Cross Stitch Read online

  Chapter Three

  Sarah picked tea leaves from her tongue and gagged at the ones that she had inadvertently swallowed. It was 1939, they didn’t have teabags, she knew that, so why had she just gulped it down without a thought? Oh, I don’t know, Sarah. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that one minute you were marrying the love of your life, the next you wake up in a medical room faced with someone who looks like they have escaped from The Nightmare Before Christmas.

  And now the nightmare continued. She had been taken back to Ratchet’s cold little cottage by the sea, and there she’d discovered that the war was only a few months in, that she felt light-headed and dizzy if she turned her head too quickly and that oddly she was hungry … ravenous, in fact. Upon asking for sustenance she had been given tea and cheese again. What was it with people from the past and bloody cheese? At least three of her trips back in time had resulted in cheese on crackers or cheese on toast, but the worst of her discoveries had been that Ratchet was obsessed with the fact that Sarah had let slip in her mutterings about being a time traveller.

  Upon her return from the classroom at the end of the school day, Rachet had quizzed her again and even though Sarah had used the tried and tested ‘I can’t remember saying that’ and waffling about a bump on the head, Ratchet wasn’t convinced. She insisted that Sarah come home with her, and having no real option, dumped in 1939 in an unfamiliar town with no clue as to who she was there to save, she had gone with her.

  Throughout the consummation of the ritual tea and cheese, Rachet just wouldn’t let the whole thing drop. And now after a vigorous wipe of the kitchen table and a clatter of dishes in the sink, it looked as if she was limbering up for interrogation. Seconds out, round three.

  ‘Right, Sarah,’ Ratchet said, scraping the legs of her wooden chair across the tiles with a squeak that set Sarah’s teeth on edge. She sat down opposite at the table. ‘I know what I heard and I won’t shut up until you tell me who you really are.’ The coals of her eyes glowed hotter than the meagre little fire that she’d lit in the grate earlier.

  Trying to buy time, Sarah noticed a beautiful diamante brooch in the shape of a conch shell on Ratchet’s jumper. It was the only beautiful and frivolous thing about her, in fact in the whole house. ‘Do you know, I have never seen such an unusual brooch – quite exquisite,’ Sarah said.

  Ratchet’s mouth curled up at the corners but the heat of her words quickly ironed the smile flat again as she realised Sarah was using flattery to catch her off guard. ‘Glad you think so. Now what is your name, madam?’

  ‘I told you. My name is Sarah Yat … I mean Needler and I have amnesia.’ Sarah buried a smirk. She felt like she was in a meeting for Amnesiacs Anonymous.

  ‘If you have lost your memory, how come you know your name?’ Apparently happy to have scored some kind of a point, Ratchet leaned forward and grinned like a maniac, the skin of her cheeks stretched to full capacity to accommodate this rare occurrence and the hair on the mole danced like a fishing rod over a muddy pool.

  ‘Deuce it all, I would hazard a guess it’s just one of those things, Sherlock.’ Sarah sighed and closed her eyes. This was all getting too much.

  ‘Eh? Don’t get smart with me, madam.’

  ‘It would be difficult to do otherwise.’

  ‘How rude! I take you under my wing, bring you to my home—’

  ‘Interrogate me,’ Sarah said, still with her eyes closed.

  ‘What do you expect?’ Ratchet banged her fist on the table snapping Sarah’s eyes open and onto hers. ‘I need to find out what you know about this here time travel. You say nothing, but your name is Needler too and I have heard that one before and quite recently. So you see, I know that you are lying. I’d hazard a guess that you haven’t lost your memory at all, Sherlock!’

  Sarah’s mind went into overdrive. Why was the name Needler significant? Had John been back here for some reason? No, that was doubtful unless he had been given permission by the powers that be, or the Spindly Ones as Sarah preferred to call them. And if he had, why had he?

  Trying to keep her voice neutral she said, ‘What has my surname to do with anything?’

  Ratchet sat back in her chair and nodded knowingly. ‘You know something, I’m right. And we will sit here until you talk some more.’

  Sarah tossed her head. ‘Oh, please, the “we have ways of making you talk” phrase belongs to nasty little German men in smart uniforms wearing jackboots. Mind you … you do have a look of—’ Tempting as it was to ridicule, seeing the puzzlement on Ratchet’s face, Sarah buttoned it before she said too much. It would do to remember that one of her remits as a Stitch was not to divulge anything from the future to folk in the past. The last thing she wanted now as punishment for such a slip was to get a bout of the giggles, or flatulence like she had on past trips.

  ‘German men … are you saying I look like a Nazi?’

  Sarah looked at the table. Funny she didn’t question the gender, but looking like that … okay get a grip. ‘No, of course not, I’m sorry. I am a bit confused I think,’ she muttered looking back up at Ratchet.

  ‘Hmm, well cut to the chase. How are you related to Josiah Needler?’

  That really did confuse Sarah. Who the hell was that? ‘I don’t know a Josiah, I’m afraid.’

  ‘So you don’t know anything about a man who came here knocking on my door just as I was preparing a bit of cheese on toast on Sunday evening, said his name was Needler and told me I was a … a …’ Ratchet shook her head and swallowed hard.

  Sarah watched Ratchet’s lips trying to form words but to no avail. She began to get a very unsettling ripple of anxiety in her tummy. This woman couldn’t be, could she?

  ‘Just spit it out, woman!’ Sarah snapped.

  Ratchet blinked rapidly and cleared her throat, then words shot from her mouth running into each other and as rapid as machine gun fire. ‘He said I was a Stitch, like the old saying “a stitch in time saves nine” and there were holes in time that I had to mend by stitching them up and if I didn’t stitch them up …’ Ratchet took a shallow breath ‘… in other words take three trips back in time to save the lives of three important people and then their children, or perhaps grandchildren, would go on to make the nine, like the saying …’ Ratchet took a deeper breath ‘… then people would die or never be born and horrible things would happen and it would be all my fault!’ She finished with a shriek and put her hands over her face.

  Sarah’s unsettled ripple grew into a wave as her previous thought was answered. So yes, this woman could be, no, was in fact a Stitch. So what had gone wrong? Why the bloody hell had she been whisked away from her John if Ratchet-face was a Stitch anyway? And who was she supposed to save? Sarah sighed and leaned back in her seat as Ratchet took her hands away from her face and wrapped her arachnid arms around her body. She then began to rock slowly back and forth.

  Right, judging by Ratchet’s wild eyes and body language she’s teetering on the brink. Slowly does it Sarah.

  ‘Okay, Miss Ratchet. Calm down. I can see that you are a little distraught—’

  Ratchet continued as if Sarah hadn’t spoken. ‘And he said that a Stitch was a job, but it was also an acronym for the task of a time traveller.’ Ratchet rolled her eyes up to the left. ‘Now what was it … ah yes:

  S-ave

  T-hree

  I-mportant

  T-errestrials

  C-ome

  H-ome.’

  ‘No, you got the last two wrong, it’s C-lose H-ole,’ Sarah said, figuring there was no point trying to keep up the pretence any longer.

  ‘So you do know about it!’ Ratchet yelled triumphantly, her eyes gleaming like polished beads.

  ‘Oh, so that was a trick was it? Spare me the theatrics.’

  ‘Oh, thank God! I thought I was going stark staring crazy!’

  ‘Yes, been there, done that, bought the sodding T-shirt.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Never mind. Right, so why d
id you let this strange man into your house?’ Sarah thought she already knew the answer to that one.

  ‘I didn’t! I shut and locked the door on him, came back here into the kitchen and you’ll never guess what?’

  ‘There he was, standing in front of you?’

  ‘Yes! How did you know?’

  ‘They do time tricks, you know, reverse time a few seconds to just before you shut the door, stop time and dodge past you and then start it again. They are only allowed to do it for a few seconds, because otherwise it would muck the dimensions right up apparently.’

  Ratchet nodded respectfully. ‘Yes, that’s exactly what Josiah said.’

  ‘Same thing happened to me. I’m a Stitch, too. Not with this Josiah, of course, but with John … who right at this minute is probably standing at the altar most put out by my impromptu disappearing act.’

  ‘You married a Time Needle?’

  ‘Yes, well, at least I hope we were married before I was shunted off to this hell hole!’

  Ratchet bridled. ‘How dare you call my lovely home a hell hole?’

  ‘No, I didn’t mean your house in particular,’ – although Sarah thought that it couldn’t be called a lovely home by any stretch of the imagination – ‘I mean that my bloody wedding is ruined!’

  After another, and this time carefully sipped cup of tea, no cheese and a full recount of what had happened to Ratchet, Sarah felt less worried that she herself was on a stitching mission, but still worried about why she was here and what the hell she was supposed to do.

  Ratchet, it seemed, had refused to go back in time to save someone in 1879 and thrown Josiah out. She ‘couldn’t cope with things out of the ordinary’ apparently, it ‘threw her constitution out of the window and made her really queer in the head’. Sarah would quite like to throw Rachet out of the window if the theory buzzing around her brain had any credence.

  ‘You seem unable to cope with a lot of things, don’t you, Miss Ratchet?’ Sarah said coldly. ‘In school you said you couldn’t deal with sickness or tears. It’s a wonder that you survive as a primary school teacher, to be quite frank.’

  Rachet’s long face grew longer and her top lip settled into a snarl. ‘I’ll have you know I am one of the most feared teacher’s in Southampton! It’s just that bodily fluids and emotions make me shudder.’

  ‘Oh really? Well, I’ll have you know that inciting fear is not a good basis for the imparting of knowledge and good learning skills to children, madam,’ Sarah retorted, gratified to find that the formal and old-fashioned tone of her words had made an impact. Ratchet screwed up her face in distaste and became immediately on the offensive.

  ‘I fail to see why you are getting so angry, Mrs Needler. I have made a rational choice not to hurtle off to goodness knows where on a foolhardy mission through time. There will be others to do my stitching job, I’m sure.’

  ‘Yes, and I have a horrible theory that I have been sent back here to do just that, on my sodding wedding day of all days! God, why did you have to pass the time, you bloody coward.’

  ‘Me, a coward? How dare you! And please refrain from using language of the gutter in my house.’

  ‘Language of the gutter, ha! You ain’t seen nothing yet, babe!’

  Sarah stood up and began to pace, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth to try and calm herself. From time to time she glanced at the silent Ratchet, her skeletal fingers picking crumbs individually from her tablecloth and putting them into the palm of her other hand. A mask of bewilderment clung to her face and Sarah did feel a small pang of sympathy for her.

  Even though the woman was infuriating, ‘Miss I can’t cope with this, that, and the bloody other’, Sarah realised that it was a shock after all being confronted with something beyond human experience. God, she herself had been there not so long ago. And Sarah also felt a pull on her heart strings to make things right, but the strings weren’t tugged to the extent that she would take on Ratchet’s job in 1879. She had done enough lately … above and beyond. Someone else would just have to take this one for the team.

  Eventually Ratchet looked up from her crumbs and said quietly, ‘Why did you say that I passed the time? I don’t understand.’

  ‘Oh, there are lots of ordinary everyday phrases that have time travel meanings, but have been corrupted over the ages. I found that out, and you would have too if you had decided to run with the baton instead of chickening out.’

  Sarah received a black look, but Ratchet kept her thin lips pressed together.

  ‘Okay, “passing the time” actually means that a Stitch, in this case, you, has decided to back out of a time trip to save someone.’ Sarah glared at Ratchet. ‘Which means someone else, another Stitch, in this case, me, has to do the damned job. So you have effectively “passed the time” to me.’

  ‘But don’t you get a choice in whether you want to take a “passing the time”?’ Ratchet sniffed.

  ‘Yes, normally. But for some reason I have been just dumped here. And we all have choices, don’t we, Rachet? Norman had a choice and like you, he couldn’t be arsed!’

  Ratchet recoiled. ‘Your language really is outrageous. And who is this Norman you speak of?’

  Sarah sighed and sat back down. ‘Time waits for no man. That’s a bastardisation of another old phrase. It was originally, “Time waits for Norman,” but like you, he couldn’t be bothered to go and save someone. And that meant that someone truly evil was born when they shouldn’t have been.’

  ‘Oh my goodness.’ Ratchet gulped and put her hand to her mouth. ‘Who was that?’

  ‘Adolf Hitler.’

  ‘Crikey!’ Ratchet took a breath, then wrinkled her nose. ‘We know he’s a power- hungry maniac, but is he truly evil?’

  ‘Oh, yes and then some. But you will find that out shortly.’ Sarah shook her head to stop herself from divulging more. ‘Right. I hope that what I have told you has changed your mind, but if it hasn’t, I have selfishly for once decided that I am not going to put myself out. Are you noting this, Spindly Ones?’ she said to the ceiling.

  ‘Spindly Ones?’ Ratchet’s mole twitched and she cast her fearful eyes skyward.

  ‘Yep. That’s what I call the powers that be that control the whole shebang. I imagine them to be tall and spindly wearing long medieval-type robes with those asymmetric sleeves which they shake in triumph at our mistakes and laugh like drains,’ Sarah said, a giggle of hysteria in her voice. ‘Alternatively they might not have any form at all or look like Humpty frigging Dumpty. To be quite honest, I don’t give a shit. All I want to do is get back to my wedding day.’

  Ratchet’s mouth fell open in shock and a beetroot flush shot into her cheeks. ‘My goodness, you say the vilest words.’

  Sarah folded her arms and huffed. ‘So are you going to do this 1879 job or what?’

  ‘I … I … don’t know.’

  Relief woke from the bottom of Sarah’s dark pit and climbed a little way up the rescue rope. Okay, Sarah, gently does it. ‘Hey, that’s a start, Veronica. Can I call you Veronica?’

  Ratchet frowned, then nodded, eyeing Sarah carefully.

  ‘Just think of all the people’s lives you will change for the better if you save this one.’

  ‘But I don’t even know who I have to save. Josiah didn’t tell me.’

  ‘No. That’s normal at first. It will be fine, just go with it and trust your instincts.’

  ‘What do you mean, at first? Do you know where you are being sent later?’

  ‘It depends. I did after the first few missions, but only because I was greatly tested by the Spindly Ones, and thank God I passed. Nowadays I get a date, time, and a vague idea of who the people are … but that’s all.’

  ‘Hmm. I’m still not sure I’m cut out for a life of—’

  ‘You’re getting ahead of yourself now, Veronica. You only have to do three missions … you could even just do the one.’ Sarah crossed her fingers behind her back. She wasn’t sure about that at all
, but if it changed Ratchet’s mind … ‘I made the choice to keep doing more. Crazy I know.’

  ‘Really? We-ll, I suppose I could do just the one—’

  ‘Yes, of course! Wow that’s fantastic, Veronica!’ Sarah said, scraping her chair back and clapping the other woman on the shoulder. A bubble of excitement popped in her heart and pins and needles began in her feet and hands. Oh, yes, now that was a sure sign that any time now she’d be back standing next to John at the altar. Thank God, she’d managed to change Veronica’s mind without having to take a ‘passing the time’. Re-sult!

  Veronica grabbed Sarah’s hand that was still on her shoulder and clasped it hard. ‘But will it be all right? Will I … will I succeed?’

  ‘You’ll be fine. As I said, just trust your instincts.’

  Veronica’s face began to fade and Sarah felt a heavy tug in the centre of her body and her right arm, then a floating sensation as if she were coming up from the bottom of a deep pool. Yep, soon be back home, thank the Lord! Then cool fingers cupped her cheek and she felt a warm mouth graze her lips.

  ‘Sarah, are you back with us at last, my darling?’

  Opening her heavy lids, John’s green eyes full of anxiety and love swam into focus and she cried out with happiness and relief. ‘John! Yes, I think I am, my love!’

  Chapter Four

  John looked at his wife’s face glowing with happiness instead of the fever she’d had for the last few hours and laughed with relief. ‘Oh, Sarah, I am so glad you are back with me and looking more like yourself.’ He kissed her again and dabbed at her brow with a damp cloth.

  ‘You and me both. I’ve had such an awful time.’ Sarah shook her head.

  ‘The fall must have woken you, good job.’

  Sarah frowned. ‘Fall?’

  ‘Yes, I was downstairs a few minutes ago and heard a bump, then you walking about. I assumed you’d fallen out of bed.’

  ‘Did I? I … don’t remember … and why am I here in bed?’ Sarah put a trembling hand to his face, her eyes anxious.

  ‘Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter, we just need to get you well now,’ John soothed. The last thing he wanted was for her to get stressed given the fact she’d just woken from the ruins of her wedding day.