An Untimely Romance: A Time Travel Romance (5 page)

“But, Ruben...”

“Just do it.”

Ill at ease, but
feeling backed into a corner, Heather stepped towards one of the sash windows,
the afternoon sun adding to her natural beauty. She slipped her T-shirt over
her head and brushed her hair back into place with her fingers, before quickly
removing her trousers.

“There’s a good girl.
Now come here,” he demanded.

Heather’s vulnerability
wouldn’t allow her eyes to meet his, and she felt less confident now that it
was daylight, knowing this would show up every flaw. Wrapping her arms around
herself, she made her way towards him.

“No, not yet,” he said,
half smiling. “The ottoman ... lift the lid.”

Heather didn’t argue,
and pushed the lid back until the hinges held it in place, the musty scent of
old age reaching her nostrils as she glanced down.

“Now put it on,” he
ordered.

She carefully rummaged
through reams of soft white tissue paper.

“Quickly, girl, don’t
keep me waiting.” There was a wanting in his tone.

“Oh, Ruben, it’s
beautiful, thank you!” Heather exclaimed, relief in her voice. “I’ve never seen
anything so pretty.”

“Well, only the best
for my girl’s 18th. This is what I’m going to take off you, slowly, delicately,
like the unwrapping of a present, and then I’ll spend the whole night making
love to you. It’ll be a night, I can assure you, that you’ll never forget.”

Heather held up the
stunning ivory evening gown, with a corset-style waist from which folds of rich
crushed taffeta concertinaed out before softly kissing the floor. She stepped
carefully between the several layers of underskirts, one foot at a time so as
not to damage the delicate material, before gently lifting the dress up around
her petite waist. The luxurious material felt cool and soft against her skin.

Ruben sat up, his eyes
widening.

“You look so beautiful;
I’m so lucky you’re mine.”

Heather flicked her
tongue between her lips playfully before turning away, the perfect contours of
her back exposed, and she instinctively pulled her long tresses over her
shoulder to one side. As she did so, she felt Ruben’s fingers gathering the
lacings at her waist, tenderly pulling her in before securing her fastenings.
She felt his moist lips caressing her, like butterfly wings fluttering across
her skin.

“I want you,” he
whispered as she leant back against his chest. “I want you now.”

She reached up and
lovingly caressed the nape of his neck, stroking his hairline.

“You like?” His soft
voice trickled warmly into her ear. 

“Of course I like, I
like very much,” she replied, breathless.

She turned slightly,
meeting his gaze.

“And what about the
dress?” Ruben asked, a sauciness to his tone.

Heather elbowed him
subtly in the side.

“Cheeky,” she said,
glancing down, lost in the moment.

Then she froze, her
blood instantly running cold, almost like an out-of-body experience. How had
she not noticed it before? Her heart started beating erratically. It was the
same dress that she had seen herself wearing at the top of the stairs the night
before when the orb appeared.

“Ruben, where did you get
this dress? It’s a bad omen. I just know it! Undo me. I want it off, now!” she
demanded.

“Ya what? Do you get
your kicks out of playing games with me?” Ruben sneered angrily. “It’s not
every day I spend this much money on a girl, you know.”

Bending down, he
grabbed the lace at the hemline, lifting it above her thigh and feeling inside
for something. She heard a tear as the netting of the inner skirt was pulled
away.

“Look, look at this!”
He held her face harshly between his hand, pinching her cheeks, as if to make a
point.

Heather could feel her
eyes welling up with tears as he held a price tag inches from her face: £2,570.

“And it was from
Caroline’s, the most prestigious boutique around these parts.”

“I’m so sorry, I love
it... Just let me explain,” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck.

“It’s too late, you
ungrateful bitch!” He pushed her away towards the bed, but she tripped on the
dress and fell to the floor like a rag doll.

“Beautiful!” Ruben
laughed sarcastically, looking down at her blotchy, tear-stained face.
“Pathetic, more like. I suppose you’ll run off and find your boyfriend now. And
talking of Frank, get showered! You reek of him, and I don’t take kindly to
anybody’s seconds.”

“But, but...” Heather
sobbed inconsolably.

“It’s too late for
buts,” he scolded, walking towards the doorway.

He turned the large
brass handle downwards and pulled the door open, before peering out onto the
landing.

“See you for dinner at
six, girl,” he said, his voice softening.

He didn’t turn back or
make any further advances, and just closed the door behind him, leaving Heather
in emotional turmoil.

~•••~

Later that afternoon, Heather lay sobbing
on her bed, thoughts of Ruben, Frank and the bizarre happenings around the
manor over the last couple of days running through her head. She felt perplexed
and at an all-time low. Between tears, she gazed at the beautiful dress, which
was now hanging on the outside of her wardrobe. She felt a cold chill.

“How could I have been
so stupid, so bloody ungrateful?”

She could have kicked
herself. Her eyes drifted up to the ceiling. Suddenly, the vibration coming
from her phone disturbed her. She rolled over to the chest of drawers and
grabbed it. Looking down at the screen, she saw that Ruben was calling; somehow
she just couldn’t face him, not yet. She felt so guilty about her actions, her
almost childish outburst.
But then Ruben didn’t know the half of it, did he?
she thought to herself. The phone fell silent, but only for a second, and
then a new message appeared:
No questions asked. Pack ya bags, coz in the
morning I’m taking my special girl away for the weekend. Can’t wait to c u l8r,
luv you already, Ruben x P.S. Pack sumat sexy x

The butterflies
returned to her stomach.
He’s forgiven me...
she thought, sitting up and
feeling revitalised. She walked over to her bedroom window and looked out at
the immaculate gardens, feeling very proud. Freesdon Manor was becoming quite
the prominent feature in the surrounding neighbourhood, and she felt so lucky
to be living in such beautiful surroundings.

“An hour and a half and
he’ll be here!” she heard herself saying out loud.

Dancing round the
bedroom excitedly, she considered what to wear for dinner. She took her time
and smiled at her choice of a red silk vest top – not overly dressy, but it
felt nice against her skin, and complemented her pale complexion and mid-brown
hair. After putting it on, together with her new black trousers, she admired
herself in the mirror. Picking up her phone once again, she sent Ruben a short
but sweet message she was sure he’d appreciate:

Bags packed ... love you too xxxx.

She giggled to herself
as she pulled a small suitcase out from under her bed. She heard a light
tapping at the door.

“Okay, Mum, be with you
in ten. No, actually, come in...”

Heather couldn’t wait
to tell her mum about the weekend; it would be a chance to have a girly talk
and perhaps start building on their relationship.

“Just putting my
make-up on; come in,” she repeated.

Heather stopped
briefly, waiting for a reply, but there was silence.
Strange
, she
thought, and went to open the door. An unassuming girl of a similar age to her
was standing there, looking down at the floor, almost apologetically.

“Yes, who are you?”
Heather enquired, feeling rather disappointed.

“Housemaid,” the girl
squeaked.

Her skin was almost
transparent, and she had a small frame swaddled in a plain white dress. As for
her hair, Heather couldn’t see very much of it since the majority was covered
by an odd-looking skullcap; the few visible wisps were a light ginger.

“I didn’t know my dad
had employed a maid, and I’m not sure about the uniform, but don’t worry, I’ll
have a word with him later.”

The girl didn’t reply,
her eyes never leaving the floor.

“Well, you’d best come
in then, I could do with a hand packing. You see, I’m going away for the
weekend for a treat; my boyfriend’s taking me. It’s a surprise, so I have no
idea where...” Heather’s excitement made her struggle to finish her sentence.

A Home Away from Home

I
t was the first time Heather had heard the newly fitted doorbell. As
she walked across the hallway, she felt rather anxious and unsure of how dinner
was going to pan out with both Ruben and Frank present. Passing from the annex
through the library, she could already hear voices, mainly her dad’s. He was
always out to impress, and in the loudest way possible, even more so with Ruben
present. Dinner was being served in the refurbished dining room of the main
house rather than the relaxed atmosphere of the annex, their living quarters.
Stiff
upper lip, and mind your P’s and Q’s
, she thought. The double doors to the
dining room stood open invitingly.
Here goes
, she thought. On entering,
her mum was already serving drinks. All eyes turned in Heather’s direction.

“Wow! Certainly worth
the wait,” Ruben purred, retrieving a solitary red rose from the dining table
and walking towards her. “I hope you like.”

The answer was already
held in her eyes. “It’s beautiful, thank you,” Heather replied, smiling down at
the rich petals, its subtle perfumed aroma drifting upward.

She felt his lips meet
hers, only for an instant, but that was all it took for her knees to tremble.
Ruben had left his casual attire behind that evening and his outfit was much
more refined – a dark, almost navy-blue suit, obviously tailored since it
fitted perfectly in all the right places.
He looks so handsome
, she
thought.

She quickly turned her
gaze to Frank so as not to appear rude. Although he too looked smart, it didn’t
go unnoticed that his dress was still unfashionable and appeared to be the
exact same outfit he’d been wearing earlier.

“Good evening, Miss
Richardson,” he said, walking towards her.

“Enough of the
formalities, we’re all friends here. Please sit,” Heather’s dad said, pulling
out the chair at the head of the table and sitting himself down.

“After you, madam,”
Frank said, pulling a chair out for Heather on the opposite side.

“Thank you,” Heather
said, and sat down feeling quite the lady.

Ruben’s eyes shifted
awkwardly. It appeared he did not want to be outdone, so he pulled out a chair
for Heather’s mum.

“’Ere y’are, Faye,
after you. Have you forgotten your manners, Walter?”

Walter grunted; his
manners, like his age, had moved on considerably, and now left a lot to be
desired.

Adjusting his
silver-grey tie, which was slightly off-centre, he asked, “So, Ruben, how’s
your father? Haven’t seen him on the golf course for, I’d say a good few days
now.”

“No, and you won’t for
the next couple of weeks. He’s in the States somewhere. I lose count of all his
business endeavours to be honest with you, Walter,” he replied, walking
hurriedly round the table to sit beside Heather, leaving Frank to be seated on
the opposite side next to Faye.

The disappointment was
clear in Walter’s demeanour as his attention turned to Frank.

“Well, what’s your
business in these parts? Where are you from? What’s your line of work?” he
quizzed.

“I’m born and bred
around these parts; however, my business ventures regularly take me to London.”

“So you’re not short of
a bob or two...” Walter jumped in inquisitively.

“Dad!” Heather scolded.
“Questions, questions, questions. We’re here for a nice meal, not an
inquisition! Sorry, Frankie,” she apologised for her dad’s rudeness. “He just
gets carried away sometimes. He doesn’t mean anything by it, though, do you,
Dad?” She turned to her father and gave him a threatening stare.

“No offence taken,”
Frank replied.

But the atmosphere
spoke for itself, and there was now a heavy feeling in the air.

Lifting the mood
slightly, Frank continued. “No, sir, I’m certainly not, as you put it, short of
a bob or two. In fact, I am a very wealthy man, all of my own making, and will
be wealthier still in the near future. As we speak, my dear Aunt Bertha lies on
her deathbed, and upon her passing, I will receive a very handsome sum.” Frank
surveyed his surroundings. “You see, sir, as an example, I would be able to
afford Freesdon Manor...” He paused, as if deep in thought. “...five or six times
over perhaps, and still be the wealthiest man in these parts. Although I regret
there is a clause.”

Ruben coughed,
interrupting the conversation, and quickly changed the subject.

“Well, I must say,
you’ve both done a grand job with this place. I’m well impressed. Can’t wait
for dinner; what’s on the menu, Faye?” he said, leaving Frank hanging
mid-sentence.

Walter beamed, looking
very proud upon hearing Ruben’s complimentary words. He rose to his feet and
tapped his half-empty wine glass with a knife.

“I think a toast is in
order before we dine, don’t you agree?” he said, addressing his guests and
smiling with admiration as he looked around the room. “To Freesdon Manor.”

“To Freesdon Manor,”
they replied, raising their glasses.

The dining room was
like a historical work of art. The sturdy wooden table held many chairs, and
the small party seated at one end was almost lost in its enormity. It was
dressed beautifully, its centrepiece being an antique candelabrum that provided
subtle lighting. The wooden panelling to the walls appeared to have been
fashionable in olden times and could be found in most of the rooms; in this
room, however, the walls were only partially clad, accompanied by a bold
patterned paper somewhat hidden by nameless portraits. 

“Ah yes, Ruben, getting
back to this evening’s menu,” Faye began. “We’re starting with soup; I’m sure
the waiter said tomato and basil.”

“Waiter?” Heather
chuckled.

“Yes, a waiter,” Walter
said. “Thought I’d give ya mum a break from the kitchen tonight and employed a
couple of the new starts to look after us. Edison’s a qualified cook in any
case and will be working for us permanently in the tearoom, and Sami, his
brother, will be serving us, you know, butler style.”

“As I was saying,” Faye
grumbled, “before I was rudely interrupted... Followed by caramelised roast duck
served with chunky steamed veg, and I’m sure the sweet is a trio of chocolate
truffles. Well, if you haven’t a sweet tooth, there’s plenty to choose from off
the cheese board.”

“Sounds delightful,”
Frank said as he inhaled deeply.

Heather also took in
the fresh scent of herbs approaching.

Sami approached the
table carrying several large soup bowls.

“Butler style,” Heather
joked, looking at his black suit with starched collar and matching dicky bow.
“You weren’t joking there, were ya, Dad?”

Ruben’s stomach growled
in hunger and he grabbed the plate of bread rolls, only to be pulled up
abruptly by Frank.

“A bit hasty, are we
not? Shall we say grace?” 

“Are you for real?”
Ruben snapped, as if momentarily forgetting where he was and stuffing as much
of the soft roll into his mouth as he possibly could. “Grace!” he spluttered,
small pieces of bread flying everywhere.

Frank looked away,
shaking his head in disgust. “We are amongst ladies, sir. Have you completely
forgotten your manners?”

Ruben fidgeted in his
chair, flustered, perhaps due to the negative looks aimed in his direction.

“Sorry, Walter,” he
said. Lowering his eyes, he avoided his glare.

“No, Ruben, don’t
apologise. We don’t say grace, Frankie, never have and never will. So don’t try
to change us and make us like you,” Heather snapped, quick to jump to her
boyfriend’s defence.

“Now, young lady,
that’s quite enough of that. There’s a lot to be said about old traditions and
family values; that’s what’s missing today. When I was a lad...” 

Heather’s face dropped.
She had no intention of listening to him, and her eyes rolled back at her dad
droning on and on. Once he started, there was simply no stopping him. The
steaming soup was now cooling and waiting to be eaten. By the nonchalant looks
and down-turned faces, Heather soon picked up on the fact that she wasn’t the
only guest growing hungry. Her attention was drawn towards Frank as the cause
of this not so great speech. But Frank’s eyes were fixed on the other side of
the room and its main feature, the marble fireplace. Heather’s eyes followed
his, and to the left side of the hearth stood the housemaid Heather had
acquainted herself with earlier. Frank’s eyes appeared lost in the maid’s, yet
an anger shone back in hers, which made no sense. Feeling like she was
intruding, Heather looked away.

“And they’re my views,
so if you want to say grace, Frank, please go ahead,” Walter concluded.

Speech over
. Heather sighed inwardly. Glancing back towards the fireplace, she
caught the housemaid looking at her, and Heather smiled. The housemaid’s
response was quite unexpected, cold, fixated, like she was looking through
rather than at her.

“Bravo, Frank! Your
words were so meaningful,” Faye said, clapping her hands together exuberantly.

Nudging Ruben, Heather
whispered, “What have I missed?”

“Your peculiar friend’s
amazing grace,” he said quietly, speaking into Heather’s ear so as not to be
overheard.

“So, where you taking
our Hev this weekend?” Faye asked, talking and eating at the same time. “Excuse
me,” she said, quickly dabbing her mouth with a napkin.

Though excited at the
thought, Heather couldn’t quite understand how her parents were acting so at
ease with her pending weekend away with someone that, although her dad knew
fairly well, she’d only been acquainted with for a couple of days.

“Well, that’s a secret,
which Heather will have to wait to find out for herself, I’m afraid,” Ruben
replied, slipping his arm around her shoulder. “But then I want only the best
for my girl,” he gloated.

Heather noticed the
smug glance he threw in Frank’s direction; by the look of his furrowed brow, he
had obviously picked up on Ruben’s cheap point scoring.

Frank’s demeanour
changed instantly; his shoulders dropped, though only momentarily, followed by
a slight upturn to his lips.

“Sir, might I venture
to make a suggestion?” Frank began.

“You don’t need to ask,
lad, talk away,” Walter replied, scraping the last spoonful of soup from his
bowl and listening with interest.

“I know Heather’s
eighteenth is nigh, but she is still classed as a minor. Should she be out
unchaperoned?”

Ruben burst into a fit
of laughter.

“Good God, man, this is
the twenty-first century, and I’m twenty-four. What better chaperone could she
possibly want? Don’t worry, Walter, I’ll look after her.”

“That is what I fear,”
Frank said with concern in his voice. “I do hope your intentions are
honourable, sir. There is a substantial age difference.”

“What are you implying?
What do you think I am, Frank?” Ruben said through gritted teeth.

Heather could feel his
body tensing and she knew he was seething inside. As she reached for his hand,
she felt his fists clenched under the table.

The main doors opened,
interrupting the two men, and Sami enquired if they were ready for the main
course.

“Yes, I think we’ve all
finished,” Heather’s mum replied, looking at each bowl in turn.

Sami retrieved them
before returning to the kitchen.

“Sir, I believe I could
offer my services,” Frank said earnestly, lifting the decanter and refilling
the wine glasses.

“What, do you want a
job at the manor too?” Ruben hissed sarcastically, the annoyance growing in his
voice every time Frank opened his mouth to speak.

“I have no pressing
engagements for the weekend; therefore, if you so desired, I could accompany
you.”

“I think that’s a jolly
good idea, Frank,” Walter agreed. He smiled, seemingly quite taken by Frank’s
gentlemanly concern.

“What!” Heather
gasped. “Dad, you can’t be serious. Frank, it’s our special weekend away, and
you’re spoiling it before it’s even begun. Ruben, tell them.”

Ruben paused. “Maybe
it’s not such a bad idea after all. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay for
dinner, I have a phone call or two to make, extra room bookings, etc. Looks
like I’ll see you both in the morning then,” he said, kissing Heather on the
cheek, his expression giving nothing away. “No worries, I’ll let myself out.”

Heather sat quietly,
not making any effort to join in the conversation over dinner, having had just
about all she could take of Frank’s articulated grammar and highfalutin ways.
And to add insult to injury, her and Ruben’s romantic weekend would now be
scuppered by Frank’s constant presence. Lost in her private thoughts, her eyes
wandered again towards the fireplace; the housemaid was still standing in the
very same spot. She’d had absolutely no input during dinner, and actually
looked quite out of place. Heather ignored the conversation between her dad and
Frank, and even her mum looked bored as Walter went into all the costs Freesdon
Manor had brought with it since their arrival.

“Dad, you go on about
cost and money,” Heather butted in rudely, “yet you’re happily paying a
housemaid who does absolutely nothing. I’ve seen her twice today and both times
she’s been unapproachable and rude. I watched her give Frank dirty looks
earlier, and I know you saw it too, Frank, as I saw you looking back at her.”

Frank frowned. “I am afraid
I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t take her side;
we don’t need that kind of staff here.”

“Miss Richardson...” His
eyes hardened as he pushed his hair away from his face. “I am afraid you are
mistaken.”

“Yeh whatever, Frankie.
In my opinion she’s not up to the job!”

Heather’s dad looked
confused. Placing his cutlery down on his empty dinner plate, he replied, “But,
Heather, we haven’t got a housemaid, and won’t have until opening night... You
did only give her a Buck’s Fizz, didn’t you, Faye?” Walter asked, his
expression somewhat amused.