The Time-Traveller's Choice

the confluence of events

The door was answered by a woman who seemed too young to have a son in his twenties. She had the same freckles as Charlie, and the same brown hair.

"Can I help you, luv?" she said. She looked me up and down. I really needed to get some more appropriate clothing.

"Yes, I, ah... I got lost, and your son Charlie--well, he said if I waited for him here he would be able to show me back to where I come from."

"And where's that?" said Charlie's mother.

"Durham," I said, in the hope that most East Enders would not have a proper idea of what someone from the North was supposed to sound like. Or dress like.

"Cor," she said. "My Charlie said he'd take you back to Durham? He's gone potty, he has." She stood aside and gestured that I should come into the house. I shuffled past her and down the narrow hallway.

"Kitchen's at the back," she said. "I'm Annie Lawrence, by the way."

"Emma Scott," I said hoarsely. Having reached the kitchen, I made for a chair and sat down hard, partly because time travel is exhausting, and partly because Lawrence was Granny Alice's maiden name. Had my great grandfather's name been Charlie?

He couldn't be Alice's father because I'd watched him outside the Receiving Home when she was being given up, but he and Emma--my great grandmother Emma--must have got together after Alice was born.

The world reoriented. Had that been why the ring pulled me back to that moment? Because of the confluence of events with my grandmother, her mother, and her future husband had been in the same place?

I'd felt safe around Charlie. Perhaps some part of me knew that he would one day be a part of my family.

Once they were married, Emma must have gone to reclaim Alice from that home, hence why Alice had the ring. That meant if I could prevent the marriage, or prevent Alice from being reclaimed by her mother, I would undo the conditions of my time travel, and get back to my own time.

But how could I condemn my own grandmother to grow up in an institution, to never know her mother?

"You all right?" said Mrs. Lawrence. "You look a bit shaken up."

"I'm fine, thank you," I said.

Mrs. Lawrence looked unconvinced. "A nice cuppa will set you to rights," she said. She set the kettle on the gas stove and sat down opposite, fixing me with an astute glare. "So how does a northerner find themselves lost in Mile End, if you don't mind me asking?"

I'd rehearsed an answer for that. "Looking for work," I said. "My mum--" I broke off to swallow an unexpected lump in my throat, "--she thought I should stay in Durham and get married, but I wanted a chance to try and make something of myself. I saw an advertisement for a secretary, and came down here to see whether I could give it a shot. But I got lost, and now I've missed my chance, and I don't know the way back to King's Cross..."

"Oh, poor old chook," said Mrs. Lawrence, patting my hand. "My Charlie's a good lad; he'll get you to the station all right." The kettle began to whistle, and she got up and poured the water into a teapot. 

"Might I ask about your son?" I said.

"Which one, luv?" said Mrs. Lawrence. "I've got two. But you'll be meaning Charlie. He's me eldest. My John--my husband--joined up in the war and was killed. Charlie went over too, but he was injured in '18 and came home--he's fine now," she added quickly. "Right as rain. When John was killed, Charlie took up his place. In the morning he works in a warehouse down by the docks. Then he does the afternoon delivery for Taylor's Greengrocer down the way. It brings in a respectable living. Saved me having to go to work too."

"And, ah, is he married? Charlie?"

"No, not Charlie," said Mrs. Lawrence. She sipped her tea meditatively. "Could have been a hundred times over, him looking as he does and being a provider like he is. But he keeps himself to himself, and no-one has yet caught his eye." She poured us both  tea, defaulting me into milk and sugar.

I warmed my hands on the cup. 

"That's the ticket," said Mrs. Lawrence. She eyeballed me over her cup.

"And your other son?" I said quickly, sensing an uncomfortable line of questioning on the horizon. "You said you had two."

Mrs. Lawrence nodded. "And three daughters besides. Hannah, Amy, Enid and Herbert. And Susan, God rest her soul, who was took from me when she was a babe. Herb's in the army, in Ireland. Enid's married and lives around the corner. Hannah's married and gone to live in Highgate. And Amy, my youngest and silliest, is a sekertary at Morton's Shipping in Poplar. "

"You must be very proud of them."

"Not half," said Mrs. Lawrence, leaning back in her chair like a contented cat. "They's good to me, that's for sure."

There was a clock above the stove. I glanced at it. 3.10pm.

"Listen," said Mrs. Lawrence, "you might get a bit cold on your train back to Durham in that get-up. I think I've some of Hannah's old things upstairs if you'd like to poke through and see if anything takes your fancy."

"Oh, that would be terrific," I said. "Thank you ever so much."

"You're welcome, luvvie. Just let me go and see what I can find." Mrs. Lawrence got herself upright. I heard her footsteps on the narrow stairs in the hallway. Now that I was alone, I put my head down on my hands, exhausted. 

I was stumped about what to do next. In fifty minutes, my great grandfather (by marriage) was going to turn up expecting to escort me to King's Cross and put me on a train to Durham--unless I made my excuses and left before then.

In the ordinary run of things I would probably have taken myself west to a less noisome (and no doubt safer) part of London. But the key to getting back to my own time was the ring. Somehow, it came back into Alice's possession. I had to find Emma Connolly and get the ring off her. If Emma didn't have it, Alice would never receive it from her, and I would never get pulled backwards into 1921.

That meant staying around the East End.