Trapped in 1895

The next morning Cheryl was startled by a loud cry from the Professor. Hurrying to the kitchen she found the Professor waving the mornings newspaper in the air.

“What’s the meaning of this!” He shouted at everybody.

“What’s the meaning of this!” The professor yelled again slapping the newspaper on the table. Cheryl looked in horror at the article lying there.

It read:-

Woman visits us from the future.

Miss Cheryl Brown has come from the future by a machine invented by Professor Schmidt.

It described the machine in detail and Miss Brown mentioned things like television, aeroplanes and so on.

“Did you tell anyone?” Demanded the Professor.

“I’m afraid I told Mr Gregory Blackwell. He said he needed it for his science magazine. He promised he would not reveal any names.”

“Well, this is the person who wrote the article, and he has certainly named names,” said the Professor, a lot more softly. Cheryl broke down in tears and Mrs Cole took her in her arms.

“There, there dear. Men are bastards”

“My miserable boyfriend may not have treated me like a lady but he never betrayed me,” sobbed Cheryl, wishing he was here right now.

“Sometimes the rough diamond is worth more than the polished one,” said Mrs. Cole.

Cheryl’s life became a misery. Gregory turned up with even more flowers and a huge box of chocolates. He didn’t blink when Cheryl slapped him on the cheek.

“I guess I deserved that.”

“How could you?” Asked Cheryl, “I trusted you.”

“I wasn’t going to write it but my editor said I would be fired if I didn’t and he would publish it, anyway. I do love you, Cheryl.”

“Well you have ruined it,” she said, “I was contemplating staying here. I was going to marry Harry, but now that everyone knows I’m from the future I will be hunted. I think you had better go.”

Gregory tried to give Cheryl the flowers and chocolate but she threw them to the ground.

Cheryl was right, she was hunted. Whenever she left the house people accosted her with questions like

“Am I going to die?”

“It’s there going to be a war?”

“Who’s going to win the Derby?”

“Will it be a boy or a girl?”

At one time, such a crowd gathered around her the police had to escort her home.

Neither was the Professor immune. His colleagues mocked his ideas and he went to speak about, then he was booed off the podium. Only his friend, Professor Scott, stood by his side.

It was in the dead of night that Cheryl was woken by Mrs Cole.

“Come dear,” she said, “you must come down to the cellar.”

She hurried after Mrs Cole to find not only the two professors working on the machine but Gregory as well.

“Ah, my dear. The lens just arrived, and we have set it up. You must leave now.”

“But why?”

Gregory spoke up, “There is a man out there who has convinced the masses that the machine is a tool of the Devil and you are a witch. They are going to destroy the machine and cause you some harm.”

“Why are you helping me? Wouldn’t this be a good story for you? ” Cheryl asked Gregory.

“I never wanted to harm you, nor cause you harm. I tried to stop this madman, but he has the crowd in his grip.”

As if to emphasise his statement, there was a loud banging on the door then a crash as it gave way.

“Kill the demons. Destroy the machine,” yelled the crowd. Gregory rushed to the cellar door and bolted it.

“It’s strong and will hold them till we are finished.”

Meanwhile, Professor Scott was about to throw the switch to connect the batteries when Rowland pulled a gun from his pocket.

“All right. Everybody move away from the machine.”

“Rowland,” said Professor Schmidt,” what are you doing?”

“Taking possession of this machine and placing Miss Brown under protective custody for the British government.”

“How long have you been working for the government?”

“I was put her to keep professor Schmidt under observation.”

“Look,” said Mrs Cole, “if this young lady doesn’t get back to her own time, that mob will kill her.”

Rowland looked undecided.

“There will be reinforcements here soon.”

Mary had come to the house to welcome Cheryl back and entered through the kitchen door. When she saw the angry crowd, she drew back. She hurried back outside and around to the side of the house to a little door in an alcove. She pulled it open and entered and was confronted with Rowland pointing a gun at everyone. Going back to the kitchen and getting a sturdy pot she took her shoes off and crept down the stairs. In one swift swing of her arm, she knocked Rowland out.

“Quick, stand in the mark,” said Professor Schmidt.

“No, what will happen to you?” Asked Cheryl.

“There is an escape passage we will take when you’re gone.”

“What about my clothes? I can’t go in my nightie?”

“I have them here. Gentlemen will look the other way while you change.”

Ten minutes later she was standing in the clothes she came in, feeling strangely naked. She hugged Mrs Cole and said, “Thank you for looking after me. You’ve taught me many useful things, like cooking and scrub pots.”

“What’s going on,” asked a frantic Mary.

“I’m sorry, Mary. I should have told you earlier, but now I’ll have to leave that to the Professor.”

Cheryl jumped into the spot, threw Mary a kiss, and the professor threw the switch to connect the batteries. There was the familiar thud, then the increasing hum followed by a loud crack as the spark shot between the pinned sticks on the horns. The cellar was filled with an eerie blue glow.

She hugged the two professors, but to Gregory she simply said, “You hurt me but I forgive you.”

and to Harry, “If I had stayed, and I wanted to, I would have married you.”

She kissed him softly and gently, then she walked into the mark.

She fell a short distance and landed on her hands and knees. It was dusk. No one was about and the bus was arriving. She boarded the bus and frantically searched in her handbag for some money. Luckily there was, and she bought a ticket. She took a seat beside a young mother.

“Are you ok? You look very pale.”

“I’m ok. I’ve just had a bit of a shock.”

“I love your hairdo.”

“Thank you.”

As if nothing had happened, she made her way to her flat. Once in, she kicked off her shoes, poured a large glass of wine and picked up her laptop, just the way she had left it. She went to the British newspaper archives and searched for Salsbury Lane and found the article.

The police were called to a riot at Salisbury Lane. A crowd was trying to enter a house where they believed a witch lived. Unfortunately, during the riot the house caught fire. There were no casualties except the body of Miss Cheryl Brown was never found.

It didn’t mention what happened to the others except by chance she found a later announcement.

Mr Arthur Halliwell announced his engagement to Miss Mary Finch to be married in the summer. This made her think about her mother so. she got on the phone.

“Hello mum. Sorry, I was such a bitch. I’ll come over and look after you for the next week.”

She then phoned her dad.

“Hey Dad. I found some money. I can lend, no, I’ll give you a hundred quid. Yes, thanks. Nice to know I’m a great daughter.”

She was about to call the miserable boyfriend, but Harry’s image sprung up in front of her. She decided she needed to break up with the boyfriend.

“Darrin, Cheryl here. Look, sorry, but we can’t see each other again. Bye.”

Darrin didn’t sound particularly upset.

Then she noticed the ugly scar on her arm, which hadn’t been there an hour ago.

The next morning, she returned to her desk in front of the computer monitor and continued working as if nothing had happened but it had but the scar was proof. After work she went to the Black Stallion and when she entered, it all felt so familiar. The public bar was packed with patrons and she pushed her way to the bar, then froze when she heard a familiar voice.

“’ello dearie.”

She spun around to come face to face with an ugly old man with one eye and rotting teeth, her heart almost stopping till he said, “can a poor old man get to the bar for a pint of stout?” He shoved past her and, in a panic, Cheryl hurried outside, colliding with a man carrying a huge side of beef.

“’ere bit of care, there, miss,” another familiar voice said. Cheryl’s poor heart missed another beat as she stared into the eyes of someone she thought she would never see again.

“Och, mon. Will ye nae be more careful wi’ ma beef,” an almost incoherent voice roared out from above. A head covered in red hair stuck out of a window. Cheryl’s head was whirling when the man in front of her said, ”Me names Harry. Have we met somewhere? Wait. I know. You’re the woman of my dreams.”

Cheryl smiled and replied, “I do think I am.”

“Do you fancy a glass of stout?”

“I’d love one.”