Being that I am a gluten for punishment, I thought I’d put this up for your views. I wrote this new chapter today, so give me both barrels (it’s only the first 1400 words). It’s had one edit, as I want to see how far I’ve come. It is another one of Rebecca jaunts; her mum’s gone shopping with her best pal, Ruth. When R returns to her own time, she finds that Ruth died in a car accident that day, and that is the start of her mum’s downward spiral. I know it is a new addition, but I wanted to add something more substantial to Elizabeth’s demise, as opposed to it just being because James, R’s dad, is an arse.
I promise this is the last episode of R...
...Steve
No sooner, her mum’s car had left the drive; Rebecca grabbed her torch, and a plastic bag to bury a memento, just in case the door opened again and took her on another journey. This time, she was determined to prove to her mum once and for all, these trips weren’t dreams. She stood in the hallway and after a few seconds, decided not to wear her new pink coat just in case, one it got dirty and two, she might stand out in what ever time she travelled too. She hadn’t stood out before, but after her mum had asked her about it, it stuck in her head. Instead, she grabbed a pale green cardigan and headed down the path.
She stood outside for a few moments looking across that lake, her thoughts recalled all the fun they’d had in the boat that summer, and she smiled. Slowly, she turned to the summerhouse, and felt a little apprehensive, but wasn’t sure why. Mulling this over in her head for a moment, her keenness got the better of her, and she made her way to the locked door, sniffing the air, as she always had. There was something definitely odd, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Placing her hand on the handle, she turned it, nothing, hmm, she thought, and tried it again, still locked. She stood back and wondered why, looked blankly around the hallway, then thought about the plastic bag and her torch. She nodded, ‘yep, that’s it,’ she muttered, and placed both by the front door. Didn’t matter she thought, I am sure I’ll find someway of hiding something for mum. Returning to the door, she tried again, and again it stayed locked. ‘Oh okay, Meredith, I won’t hide anything, I promise,’ she said. Immediately she felt the handle loosen and this time, the door clicked open.
Rebecca took a deep breath and slipped through the narrow gap, which seemed narrower, and wondered if the gap was smaller or she’d put some weight on, and then thought, whatever. Without hesitation, she climbed to the first door, nothing, and so onto the second, still nothing. Odd, she thought, and biting her top lip, she climbed. Sure enough, another door. This far up it had become extremely dark, making it almost impossible to see, although she could just make out that the stairs went up further still. Umm, she thought, as she turned to the door. Fumbling with her hand, she finally located the handle. She took a deep breath, turned it, and click, the door opened. Another deep breath, as she pushed her shoulders back and felt her arms shiver, from both anticipation and uncertainty. Here we go, she muttered, as she pushed the door open.
Although it was dark, this time a tiny shaft of light arced across the room. Although, she was obviously in a different room, each time before there had been a window in the far corner, and she suspected this was again the case. Knowing the door would slam behind her, she braced herself, and breathing so deeply that her pulse pounded in her rams, stepped forward.
Odd, she thought, the door’s still open; she shrugged her shoulders and made her way to the window. Pulling at the curtain, they failed to move, it was if they were made of wood, flip, this is weird, she thought, and pulled again. She stood there for a few seconds, turned back, shut the door, and returned to the window. Although she knew this was an odd thought process, she was prepared to try anything, after all, getting rid of her torch and bag worked, so why not. As she pulled at the curtains, her arms went goosy; a shiver went up and down her spine, as if she’d just seen a ghost. At first, she only managed to move them to one side, and then suddenly she felt them move as if they were sliding along a rail.
Outside, the sun was bright and by the amount of foliage on the trees, she guessed it was late September, same as home. There was small boy standing on a chair stretching to an apple hanging at fingertip distant. She could see him pulling a face, smiled, and thought, let’s go help him.
She turned to the door that she’d come in by, but this was now locked, pretty much as she expected. Making her way to the other door, she suddenly realised the room was still full of dust and unlike before, it hadn’t magically changed into a new room. She stood by the other door for a few seconds and considered this, then thought, oh well, in for a penny.
Seconds later, she’d found her way downstairs and outside, where she walked over to the little boy, she guessed about the same age as Tommy, although he was tiny by comparison. The way he was dressed in dark green corduroy shorts, and a matching waistcoat, that covered a hessian cream coloured shirt, she knew its was sometime before Judith and World War Two, but also knew it wasn’t as far back as Meredith and the 1850s.
‘Hello, can I help you with that apple?’ she asked. Although Rebecca was five-foot nothing, she still stood a good foot taller than this lad did.
He carefully climbed off the chair, smiled, and said, ‘You help me, Rebecca, well that will make a change.’ He frowned and added, ‘I know, you want it for yourself.’ He then nodded several times.
Rebecca shook her head, and smiling, said, ‘No, honestly, I don’t fancy an apple. She climbed on the stool, reached up, and grabbed three apples. One at a time, she handed them down. ‘There you go,’ she said, and smiled.
The boy looked startled, but smiled as he accepted the apples, and then turned to walk off.
‘Hang on a mo’.’
‘He turned back, looking quizzically at Rebecca and asked, ‘what’s a mo’?’
Rebecca shook her head and said, ‘Mo’, is a moment, and minute. So tell me, where your mother?’
The boy frowned hard. ‘My mother, I don’t have one, do you mean, your mother, Rebecca?’ He then frowned again, and smiling asked, ‘Are you copying that mad girl in the village again, Rebecca?’
Hesitantly, she wondered if his name was Tommy, and asked, ‘Thomas, do I usually copy her?’
‘Well, if you’re not, why are you calling me Thomas, are you being mean again and calling me Tom Thumb?’
Rebecca couldn’t help laughing at that point, she shook her head, patted him on the head, and said, ‘No, sorry, I was think of someone else then, I do not know why I said Thomas.’
He banged his eyes and said, ‘Your Mother is around the corner with Christopher getting him ready before he goes off to join the army.’
Rebecca mind was now going in circles, Christopher, she thought, could it be Judith’s Chris, surely not, and what war.
The boy looked at her funny, perhaps he could see the funny faces Rebecca was pulling, and asked, ‘Are you okay, Rebecca?’
‘Yes, I am fine, thank you; I am going to see my Mother.’
As she headed round the back, the boy disappeared into the woods set back a little from the summerhouse. She hesitated on the corner, and could see a woman; perhaps in her late thirties, helping a young man in his late teen’s packing some kind of rucksack.
The man wore a cap placed on the side of his head and a dark brown, army style uniform. The woman was wearing a white blouse with a dark ankle length skirt. She stood and watched for a moment, trying to work out what year she might be in, when the woman waved to her, and called out, ‘There you are Rebecca, now come and help Christopher pack, there’s a good girl, Rebecca.’
Rebecca joined the two, nodded and was just about to say hello when the woman continued.
‘I hope you have not been inside the old servant’s quarters again; you will get your clothes dirty. You know that nobody has been in there for fifty years, not since that horrid shooting accident, besides it is dangerous, as well you know, certainly after last time when you sprained your ankle.’
‘Rebecca smiled. ‘Only for a minute, I was looking for something to reach the apples.’
‘Oh, has that child from the village been pestering you again for apples.’ She said and banged her eyes. ‘Oh, well, I guess we won’t eat them all. Look at you Rebecca, dust everywhere again.’ The woman said, as she brushed Rebecca drills. ‘I see you are wearing your brother’s old trousers again.’
‘You mentioned the accident; remind me please, what happened?’
The woman shook her head, and said, ‘Again, I heard you asking Christopher only two days since. Well, I said accident, as we know; it was anything but, although there was never any police involvement. A woman named.’ She then turned to the young man.
He smiled and said, ‘Millicent was her name, so we understand from the patchy records.’
Rebecca shivered as the woman continued.
‘So, Millicent was found dead inside the old servants quarters, shot to death. In an old newspaper, it said that she was found shot after a hunting accident. I ask you, hunting accident, inside the servant’s quarters, I think not.’ She then turned back to the rucksack and said, ‘Hold this string, Rebecca, while I knot it.’
As Rebecca held the string, her need to know was at bursting point. ‘So, do we know anymore about Millicent, and why the summerhouse was closed up?’
‘Summerhouse,’ the woman said with a questioning look on her face, ‘do you mean this building, if so, why call it a summerhouse?’
Rebecca shook her head. ‘No, just seemed like a nice name.’
The woman raised her eyebrows. ‘You, and your imagination, Rebecca, summerhouse indeed, I guess it works though. So, back to the question in hand, Millicent, we know little, it would appear all records of her existence vanished, other then the painting in the main house that your father found in the basement. That was when he wasn’t skiving off from his work.’ The woman banged her eyes. ‘They closed the servant’s quarters shortly after the accident, and no one has had either the inclination or money to fix it up since. Not as if your father would be capable, is it, hard enough getting him to do his daily chores.’
Rebecca frowned, and thought, this is different. She couldn’t make her mind up what to focus on first. ‘Daily chores,’ she asked.
‘Oh, Rebecca, do you ever notice or listen to anything other than your blessed fairies. Your Father lost all of his money gambling and had it not been for my Father’s money we would have had to leave. Part of my Fathers deal was that, firstly, he stayed away from gambling and drinking, and secondly, he started helping me, rather than sitting and doing nothing, while I performed all the chores. Now let us sort your brother before he joins up with his army colleagues in a little while.’
I promise this is the last episode of R...
...Steve
No sooner, her mum’s car had left the drive; Rebecca grabbed her torch, and a plastic bag to bury a memento, just in case the door opened again and took her on another journey. This time, she was determined to prove to her mum once and for all, these trips weren’t dreams. She stood in the hallway and after a few seconds, decided not to wear her new pink coat just in case, one it got dirty and two, she might stand out in what ever time she travelled too. She hadn’t stood out before, but after her mum had asked her about it, it stuck in her head. Instead, she grabbed a pale green cardigan and headed down the path.
She stood outside for a few moments looking across that lake, her thoughts recalled all the fun they’d had in the boat that summer, and she smiled. Slowly, she turned to the summerhouse, and felt a little apprehensive, but wasn’t sure why. Mulling this over in her head for a moment, her keenness got the better of her, and she made her way to the locked door, sniffing the air, as she always had. There was something definitely odd, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Placing her hand on the handle, she turned it, nothing, hmm, she thought, and tried it again, still locked. She stood back and wondered why, looked blankly around the hallway, then thought about the plastic bag and her torch. She nodded, ‘yep, that’s it,’ she muttered, and placed both by the front door. Didn’t matter she thought, I am sure I’ll find someway of hiding something for mum. Returning to the door, she tried again, and again it stayed locked. ‘Oh okay, Meredith, I won’t hide anything, I promise,’ she said. Immediately she felt the handle loosen and this time, the door clicked open.
Rebecca took a deep breath and slipped through the narrow gap, which seemed narrower, and wondered if the gap was smaller or she’d put some weight on, and then thought, whatever. Without hesitation, she climbed to the first door, nothing, and so onto the second, still nothing. Odd, she thought, and biting her top lip, she climbed. Sure enough, another door. This far up it had become extremely dark, making it almost impossible to see, although she could just make out that the stairs went up further still. Umm, she thought, as she turned to the door. Fumbling with her hand, she finally located the handle. She took a deep breath, turned it, and click, the door opened. Another deep breath, as she pushed her shoulders back and felt her arms shiver, from both anticipation and uncertainty. Here we go, she muttered, as she pushed the door open.
Although it was dark, this time a tiny shaft of light arced across the room. Although, she was obviously in a different room, each time before there had been a window in the far corner, and she suspected this was again the case. Knowing the door would slam behind her, she braced herself, and breathing so deeply that her pulse pounded in her rams, stepped forward.
Odd, she thought, the door’s still open; she shrugged her shoulders and made her way to the window. Pulling at the curtain, they failed to move, it was if they were made of wood, flip, this is weird, she thought, and pulled again. She stood there for a few seconds, turned back, shut the door, and returned to the window. Although she knew this was an odd thought process, she was prepared to try anything, after all, getting rid of her torch and bag worked, so why not. As she pulled at the curtains, her arms went goosy; a shiver went up and down her spine, as if she’d just seen a ghost. At first, she only managed to move them to one side, and then suddenly she felt them move as if they were sliding along a rail.
Outside, the sun was bright and by the amount of foliage on the trees, she guessed it was late September, same as home. There was small boy standing on a chair stretching to an apple hanging at fingertip distant. She could see him pulling a face, smiled, and thought, let’s go help him.
She turned to the door that she’d come in by, but this was now locked, pretty much as she expected. Making her way to the other door, she suddenly realised the room was still full of dust and unlike before, it hadn’t magically changed into a new room. She stood by the other door for a few seconds and considered this, then thought, oh well, in for a penny.
Seconds later, she’d found her way downstairs and outside, where she walked over to the little boy, she guessed about the same age as Tommy, although he was tiny by comparison. The way he was dressed in dark green corduroy shorts, and a matching waistcoat, that covered a hessian cream coloured shirt, she knew its was sometime before Judith and World War Two, but also knew it wasn’t as far back as Meredith and the 1850s.
‘Hello, can I help you with that apple?’ she asked. Although Rebecca was five-foot nothing, she still stood a good foot taller than this lad did.
He carefully climbed off the chair, smiled, and said, ‘You help me, Rebecca, well that will make a change.’ He frowned and added, ‘I know, you want it for yourself.’ He then nodded several times.
Rebecca shook her head, and smiling, said, ‘No, honestly, I don’t fancy an apple. She climbed on the stool, reached up, and grabbed three apples. One at a time, she handed them down. ‘There you go,’ she said, and smiled.
The boy looked startled, but smiled as he accepted the apples, and then turned to walk off.
‘Hang on a mo’.’
‘He turned back, looking quizzically at Rebecca and asked, ‘what’s a mo’?’
Rebecca shook her head and said, ‘Mo’, is a moment, and minute. So tell me, where your mother?’
The boy frowned hard. ‘My mother, I don’t have one, do you mean, your mother, Rebecca?’ He then frowned again, and smiling asked, ‘Are you copying that mad girl in the village again, Rebecca?’
Hesitantly, she wondered if his name was Tommy, and asked, ‘Thomas, do I usually copy her?’
‘Well, if you’re not, why are you calling me Thomas, are you being mean again and calling me Tom Thumb?’
Rebecca couldn’t help laughing at that point, she shook her head, patted him on the head, and said, ‘No, sorry, I was think of someone else then, I do not know why I said Thomas.’
He banged his eyes and said, ‘Your Mother is around the corner with Christopher getting him ready before he goes off to join the army.’
Rebecca mind was now going in circles, Christopher, she thought, could it be Judith’s Chris, surely not, and what war.
The boy looked at her funny, perhaps he could see the funny faces Rebecca was pulling, and asked, ‘Are you okay, Rebecca?’
‘Yes, I am fine, thank you; I am going to see my Mother.’
As she headed round the back, the boy disappeared into the woods set back a little from the summerhouse. She hesitated on the corner, and could see a woman; perhaps in her late thirties, helping a young man in his late teen’s packing some kind of rucksack.
The man wore a cap placed on the side of his head and a dark brown, army style uniform. The woman was wearing a white blouse with a dark ankle length skirt. She stood and watched for a moment, trying to work out what year she might be in, when the woman waved to her, and called out, ‘There you are Rebecca, now come and help Christopher pack, there’s a good girl, Rebecca.’
Rebecca joined the two, nodded and was just about to say hello when the woman continued.
‘I hope you have not been inside the old servant’s quarters again; you will get your clothes dirty. You know that nobody has been in there for fifty years, not since that horrid shooting accident, besides it is dangerous, as well you know, certainly after last time when you sprained your ankle.’
‘Rebecca smiled. ‘Only for a minute, I was looking for something to reach the apples.’
‘Oh, has that child from the village been pestering you again for apples.’ She said and banged her eyes. ‘Oh, well, I guess we won’t eat them all. Look at you Rebecca, dust everywhere again.’ The woman said, as she brushed Rebecca drills. ‘I see you are wearing your brother’s old trousers again.’
‘You mentioned the accident; remind me please, what happened?’
The woman shook her head, and said, ‘Again, I heard you asking Christopher only two days since. Well, I said accident, as we know; it was anything but, although there was never any police involvement. A woman named.’ She then turned to the young man.
He smiled and said, ‘Millicent was her name, so we understand from the patchy records.’
Rebecca shivered as the woman continued.
‘So, Millicent was found dead inside the old servants quarters, shot to death. In an old newspaper, it said that she was found shot after a hunting accident. I ask you, hunting accident, inside the servant’s quarters, I think not.’ She then turned back to the rucksack and said, ‘Hold this string, Rebecca, while I knot it.’
As Rebecca held the string, her need to know was at bursting point. ‘So, do we know anymore about Millicent, and why the summerhouse was closed up?’
‘Summerhouse,’ the woman said with a questioning look on her face, ‘do you mean this building, if so, why call it a summerhouse?’
Rebecca shook her head. ‘No, just seemed like a nice name.’
The woman raised her eyebrows. ‘You, and your imagination, Rebecca, summerhouse indeed, I guess it works though. So, back to the question in hand, Millicent, we know little, it would appear all records of her existence vanished, other then the painting in the main house that your father found in the basement. That was when he wasn’t skiving off from his work.’ The woman banged her eyes. ‘They closed the servant’s quarters shortly after the accident, and no one has had either the inclination or money to fix it up since. Not as if your father would be capable, is it, hard enough getting him to do his daily chores.’
Rebecca frowned, and thought, this is different. She couldn’t make her mind up what to focus on first. ‘Daily chores,’ she asked.
‘Oh, Rebecca, do you ever notice or listen to anything other than your blessed fairies. Your Father lost all of his money gambling and had it not been for my Father’s money we would have had to leave. Part of my Fathers deal was that, firstly, he stayed away from gambling and drinking, and secondly, he started helping me, rather than sitting and doing nothing, while I performed all the chores. Now let us sort your brother before he joins up with his army colleagues in a little while.’
