THE FLAPPER'S FAN

Chapter 7 - Please Don't Cry

When I was a little girl, books were my friends and my protectors. I drowned out my parents' shouting with tales of romance and adventure. My tastes were especially enticed by absurdity and fantasy, and later, science fiction. I had found a small pile of books on the dresser when I first arrived the night before, and was delighted to discover among them two of my old favourites; Lewis Carrol's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and HG Wells' Time Machine. Their appeal was obvious, as my current predicament seemed inspired by both stories. Through the long night of roiling nausea and throbbing headache, the two books sat steadfastly on the bedside table, gilt engraved spines glinting in the dim light. I knew someone was there, in the chair on the other side of my bed, but gravity had somehow been perverted so that I was pressed down into the soft mattress, unable to move at all, let alone to roll over and discover the identity of my visitor. When I eventually awoke to find myself no longer under the influence of whatever drug Nick had added to my water, the sun was high in the sky. Nonetheless, I was loathe to roll over to see who was sitting there, in vigil over me, as if I were in danger of dying, or perhaps of running to the police with tales of abduction and severe disappointment, neither of which I could prove, and the latter, sadly, not a chargeable offence. I was most afraid it would be Nick himself and equally afraid it would not. With a sigh, I finally turned my head to see Mrs Brewer, her spectacles sitting low on her nose, all her concentration on the sock she was darning. I wondered what she knew, or what she thought, about what had happened. What had he told her? The large needle looped in and out with practiced efficiency and without taking her attention from it she spoke as if we were in the middle of a conversation.

"And I see you're awake then."

I sat up, waiting for the pain in my head or at the very least some dizziness, but whatever it was had passed and I was disappointed to discover I no longer suffered any symptoms.

"What time is it?" I asked.

She looked up and peered at the clock on the mantle. A small fire smouldered in the hearth. It looked as if it had been lit for the chill of the night, but now daytime had returned it was left to die away.

"It's about 9." She continued darning.

"You can leave now." I said rudely. I was keenly aware she was only here because Nick had tasked her, not out of any concern for me, just as she had babysat me yesterday, no doubt. The whole day now seemed to have been some sort of set up to keep me busy while Nick... What did Nick do? That was something I would have to ask him, if I could ever bring myself to face him again. Something that made him think he needed to drug me to ask me questions.

"I am quite comfortable, thank you kindly." Her equanimity was incredibly annoying. Well, if she wouldn't leave, then I would. I sat up and slid off the bed, realising I was still in my slip. Mrs Brewer kept on sewing. I caught a glimpse of myself in the dressing table mirror. The scarf had fallen out of my hair at some point and it appeared my sleep had been fitful because I now sported an afro straight out of an eighties cop show. In addition, my mouth tasted like King Kong's armpit, as my Dad used to say. What I wouldn't give for my electric toothbrush and a tube of Colgate, not to mention my hair straightener.

I picked up my toiletries bag and grabbed the day dress I had taken out of the suitcase last night but chosen not to wear, then headed to the bathroom. I bathed and washed my hair, returning to find Mrs Brewer was gone. I was alone once again. For a moment yesterday I had not felt this crushing loneliness, but now it was back, more debilitating than ever, and I knew I should hate them for it, both Nick and Mrs Brewer. Maybe the others as well. Only I didn't. I just felt very sad. I wanted to go home, back to my own time. I sat in the window and brushed my hair straight. My bag was packed, my coat and hat lay on top of it, and I had laced my shoes. Now I was just waiting for my hair to dry. He was inside the room before I realised it.