she said. ‘It’s funny, it’s not even all that different down here apart from the modern equipment and units.’
‘I suppose the fire didn’t destroy the kitchen,’ he said, handing Cara a piping hot cup of coffee, made just the way she liked it.
‘I still know nothing about the fire. We haven’t reached that part of the timeline yet. And the way things are going, Caroline will leave Willow Manor with a broken heart. It’s an impossible situation: a governess and an aristocrat falling for each other.’
‘Remember that impossible situations are our thing… we’ve come through them in other lives, and if I had to bet on it, I’d say we’ll come through it together in this one too.’
‘Talking of betting, I keep expecting to see eighteenth-century George gambling his fortune away, but so far he’s played a few harmless rounds of cards with the house party, and that’s about it.’
George made them some toast, and they sat in companionable silence drinking their coffee in the cosy, warm kitchen, each lost in their own thoughts as the sunbeams splayed a colourful pattern on the whitewashed walls.
‘Do you have to go through the wormhole again, do you think?’ George asked after he took his last bite of wholemeal toast and jam.
‘I’m still dreaming about Georgiana and also having memory updates, so the time travel on demand seems to be working—thank goodness.’
George sighed. ‘My poor darling—your head must be spinning.’
