THE FLAPPER'S FAN

Chapter 3 - Tall, Dark and Handsome

I didn't have time to think about it. It floated on the top of my mind like an old newspaper on a pond. An old newspaper shouting a headline, dated 1925. What did I know about 1925? Well, the fashions for one, like the dress I wore. King George V was the monarch although I didn't know who was Prime Minister. I knew very little else. When the woman in the shop had told me I would be going on a journey, I had assumed she meant the Eurostar to Paris, or a day trip to Oxford, but it now seemed she had not been referring to a geographic journey, but rather a chronological one. A journey in time. And when she had said I couldn't return home until I had fulfilled my destiny, I had thought she was pretty much telling me what I already knew; that I couldn't go back to Australia until I had sorted myself out. Of course, as I stood here in 1925, the meaning was less clear, but it did seem I had a task to complete here and I would not be returning to my own time until it was done. A part of me was standing back and marvelling at my acceptance of the whole time travelling thing, and in truth it was not difficult to accept once I ruled out the other options. It was definitely not a fancy dress party, and I had tried pinching myself and it bloody well hurt, so dream it was not. Was I having some sort of psychotic break? Perhaps due to drugs in the old woman's tea? Possible, but I was fairly sure that wasn't it either. I hadn't driven a Delorean here, or flown in a phone box, nor fallen into a mystical stone circle. None of the literary and cinematic descriptions applied here. I had just woken up ninety years in the past, and I knew without a doubt the creepy old shop and it's inhabitant were to blame. My best bet now was to just go with the flow.

"Ladies, we have a table for you now."

I followed the waiter to the small round table, pulled along by Charlie who was already swept up in the music.

"Oh, I hope they get here soon. I want to dance!" she was tapping her feet impatiently. "Apparently, your chap is "tall, dark and handsome!", wouldn't it be fun if you hit it off?"

We had barely sat our bottoms into the chairs when Charlotte leapt up with a squeal, waving wildly toward the door. A young blonde man with an enormous smile was weaving his way toward us, looking just as happy to see Charlie as she was to see him.

"Hello, sweetheart!" he cried, swinging her around when he reached us.

"Oh Harry, I thought you'd never get here!"

It was such an absurd exaggeration I couldn't help but laugh. Harry looked me with raised brows.

"I say, Charlie, who's your chum?"

"Harry, this is Edith, we call her Eddie. Eddie this is my Harry!" She squeezed his arm and looked at him with adoration. Harry looked around with a frown.

"My friend was right behind me. You'll like Nick, he's a terrific chap!" That was aimed at me, accompanied by a wink. Harry looked over my shoulder and smiled widely.

"Well, look, there he is! He was checking our coats and must have got lost. Quite the crowd here tonight, isn't it? Hey Nick, this is my girl Charlie, and her friend - Eddie is it?" I nodded without turning to see my blind date for the evening. I had a horrible feeling he was going to be short and dumpy with really bad teeth, just like the first blind date I had back home in Melbourne when I was nineteen.

"You two get to know one another," Charlie shrieked, "Harry is taking me dancing!" Moments later they were lost in the throng of dancers, their feet twisting in Charlestonesque moves to the jazz from the live orchestra. My erstwhile date moved into view and I watched as he took a seat opposite me. I could not have been more wrong in my assumption. Harry's friend Nick was quite a bit older than his young friend, a little older than me in fact, and I'm pretty sure the description "tall, dark and handsome" had been coined with him in mind. His suit was impeccably tailored, smooth over broad shoulders, the white shirt snowy against his skin. He was clean shaven, his attempt to tame his thick, black hair had failed, and a couple of thick curls had escaped to fall onto his forehead. I liked the sign of imperfection in what otherwise was pretty damn perfect, not the least being those piercing blue eyes now aimed right at me. The music was loud, and I couldn't hear his words so leaned forward, and he did the same. This meant now I was even closer to him, which was no hardship. The man was hot with a capital H!