Borrowed Time

Keeping the rifle aimed at his chest the young woman came stomping through the grass and stood between us with her back to me. She began to shout at him, and though I had no idea what it was that she was saying, her tone was indication enough that she wasn’t happy.

After a few moments of arguing the man raised his hands in surrender, laughed at the woman and then strutted off in the direction his friend had taken. She stared after him to make sure he was gone before turning to face me, allowing me a good look at her for the first time.

She didn’t look very old and she wasn’t very tall but her face was stern and I knew immediately that I wouldn’t want to cross her either. Her red hair was tied up in a loose bun with little curls sticking out at odd angles and her pale skin had reddened with her anger. After we’d given each other the once over she held out a hand to pull me up.

“Thank you,” I muttered as I got to my feet, realising I stood at least a foot taller than her. I brushed myself down and patted around the top of my jeans, relieved to find my wallet still in my back pocket and that he hadn’t robbed me while I was out cold. “Do you know where I can get a taxi?”

She tilted her head to the side and popped out her bottom lip, looking at me with a sort of curious pity, then pulled a handkerchief from her cuff, spit in it and aimed to rub it under my nose. I tried to protest but she batted my hand away and proceeded to dab at my face whether I liked it or not.

“English!” she finally spoke. “If I’d have known that I’d have left you to it.” Her strong Welsh accent made each word sound like she was half talking, half singing and she flashed me a huge smile to let me know that she wasn’t being entirely serious. “I suppose that explains the clothes. You’re a funny lot.”

“I could say the same to you,” I retorted, eyeing her up and down. Tucked into a long woollen skirt she was wearing a long-sleeved shirt that she’d fastened at the neck with a brooch. It put me in mind of my grandmother. Over the top of her outfit going all the way down to her ankles was an apron, long since faded from its original white, and she had it tied so tightly at the waist that it looked like it was pulling her inwards in the middle. I couldn’t imagine it was at all comfortable.

“Yes, well I don’t have the luxury of wearing inexpressibles,” she said, pointing at my jeans, “but you… that’s really quite something.” She made no attempt to hide her laugh as she stared at me up and down and I felt silly again about being in Lee’s clothes. I knew I should have worn my own. “And that shirt. That’s what they’re wearing in London these days, is it?”

She laughed at me again then hoisted her skirt and began to walk off. “Come on then.”

I followed behind her but the effects of the hangover and the beating made keeping up with her difficult. “Can you slow down a bit?” I called out. “I’m also a bit hungover.”

“That’s how you ended up in my field, is it? One too many drinks? And will you be leaving again soon or should I put you to work?”

“No, I’ll be gone soon, don’t worry. I just need to work out where I am and find my brother and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Cwm Newydd.”

“I’m sorry, I only speak English. I don’t know what you just said.”

“That’s where you are.”

“Is that near Cardiff?”

“Aberystwyth is about 10 miles west.”

“Ok, I’ve heard of that. I couldn’t point to it on a map, but I’ve at least heard of it.”

“Tell me, Mr…?” she came to a stop and waved her hands around as she said it, waiting on a name.

“Tom. Jacob. Tom Jacob.”

“Tell me, Tom Jacob, how is it you find yourself in the middle of a field in a village you’ve never heard of, in a country you obviously don’t live in, being set upon by a man who doesn’t even speak the same language as you, all while dressed like, well, like that?”

I opened my mouth to speak but realised I didn’t really have an answer. “One of those nights, I guess.” I shrugged my shoulders in defeat and she laughed at me again.

“I’m going to like you, Tom Jacob. Come on, let’s get you inside and dry.” And with that, she turned heel and marched off down the path to wherever it was that she was taking me.

“That man,” I said as we walked. “Did he tell you why they attacked me?”

“Not really. Not that Arthur Morgan needs much of an excuse to go around hitting people. That man thinks he can treat the people in this village however he likes just because he lives in the fancy house up on the estate. Well, not on my land he can’t.”

“He mentioned someone called Elinor,” I said, coming to a stop to catch my breath. “Asking me where she was.”

The girl looked over her shoulder at me and then walked a few steps back to close the gap between us.

“Elinor is the girl he was to marry. About two weeks ago he comes shouting through the village telling anyone that’ll listen that she’d been taken. Said he’d turned his back for just a second and then she was gone. Vanished. Ever since then he’s been going around accusing people of whisking her off. And now you show up out of nowhere and he seems to have decided to start taking it out on you, too.

“If you ask me, I reckon she’s run off. Especially with Jack Hopkin going missing, too. They were always sweet on each other, them pair. They were going to marry until their fathers called it off, but everyone knew they were still in love. Mrs Wilkes says she saw them canoodling amongst the gravestones over in the church, too,” she paused for a second considering this. “But then, you don’t really want to listen to what Mrs Wilkes tells you, the nosy old mare. Anyway, everyone but Arthur knows it. Eloped, probably. He just won’t admit it. Too filled with pride, that one.” She threw her arms up in a shrug and then her face suddenly became more serious. “He’s not a nice man, you know. If he thinks you’ve got something to do with it, he won’t let it go. You can be sure of that.”

“But I wasn’t even here two weeks ago,” I said. “Why would I know anything about it?”