Haunted Town by Andy Conway

Author:Andy Conway [Conway, Andy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: alternative history, historical fiction, gaslamp fantasy, teen & young adult time travel, blitz, urban fantasy series
Publisher: Wallbank
Published: 2019-09-15T22:00:00+00:00

— 28 —

THE ROOM WAS BLACK. A presence by his side. Breathing. The pleasant warmth of a body. This was new to him. He had never had this before, never woken with a woman. Eleanor Gale was his first.

He knew he wasn’t her first. He didn’t care.

He slipped out of bed and crept naked to the blackout curtains, sliding them apart to let the morning sun in. Steamed windows frosting a blur of meadow and blue sky.

Eleanor Gale lying in the bed, deep in slumber, turned to his side, one arm reaching out to where he’d slept.

He was here in 1941 with her, the ghost from the past who’d called out to him through decades. He bit his fist, stifling a giggle. He’d half expected to wake in the same room in 1984, Uncle Tony’s cottage, thinking it had all been a lucid dream. He’d read about them: Technicolor dreams that were so vivid you could control them, direct them, explore whole worlds while sleeping. But it was no hallucination. The white indentation of his teeth on his knuckles, the dull throb of pain.

Eleanor stirred, opened her eyes and in a flash was wide awake. “Good morning,” she said. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

He rushed back to bed and jumped in by her side, curling into her naked embrace. The deep, sensuous scent of her enfolding him: cinnamon and apple and grass in spring rain. They kissed for an age and she pushed him back.

“Aren’t you surprised by this?” she said. “I’m shocked to shivery.”

“No, not really.”

“What? You expected it?” She shifted away and he felt the keen loss of her.

“Well, I didn’t expect it or anything, I so don’t expect anything like this. But... it feels like it was meant to happen. That it’s always been there. My whole life has been rushing towards this point in time. This moment. With you.”

He reached out to her and she took his hand in hers, lacing her fingers in his.

“You say the sweetest things, you silver-tongued Lothario.”

“I’m not that. Believe me. You don’t know how much I am totally not like that.”

She narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips, considering. Decided not to ask.

“Can I ask you a question?” he said.

“Perhaps. Depends what it is.”

“Why me?”

“What does that mean?”

“Of all the men you know, all the men you meet every day, well... you must get a lot of attention...”

“Hey, I’m not a tart.”

“I know. I imagine you have to be highly selective. I mean, about all the men who pester you. So what was it about me?”

“Are you fishing for compliments, Mr Mitchell?”

“No. I just don’t see what you could possibly see in me.”

She leaned up on her elbow, curious. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes.”

“You don’t see how devilishly attractive you are.”

“Give over.”

“There you are; that’s one thing I like about you: you talk funny.”

“How?”

“You use the odd strange word. Little phrases that are... peculiar. It’s very original. Quite appealing. I guess it’s that American influence.” She raised her eyebrows, inviting him to elaborate.

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