Background
Lizzy - a castle cook in medieval times - has fallen for Darren - a modern TV chef. But she has no idea of the consequences of his visits.
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"What have you done with him -- where is he?" Sandra was about as unimpressed as Darren had ever seen her, and he'd seen her pretty damned unimpressed.
He was tempted to deny all knowledge but knew it would be petty. "If you mean the old fashioned guy who keeps cropping up places you'd expect to find me, he'll be back soon -- I promise. You'll see as much of him as you could ever want to."
"Old fashioned doesn't quite cut it." A small smile crossed her face as she stirred her coffee. They had the small cafe to themselves. Darren returned from the past looking sideways at a urinal in the bathroom -- Marcus must have been inspecting the plumbing or something. Sandra's face when he emerged from the loo in Marcus' place was a picture he'd never forget, and it segmented neatly into a conversation he'd been wondering how to start. He got himself a coffee before he sat down, though -- it felt like a way to control the situation.
She chuckled. "At first, he was so imperiously rude to me, it was funny."
Darren nodded. "That tallies with what I've heard about him."
She shrugged. "It didn't last once I put him in his place. Now he'll do anything to please me." She looked up from her coffee to make sure she had his attention. "And he does -- please me, I mean."
"That's all I needed to hear. Just so you know, I'm signing everything over to your name -- the house, my business and both cars. I won't be needing them anymore." He saw the suspicious expression creeping across her features. "Don't ask questions -- it'll only end up with both of us nursing headaches. There's no catch, I'm not playing a game and I wish you all the best. I only wanted to be sure you'd be happy."
"What's going on, Darren? You're saying all the things I want to hear -- the why and what of it, but I'm not hearing about how."
He sighed. "That sounded like a question." She raised her eyebrows at him and he deflated a little. "If I go into detail, this conversation's going to start sounding ridiculous. Just trust me, Sandra. You'll be happier, I'll be happier, and it sounds like this other guy will be too." Sirens sounded from outside -- not unusual in London, but a nagging suspicion was tapping away at the back of his brain. He looked directly at Sandra and she gave him a sympathetic look.
"Sorry -- I called the police when you were getting a coffee. I didn't know what else to do!"
Fear flooded Darren's stomach. Under normal circumstances, he'd have realised it was irrational, but all he could think about was seeing Lizzy again, of folding her up in his embrace, cooking meals with someone who was actually interested, escaping the complex trappings of modern life. All that seemed in jeopardy, the odds stacking against his ever getting back.
So, as the front door opened and admitted two uniformed characters, he bolted for the back door, crashing through the cafe kitchen and heading for the alley beyond.
*****
"Jim! I need your help -- I've been arrested. You can't call me back because they took my phone off me. Thing is, mate, I want to go back. For keeps, I mean. I want to be with Lizzy and I don't care what other shit comes because of it. But my phone was low on battery even when I got here and I reckon this is my last chance. I only got hours at most and my window disappears. The Chinese guy, he reckons I got to choose. He says I can't keep changing or I'll get lost in between. Look, you're the only one who's got any clue what's going on with me, okay? Sandra thinks I'm mental and let's face it -- she's probably right. Just come and pay my fine, can you? I'll pay you straight back. I need you, mate. I'm begging."
*****
Several sweaty, nervous hours later, Darren was herded to the front of the police station. Rather than his mate Jim, it was his ex-wife's face he saw, wan and scowling, in the waiting area.
"I spoke to Jim," was all she said while he collected the various possessions he'd taken in. A quick glance at the phone showed the battery indicator blinking to say it was critically low. Darren felt tears stinging around his eyes.
As they exited the station, his legs wobbled. "I got to go now," he whispered. "I can't prepare -- I have no time."
"You're full of shit, Daz," snapped Sandra. Then she sighed, hauling him onward. "But maybe, this time, you're telling the truth."
They walked as far as a public bench and he slumped into it. All he could think about was being stuck here, in the modern world, for the rest of his life. That felt like fire sloshing around in his gut. He looked at the woman he'd ignored for the last few years and saw the merest glint of what drew them together in the first place.
"I remember how much I loved you, Sandra. It almost hurt when you weren't near. You were better than me at nearly everything -- a goddess I had to worship. That's how I feel now about Lizzy."
She blinked. "It's your problem, hubby. You fall too hard. You can't just be someone's companion -- you need them to be some kind of perfect dream they can't possibly live up to." A small smile twisted her lips. "Not even me. I can see the state you've got into -- I know where you're headed. Just ... remember what I said, okay? Let her be flawed."
He fought back tears. She understood -- as always, he'd underestimated what a lady she was. He wanted to hug her, to thank her for understanding, but he knew that wasn't what she wanted. There was no point making things awkward. "I had so much to do and now I can't. So many things I wanted to take but the time's gone. I have to go right now."
"Hold on a couple more minutes." She was reading a text. "Here -- sign these." He took the wad of documents and pen she was offering. "I spent some time with our lawyer. This liquidates your assets and signs all the kit and businesses into my name. There's a divorce agreement in there too. I know it's probably irrelevant for you but it'll help me. I hope that's okay. I sent Jim on a shopping spree. He's almost here."
He blinked but couldn't stop the water from trickling down his cheeks. "You believe me."
"Jim believed you. He's a twit, that one, but not stupid. And I know that look in your eyes. Whatever else, you're definitely in love."
Before he could respond, Jim's familiar work van screeched to a halt in front of them. "I hope you appreciate this," said his friend, hopping from the driver's side. "I paid the congestion charge for you -- you know that goes against my life philosophy."
"Being stingy isn't a philosophy." Darren grinned. "Mate, I don't know what to say."
Jim gripped his hand, wrist to wrist -- a man's shake. "Then don't say anything. Right," he opened the van doors and pulled several huge bags from it. "I wanted to buy you a blender and bowl mixer but Sandra spoiled that with common sense -- something about a lack of plug sockets in medieval kitchens. Anyway, I got you every manual gadget I could find and stocked up on dried herbs and spices -- you got enough for several years here. Don't know if they'll help, but I got seeds for most of them too." He leaned into the van and dragged out a sack that looked heavier than everything else put together. "Also, I figured money was useless in the past. So, I went round every pawn shop I could find and bought their gold." The sack clanked to the pavement, yanking his arms with it. "Hopefully, this'll carry some weight -- if you can lift it."
Darren felt the feelings welling up through his chest -- a most bizarre mix of love and excitement. He stood up and embraced his friend. They thumped fists on one another's backs, saying more than words ever could.
"Alright," said Jim eventually. "Now sod off, will you? If your battery runs out now and you're stuck here, this'll be the most awkward moment in history."
Sandra tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to find a fabric wrap pressed into his hand. "Here," she said. "A cook is nothing without his knives."
"But ..." he ran his thumb over the familiar texture of his prized possessions. The handles, so well used, they'd shaped to his hands, answered his touch with their curves. "These were your wedding present to me."
She kissed his cheek. "Now they're a parting gift." She stepped back. "Go -- before we all start to regret it."
Darren pulled his phone from a pocket. He swiped his finger across the screen. There was no way to recharge it in the past. When he ran the app, he would be using every last drop of juice -- a one way journey. He grabbed up the bags that represented his life -- and enough gold, he thought, to buy Shepton Castle if it came to it.
"Say hi to Marcus for me," he said. "Jim, kick his medieval arse if he treats Sandra wrong."
Closing his eyes, he thought about Lizzy, the way her eyes shone a light into his mind.
And pressed the button.
*****
"Can I bring somebody back with me, here into the present?"
"No. The app gives you control of your own reserved place and, indirectly, that of the one whose place you take. You cannot directly control the position of another -- it goes against every law of causality."
"So I can't have my success and the woman I love -- what kind of choice is that?"
"Search your heart, Mr Denny. What is success but an ephemeral set of invented goals designed for the purpose of bragging? You must decide what makes you happy."
"Then I must stay with her, permanently."
"As I say, the choice is yours."
*****
He arrived in the castle weighed down by a rucksack so big and heavy he could barely carry it, but feeling lighter than ever before. He rushed to the kitchen to show Lizzy all the amazing things he'd brought with him and they kissed long and passionately. A thousand questions rushed through his mind about how on Earth he was going to fit in to a castle's life and society but he just couldn't bring himself to care.
It was some time later as they rested in one another's arms in Marcus' quarters that they finally spoke.
"There is one thing I am concerned about," said Lizzy.
He searched her beautiful face. "Not me. I've found somebody I adore -- a better cook than me, a better person than me, and she's still willing to humour me. Nothing will ever concern me again."
She giggled. "That's all very well, but I've got used to having fresh ingredients every time you visit. If you're here to stay, where will I get my new foods from?"
"Well, I brought plants so we can grow something, and lots of tinned food -- I'll explain that later, but it basically lasts forever, and really --" he paused, a suspicion creeping into the panic he felt. "You're joking, right -- you're having me on?"
She smiled -- cute, adoring, perfect, and Darren's heart melted all over again. "I suppose you'll have to stick around and find out."
*****
"Is there a catch -- something you're not telling me?"
"Yes, and you will not like it. But ask yourself, before you make me tell you -- will knowing it affect your decision, or simply introduce resentment? The women in your life will be happy, of that you may be certain. Any more, I cannot say."
"I think I understand. It's not the consequence that governs decisions, but an abiding sense of doing what's right -- here, inside. Whatever reservation we choose for ourselves, we do so because it feels like home. Goodbye."
"Buy a DVD before you leave -- very cheap."
"No, thanks. Where I'm going, I won't be needing any."
