Trapped in 1895

Cheryl received a nice bonus and for the first time Cheryl was flush with money and wondered what to do. when an idea struck her. A seaside holiday with Harry.

Cheryl brought the idea up with Mrs Cole.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea for you going to the seaside with a single young man.”

Then she stared Cheryl straight in the eyes and asked, “You do know how babies are made, don’t you.”

A speechless Cheryl said, “Yes and I don’t intend to return to the twenty-first century with a nineteenth century baby.”

“Well, best you keep your legs shut then.”

All of a sudden Cheryl remembered what she had in her handbag. She raced upstairs, searched through a trunk at the end of her bed and retrieved her twenty-first century handbag and pulled out a foil of pills. She counted them. Seven should be enough and popped the first in her mouth.

Cheryl plans a holiday

The next day, Cheryl met Mary at church and put the idea to her.

“What an absolutely splendid idea,” gushed Mary, “I love the seaside. We will have so much fun together.”

Cheryl looked at Mary in dismay.

“But Mary, I was hoping to go with Harry... on our own.”

A blank look came over Mary’s face then it turned a bright red.

“Oh gosh, my goodness, surely Cheryl you’re not thinking about...”

Just then Harry turned up.

“Hello girls. All ready for church and ready to confess your sins.”

Mary burst out in hilarious laughter and staggered into the church.

“What’s up with her,” asked Harry.

“I’ve no idea,” lied Cheryl, “there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Harry was quite enthusiastic about the whole idea, except, of course, he had no idea about Cheryl’s real motive.

“I have an aunt that runs a boarding house and I’m sure she will give us rooms quite cheaply.”

“Splendid,” replied Cheryl and they went into church, hand in hand.

Cheryl had just finished breakfast when Harry turned up with two train tickets.

“Pack your clothes, Cheryl, we are off to the seaside.”

Cheryl stood on the crowded platform waiting for the train. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Ever since she was a little girl she fantasised about steam trains. She would dream about them, draw them, read stories, anything she could get her hands on but she grew up. Now she was waiting for a real train to go for a week with a real man, not a miserable boyfriend. She watched Harry come back from talking to the station master.

“It’s on time for a change,” he reported.

Cheryl looked up into his eyes and his lips were like magnets. She leaned up, lips slightly apart and eyes locked when she felt an enormous bang on the back of her legs. Arms flailing she fell backward and rolled off a large trunk, landing on her face. Harry rushed to help her.

“Cor, sorry miss but it got away from me,” said a little platform attendant. For some reason as Cheryl lay face down on the platform, she had a terrible feeling about this whole trip.

After Harry rescued Cheryl and returned to an upright position she watched the steam train choof into the station. It wasn’t the bright polished machine she imagined but covered in soot and oil, whooshing steam everywhere and a huge cloud enveloped Cheryl and Harry standing on the platform.

“All aboard,” yelled the station master.

The first class passengers were assisted into their carriages by station porters but the third class passengers pushed and shoved to get a seat. Cheryl and Harry climbed into a carriage, hauling their cases behind them. Another illusion was shattered as she studied the carriage. Two long seats lined on each side of the carriage, seating about twenty on each side. Men, women and children scrambled for a seat, Cheryl and Harry among them. They managed to get seats in the middle of the carriage. A large, obese woman on Cheryl’s right side, proceeded to pull out her knitting, pushing her elbows into Cheryl’s ribs and a pipe smoking old man on Harry’s left.

“I’m so sorry, Cheryl. I could only afford third class.”

“I told you I could pay,” retorted an irritated Cheryl.

“I’m not having a woman pay my way,” said Harry, just as irritated. They sat in silence as the carriage filled up and some people were left standing. The station master sounded his whistle and the train started moving. Not smoothly but with a sudden jerk that caused the knitting woman to tip and smother Cheryl. Struggling not to panic she pushed the large woman upright.

“Thanks, love,” she said and immediately passed wind. Cheryl dived for the window but found it wouldn’t open. Gasping for breath she got up and ran to the door but as soon as she left her seat a man dove for it. When she got back all she could do was stare at him.

“Well,” she said to Harry.

Harry stared at the seated man. Harry was no wimp but even he could see that this man was not going to move. He did the only thing possible and stood up but before Cheryl could sit down a woman dived in and took the seat.

“Come Cheryl, let’s get a nice spot by the door.”

Cheryl gave him a withering look but kept the peace.

“Does that mean I’m going to have to stand the whole way,” she moaned.

They found a spot beside the door but when it opened smoke and cinders from the engine drifted in and people complained. Their discomfort was enhanced by the jerkiness of the carriage as it bumped against the forward carriage then jerked backward when the train sped up. It also seemed to jump every time the carriage went over a bump. To sum it up when they arrived at the changeover Cheryl’s temper was at boiling point.

Cheryl felt relieved they changed the carriage on the final leg to Great Yarnmouth. It was a single carriage and only held eight people. They put their cases away and sat down near the window. There was peace and she was looking forward to the final leg of their journey until the carriage door was pulled open and a couple with six children piled in.

Hell started from the beginning, the couple argued and fought the whole journey yelling the most foul language at each other. The two babies, twins, yelled and screamed at the top of their baby lungs and the six and seven year old boy and girl chased each other around the carriage climbing over Harry and Cheryl more than once. It came to an end when the girl stopped, turned pale and vomited over Cheryl’s dress. Trapped in the carriage all she could do was scrape the vomit off. The thirteen year old girl stayed silent in the corner staring malevolently at Cheryl the whole journey while the sixteen year old boy sat closely beside Cheryl who was continually fending of his hands till she swapped places with Harry.

When they finally arrived and Cheryl left the train she felt so relieved she had to sit down. The London Underground was never so bad. She noticed Harry talking to the station master.

“Sorry sir but there are no carriages left. All the gentry have taken them.”

“Bad news, I’m afraid. There’s no carriages. We’ll have to walk.”

“But what about our luggage?′

“I can have it sent on, ma’am.”

“How far,” she asked, afraid of the answer.

“Not far, about ten miles.”

Cheryl glared at Harry.

“I’m tired, hungry, stink of vomit and I need a pee. Now you tell me I have to walk ten miles.”

“I’m really sorry, Cheryl. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”

Cheryl was sure it wasn’t but, just at this moment, she wasn’t inclined to forgive him. She marched off without a word towards Gorleston Beach. Harry caught up carrying the cases.

One hour and thirty minutes later a totally exhausted Cheryl stood in front of a picturesque hotel. Thankfully, she managed to find a hedge to disappear behind. Harry rang the doorbell and a tall, stern looking woman came out. She was thin and dressed in an all black dress with no lace and buttoned up to a stiff collar around her neck. Her grey hair was swept, tightly, to the rear and formed into a bun with a large pin through it. Her lips were thin and bloodless and hard, black eyes stared through round, horn rimmed spectacles. Cheryl looked in horror. She was the perfect image of her aunt, her mum’s eldest sister and the cause of most of her mum’s mental illnesses. Whenever she came to “take care” of mum she would rule Cheryl with an iron fist and stout cane. Many nights she went to bed with a sore bottom. It was too much, she dissolved into tears.

“Oh my dear, whatever is the matter,” said Harry’s aunt, sweeping up Cheryl in a big hug, wrinkling her nose at the smell of vomit.

“Come in, dear and have a seat.”

She guided Cheryl and Harry into a small room off to the side. A room she reserved for private meetings for her guests.

“Would you like a brandy, dear?”

Hiccuping, she replied that she would and sat sniffling, her nose turning red and her eyes weepy and running. She hiccuped again.

Sitting close to Cheryl on the little sofa and holding her hand gently she said, “Now tell Aunt Margaret all about it.”

Cheryl unloaded, sometimes in colourful language. Poor Harry sat squirming in the lounge chair. His Aunt stared at him through the glasses.

“Are you that proud that you cannot let a lady help you. Look what your pride has done,” she said. pointing at Cheryl who sat dejected, wet and weepy eyes with a red and puffy face in a smelly dirty dress. Harry shrunk even further into his chair.

“Come dear, let’s get you to your room and into a bath. Your room is next to Harry, so you have no need to worry about being alone.”

Cheryl woke up next morning much refreshed and came down stairs for breakfast in the dining room. Harry was waiting for her, sipping coffee. She immediately kissed him then sat down smiling. A much relieved Harry said, “Good morning, dear.”

“It is a good morning, isn’t it. What’s for breakfast.”

“Bacon, eggs, sausages and fried potato with bread rolls and butter.”

“Oh good, I’m starving. What are we doing today.”

“I thought we would go for a walk along the promenade,” said Harry, hoping she wasn’t totally sick of walking.

“Fantastic, sounds wonderful,” she said, taking a bread roll and an enormous knob of butter.

They strolled casually along the promenade and Cheryl was fascinated by the attire of the people on the beach.

“What are they wearing,” she asked.

“Bathing suits. Have you ever worn one before?”

She looked at a young woman lounging on the sand with her companion. She was wearing a loose fitting costume that hung loosely around her body.

“Where can I buy one,” she asked.

“I will ask Aunt Margaret.”

A bit further on they came upon a row of huts on wheels with a horse at the front.

“My goodness. What are they?”

“They’re bathing machines.”

“How do they work?′

“Well, you take your bathing things and you enter the hut. A horse pulls the whole thing out into the sea. In perfect privacy you change into your swimsuit, go for a bath then change back again then the horse pulls you back.”

“I want to try it,” said Cheryl, full of enthusiasm.

“I’m afraid i can’t afford it,” said Harry, getting prepared to have his girlfriend pay for it but Cheryl was sensitive to her boyfriend’s pride.

“I could lend you the money,” she offered.

“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t I sell you one of my kisses.”

“What a beautiful idea,” said Cheryl, raising herself on her toes and pursing her lips.

The following morning they located the Milners recommended by Aunt Margaret. It was a nice little shop run by a young woman.

“Ma is feeling poorly, today so I’m serving you.”

“Thats fine. We are after some swimsuits?” said Harry.

“Just the weather for it,” said the young lady, “I have this for the lady and this for the sir.”

Cheryl examined the costume. It was a wonderful blue with white borders. It was one piece stretching from the neck to mid calf. It was separated in the waist by an elastic band. The pants section hung, loose and baggy and the equally loose and baggy top hung around her shoulders. Her breasts were lost in the material which was quite heavy.

“All the young women are wearing this style.”

“Let’s see the Gents.”

“Perhaps the young man would like to try it on.”

Harry obliged and popped into a little room labelled ‘gents’.

He came out, somewhat self conscious. Cherry had to admit he was a fine looking man.

“Fits you perfectly,” said the young lady looking at Cheryl with a twinkle in her eye, “Doesn’t he, ma’am.”

“He does indeed. I’ll take the ladies’ costume.”

They manage to catch a horse drawn bus that travelled up and down the shore line ferrying holiday makers and got off near the bathing machines. They approached the operator and Harry gave him the money he earned from Cheryl that morning. Cheryl climbed in and Harry was going to follow when the operator said, “Hold on mister. Ladies only, men’s huts are down the beach.”

Blushing slightly, Harry hurried away.

Cheryl was fascinated by what she discovered. A little dressing table, mirror, a small washbasin and places to hang your clothes, wash cloths, towels, etc. Everything a woman needs. She grabbed hold when the cabin jerked forward and began moving out to sea. It came to a stop and Cheryl peered out. She was quite a distance from the shore. Carefully she crept down the ladder and was surprised to find the water came up to her mid chest. As the cold sea water seeped through her thick woollen swimsuit and came into contact with every part of her body, she soon realised why she only swam in indoor heated pools.

She pushed off with her feet in an attempt to swim and promptly sank due to the weight of her swimming costume. She was pretty sure nobody swam in the nineteenth century and as she spat out salt water from her mouth she was suddenly showered in sea water. She spun round to find Harry behind her. She gave a squeal of pleasure and jumped on him, trying to push his head under water but only succeeded in joining in a passionate embrace. ‘Hmm,’ Cheryl thought,‘I think I have a chance.’

They played in the sea for the next hour until Cheryl started shivering, involuntary.

“Time to get out of here,” Harry said, “get in. I’ll tell the operator to pull you out.”

Cheryl climbed in and felt the cabin move soon after.

The dining room was quite busy that day as aunt Margaret took in diners. Cheryl found herself next to an elderly man.

“Young married couple, eh?” he asked.

“No sir,” replied Harry, “this is my lady friend.”

“Not married, eh. Well, well. Reminds me of my younger days,” said the elderly man, staring at the ceiling, remembering the past.

“Captain Wilson, is the name.”

“Mr Coleman and Miss Brown,” said Harry.

“Harry and Cheryl,” said Cheryl.

“Do you like sailing, Miss Brown,”

“I rather do,” said Cheryl. Memories of the Liverpool ferry swept over her. She had a short job on one.

“Why don’t you and your young man come out for a sail.”

Cheryl jumped at the offer but Harry held back.

“I don’t know. Isn’t it dangerous.”

“You’re not scared are you?” teased Cheryl.

That was enough. That evening as they stood outside their rooms they embraced and Harry gave Cheryl a long passionate kiss. He broke off, looked into her eyes and was about to say something but turned and entered his room. Tomorrow night, thought Cheryl, tomorrow night is my last chance to have safe sex in this century and by God, I will.

She got up early the next morning, having completely forgotten about the Captain. She washed herself thoroughly and put on her best and cleanest bloomers. Struggled into one of those new corsets that pushed her breasts up, pulled on a half slip then put on her dress. She had paid a large part of her savings for this dress. It was a summery yellow, tight waist and flowed to the ground. It was off the shoulder and just showed enough cleavage to be enticing but respectable. She couldn’t wash her hair but she spent an hour brushing it and now it was lying nicely. She didn’t have any of those little accessories she had in the twenty-first century but she looked better without them, she thought. She was ready.

As she walked down the stairs to breakfast Aunt Margaret whistled.

“That is a mighty fine piece of bait for a big fish.”

Cheryl felt complimented but she was a bit concerned being compared to a bit of fish bait.

She entered the dining room and got the attention she wanted. Harry was stunned.

“Cheryl, you look absolutely gorgeous but did you forget what we are doing today?”

That ominous feeling descended again.

“What?”

“The Captain’s yacht.”

“Oh that’s alright,” said Cheryl, picturing herself, seated on a deck chair, on the polished deck sipping champagne.

“We have to be there in thirty minutes.”

“Not a problem. I’m not hungry, let’s go now.”

Harry took them to the beach.

“but I thought we were going to the pier.”

“Apparently not. That’s it out there.”

Cheryl looked in dismay. Instead of a large ship with big white sails, polished decks and chairs was a little skiff. It didn’t look big enough for two let alone three.

“Ahoy, landlubbers,” a voice cried behind them. They turned to watch the Captain approach in his gigantic fisherman’s waders.

“Follow me,” he said and started to walk out into the sea.

“You don’t expect us to wade out there behind you, do you?” said Cheryl, looking down at her expensive dress.

“Oh of course. Silly me. Wait here and I will get the dinghy.”

He waded out to the yacht, untied a tiny little boat and pulled it back to them.

“Hop in.” he said.

Chery stared at the dinghy. This was not good. She has had bad experiences with dinghies.

“I can’t go in that thing.”

“Of course you can,” said Harry, “Here.”

In one movement he swept Cheryl up and plopped her in the dinghy and didn’t get any water on the dress.

“I’ll go with the Captain.”

“Nonsense, you will get soaked. Climb in.”

This was a mistake. When Harry went to get in his weight tipped the little dinghy throwing Cheryl off balance. She fell forward almost out of the boat but far enough that her head and shoulders went under water. Harry was able to rescue her before she went completely over. Cheryl was restored upright in the dinghy, water pouring down her back and chest, soaking her underneath.

“I’m really sorry, Cheryl. Do you want to go home.”

Every fibre in her being screamed ‘yes’ but she was determined to make Harry happy today.

“No, no. I’ll be ok.”

“Never mind lass. I have dry clothes aboard that will fit ye.”

They climbed on board the little yacht. Cheryl was impressed. Everything was spotless and clean.

“Come this way, miss,” said the Captain and led her down into the cabin. It was very neat and comfortable. At the bow end was a large bed then a table and comfortable little seats finally the gallery. The Captain searched in a cupboard and came out with some clothes.

“Here you are. I leave you to your business.”

She looked at the clothes in horror but now the dampness was descending even further. She stripped off, glad to be out of the corset and pulled on the clothes. Everything was too big for her and totally hid those assets she wanted to display to Harry but they were dry and clean. With a deep sigh she went upstairs.

The Captain gave a hearty laugh and Harry suppressed a smile.

“Now you look like a real seaman,” said the Captain then proceeded to give them instructions. Gone were the dreams of sitting in a deck chair sipping champagne but jumping whenever the Captain barked orders to haul on ropes or duck to avoid the beams; Cheryl felt quite proud to not have been hit once. Cheryl’s expensive and enticing dress dried in the sun, fluttering off the mast.

At the end of it, Cheryl was glad. It had been a beautiful day and Harry kissed her as often as he could. The Captain was cheerful and chivalrous, always looking the other way.

“We are almost back,” the Captain said,“and your clothes are dry. Perhaps you would like to change.”

“Not really. I’m happy like this. I’ll come back and get them later.”

She went off looking like a merchant seaman just off the ship and when they were back on the beach Harry spotted a seaman’s inn.

“Come on, let’s have an ale,” said Harry.

“I don’t think they will let me in.”

“Nonsense. You look just like a merchant sailor.”

He took some locks of her hair and tucked them under the cap the Captain gave her.

“They’re perfect.”

They entered and found the inn very busy. The air was thick with smoke, hearty laughter, foul language and dirty jokes. Harry pushed his way to the bar followed by a nervous Cheryl. Busty plump women made their way through the men carrying pots of ale and laughing off the groping hands, occasionally disappearing through the rear door with one of the men. They collected their pots of ale and found a place to lean against, all the tables had been taken. They took care to behave themselves in this inn and a waitress approached Cheryl.

“Hmmm,” she said, “you are a handsome sailor. Don’t get many of your sort in here.”

She stroked her hand over Cheryl’s cheek.

“Nice and soft. Want to come upstairs, sailor. I’ll give you a discount.”

Cheryl was dumbstruck and Harry had to turn away to stifle his laughter.

“No, no thank you. It was nice of you to offer anyway,” she said, turning a bright shade of red.

“Hey,” the waitress said, “you aren’t a virgin are you. I could teach you a few things that would come in useful.”

Glancing at Harry she said, “No, I’m not a virgin.”

“Perhaps you’re one of those fancy boys then. Lots of them in the merchant navy. Not much else to do at sea.”

“And I am not a fancy boy. Would you mind not bothering us.”

She looked at Harry then at Cheryl then said to Harry, “You could do a lot worse.”

She collected the empty pot and left.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” said Harry and hurried through the door followed by an angry Cheryl. He collapsed in laughter.

“You should have seen your face.”

Cheryl could see the night disappear if she didn’t keep her anger in check so she used her other weapon and broke down in tears.

“Oh dear,” said Harry and took Cheryl in his arms.

“Do I really look like a man?”

“Of course you don’t. Your an attractive young woman.”

“Do you really think I’m attractive and... and desirable.”

“Whenever I’m with you I just want to consume every bit of you.”

Cheryl wasn’t sure what that meant but it sounded good.

“If I asked you, would you come to my room tonight?”

At this Harry paused.

“To do what?”

God, he can’t be that dense.

“You know,” she said, then whispered in his ear.

“Oh. I think we had better be getting home now.”

The conversation through dinner was very strained, dominated mostly by the Captain relating today’s trip. Eventually they climbed the stairs and paused at their doors looking at each other. Cheryl was determined to be quiet. He had to do this without being enticed by her. She entered and got ready for bed, wearing only a nightdress. She was about to enter the bed when she heard a knock on the door. With her heart pounding she opened it to find Harry standing there in his nightgown. She didn’t say a word but went to the bed, opened her night dress and threw herself on the bed, naked. Harry approached, his excitement showing but as he got nearer the torment of his mind showed itself on his face. Finally he said, “I can’t do this. I love you too much. Forgive me.”

He ran out the door and into his own room. Cheryl lay, naked, on the bed, listening to her heartbeat come back down then she stood up, securely fastened her night dress and knocked on Harry’s door.

“Harry,” she cried out softly, “Harry, can I come in.”

There was no answer so she gently opened the door and entered. Harry was sitting, crouched over, on a wooden chair.

“I’m sorry, Cheryl. I couldn’t do it. I have seen too many innocent girls ruined by men that gave them babies. I can’t take the risk of doing it to you.”

Cheryl bit her lip. She couldn’t tell him she was protected from pregnancy.

“There are ways to do it without getting pregnant.”

“I know but I don’t think I would have the willpower to pull out in time.”

Fair enough, thought Cheryl

“Please,” he said, “all I want now is to go to bed.”

Cheryl nodded and left. She didn’t know if she was happy she found a man who put her safety above his needs or sad that she couldn’t satisfy those needs.

Breakfast, next morning, was congenial with neither person speaking about the night before. Aunt Margaret organised a carriage to take them back to the station. The train journey was much more pleasant. They shared the carriage with a young married couple who were only interested in themselves. Cheryl couldn’t help a jealous stare and Harry noticed.

“I’m sorry, Cheryl.”

“Harry Coleman. Don’t you ever say sorry to me again. I cannot be more prouder of you.”

Harry beamed and glanced at the young couple who now had succeeded in undoing each other’s buttons.

“We don’t need to go all the way,” suggested Harry.

Cheryl beamed at him and undid the first button.

The second leg of the trip was quite pleasant as the carriage was half empty and they had plenty of room. Cheryl was delivered back to the professor’s house refreshed and in a pleasant mood and sat up to midnight telling Mrs Cole everything.