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Connie Lavery excitedly pushed open the front door that her Uncle Alvin never locked when expecting her, grateful to have a family member showing interest in his work. Others, including Connie’s mother, his own sister, dismissed him as a ‘mad scientist’. “Genius, he was, but deflected into mad stuff. So absent-minded.” Connie had heard that so many times over the years.

Only her fourth visit, since she’d discovered by chance, that this grey bricked house, in Killywell village, passed-by many times, was where her so-called crazy relative lived.

Connie, on Summer break from her first year Sciences degree, had found the boldness t0 knock at the door. Faced by an extremely tall man, thin as a garden cane, with fair wavy hair and a long friendly face, Connie thought, this couldn’t be him. Mad scientists wouldn’t wear jeans and a checked shirt, would they? More like a cowboy.

Her guarded question, “Are you my Uncle Alvin?”, had him chuckling in a low-toned voice, “Oh, those eyes. You’re my sister Doreen’s girl. Constance, isn’t it?”

“They call me Connie.” He remembered her name. Was this absent-mindedness?

“And you are too mature to call me Uncle—I’m happy with just Alvin.”

A close relationship started immediately. Connie’s life was set to change. The mad scientist image belied the reality of Alvin Sangley. True, many rooms, cluttered with tools, gadgets and discarded ‘inventions, were less tidy than the modern kitchen and bathroom.

Impressed by the remote-control floor sweeper, designed like a plump cat, Connie liked how readily he laughed when displaying some of his failed attempts. “Ah, the enthusiasm of youth,” he sighed.

Reaching the top landing, Connie was intrigued by the large, locked door up there. A numbered keypad beside it..

“What’s in there?”

“Ah, that,” Alvin said quietly. “My life’s work. Such science needs time, patience, and secrecy.”

Connie had departed that first meeting both excited and curious. Alvin was such a charming, dedicated man. Brilliant, if he proved the family wrong.

Doubts began on her second visit, when, surprised and thrilled, she was led directly to that mysterious door, with no hint of what to expect “I’m so pleased to reveal this to a supportive relative.”

Alvin opened the door and ushered her inside, as he said, “I hope it impresses you.”

Connie was immediately shocked. After devastating untidiness in other rooms, this much larger, higher space was immaculately set-up. Benches around three sides were clear, apart from a set of charts or diagrams spread neatly in one corner. Tools and assorted instruments hung neatly on one wall. The far, red-bricked wall had a large, wide window that continued upwards to slope with the contour of the roof.

But Connie’s attention was on the strange black structure standing near the high window. A control panel, all coloured buttons, and switches, lit the front. Short metal steps led to a low platform on which a large black cylinder, like an enormous open bin pointed up towards the window. Draped above the platform was a large sheet.

Much more than Connie had expected.

Alvin was so animated, as he watched her, before asking, “What do you think of it?”

“What does it do?”

Briefly the enthusiasm dipped, “Until now, not exactly what I want.” Then his expression brightened, “But I’m so close. I wanted you here when it happens,”

“Close to what, Alvin?” Connie’s curiosity going wild.

Alvin’s response sent her hopes tumbling. “You’ve heard of Albert Einstein?”

“Theory of Relativity,” Connie said, glad to show some knowledge.

Alvin looked pleased, “Good. His belief that only the speed of light was fixed set me on this path. And have you read about---time travel?”

Connie’s heart sank. Time travel? Oh, surely not. A renowned impossibility in books, films, even theories but all total fantasy. Had her mother been right? Was Alvin slightly crazy?

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Did her disappointment show?.

At the control panel, Alvin pushed a small gear lever and the windows at wall and ceiling level parted soundlessly.

“Best done in good light,” Alvin said. Collecting a large empty cardboard box, he placed it centrally on the platform. “Choose a year, Connie. Only in the past.”

Unconvinced, Connie called, “1600,”

Alvin touched two switches, “I’m still tinkering with beam widths,” he said.

Connie watched Alvin hit all the coloured buttons.. A wheezing sound saw the draping sheet spread like a shroud over the carboard box. The lower edge tightened, and it became a misshapen cocoon of glowing wires.

“Look,” Alvin said, pointing at a faint blue beam pushing out beyond the trees. “Too obvious in total darkness. Invisible in sunlight. Now look!”

Pressing a switch, before leaning onto the platform and with one arm he lifted the edge of the cocoon. There was no box. “Where is it?”

“In 1600, I hope.” Spoken with just a touch of pride.

Connie was dubious. Had it burned up? Alvin pressed the buttons in reverse order, red first. They watched the sheet rise.

“Can you bring it back?”

Alvin’s shrugged, “I’ve just tried. I’ve made constant adjustments.”

For another two hours, a small stool, a large cushion, a wooden tray, and a small plant in a pot were despatched to various past years.

Alvin smiled weakly , “So far, no returns. But getting them away is something, Don’t you agree?”

“But if you’re not sure where?”

“Oh, I know exactly where, but not sure, when.”

“Where are they, then?”

Alvin’s finger pointed down. “Right on this spot. A field, a forest, whatever is where we are now. Not impressed, are you?.”

Connie shrugged, “I’m sorry. I’m a practical person. Without clear proof—I’m never certain.”

Alvin ruffled her hair, “I’m sorry, but I appreciate your interest and company. I’ll make adjustments and tomorrow, it’ll be better. We may talk about black holes.”

“I read about black holes. Caused by a star breaking up?”

Her uncle’s eyes lit up, “Oh, excellent. I hope it’s a special day for what will be only your third visit.”

The sheer magic of that third visit would live with her for the rest of her life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite set-backs, Alvin, on Connie’s third visit, remained bright and cheerful. He took her directly to his machine. Every step he blinded her with the science of time and space. The door was open, also the wide window. He was so prepared.

He indicated an old-fashioned wooden coat hanger. “Today’s trial object,” he declared.

“Don’t blackholes crush anything that goes inside.”

“True,” Alvin answered. “so glad you’re interested. I’ll try to simplify things.””

“The canopy that come down is the circlon,” Alvin said. “The circlon does the atomising, before the beam directs it into space where all time is held.”

Together they lifted the hat-stand onto the platform, where Alvin placed the base rather casually, “I’ve widened the beam because it’s the biggest thing I’ve transported.. See if it reaches 1812.”

“Why 1812?”

Alvin shrugged, “Why not? You remember the order?. Then do it.”

Surprised at the offer, Connie needed no urging. She’d recalled every move. Red, blue, yellow, green and a final red twice. The circlon enclosed the hat-stand like a giant chrysalis. It glowed, until the blue beam from the cylinder passed through it. t.

Alvin stood beside her praising every move, before pressing the red button again, and as the circlon rose, he queried, “Gone?”

With only that partial lifting, Connie could see the whole platform floor. Surprised, she reported, “It’s not there.”

Allowing the circlon to fall again, he began pressing buttons in reverse order. “Now comes the crunch. Bringing it back.”

Connie asked, “No circlon at the other end---how can--?”

Alvin regarded her appreciatively, “You are going to be some scientist ,” he said fervently. “If the object remains on the spot where it landed it should return.. Now we wait.”

Worry and gradual despair showed as nothing happened. Connie had so wished success for him.

“Try, try, again. Never give up, Connie,” her uncle sighed, as he turned away from the machine. “Come on we’ll have coffee and biscuits. I’ll leave it running. Just in case.”

Connie followed, wondering how she might raise his spirits. Just as he gripped the door handle, there was a swish and clatter behind them. Connie heard a grunted cry.

They turned to see the circlon bulging in several spots as though being pummelled from inside. Alvin raced to the panel and knocked at several switches. The circlon rolled up and Connie’s heart pounded at what she saw on the platform. Behind her, she heard Alvin’s gasped, “Well, glory be—”

There, clinging to the hat-stand, was the tall figure of a young man covered in filth, his shirt and breeches streaked in mud. Through the dirt on his face she could detect terror and fury.

Connie’s shock was coloured by her delight for her uncle. “You’ve done it!”

“Human matter safely through time,” he cried, throwing his arms around Connie, but, calming he warned, “Gentle steps from this point.”

He smiled at the angry, confused young man. “Welcome,” he said quietly. “Have you a name?”

A desperate response, “Away with your trickery. I want Fern back.” .

For almost half an hour, he refused to come off the platform, holding the stand as a defensive weapon.

Slowly, he accepted that Connie and Alvin were not threats. And as Connie presented him with a plate of biscuits, he glared at her demanding, “Why’s a bonny lass like you showing all your bits? You one of Bolander’s harlots?”

That had drawn a gasp from Connie and a chuckle from Alvin, who said, “We’re friends.”

The light food encouraged him to come down, and he told them his name was Danny Whitley and Fern was his sister. “She’s trapped in Bolander’s Homes.”

When asked what year it was he replied, “Eighteen and ten.”

Alvin nodded, “We were close. They agreed that his sanity needed to be protected from experiencing many modern items, but he desperately needed awareness of a modern bathroom.

Connie found it sheer delight watching Danny’s discovery of the wonders of a bathroom. Hots and colds. Sprays and turning on and off taps were magic for him. The toilet really transfixed him, and he jumped back from the first flow when Alvin pressed the button.

A bath was run for him and from outside they heard his joyous growls, chuckling, and splashing. When he emerged wearing a white towelling gown, that was when Connie’s heart had its first hiccough. He looked gorgeous. His face shone, his brown eyes were bright, his black hair curled damply over his forehead, and he even looked taller.

As he ate in the kitchen, which filled him with wonder, he told of escaping from Bolander’s lackeys. They were taking him to the pit master. He’d leapt from the open waggon and run into the woods, saw the hat-stand lying in the grass. As soon as he straightened it upright he said he felt tingling everything turned blue with flashing sparks..

Alvin’s head nodded with satisfaction. “Returned it to the spot.”

“Then I was here. Got to get back for Fern.”

And that was the continual interjection as they sat later, in the comfort of the sitting room. His sister Fern dominated his revelations. Connie couldn’t take her eyes from that handsome face, as he revealed being born on a farm. He helped his mother and father, but at nine years old, with Fern a baby, a fever took their mother. His father’s devastation lead him to go to sea, mainly to make more money for them.

It was an Aunt Bella, his mother’s elder sister, who took care of them. His father had come home once with tales of ship battles. His ship was called ‘The Torrent’ at a big battle called Trafalgar.

“He was there?” Alvin gasped. Connie enjoyed hearing Danny’s story, but the look of him was churning her insides. It was wonderful when their eyes occasionally met and briefly locked.

Then a wagon Aunt Bella was leading, rolled over and she was killed. He had been sixteen and Fern was eight. He grimaced at not having avoided the ever searching lackies, always searching for orphans.

“Spent three years slaving for him. Even Fern had to scrub floors and labour in factories. And Bolander always got a fee for us.”

He was looking weary and Connie felt a wrench when Alvin took him up to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now, here she was agog, for her fourth visit, with a very heart-lifting prospect. When Alvin appeared in the hall, dressed in a smart grey suit, she knew he was heading for a part-time session in the university. “ Boring, after yesterday’s excitement,” he chuckled.

Alvin looked her up and down. His question was inevitable, “Dressed for summer?” He paused grinning, “Or seduction?”

Her orange, shortest summer cotton skirt and thin pale lemon blouse with no bra were more than simply cooling. But she responded with, “Oh, Alvin.”

“I saw how you looked at Danny last night. And his eyes weren’t on my good looks.” He laughed, “Take care, Connie.”

“Where is he?” She had expected to see Danny immediately.

“Last time I looked, still flat out. Offer him breakfast when he wakes. Then,” he opened the front door, “ensure he isn’t overwhelmed by modern practices.”

And Connie, uncharacteristically, found herself more than ready to overwhelm Danny with a very ancient practice. She dashed up to the bedroom where Danny was. Alvin had left the door partially open, and there he lay, dark eyes closed, lovely in repose, broad bare chest above his sheeted lower half.

Shocked by her reaction to this young man, when the disaster of her deflowering in a university garden was her only intimate experience. Yet she knew she could willingly climb in beside him.

Impatiently she sat in the kitchen, sipping at a cup of coffee , and the moment she heard a thud upstairs, she was rushing upstairs.

Her breath shuddered as she saw him sitting on the side of the bed, broad shouldered, head down, pyjama pants slightly agape revealing dark pubic hair.

“Like to eat?” she asked quietly.

Head raised, those dark eyes regarded her and there was a heavy sadness there, but he smiled weakly as he said, “God, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

His words created an immediate seepage between her thighs as she moved towards him. This is how she knew he would affect her. Not many men had done that.

“Does that make you so unhappy?” she sat alongside him, probably as close as they’d been, and without thinking she laid a hand over his.

“Connie, I can’t let Fern be kept in Bolander’s grip. She’s eleven. He rents out girls at that age to factories. Many end crippled. Some die.”

She had raised his hand to her thinly clad left breast. His fingers instantly closed gently around it; his eyes looked gratefully into hers. But in her own mind she could sense his worry. And even as his fingers moved over her breast, finding the nipple, setting her juices bubbling, she was telling herself that she’d could never be so self-centred as to ignore his worry.

Her hand dropped to his groin. No hardness, as he murmured, “Please, Connie. Help me. All I know is, I have to protect Fern.”

Connie sighed, and nodded, knowing there could be no future. Reluctantly she stood and pulled Danny to his feet, noticing how he rocked a little. He seemed weaker. The daring idea that had entered her head was a hell of a risk.

“Danny, I don’t want you to go, but I appreciate your obligation to Fern. Are you prepared to take a massive chance to get back to her? One that might kill you.”

He leaned towards her and his lips touched her cheek. “Anything, Connie, anything. I’m lost here, anyway.”

Connie knew Alvin had put his clothes in the washing machine. Waste of time, he’d said, But now Danny needed them if her plan worked. Telling him she’d get them she moved to the door and, looking back she added, “Today I am beautiful only for your eyes.”

Clean shirt and breeches in hand she came back to where he still sat dejectedly. She turned her back as he dressed. Moving upstairs , she thought he seemed much slower.

“I feel weaker,” he sighed, as they entered the top room. Nervously, Connie checked her uncle’s machine. Alvin had left the settings as he said he would. God, she hoped it would work. And better if there was some proof that Danny had arrived.

Ensuring all the buttons and switches were as they should be, she turned to Danny put her arms around him, and looked into his tired looking eyes. “A kiss for luck?” she asked. And pressed her lips to his. It was a warm, pleasant kiss. “Hope you get Fern.”

“Thank you, lovely Connie.”

On the platform, she pushed the hat-stand aside, and stood Danny on the blue circle, before hurrying down to the controls.

One more action, she thought, breath tight in her throat, as she pushed the red button and watched the circlon descend around Danny’s stumbling figure. Sadly, she raised a hand of farewell and he responded. Blue beam struck the circlon.

Nervous, she hurried up onto the platform. Had he gone? She called his name, but the machine was humming loudly. Still in a whirl of worry and doubt about taking this hasty action, her eyes rested on the hat-stand, leaning against the rail.

That was it, a way of proving to Alvin that Danny had got there. She could encourage him to press the recall button.

Lost in this myriad of decisions she heaved the stand behind her as she thoughtlessly ducked under the edge of the circlon. Danny had gone. She hadn’t been near the blue circle, yet immediately her arm turned blue and pins and needles sensation tingled over her. How? Too late she recognised her error. Alvin said he’d widened the beam, but even more stupid, in her uncertainty she hadn’t switched off.

All that realisation took seconds, now there was only a drowning sensation, with sparks rather than bubbles, as her body was pushed, twisted,, no terror, no brain. Only blue light..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dazed, and momentarily confused , Connie lay on her back, in grass, her legs spread wide, and her short skirt up around waist. Raising her head, she saw Danny turning away from peering through a thick line of bushes. His jaw dropped as his eyes took in her gaping thighs.

“You followed me?” He asked, forcing his eyes up to her face, holding out his hand to pull her to her feet, feeling no shame in the company of this lovely man.

“Accidently. Remember my name, Danny?”

“Connie, why bring that?” He pointed at the hat stand.

She told him, picking it up and placing it where she had landed. “So, Alvin will know where we’ve gone.” .

“Who’s Alvin?” Danny’s brow furrowed. “Bolander’s lackies are still out there,” he said, gesturing towards the bushes.

“You don’t remember Alvin?” Connie asked. Where was his earlier weakness? She moved alongside him to take her first look.

Immediately she saw the pit-wheel to her left, slowly turning. An active pit confirming they were where Alvin’s house was now. Now? When was ‘now’?

Three black-coated, stick-wielding men moved back and forth on the waggon-pitted track. Everywhere was so different. All corn field or woods, and only scattered tiny cottages. It had been near noon when they’d set off, but here the sun was low in the western sky.

“Where’s Fern?”

Danny looked surprised, “You going to help?”

“Why not?”

He squeeze her hand, “God, if they catch you nearly naked like that.”

This was nearly naked?

To the right, the trees and bushes ended, Danny pointed down to a row of stone cottages. A washing line ran from the nearest, and shirts, vests and three dresses jigged there.

“His men will watch until dark.” Danny said, “At dusk, I’ll try to snaffle a dress, if they’re still there.”

In thicker cover they sat on a mossy bank. Despite their threatening situation, Connie was enjoying his closeness. “How do we get to Fern?”

“Darkness we go to Fordley Mound. The house is there. We wait until exercise time.”

Connie knew Fordley Mound. Used to cycle down it as a kid. It was maybe a mile and a half away. “When we get her?” Connie asked.

“Head for the Mrs Challiss cottage. Good lady. Would have taken Fern in if Bolander’s men hadn’t caught us after Aunt Bella was killed.”

Their time together could be short. Connie took his hand and murmured, “Need comforting before we go for Fern?”

And she offered her mouth which Danny took eagerly, grunted when her tongue slid between his lips, and she drew his hand once again to her thinly veiled breast. She had never felt so desperate for gratification. She lowered her hand to where his hardness was obvious.

As soon as she touched it he broke the kiss, his eyes alight, “I’ve –I’ve never tupped a woman. Hell, you are so lovely.”

“You must have touched a breast before.”

“Not as good as yours,” adding defensively, “I’ve fingered Sally Timms at the Black Bull. But, so has everybody else.” His fingers flicked at her nipple, and Connie unbuttoned her blouse, and drew his head down.

Connie couldn’t believe this wanton desire. Her panties were soaked, her vaginal passage pulsed with a mad need that was new to her. So that, as his tongue licked at her nipple, she took his hand, and drew it under her skirt where his unskilled fingers, blindly probed, over her soaked panties.

She unfastened his tough breeches, and she felt the promise of an early orgasm as her fingers clutched his lengthy hardness.

Almost immediately he gasped turned his shuddering body as he ejaculated into the grass, mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

Connie was deflated when Danny stood, declaring it gloomy enough to try for a dress. Adjusting her clothing, she pushed her wet panties into her skirt pocket. Frustrated, she saw, through gathering gloom, Danny scrambling back holding a green dress. Immediately, she guessed it was two sizes too small.

Removing her blouse and skirt left her totally naked and her own bravado shocked her as she deliberately stood there with Danny’s eyes bathing over her.

Getting into it was a struggle. Front fastening, any careless movement burst it open across her breasts, and unfastening it from ankle to thigh was essential for her to walk.

Waiting for darkness, they kissed, and his tongue was sweet. His hands could easily handle her unfettered breasts, and she masturbated him for a second time watching his exquisite hardness, until the white spurt of his seed arched in front of her.

Darkness saw them follow a pathway west, always close to trees for security. Fordley Mound was more thickly hedged and wooded than she recalled.

Beyond the mound a low fence surrounded a yard, and a stark unlit building. “Now we need patience and luck,” he whispered.

High up among the trees, he whispered a basic plan. Attract Fern’s attention, as she neared where they were. “She’ll be looking. We grab her and run. They’ll chase us, but you run with Fern. She knows where Mrs Challiss lives.”

“But you?”

“I’ve escaped them before.”

Connie contemplated telling him of her father’s gift for her eighteenth birthday. She had never needed it, but –God, this was a scary situation.

“We should rest,” Danny suggested, lying back on a grassy slope. But since, with one hand, he was stroking her bared inner thigh, his other was unfastening the rest of her dress, Connie, worries set aside, knew she was set to experience her first old-fashioned tupping.

Their lips meshed, and Danny, much more confident, trailed fingers along and then dipped into her wetness. Tingling waves of elation coursed upwards through her whole body.

She gasped, reaching down, and finding his waistband conveniently loose, gripped that wonderful hardness. Their tongues fought as his fingers roamed onto her clit. Too much, her whole being screamed for his immensity inside her.

“Do it,” she hissed, “in me.”

Legs spread wider, before pulling him over her, so desperate. His shadowed face looked down at hers. “So beautiful,” he murmured. His first time? Oh, please don’t shed too early.

Danny wriggled closer and the next second the whole length of his tree trunk shaft was storming up to her cervix. Connie’s orgasm was instant. That rod could reach her very soul, as the squeal of release began on her lips, immediately deadened by Danny’s kiss, and grunted “Shush.”

Two more thrusts and one final heave and she knew he was spurting inside her, and she had a second orgasm. She had travelled through time for this. Now she wanted all time to stop. “All right?” he queried.

“Just exquisite,” she whispered. Sometime before morning light, he entered her deliciously again. But this time they just lay still, tied together, sharing heartbeats, sharing love, until she became vaguely aware of Danny pulsing his seed into her. Connie felt nothing but the sheer pleasure of the moment.

They may have dozed but when fully awake the sun was casting shadows. They heard voices from the yard, a couple of shouts. “Patience now,” Danny whispered, and from behind bushes, they viewed the yard.

Black coated lackies, an occasional young boy carrying a bucket into the house. Waiting, whispering, questioning, Connie found that he had no recall of light switching, or of the bathroom.

After about two hours, ragged boys and girls appeared and moved in desultory fashion about the yard. Four lackies walked among them, threateningly. Children of six to twelve years old. Many of them limped or walked with difficulty.

A line of six youths, aged sixteen maybe, were loaded onto an open cart. “To the pits,” Danny whispered.

Connie had never witnessed anything so cruel.

“Fern!” Danny gasped, half joyful, half worried.

A pretty young girl, in a ragged dress, had appeared, and clearly she was scanning around the fence. “Knew I wouldn’t leave her,” Danny murmured.

He half stood, eyes on the lackies. Then he called her name in a loud whisper. Fern heard, waved, and ran towards where they were. Danny stood and as a lackey spotted him and yelled, Fern was scrambling through the fence and Danny grabbed her in his arms.

Two stick-waving lackeys raced towards the fence. “Road just ahead,” Danny gasped, as Connie finding running difficult, had loosened her skirt to her groin. Soon onto the dried mud road, Danny put Fern down before waving, “Run now, Fern. Like the wind to Mrs Challiss. Go.”

That delay had brought the two lackeys much closer. One raced towards Danny, “Go, Connie. Go. For God’s sake.”

Trying to control her trembling, Connie was thinking, hoping, that the gift her father given her last year would be of use now. A session of self- defence lessons before university. “For fighting off the wolves,” he had laughed.

Briefly, she saw that Danny had snatched up a large tree branch to face his assailant.

Her lackey grinned toothlessly, as he yelled, “Lady, I’ve got a real pole for you.”

Breathing heavily, Connie suddenly faced him, deliberately parting her skirt. His pace slackened as he gawped at her bared bush. Two quick steps brought him near enough her purpose. Grinning, he reached for her and his grin became a shocked, pained moan, as her savage kick struck into his groin. He immediately doubled up.

Knowing it wasn’t part of the original lesson, Connie nevertheless, having that face coming down slammed up into it with her knee. Out for the count.

Meanwhile Danny had managed to flatten his opponent, and he came to her, looked in amazement at the prone lackey, and said, “You are some wonder. Come on.”

Fern was delighted to see them safe, Mrs Challiss, a plump jovial woman, fed them, sent her teenage son, Stan to watch for Bolander’s men. She found Connie a dress that didn’t show “her titties.” .

Connie was havening a growing worry of reality. Of home things. How worried would her parents be? With that came an unexpected feeling of weakness. Was it the confrontation?

Mrs Challiss pointed to an envelope on the mantel over the fireplace. “Oh, Danny, that letter is addressed to your Aunt Bella. Mrs Daley who lives in in her cottage now brought it and apologised for not bringing it sooner. Had it a while apparently.”

Danny took the letter down looked at it, opened the envelope, and said, “But who’ll read it for us.”

“I can read.” Connie said, not thinking it a boast.

“You’re a scholar?” Mrs Challiss sounded surprised.

“Not really, but I can read.”

Eyes wide, Danny handed her the letter, “Can you read who sent it?”

Connie saw Danny’s frown as she turned to the end of the letter, and read, “Your loyal brother-in- law, John.”

“Your father, Danny,” Mrs Challiss gasped.

“Da?” squealed Fern.

Wide eyed, Danny looked dazed. He nodded towards the letter, “Please, read.”

Relieved that the handwriting was clear, she read out, John Whitley’s apologies, and how much improved things were. Connie paused at the gasps when she read that he had teamed up with two others to acquire their own ship and were transporting spices into southern France.

Reading on about how he missed Danny and Fern, he wrote that he hoped to be with them in less than three months, and by then he could have business in England.

“This seems too good,” Danny sighed, “He’s alive.”

Fern went skipping around the room, “Da’s alive. Da’s alive.”

Mrs Challiss asked, “Is it dated?”

“March. Thirtieth Bit smudged.” Connie told her.

Danny had been hugging Fern, but he looked up worriedly, “That’s five months ago.”

“Don’t start worrying about it.” Mrs Challiss advised .”Ships get delayed.”

Connie had watched the switch from hope to doubt, and so longed to console him. She was becoming more worried about other matters. This strange, drained feeling that seeped through her bones, reminding of how Danny had weakened at Alvin’s. That, and the worry that must be gathering back home, was filling her with the unwanted realisation that she and Danny might soon have to part.

That was the moment that a very perceptive Mrs Challiss made her suggestion. “Look we have some hope now. Fern, would you like to help me bake some bread?”

Fern eagerly leapt, whooping from her chair, ”Yes, yes, yes.”

Mrs Challiss turned her eyes to Connie, “Maybe you could cheer Danny up with a little stroll in the sun. Stay near the trees. You may need to hide in them later.”

Danny was quickly on his feet, leading her to the door.

Outside, under a high bright sun, Connie, worried by the weakness in her legs, clasped Danny’s hand as they moved towards the trees behind the cottage.

Trees had become a definite part of their time together, but Connie found these thicker and denser..

The birdsong was constant, so mixed, so sweet. Her thoughts were stalled by Danny taking her into his arms and kissing her deeply. They stood mouths enmeshed for a long time. Connie felt his hard rise against her belly. Wanting to absorb every sensation of these moments, she stepped back unfastened and dropped the dress, so she was naked for him.

And those dark eyes caressed every inch of her, just as she had hoped they would. Remember this, she thought. He had forgotten all the events and experiences of her time. Would this stay in his mind? Quickly unfastening his breeches, she dropped to her knees, kissed his purple shiny cap, before running her lips along his rock-hard length. A first-time act for her, but she looked up and saw Danny’s shocked look turn to a rapturously grateful groan, she was delighted.

Danny shrugged out of his shirt, and, just as Connie wanted, they were skin to skin, and Danny’s mouth and tongue were consuming her breast, suckling her nipples, driving her wild , while his fingers, slithered along her wet groove. One, then two, probed into her entry and he wriggled them as deep as he could, making her squeal and hold back desperately fearful of the loss of energy sweeping over her’

His face his eyes to gazed warmly into hers as he whispered, “Oh, Connie, are you a gift from the Gods.”

She hugged him close, and said, “No, but you were.” And she reached down to grasp his erection and draw it to her entry.

Then with a jerk of her hips that she found strangely difficult to muster, his hardness was inside her, only an inch, but that was all it took to set him plunging into her.

Worried that she hadn’t the verve to respond as she wanted, she just lay there absorbing the sheer blissful delirium of thrust after thrust of his rugged manhood. And as his rapidly increasing onslaught signalling his spurting, she came with an ecstasy that almost hurt.

Their gasps and cries, scared birds out of the trees.

As they lay quietly with his arms tight around her, he told her, “You’re so wonderful.”

“And you’ll never forget me?”

“I hope I’ll never have to.”

The pain was real in her chest. Tell him, Connie, admit what has to happen. But his question stopped her, “Connie,” he muttered, “I’ve never heard that name before.”

“It’s short for Constance,” she told him.

“Oh, yes, that fits. That is exactly what you are in my head.”

He kissed her and his hand trailed up her inner thigh to play around her clit, as promised. Her responses should have been equally demanding. God yes, he was learning to be a wonderful lover, but---

And that was the moment that Mrs Chappell’s voice echoed through the trees. “Danny, Danny”

Danny was up and dressed quickly. Connie struggled into her dress, so weak that it seemed to take an age. “Take your time,” Danny called back, as he raced away. “Best stay among the trees, in case I have to bring Fern back here,”

With difficulty she reached the fringe of the trees, and the fact that Danny hadn’t come back with Fern but such a long delay, suggested that it hadn’t been an emergency. Or had he been caught?

Then Danny reappeared around the corner of the cottage and alongside him was a distinguished looking man in a dark, long jacketed suit. Clinging to the jacket was an ecstatically bouncy Fern. But Connie didn’t need to be told that this newcomer was Danny’s father. He was a time-scarred double.

Danny stepped up to her, and made the introduction, ”Connie, meet my father, John Whitley.”

John Whitley stepped forward, same brown eyes, same smile, “Connie,” he said reaching for her hand, “I’m very pleased to meet you, and I understand I owe you a large thank you in helping my son to rescue Fern.” He raised her hand to his lips, before saying, “We must talk later, after we’ve dealt with a certain Mr Bolander.”

“I told him, and when he saw my scars----”

John Whitley finished the sentence, “I sent a messenger back to the hotel to bring more of my crew That may be them now.”

They had moved to the front of the cottage to see a second carriage pull up behind the one already standing there.. “Let’s get this done,” John Whitley said, and went to talk to his men.

Weak, Connie leaned back against the wall, as Danny came to her, “I must go with them. Watch them deal Bolander down. He kissed her fondly and she was just able to respond. “You look tired,” he said.

“Don’t worry about me, Danny.”

He hurried towards the already moving carriage, and looked back, “Everything is going to be perfect now.” Then he was up on the coach alongside his father. Mrs Chappell and Fern waved before moving inside.

Connie looked up the inclined field to where the pit-wheel showed. Could she make that distance? Was she dying?

Carefully, step by painful step, she dragged herself up the slope. Every move was an effort. She didn’t know how long it took, but at last she was level with the wheel, telling her that those bushes ahead was her route ---home.

Once, she looked back. Tears were on her cheeks and she sought consolation in hoping, like everything else in his travel with her, she would slip from his mind. Did she want that? If she got back to Alvin would her memories of all this disappear?

She struggled up among the trees, trying to recall where the important spot might be. Too weak to hunt around she sat for a moment on a fallen tree. Then, her throat tightened as she saw the hat-stand lying among the leaves ten yards away. Her heart was pounding. Alvin hadn’t recalled it.

She found her hidden her skirt and blouse. The panties in the pocket were almost dry, and with a great struggle she dressed. The blue dress she draped over a bush. If Danny should come searching he would know.

Worriedly, she approached the fallen hat-stand and immediately her worries lifted. Around one of the hooks was knotted one of Alvin’s favourite ties. He knew, he’d called it in and returned it.

Somehow she found the strength to raise the stand and place it so she could gratefully let it take her weight. How long would--?

Next second there was only blue light, sparks, drowning, pummelling, and she found herself inside the cocoon of the circlon. She heard Alvin’s delighted yell, as the circlon rose away and she was blinking into the light of his large upper room, and he was charging towards her. “Brilliant. That was brilliant.” And he threw his arms around her.

That was when Connie noticed that she had no sense of weakness. She told Alvin, about it and how Danny had been weak before she transported him.

Alvin looked concerned, “That is disturbing. Clearly travelling through time does affect the metabolism. Anything else about affects?”

Connie replied anxiously, “Alvin, my parents will be worried sick. I’ve never been away overnight.”

“Overnight?” He pointed up at the clock, “You left before noon and it’s not eight pm in the evening. Barely eight hours.”

Connie was staggered and told him of it being near sunset when she reached 1810 arrived. Another thing. Danny had no memory of being in the bathroom, of you, the machine, yet he remembered my name.”

Alvin urged her to ring home and then she could tell him the whole story.

Guilty at having to tell a white lie, but saying she’d been in town, just looking at shops, eventually placated her angry mother. Then she sat with Alvin in the sitting room and told him the whole adventure from beginning to end, surprised that, without blushing she was able to admit her intimacy with Danny.

Alvin with surprising understanding said, “So you’re going to be missing him?”

She nodded, “And I’ll never know what happened at Bolander’s place.”

For a couple of days and nights, she thought and dreamed of Danny. On the second day, when she visited, Alvin told her, “I’ve done some research on the things you’ve told me. I want to drive you somewhere.”

Deeply puzzled, Connie frowned when Alvin stopped in front of high metal gates. He patted her hand, before telling her, “Oldest cemetery in the city. Full of local history.”

Entering by a small side gate and passing many elaborate gravestones his steps slowed approaching one with two massive angels and at their feet a gathering of small children.

Alvin pointed to the inscriptions on the low grey slab, and Connie held her breath, tense in the knowledge of what lay ahead, trembling she read,

In this plot lie the mortal remains of the Whitley family.

John Whitley, ship owner and patron to the poor

Born 12th April 1768. Died October 15th 1855.

Connie bit her lip as tears already welled in her eyes and she read on,

Daniel Whitley, son of the above

Ship owner, councillor, patron of children’s homes

Born 16th January 1791 Died September 1882

Alice Whitley wife of Daniel

Born 12th February 1800 Died 19th July 1837

Desperately holding on to her emotions, Connie asked, “Fern?”

Alvin shrugged, “Guessing, she married and is in some other family grave. But Danny had a good long life.”

Connie’s breath shuddered in her throat as she observed, “His wife died young.”

“In childbirth, internet reveals. They’d only been married a year.”

“A year? But he’d be---what? Forty-five.”

She looked up as Alvin said, “Must have been looking for some perfect woman. The baby, a daughter, he named Constance—wonder why he chose that? I’ll leave you to mull that over.”

Tears streamed on her cheeks, “You remembered me.” She traced a finger over his carved name. “You were loving me just three days ago. You searched and never forgot. And I’ll never forget you, my darling Danny.”