Page 31 of The Runner
‘Imagine if they knew the truth! That the priest hole is also very likely a quantum wormhole to 1729,’ she said. ‘That would really attract the crowds.’
George shook his head. ‘We’d never have a minute’s peace again. Aside from the fact they’d think we are completely mad.’
‘True,’ said Cara. ‘Our greatest secret is the one we must never reveal.’
‘And talking of not revealing. Guess who’s coming to visit soon? I didn’t have time to tell you when Eddie was here and then I forgot.’
Cara raised her head from the shelf. ‘Kate?’
‘How did you know?’ he said.
‘Well, your parents live in York, so they’re probably not going to come and stay. And Kate’s been talking about coming over from Seville for a while now.’
Cara shoved the last book from the pile onto the shelf and clapped her hands together to dust them off. ‘I’m done for today. Shall we go outside for a wander?’
George lay the heavy tome down onto the coffee table, ready to continue later, and then held his hand out to Cara. ‘Come on, beautiful. Let’s go and see what those builders are up to, shall we?’
They ambled across the lawn, admiring Swifty’s handiwork, neither of them quite believing their good fortune. Not only had the universe somehow conspired to bring them together, but they were also the owners of their stunning ancestral home.
‘When is Kate arriving?’ said Cara.
‘She’s not sure yet, but she said she’d love to stay for a while if it’s okay.’
Cara smiled. ‘It’s more than okay. You know I love Kate. If it wasn’t for her, I’m not sure we’d even be together. Remember when I thought she was your wife when we met in Seville?’
‘You were always so quick to presume the worst of me!’
‘True, although you must admit you gave me plenty of reason to,’ Cara quipped.
George’s phone dinged, and he withdrew it from his pocket and peered at the message. ‘It’s Kate. She’s arriving tomorrow morning!’
Willow Manor,York - Georgiana
Caroline awokeas first light seeped through the glass panes into her bedchamber. She pushed herself upwards and leaned heavily against the headboard,still groggy. The dreams were becoming more insistent—each night George visited her. Not the George she knew, but a different George from another time.
At first, she thought she was dreaming about him because she longed for him. The first dream had been so passionate when they had lain together, it was etched in her mind and she found herself frequently lost in the memories of their lovemaking when she was supposed to be concentrating on lessons with Olivia or discussing plans with the countess.
After several weeks of nightly dreams, it was as though a different life was unfolding as she slept. She dared not mention her experience to anyone, or she would surely be marked as a witch with powers to divine the future. When she was a young girl, Caroline witnessed a newcomer to Willow Wick, ducked on a stool in the waters of the village pond to test whether she was a witch.
She shivered at the cruel punishments meted out by the holy men on their witch hunts. Caroline hadn’t believed the poor girl was guilty of anything other than having a birthmark on her breast. A sign of the devil, they said. What would they say if word got out that she was speaking about visions in her dreams?
No, I must keep this to myself, even if I am fearful for my sanity.
The previous night, she dreamt George was driving a fast green vehicle, the likes of which she’d never seen or even imagined before. She was alongside him in the dream, and it was obvious by the way they looked and spoke to each other that they were very much in love. And when Caroline thought of how George had touched her in the dream, she blushed.
She shook her head, as if trying to grasp at some newfound clarity, but her mind was still full of snippets and images of another life. A life she couldn’t understand where her name was Cara. There was bizarre immodest clothing, they drank endless cups of coffee, and they each held a small object in their hands, called a phone.
What is the meaning of these visions? Have I developed psychic powers?
Caroline rubbed her tired eyes. Not only was she confused and exhausted by the nightly visions, but an intense yearning for George coursed through her, and she was never at peace.
They had made love, but it only made her crave him more. Images of their urgent lovemaking flashed through her mind. Her skin grew hot, and she thought it must surely be sinful, but just the thought of him inflamed her. She craved his hard body on hers and thought about how he made her cry out with joy. He touched her with his beautiful firm hands, with an urgency and confidence which had her begging him to wait no longer, but to take her.
In the dream, no class barrier divided them. They were man and wife, and equal in all things. He was her other half, and she was his. They were counterparts. They fit together perfectly, and as Caroline lay there on the cool sheets, in the glow of the early morning light, she realised one thing. By some strange sorcery or divination, she was Cara. Their beings were one and the same.
And she must never tell a living soul. Her visions must go with her to the grave or she would meet hers all too soon.
Caroline dozed for a short while, until the gentle sounds of the stirring house grew louder and more insistent, and then she forced her weary body to rise from the bed, and she washed with the sparkling cold water she poured into the bowl from the heavy jug that always stood on the chest in her chamber, ready for her morning ablutions.
