Page 29 of Twin Flames
Cara hesitated for a second, her chest tight. She struggled to breathe. She opened the door, looked at Daniel whose face was drained of colour, tried to say something meaningful, but all that came out was, ‘I’m sorry.’
She slipped out of the door and into her car. An intense sadness gripped her, and she let herself sob for several minutes, her head resting on the steering wheel, before wiping her eyes with a tissue and turning the key in the ignition. Once on her way, a flood of relief swept over her as the car moved to the gentle rhythm of the road.
I told him. Thank goodness, it’s done now.
It was as if the lid had been removed from a pressure cooker. All the build-up of steam was released. She was sad but free.
Back at the cottage, Cara sat in the kitchen for a while, doing nothing but staring out of the window at the dark clouds in the grey sky. Then she got her phone out of her bag and typed a message to George:
‘Hi. I told Daniel. I feel awful, but it’s done. How are you?’
A reply came within a few minutes:
‘Doing all right. Tired. I hope you’re okay. Will try and call later. x’
At ten o’clock that night she’d had no further word from George. She climbed into her big empty bed, pulled the soft cotton sheet up to her chin and drifted off into a deep sleep. It was after midnight when she awoke. There was still nothing from George, and she grew more anxious. She managed to sleep again, waking shortly after seven in the morning to the bright light streaming through the blinds. She checked her phone. Stillnothing. Her heart throbbed. What was the point? This was all too painful.
There was a message from Daniel. ‘Can’t sleep. I need to see you. Did you really mean it?’
Cara felt fragile and small.
What am I doing? I’ve broken Daniel’s heart for a man who can’t even call me once he gets home.
And then a memory of them together at Willow Manor flooded her consciousness. It was as vivid as watching a movie at the cinema. Because of the frequent memories she’d been experiencing since meeting George, she knew they’d enjoyed wonderful years together before they were summoned to court and lost their independence to the Crown. Now she saw a dashing young George; he must have been in his late twenties, holding her close as they swayed to the music. He whispered in her ear in the beautiful library, which was their favourite room at Willow Manor. A sharp longing to be back in his arms in those joyous days filled her. She was his wife then, not bloody Joanna.
Panic stirred in her chest as she rose from the bed and entered the bathroom. Then she heard the unmistakeable whooshing sound like in the bookshop when she travelled to her incarceration in the notorious Newgate Prison. Chilled air filled her lungs in time to realise she was about to time travel again.
Oh no! I don’t want to go after all! I want to stay here and figure things out with George, not be on the run again.
She could remember their prison escape clearly, and the reality of fleeing to York in 1536 suddenly didn’t seem as attractive as it had earlier. She tried to focus on staying in her bathroom, but she feared this mysterious force. She knew instinctively that she couldn’t prevent herself from slipping away. And she possessed no recollection of when or how she had returned to the present day.
Do I flit back and forth between the timelines or are there two of me; Dr Cara Bailey and Countess Cara Cavendish, who are always present? Am I really experiencing two different lives simultaneously?
She suspected this might be the truth of her bizarre situation but couldn’t be sure.
I need to find a way back to Sylvia.
And then she was gone. She had no say in when she travelled.
Outskirts of York, 1536
Cara sat at a table with George in a sumptuous parlour. Red velvet curtains trimmed with gold silk covered the windows, and the walls were lined with solid oak panels adorned with tapestries. The light was dim, and the room smelled of musk and alcohol. Shapely, exotic looking women served drinks, swinging their hips and pouting at the drunken men.
Looks like I’m back! Where the heck are we now? I think I may be the only woman customer here.
She inched closer to George on the wooden bench and touched his upper arm to get his attention. He turned to her and smiled, glass of wine in hand, and said, ‘It’s quite an eye-opener, isn’t it? This is the last place I’d expect to be spending the night with you! Hopefully, if we lay low here for the night, we’ll lose the soldiers on our tail. I don’t imagine they’ll think to look for us in a brothel.’
Cara paused as his words sunk in.
A brothel!
She placed her finger to his lips to pause his chatter, raised her mouth to his and gave him a long, passionate kiss.
George looked a little stunned. He felt her kiss in his groin. ‘Have mercy upon me. Do you want to give a man a bulging codpiece in public?’
Perhaps I’m too demonstrative for 1536? I am in a brothel, though!
Cara laughed with abandon, revelling in her new-found freedom to show her passion for George in public.
