The Time-Traveller's Choice

the simple contentment of others

While I was trying to get my blood flowing properly again, Mrs. Lawrence said, "We've fixed it so you'll stay here tonight. Amy won't mind sharing her room with you for one night."

I tore my attention away from Charlie. "Amy still lives here?"

"Where else would she live, with her unmarried and working?" said Mrs. Lawrence.

"Oh, I, ah... I don't know," I said. "Thank you ever so much--I really appreciate all you've done for me."

"Enid and Albie will most likely drop in for tea as well," said Mrs. Lawrence. "They live just up the street. Enid used to work in the office at the Gasworks, so she might have some ideas about a job. And tomorrow we'll find you somewhere proper to stay."

"If there's ever anything I can do to repay you..."

Mrs. Lawrence ruffled up. "Never mind that, dearie." She stood and gathered up the cups from the table.

"Can I at least help you with dinner?"

"Taylor had some carrots and parsnips about to go bad," said Charlie. "I brought them home for you, mum."

"Do you live here as well, then?" I said.

Charlie gave me a surprised look. I was starting to get quite used to them by now. "Why wouldn't I?" he said.

"My Charlie's a great help to me," said Mrs. Lawrence, not turning around.

"Of course." Of course, he was a great help to his mother. And he was going to be sleeping down the hall from me.

Only for one night, Emma. You can keep it in your pants for one night.

* * *

Mrs. Lawrence had bought a ham hock from the butcher earlier in the day, which she'd squirrelled in the coldest corner of the kitchen to avoid it spoiling. This was thrown into a stock pot on the stove with onions, potatoes, the vegetables Charlie had brought home, and some thyme and sage from the garden.

At some point around 5pm, someone on the street had called out, "Charlie, me old china, come for a pint at the Standard?"

Charlie jumped up, pecked his mother on the cheek, winked at me, and vanished out the front door, leaving Mrs. Lawrence tutting and stirring the stew.

"He'll be back before tea," she said.

An hour later, Amy Lawrence--reportedly the youngest and silliest of the Lawrence children--returned from work. She was a glamorous young woman my own age, with finger waves, a yellow dress, and skin-coloured stockings.

"Hullo, mum, found yourself a stray?" she said as she breezed in.

"Amy, this is Emma. She'll be staying with us tonight, so be nice."

"I'm always nice," said Amy, waving this away. "Anyway, can't stay long. Going out with the girls from work tonight."

Then she was out again in a cloud of perfume.

Enid and her husband Albie arrived next. They were maybe in their early twenties, but married and round and settled. Enid was pregnant, waddling around with one hand on the small of her back, while Albert--Albie--tracked her movements with his eyes.

" Hullo, luv," he said when I was introduced. He had a soft, sweet voice. "How's yerself?"

"I'm all right, thanks," I said.

"You ain't from 'round here, are yer?" said Enid, sitting down beside her husband.

"No, I'm from Durham."