A Step Back in Time
Chapter Eighteen

King Henry dined sumptuously at Warblington Manor that day, the day that he arrived unannounced and turned the whole household into a turmoil and availed himself of my mother, Margaret Pole’s, stores, which were then sadly depleted for many months after. He ate the plump roast breast of a swan, the head of a pig, its gaping mouth stuffed with a rosy apple, and a partridge’s skinny legs, the bones of which he threw to my father’s two dogs, Gilbert and Sturdy, as they lay growling and snapping beneath the table that groaned with the weight of the food.

He ate milk puddings and custard tarts, and downed ale aplenty and red wine by the barrel. If he carried on eating and drinking in that way, he would surely gain three chins and a belly as large as the city of London. Could that remark be construed as treason? God help me if it could! I thought my mother, Margaret Pole, was relieved when, in the dusky evening, the royal coach, followed by King Henry’s vast retinue, ambled its way slowly across the opened drawbridge and onwards to London.

Restlessly I paced my bedchamber, where I had been sent as soon as King Henry showed his back. “You are weary, Little Bear,” my mother had said. “You must retire to your bedchamber.” I leaned from the open window and breathed in the still night air. The scent of cut grass and flowers and dry earth slid into my nostrils and into my body, where my young veins still fizzed with the excitement of the king’s visit. I wasn’t weary—I didn’t need to sleep. I wanted to see Gregory!

Thinking of our time together that afternoon, which had been cut short by such an unexpected visit, I sprang into action. Wrapping a cloak around my body and pulling the hood over my dark hair, I left the room and pattered silently, like a little mouse, down the stairs. Faint voices and laughter could still be heard from the kitchen quarters, where servants were still clearing away after the magnificent banquet that afternoon. Very quietly, with barely a screech on its rusty old hinges, I opened the huge back door and went out into the cool night air.

The woods, as I fled through them, stumbling on tiny stones and bits of dirt, were dark and creepy, the trees arching above me, their branches black against the darkening sky. Owls, their eyes shining like monstrous globes in the gloom, hooted overhead, making me jump while tiny animals and insects scurried amongst dry leaves on the mucky ground.

I saw Gregory straight away. He was in his garden, crouching down, settling the chickens, making soft clucking sounds as they strutted around picking and pecking at the earth. I threw back my hood with a flourish, showing him my face.

“Ursula,” he said with surprise. “What brings you here at this hour?”

“We are to wed,” I told him imperiously. “Bring your cat as a witness.”

He threw back his head and laughed so hard the sound echoed around the woods, causing the birds to flitter and flutter from the trees in a panic. I then watched curiously as he plucked a blade of grass and, fashioning it into a circle, placed it on my finger as we stood together with the black cat Thomas at our side and, beneath the bright white light of the moon, said our wedding vows.

***

The office was quiet, as everybody had gone home. Well, I wasn’t sure if Max was still in his office—I hadn’t dared go back in since my outburst earlier about his sister. What must he think of me now? I was sure that he would be glad if I did get a transfer to another branch of Reynolds & Rhodes, or got a new job somewhere else. He was probably sick to the back teeth of my uncalled for jealous behavior.

I gazed from the tiny mullioned window at the sky, which at the moment looked harsh, angry, the blue almost obliterated by thick black clouds that looked ready to burst. I definitely needed to get to my car before it started to rain. A strong wind had picked up, and the bright flowers in the pots outside dipped and danced as if at a disco. Desultorily, I switched off my computer and, sighing, shrugged on my jacket. Picking up my bag, I prepared to leave for the day.

“I always preferred Sindy dolls, you know. I don’t think I ever was a Barbie man. Not really.”

I spun around to see my boss, Max Reynolds, standing framed in the doorway like a painting, entitled maybe, “Unknown Handsome Man.” He’d taken off his suit jacket, so wore the black trousers with a belt that hung low on his hips, and a white shirt tucked in that was stretched tightly over his chest. His top buttons were undone as usual, showing a slice of hairy chest which, as usual, I studiously tried to ignore.

He began to walk slowly towards me, saying, “Sindy dolls have dark hair, not blonde. Lovely, shiny dark hair and a really sweet smile—and dark eyes too, not blue like a Barbie doll. I much prefer dark hair and dark eyes, Hannah.”

He was close to me now, very close, and very slowly he put a finger to my chin and, tilting my face to meet his, said softly, his breath hissing in my ear, making me hunch my shoulders, “Do you remember climbing the steep stone steps into the bedchamber in the eaves, and listening to the twitter of the birds as we made love on that lovely soft bed?”

I opened my mouth to speak, to say perhaps, “No, Max, that was Ursula and Gregory, not Max and Hannah.” But he silenced me with a finger to my lips and carried on speaking.

“Do you remember the scent from the rushes on the bedchamber floor, and the patter of the rain on the thatched roof as we lay together skin to skin and mouth to mouth?”

“Max, I—”

“Come to that Hannah….” This time he stared straight into my eyes. “Do you remember that hot sweaty night club, and all the words to ‘You to me Are Everything?’ and how good we felt in each other’s arms as we danced?” I gazed at him in wonder, hardly believing what I was hearing, and started to speak, but he shushed me again and pulled me into his arms, where I fit so well into his body, my head just slotting in under his chin, like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. He murmured into my hair, “There’s only ever been you, Hannah, and I can’t hold it in any longer. I have to tell you—I love you. I love you.” Here he drew back and looked into my eyes. “Will you marry me?”

I shook my head slowly. “Boss and personal assistant. It won’t work, Max.”

“Well, you are thinking of a transfer to another branch, aren’t you? I got the email today.”

I shook my head and smiled wryly as Max, to my utmost surprise, fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a ring fashioned from a blade of grass and pushed it onto my finger. Where on earth had he got that from? I was just about to ask but decided not to. Some things were better left unsaid.

“Well?”

I thought for a split second. “Oh—go on, then,” I replied.

***

The wedding march sounded loudly in the confines of the small church, beautiful clear notes from the organ, as I began slowly, putting one silver slippered foot in front of the other, to walk down the aisle. I didn’t know why, but gruesome images flashed through my mind. My mother, Margaret Pole, whom I’d mourned for so long, her poor vulnerable neck waiting on the block; and Henry Stafford, his face contorted with rage as he hit my face with a resounding slap; and then, the malicious look on the face of King Henry as he banished me from Warblington Manor.

Ryan gave me a cheeky grin and a thumbs up sign as, smiling and floating past as if in a dream, my feet barely touching the ground, I glanced at Mum, who was sniffing and holding a tissue to her tear stained face. Candles guttered fitfully from the deep window embrasures and shone blindingly bright on the altar as, with a gentle squeeze, Dad let go of my arm. I stepped forward to join him, my groom that “Unknown Handsome Man.”

We stood outside afterwards in the hot summer sunshine, the two of us, Mr. and Mrs. at last, our arms linked together like a chain—an unbreakable chain going back centuries, it seemed. I gazed towards the little heart shaped stone in the corner of the cemetery and thought of Gregory’s mother, Eliza, gone far too soon. And then, of course, of Gregory and Ursula, holding hands and kneeling amongst the chickens as they pledged their undying love for one another.

My brand new husband turned to me and, gently stroking my face, said, “Are you as happy as I am, darling? Ursula, my Little Bear.”

I nodded as, gazing up into the unmistakable green gaze of Gregory Walsh, a not unpleasant shiver ran down my spine.

THE END

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