Time After Time: A heart-warming novel about love, loss and second chances. Hannah McKinnon Mary

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СКАЧАТЬ were out for a couple of seconds,’ said Mark, who was kneeling on the other side of Hayley. ‘Can you stand? Let’s get you to the sofa.’

      Hayley let them help her up and guide her across the room. She sank down onto the sofa with a small groan. Mark put a pillow on the coffee table and lifted Hayley’s feet on top of it.

      ‘I’ll get you a glass of water and put the kettle on,’ he said and went to the kitchen, taking Morgan the dog with him.

      ‘What’s going on?’ Ellen said quietly.

      Hayley searched Ellen’s face, waiting for her to start laughing and make a joke out of everything, but she didn’t.

       This is insane. Is this an alternate reali–? No … that’s crazy.

      Hayley thought she might start to giggle hysterically, and stopped the sound from escaping her mouth by biting down on her tongue. Hard.

       Don’t be stupid. That stuff doesn’t happen in real life.

      She looked down and rubbed the sofa with two fingers hoping the gesture would chase the fuzziness from her brain. But it confused her even more.

       Hang on, the Gorbachev wine stain has gone.

      Hayley breathed in deeply, sucking in as much air as she could, filling her lungs until they were ready to burst. Then she exhaled slowly before she spoke. ‘Is this all a joke? Did you get a dog and redecorate overnight?’ She heard how ridiculous it sounded. ‘Did you? Did you?’

      ‘No,’ Ellen whispered, shaking her head. She put the back of her right hand on Hayley’s forehead. ‘You’re not hot.’

      Hayley searched Ellen’s face again. Nothing. ‘Listen to me. My husband’s name is Rick. We have two kids. I’m a solicitor.’ She gulped, the words were spilling out so quickly she wasn’t sure Ellen heard them all, but she continued regardless. ‘You have a girl, Morgan. Rick and I paid for your last round of IVF and –’

      ‘Hayley,’ Ellen said loudly, ‘I’ve never heard of Rick. You don’t have kids. You’re a secretary. I had IVF but it didn’t work.’

      ‘No –’

      ‘Yes. You’re married to Chris and –’

      ‘What? No.’

      ‘Yeah,’ Ellen insisted. ‘Since 1991.’

      ‘No. We split up the year before. I didn’t speak to him until this morning.’

       ‘I’ll show you.’ Ellen went to a cabinet to get a picture frame and handed it to Hayley. It was an old-style, thick iron frame, so heavy Hayley almost dropped it. ‘See?’ Ellen said as she pointed to the photograph. ‘It’s the four of us.’

      Sure enough, they were standing on a sweeping concrete stairway with a black and gold bannister and a large archway. She looked more closely.

       That’s Ealing Town Hall, where we got married … but that’s not Rick.

      She looked at her white, knee-length dress with the spaghetti straps. She had an up-do with little daisies in her hair, and she held a bouquet of pale pink roses. Chris and Mark wore matching black suits and shiny purple ties, and Ellen’s pink floor-length dress had big white flowers printed on it. Their smiles were almost contagious.

      Mark walked back into the room carrying a plastic tray with two cups of tea and glasses of water. He set them down on the coffee table and looked at Hayley. ‘Feeling better?’

      Hayley shook her head and remained silent.

      ‘She says she isn’t married to Chris,’ Ellen said. ‘She says she’s married to another bloke and has two kids.’

      Mark whistled. ‘What crazy shit have you been smoking?’ Then he lowered his voice to a stage whisper. ‘And where can I get some?’

      Ellen patted Hayley’s shoulder. ‘Sometimes you probably dream you’re married to someone else.’ She held up her hands. ‘I know Chris is a friend, but, well, you know …’ Her voice tailed off and she shrugged.

       No. No. No. No.

      ‘Enough.’ Hayley jumped up. ‘It’s amazing what you can do with Photoshop.’ She threw the picture on the floor with a loud thud and the glass cracked.

      Mark took a step towards her. ‘Hold on Hayley, you –’

      ‘Save it, Mark,’ Hayley said. ‘I don’t know what’s going on or why you’re doing this, but I’m going home.’ She grabbed her denim bag and her jacket, walked to the front door and yanked it open.

      ‘Wait,’ said Ellen as she got up. ‘Don’t go.’

      Hayley turned around. ‘If I stay will you tell me why you’re doing this?’

      Ellen walked towards her. ‘We’re not doing anything. But you fainted, you can’t leave.’

      Hayley looked at Ellen, then at Mark. ‘Oh piss off you two.’

      She slammed the door behind her and walked a few streets in a daze. The roads were busier now and the sun was higher – hardly a cloud in the sky. Hayley wished she had a pair of sunglasses to shield her eyes and block out whatever the hell was happening to her.

       I have to go home. I have to get back to the kids.

      She headed for the Acton Town tube station, bought a ticket with the money she’d found in her old bag, and breathed a sigh of relief when she plopped down in a seat. Eyes closed, she let her body sway gently from side to side to the hypnotic rhythm of the tube.

      When she opened her eyes she spotted Jim, the intern who’d spilt his tea down her shirt the day before. Hayley watched him fiddle with his iPod, his thin fingers deftly moving over the screen, his feet tap-tapping a beat only he recognised. He reminded Hayley of her when she’d first started; the way he seemed to hug the walls, hoping his presence wouldn’t offend or, worse, be noticed. His brown corduroy suit looked a size too big, like it belonged to his granddad. It seemed as if Jim couldn’t commit to a proper suit until he was certain the job belonged to him, and wasn’t some kind of cruel joke.

      She slunk down in her seat and was still staring at him when he looked up and their eyes met. A flicker of recognition crossed his face.

      ‘Hi, Jim,’ Hayley said.

      His brow furrowed. ‘Oh. Hello.’

      She put a hand to her chest. ‘It’s me, Hayley.’

      ‘Ahhhh … Have we met?’

      ‘Ye-es, at work.’

      ‘Oh yes.’ He blushed and Hayley heard him whisper, ‘I’m an idiot,’ under his breath. He looked at her. ‘Sorry. You’re Mr. Simpson’s secretary.’

      Her pulse quickened. ‘Hardly or we wouldn’t СКАЧАТЬ