It had started off as just another day for William Marcus. He had got up, showered,
got dressed and went to work. As he normally did, Monday to Friday. And
occasionally at weekends. He had no idea that this day would change his life.
At ten past two he was sitting in his office looking at the woman in front of him. Her
name was Mary Smith and she was forty two. She was small and slightly built, with
long auburn hair. She was dressed soberly, wearing a dark trouser suit and white
blouse. She gave the air of someone who was completely in control of her life, of
someone who had practised that self-control over many years, and had never lost it, at
least not in public, despite extreme provocation. She was not unlike many of the
clients Mr Marcus had seen in almost thirty years of providing psychotherapy to the
well-off of Belfast, and further afield. Often their polished, controlling exterior
masked a deep well of emotional pain. He had no doubt that Mary Smith was any
different. As with all his new clients, the priority was to find out why she was there
and what particular psychological manifestations had led her to seek his help.
'It's hard to say what brought me here really.' she said. 'I've been thinking a lot about
my life lately. I went through a really hard time growing up, and I thought I had put it
behind me and moved on, but recently I've started to question whether it's affected
me more than I thought. I've made some decisions that people didn't really like, and I
wonder if what happened to me had affected my judgement in some way. I've heard
you're very good. I spoke to a friend of mine at work who I know had some problems
before, and she recommended you. I think what I want most of all is someone to talk
things through with.'
William nodded. 'Well, I will be able to help you if you're committed to working with
me. If your problems are quite complex it may take a while to deal with the issues
surrounding them. If you're willing to commit to that then I am sure that I will be able
to help you.'
'I'm willing to do whatever it takes.' said Mary.
'Good.' William smiled.
He looked down at the questionnaire she had filled in when she arrived at reception.
'It says here that you're a volunteer at the Belfast Medieval History Museum. That
sounds like it would be quite interesting. I had never heard of the place myself until a
few months ago, when a friend told me about it. I keep meaning to go but I've never
got round to doing so. Would you recommend it?'
'Oh yes,' said Mary. 'it's a fascinating place. They have great exhibitions on different
aspects of medieval life. Actually, the first time I went in was six months ago, which
was actually the day I agreed to become a volunteer.'
William wondered what she had been doing before that. It wasn't terribly important,
though, to know the answer to that. He filed the question away for later.
He looked at the questionnaire again to check Mary's marital status. He hadn't noticed
a wedding ring. It was a terrible habit of his, checking people's wedding fingers. Male
and female. His wife had noticed him doing it once and had joked about him lining
up potential future wives.
Mary noticed him looking at her ring less finger. 'My husband has been away a lot.'
she said. 'In fact, since we married he has spent very little time with me. I have given
up all hope that he will be a real husband to me, one who will be constantly at my
side, so I have decided that I will live as if I did before I married.'
William thought her choice of words odd, but said nothing. Instead, he sat back in his
chair. He looked again at Mary, thoughtfully. Already, there was something about her
that intrigued him. Occasionally, William took clients on without asking for payment,
purely because of the lessons he would learn from treating them. He had already
decided that Mary would be one of those clients.
He was keen to get started straight away. Almost as if he felt certain that she would
not be here for long, and he would have to find out as much about her in as short a
time as possible.
He decided that he would start by finding out about her family.
'Tell me about your mother.' he said.
Mary looked thoughtful, wistful almost. In the few seconds before she spoke,
William could sense that she was almost deciding what to say. That she knew that she
had to choose her words carefully.
My mother was Spanish.' she said. 'She left Spain when she was fifteen, and came to
England where she married my uncle. After he died, a few short months after their
wedding, she married my father. '
'Is your mother still alive?' asked William.
'No, she died just before my twentieth birthday.' said Mary.
'That must have been difficult for you.'
'Yes, it was.'
She lapsed into silence, clearly uncomfortable with the way that the session was
progressing. Dr Marcus was used to his clients reacting in this way, their reluctance
to talk about certain subjects often meant that those were the very things that should
be discussed. For whatever reason, Mary did not seem to want to discuss her mother
in emotional terms. At least, not yet. When asked about her, she had merely stuck to
the physical characteristics. Where she had come from. Who she had married.
William knew that he would have to break down these barriers if Mary were to make
any progress. He would have to think very carefully about how he would help her do
this. If they had more time today, they would be able to explore these issues further,
but he had a feeling that the questions he wanted to ask her about her father, her
childhood, and her marriage would have to wait until the next session.
He had an idea at the back of his mind that it would take a lot more than just one
session to find the answers to Mary's problems. William Marcus often got a feeling, a
vibe from people, and he had a suspicion that Mary Smith was not telling him the
whole truth. One day she would, though. It might take a while, but he would get
there. He would not give up on this challenge.
It was now three o'clock and the allotted hour had passed. William stood up. 'Thank
you very much for coming today,' he said politely. 'Suzanne will make another
appointment for you.' He opened the door and motioned for Mary to go out.
Mary started to leave the room. As she reached the threshold she turned to face
William.' Thank you for your time today' she said. 'I know already that seeing you is
going to be an enormous help.'
William nodded. 'I will see you at your next appointment. Take care.'
She left the room and William closed the door. He could hear her voice through the
closed door, talking to the receptionist, arranging her next appointment. There would
be plenty of free slots for her to choose from. Back when he had first started out,
therapy had been the buzz word. He had made a success of his practice, on Belfast's
Lisburn Road, but he had found as the recession started to bite that people no longer
felt the need to sort out their problems with someone who was trained to do so,
although where they were turning to William no longer knew. Maybe they had found
solace in organised religion, that always seemed to be source of sustenance,
emotionally speaking, when times were hard. This was something that annoyed
William a little bit. He had gone to church when he was growing up and throughout
his teens, but then again it was hard to find a Northern Irish person of his generation
who hadn't. Over the years though, the churchgoing had stopped, although he still
believed in God in a vague way. It irritated him though, when people stopped using
faith in a constructive way and started seeing God as a divine Jim'll Fix It.
Psychology had taught him that there really was no need to expect someone else to
sort out your problems. We all have the tools, he often thought, we just need to know
how to use them.
He was interrupted in his reverie by a knock on the door.
'Dr Marcus, your next patient's here.' said Suzanne, from the other side of the door.
'Send them in!' he shouted. He looked at the list Suzanne had given him at the start of
the day to ascertain who his next patient was. It was hard spending so much time in
other people's heads. He had been doing this job for a while, maybe it would soon be
time to give it all up. He would think about that later, he decided. It was time to focus
on helping the next person who walked through the door.
*****
At five thirty William Marcus was getting ready to head home. He sat in his waiting
room for a few minutes after his final patient had left, thinking about the day he had
just had.
And about one aspect of that day in particular.
Already, he was intrigued by Mary Smith. He had only met her a few short hours ago,
but in a strange way he felt as if he had known her for a lot longer than that. She had
come into the room and completely commanded his attention while she was there.
Now she had left, he found himself almost unable to think of anything else. He knew
that he would not rest until he had helped Mary to deal with whatever was causing
problems for her in her life.
He looked at the clock on his wall and realised that the day was over. He got up,
switched off the light in his office and went out to the reception area, where Suzanne
was just locking up the various filing cabinets which contained the confidential client
details that were such an essential part of their work.
'Any plans for tonight, Suzanne?' he said conversationally.
'Just a quiet one. You?'
He shook his head. 'No plans. I expect that Jolene will have made something
delicious for dinner, we'll maybe have a bottle of wine with that, but that's about it.'
'Well, have a good evening. See you tomorrow!'
William left the office and began the short walk to Adelaide Station to catch the train
to his home in Moira. It was November, and already a frost was starting to form. No
doubt these cars would be completely frozen over in the morning, he thought. He
reached the station fairly quickly, it being only a ten minute walk from his office, and
bought his ticket. While waiting for the train he pulled a copy of that morning's
Belfast Newsletter out of his briefcase, and began to read. As far as he could see, the
headlines were much the same that morning as they were every other morning, with
political disagreement being the top story.
He looked around him as he boarded the train. He could see people he knew,
neighbours of his, as well as people he passed in the street but had no idea of their
names. He sometimes wondered about these men and women, maybe even made up
alternative lives for them, but not this evening. He was much too tired to do anything
like that. He lazily looked through the rest of the paper, then, when he saw that there
was nothing that interested him he looked out the window for the rest of the journey.
When he arrived in Moira about twenty minutes later he walked the short distance to
his home. A wonderful smell hit him as soon as he opened the door. His wife, Jolene,
was a great cook and it looked like tonight there would be another fantastic dinner in
the Marcus household.
'I've made your favourite, steak and Guinness pie.' Jolene announced. 'There's a nice
bottle of red wine to go with it.''
He smiled. 'Great. I'll just leave my things in the study.'
Over dinner, the two of them chatted about their days. Jolene worked in a card shop
in Moira, and somehow she managed to find out everything that was going on in the
village.
'Joan Campbell's daughter's had a wee boy.' she said. 'Elizabeth was in buying a card
for her. I think they're going to call her Jessica.'
'How many children is that she has now?'
'I think it's three,' said Jolene doubtfully. 'Megan's the eldest, then they had Joe, yes
that's right, there's three children. It's a shame her husband had to take that job in
Saudi Arabia, as it leaves her with the three little ones, but I suppose it's better than
him having no job. Would you like some more mashed potato?'
He nodded. 'Yes please. This pie's delicious. The meat's so tender. Did you get it at
the butcher's at the top of the town?'
She shook her head. 'I actually got it in Marks and Spencer. I know you don't
normally like supermarket meat, but it did look good quality.'
'It's lovely.'
They ate the rest of the dinner, then washed the dishes before repairing to the sofa
with their glasses of wine. For William, this was in some ways the best part of his
day. Everything was done with and all he had to do was relax.
'So, how was your day?' asked Jolene.
'Not too bad,' he said. 'Quite interesting, actually. I have a new client.'
'That'll bring some more money in.' remarked Jolene.
'Well, actually...' began William.
'Oh, William, not again.' Jolene disapproved of her husband's freebies. She didn't
realise that he saw his sessions with these people as mutually beneficial and thus felt
unable to charge them any money. Fortunately, the house they lived in had been
inherited from Jolene's great uncle, who had been something of a recluse, so they had
not had to worry about mortgage payments, which would have definitely put a
financial strain on things with William's penchant for deciding on a whim not to
charge his patients, as Jolene saw it.
'Claire rang, ' said Jolene suddenly.
'Did she? That's good. How is she getting on?'
'She seemed fine. She's having her contract extended for another few months, which
she's really excited about, as it means she gets to spend more time in London. The
painting's a bit more damaged than they thought, so it will take longer to restore.'
'That's the one that was in the National Gallery, isn't it? I've always liked that one.'
William and Jolene's eldest daughter had done a degree in Fine Art at Edinburgh. She
had been working in an art gallery for for a few years, then the opportunity had come
up to work on the painting of Anne Boleyn which was displayed in the National
Gallery in London. It had become damaged over the years and was badly in need of
restoration. Claire had seen this job for the great opportunity it was, to work on a
national treasure, and had been very excited when her application was successful.
'I don't think she'll be home for a while yet.' said Jolene.
'She's happy though, isn't she, I'm glad that she's living her own life now.'
Jolene nodded. 'I was so worried when she got involved with Damien, she seemed to
give her whole life up for him when they were together.'
'I'm glad she saw sense, ' said William 'and realised that there's more to life than
having a man. I feel sorry for people who don't realise that, there's so many whose
lives revolve round their partners and all they have is them and the things they do
together. Claire's a sensible girl.'
His wife smiled. 'She is.' She started to get up. 'I'll make us a cup of tea.' She picked
up the wine glasses and made her way to the kitchen.
'Would you like a biscuit?' she called.
'Yes.' said William.
He sat back and concentrated on relaxing. He did this at the end of each day, usually
when he had dinner out of the way, the dishes were washed and he was having his
nightly cup of tea with his wife. He focused on his breathing, inhaling and exhaling,
clearing his mind of all his clients, their worries, and how he could possibly help
them. He had been worrying for some time now that he was no longer able to do his
job, that it was too stressful for him and listening to people's many problems and
worries, day in and day out, were starting to mentally take their toll. He had thought
for some time about giving up his practice and now that he no longer had as many
clients as he had had previously, it seemed an ideal time to start to wind down. His
hope was that his work would come to a natural end.
Jolene had returned with two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits on a tray. 'You're
looking very serious.' she said.
'I was thinking about maybe closing my practice.'
'Why?' asked his wife.
'You know yourself that I'm not getting the same number of clients as I used to, and
as well as that the job's really starting to get to me. I think that I'm spending too much
time in other people's heads. I've started to find it really difficult to be objective when
I'm counselling someone, and I've started to bring my work home with me. Not
physically, but mentally. I find it hard to switch off when I come home at night.'
'You know that I've always admired what you do' said Jolene. 'I certainly couldn't do
your job. I know it's difficult, but I believe you do make a difference to people's lives.
You know that I'll support you, whatever you decide, but I think you should really
take some time to think it over. Maybe you should take a bit of a break. I'm due some
holiday soon as well, why don't we go over to visit Claire?
'That sounds like a great idea, it'll give us both the chance to get our heads showered.'
They drank the rest of their tea and began discussing their upcoming trip.
Meanwhile, fifteen miles away, in a house in Cromwell Road in Belfast, Mary Smith
was mulling over the day's events. She would never have thought that she, of all
people, would be seeing a psychotherapist. It certainly was unusual, but no stranger
than the rest of the events which had recently occurred. She had spent so long trying
to work out where she was, what she was, that what she had told William Marcus was
certainly true. She was feeling lost. And she had not told him this, but she was
desperate. So desperate that she was willing to disclose her past in exchange for
freedom and peace of mind. She was aware that her poor therapist, William Marcus,
might think that she was mad, in fact that he was going mad, when he finally learned
the truth about who she was and where she was from.
When she was a child, it had been an idyllic existence. She had been so happy.
Pampered, certainly, but not spoiled. Her parents were proud of her and everyone was
certain that a golden future lay ahead. But all that was to change.
She closed her eyes and thought back to her childhood. Scenes flitted through her
mind, of suitors, music and dancing. Yes, what had been then was a universe away
from where she was now. Her last memories of the time where she was were
fragmented. She had been ill, she knew that. She must have died because she
remembered nothing that had happened after her illness. The first thing she had been
aware of when she awoke was the darkness, then the faint light which she had moved
towards. When she had reached it, she had noticed how incredibly bright it was.
Then, in a second it was all around her.
She was standing with her back against something solid. Turning round, she had
noticed it was some kind of reproduction of a picture the artist Hans Eworth had
painted of she and her husband, Philip of Spain. The room she was standing in was
unfamiliar, and seemed to be filled with exhibits of some kind. She wondered where
she was. Looking down, she saw a leaflet that someone had dropped on the floor. She
bent down and picked it up. 'Ulster Museum : 2009 Events' it read. 'How very
peculiar!' she thought. 'Surely this must be a dream?' And where was the Ulster
Museum? She thought that she remembered something quite vague about the location
of Ulster – she tried to bring it to the front of her mind but couldn't quite manage it.
'Never mind.' she said to herself. 'I will soon find out exactly where I am.'
She looked directly in front of her and noticed a painting of a woman she recognised.
'Ah,' she thought 'my dear sister.' She read the inscription carefully. It informed her
that Elizabeth had become Queen in 1558, after her sister Mary's death.
Naming Elizabeth as her successor had been something that Mary had been reluctant
to do, but in the end she had had no choice. Now, as she looked at what had been
written about her sister, she realised that Elizabeth had been a great success as Queen,
something Mary hadn't quite managed. Even though they'd had a strained relationship
at times, in a weird way she was proud of the woman her half-sister had become.
It was a miracle, a real act of God that she and Elizabeth had had the chance to rule
England at all. Of course, their brother Edward, as the only boy in the family, was
first in line to the throne, and it was fully expected that he would have a long reign. It
was a surprise when he died, six years after succeeding to the throne. Of course, after
he died there had been that horrible business with Lady Jane Grey. Mary regretted the
fact that she had had to have the girl executed. She had wanted to imprison her
indefinitely, but events had overtaken her and Mary knew that she had no other
choice. The girl, and her husband, were so young, but Henry had taught his daughter,
if nothing else, that the kingdom had to have stability, and this could only be
achieved by the young people's deaths.
She remembered sitting in Hampton Court Palace while she had talked the situation
over with one of her advisers.
'I am in two minds' she said. 'She is so young, but she is a threat to me and to the
stability of the kingdom.' She had paused, thinking about the consequences of her
decision. 'I have made up my mind. She must die.'
'As you wish, Your Majesty. I shall have the warrant prepared.' He bowed, and left
the room.
Her secretary had prepared the death warrant and she herself had signed it, not
without hesitation or the pangs of conscience. She herself had once been of the same
age as this girl, under threat of execution, and she wavered for a moment, wondering
if she was doing the right thing. 'It is right for the Kingdom.' she told herself. Besides,
Lady Jane had Reformist leanings and it was Mary's duty to protect that sacred,
ancient faith in which she herself had been brought up.
She had thought about the past a lot since she had come to this time, after all she had
very little to occupy her. Certain things weighed heavily on her mind. She thought
often about her mother, and how she had been treated during her final years. She
thought about her own life, and the decisions she had made. She knew from reading
about Elizabeth's achievements as Queen that she was well thought of. Mary had
started to realise that her own reign was seen very differently. Why had this
happened? She had tried to do God's will, and act according to her conscience but this
did not seem to have been impressive enough for most people. Yet, what else could
she have done? The one thing she was happy about was that she now had someone in
this day and age who she could talk to, and who she fully intended to tell the truth to
when the time came.
Mary had no idea how she had ended up in the twenty-first century, or indeed why
she was here. She knew that she was meant to be here, but beyond that she had no
ideas of why she had come. Very quickly she had realised that the questions of why
she was here, in the twenty-first century, and of how she had managed to travel four
centuries would have to wait. She had been feeling very unwell, as indeed she often
had in her own time, and the idea of talking to someone about her problems had
appealed to her immensely. She would talk about what was bothering her, her
therapist would listen, and she would benefit enormously from the experience.
Somewhat naively, she had thought that it was just a matter of talking about the
things that she wanted to discuss. She had had no idea that the therapist's questions
would be so probing.
William Marcus's first words to her had unnerved her.
'Tell me about your mother.'
She had paused, knowing then that she was unable to tell him the full story, at least
not until she knew that she could trust him because she feared that he would never
believe her. No psychotherapist worth their salt was going to accept that someone
who had been dead and buried for over four hundred years was seemingly alive and
sitting in their office in 2009. The poor man would most likely assume that he was
delusional, and that assumption would do him no good, as he clearly was not.
Mary had gone through a few changes since arriving in the twenty-first century,
knowing immediately that she needed to blend in until the time came to reveal her
true identity. Her first challenge had been to get out of the Ulster Museum without
being noticed. She had observed straight away that the style of clothing of the others
in the museum was unfamiliar to her, and the more exhibits she saw the more
panicked she became. Where on earth was she? She thought that the best plan for
getting out of there was to be as inconspicuous as possible. If the unthinkable
happened and someone saw her, she would merely pretend that she was in costume.
This plan worked well, and soon she was outside the building. She started walking in
the direction of a park. She had always enjoyed a good walk.
On the way through the park, which she had later come to realise were the Botanic
Gardens, she had been aware of some people looking at her with curiosity. She heard
murmurs as some people passed by her.
'Mummy, look at that lady. Why is she wearing those funny clothes?'
She turned round and noticed a small child staring at her.
'She's probably come from the museum and they are having some kind of special
event where people dress up.' The child's mother couldn't think of any other
explanation.
Obviously Mary stood out more than she had anticipated. The distinct lack of other
people dressed as if they were from the sixteenth century made it obvious to her that
if she wanted to blend in, she would have to make a few changes to her clothing, her
hair, and probably the way she spoke as well. For some reason, she felt that being in
the twenty-first century would not be a momentary experience, or one that would last
for a few days or weeks, but she had a strong sense that there was something that she
must accomplish, and she would not be able to leave this time without doing it.
From her short walk through the gardens, she had realised that the first thing she must
do was to change her clothes. How was she going to do this? She soon found her
answer. On leaving the Botanic Gardens she had started walking down a street. She
noticed that one of the shops (or she assumed it was a shop) had some bags outside.
She peered inside the bag and found that it was filled with clothes. 'Just what I need'
she thought. She rummaged through the bag until she had found a suit and some other
clothes that would fit her. She picked them up and was about to walk off when a man
came out of the shop.
'Hey, you, what do you think you're doing?' he shouted.
Mary turned to face him. She assumed that her queenly bearing would make him
instantly tremble in fear, but in fact it did nothing of the sort. Instead, the man started
to move towards her in a threatening way. Her survival instincts instantly kicked in.
She turned and started to run off. Baffled at the sight of what appeared to be someone
in fancy dress running down Botanic Avenue carrying an armful of clothes, the
people currently about their business in the street parted like the Red Sea as she came
running towards them.
'Stop that woman!' the man shouted. But his pleas came to no avail. No one stopped
her.
The man came running down the street. 'What's wrong with you?' he said to the
passers by. 'That woman stole clothes from outside my shop!'
A woman started to laugh. 'Don't be daft son, why would anyone do that?'
'I saw her!'
'You're serious?' The woman's tone of voice changed. She wasn't smiling now.
'Where is she?' She and the man looked around, but the person they were looking for
was no longer around.
Mary had got as far away from the frightening man as she possibly could. She had
gone into a side street and had hidden behind a wall, peering out to make sure no one
was still chasing her. That had been a close call. Obviously, life in the twenty-first
century would not be simple for her.
She realised that she would have to change her clothes as a matter of priority. But
where would she go to do this? She could not be expected to undress in the street.
She looked around her. Maybe she would find some help in one of these houses.
She walked up to the first door and hesitated. How would she alert someone to her
presence? She thought back. Maybe she would knock on the door. That seemed to be
the best way to summon someone.
After a wait of a few minutes the door was opened by a young man, dressed in what
Mary now assumed to be the main style of the age. He was wearing some kind of
bright blue garment on his top half, and his breeches, or whatever one called them
now, were a dark blue colour. The young man looked tired. Maybe he had just woken
up.
'Good day.' she said. Inwardly she was having doubts already about the success of
this enterprise. She wasn't even sure she had used the correct greeting. Was that what
one said in this day and age?
'Can I help you?' the young man said.
'Do you have a room in which I can change my clothes?' she asked.
The young man looked at her. He took in the French hood, the sixteenth century
dress, and finally the armful of clothes she was carrying. He looked bewildered, and
slightly scared.
'Sorry, I don't.' he said.
'Alan, who's at the door?' she heard a female voice shout.
'It's just some...' he turned round but Mary had already left.
That had been a mistake. She would have to find somewhere else. Somewhere of her
own.
She noticed that a few of the houses on the street were for sale. Maybe these would
have no one in them and she could change her clothes there. She tried the door to the
first house, knocking first to make sure that there was no one there. She heard
footsteps on the other side of the door and realised that there must still be someone in
the house. Obviously, a for sale sign did not mean that the house was empty. She
tried another door. It wasn't even locked. There were no lights on and when she
looked into the rooms they were completely empty. This would do.
She found a full-length mirror abandoned in one of the bedrooms and stood before it,
studying herself. She looked the same as she always had. She studied her hair, her
face, her body, before taking her clothes and her hood off. Where would she put
them? There were no cupboards and nothing to hang her gown on on. She supposed
that there was nothing else to do but to lay her belongings carefully on the floor.
She selected some clothes from the pile she had taken from outside the charity shop.
She looked at them carefully. They were so different from what she was used to, but
if she was going to blend in she had no choice but to wear them. She had noticed on
her walk through the park that all the women she had seen tended to wear similar
things, and this had made it easy for her to find suitable clothes quickly.
She dressed and looked at herself in the mirror again. She looked now like she would
blend in to the time she was in now. In appearance, at least. A few other things would
have to change if she was to truly blend in.
Her name, Mary Tudor was instantly recognisable so this would have to change. She
had thought long and hard about what to call herself. She had found a phone book
abandoned in one of the rooms, and had looked through it to find a common surname.
There were a lot of people called Smith, so she decided to adopt this as her surname.
Her first name, Mary, was common enough, so that could stay as it was. So far, so
good. Now for her voice. She thought back to the accents of the people she had
encountered. She would have to sound like them if she wanted to fit in. She had tried
saying a few things, and had eventually found an accent that wasn't too different from
those she had heard in the park and on the street.
These changes had helped her to blend in. And after a few days of being in the house,
she was convinced that no one would ever come there, so she had decided to stay.
There was only one problem. She had nothing with which to occupy her time. This
would not do. She was uncomfortable with being idle, as she had always had
something to do.
This had led to her becoming a volunteer at the Belfast Medieval History Museum.
This had happened entirely by accident, but nevertheless it was a turn of events that
she was more than happy with. Having nothing else to do, she had taken to walking
around the city during the day. If nothing else, it would familiarise her with her new
surroundings.
She had walked past the building the museum was in and the poster outside
advertising their current exhibit had caught her eye. She had studied the poster
carefully. The museum was currently displaying Books of Hours from the fourteenth
and fifteenth centuries. Now that was something that definitely interested her. She
pushed open the door and went inside.
A woman was standing at the door. She smiled at Mary. 'Hello' she said.
Mary smiled back. 'Hello.'
'Are you here to see the exhibit?'
'Yes I am. I'm very interested in books from that time.'
'That's great.' said the woman. 'Most people only come in here to get out of the rain.
It's nice to meet someone who's actually interested in learning something.' Mary
studied the woman carefully. She had a pleasant face, curly blonde hair and was quite
plump. 'Would you like me to show you around?'
'Yes, please.' said Mary.
They went into the room where the exhibit was kept. To Mary's dismay there were
very few books actually in the exhibit, and the main focus of the room was a series of
panels explaining the history of the Book of Hours and how it had been used as a
devotional by people in that time. She was very familiar with this, having used one
herself throughout her life. She concentrated on reading the panels as the woman she
had spoken to before explained the basic history of the works to her.
Mary listened carefully. Meanwhile, a thought was forming in her mind. She
pondered and pondered as she listened to the woman speaking.
'That was very interesting.' Mary said. 'They are lovely to look at, aren't they?'
'They are.' agreed her companion. 'I often wonder what it would be like to be a
medieval lady reading one of those books.'
Mary knew only too well what it was like to read those books as part of her daily
devotions but said nothing.
They walked back out to the entrance. The woman paused. 'I don't know if you'd be
interested, but we're looking for volunteers for the museum. We can't afford to pay
people, because the museum's so small and we don't get much funding, but we would
be able to give you money towards your travel expenses and things like that.'
Mary thought about it, but only for a second. It was just what she had been looking
for. It would give her something to occupy herself. 'That sounds great!' she said.
Things had gone well since then. She volunteered for a few days a week at the
museum, then the rest of the time was spent exploring the city she had found herself
in. She had been slightly concerned that the referees she had listed on her volunteer
application (who by now had been dead for over four hundred years) would pose a
problem but everything had gone smoothly and by the time she had started seeing
William Marcus she had been volunteering at the museum for six months. She had
been thinking about things during that time as well. Tossing and turning at night
mulling over her past and her unexpected present.
She had thought that she would maybe need to find someone to talk to. For some
reason, when she had seen William Marcus's name in the Yellow Pages (he hadn't
been recommended by a work colleague, she'd lied about that too) she had felt a
connection. This was something she couldn't explain either.
She got up, paused to take a book from the makeshift shelf, and knelt before the
crucifix on her wall. It was time for her nightly ritual. There was something about the
Latin prayers that comforted her, maybe it was the fact that they had been part of her
childhood, and her mother had taught them to her when she was very young. She felt
connected to her mother in a way, through her faith. Even though Marie knew that to
be so religious in the twenty first century was very uncommon, and some people
might see it as strange, her faith was very important to her and had sustained her this
far throughout her life.
She was not going to stop believing now, no matter what anyone said.
******
A week later, Mary sat opposite William Marcus as she began her second therapy
session.
'How have you been since the last session?' he asked.
'I've been quite well, thank you.' said Mary. 'I've been feeling a lot more positive
about everything, a little less lost, and I want to say again how happy I am that you
are helping me to sort things out.'
William smiled. 'I'm glad to hear it. And you know, Mary, I really do want to help
you, and as long as you're honest with me I'm confident I'll be able to do that.' He
paused. 'Have you been thinking any more about what we were talking about last
week?' he asked.
Mary nodded. She had decided to tell William some version of the truth. Not the
whole truth, at least, not yet, but she would be able to give him some kind of idea
about the real events which had happened to her throughout her life. She couldn't of
course, tell him her mother was Catherine of Aragon and her father was Henry VIII.
She would probably find herself in the nearest mental institution in a short space of
time if she were to disclose that secret.
'I have.' she said. 'I have been thinking a lot about my mother. What you just said,
about being honest, I really want to do that. Honesty has always been very important
to me. Some might have said it was too important to me.'
'When I was growing up, my mother was a very important figure in my life. From her
I inherited many of the things that I hold most dear in my life. My faith. My courage.
It all came from her. She taught me to be the woman that I am. It broke my heart that
I could not be there when she died.'
'Why couldn't you be there?' asked William gently.
'I was away at the time, and I wasn't able to get to her before she died.'
'Does that still make you sad?'
'Very.' said Mary softly.
'What was your mother like?' asked William.
'She was a very strong woman, she was able to stand up to my father, which not
many people were able to do. She was a very loving, caring person, and she was so
happy to finally have a child when I was born. She had had miscarriages and
stillbirths before I came along, you see. She'd had another child, but he died before he
was even two months old. She was very sad about that. About all her children. But
she knew that it was God's will. That it had pleased God to call them from this world.'
'Was she religious?'
'Yes, she was. She has passed her strong faith on to me. It is very important for me to
be true to my beliefs and to uphold the faith in the face of....' she trailed off, fearing
she had said too much.
'Go ahead.' said William.'Don't be afraid to say what's on your mind.'
'Yes, I know.' said Mary. 'What I meant to say was that nowadays it seems that there
is so much opposition to faith and it's important to me that I am true to what I believe
and what I know to be the truth.'
She felt relief that William had not seemed to notice the strangeness of what she had
begun to say. She must learn to be a little more guarded while she was talking to him.
'You say that your mother taught you to be true to your beliefs. How has this affected
your life, do you think?'
Mary paused before answering. 'I think sometimes it has made me unpopular. Other
people sometimes don't seem to understand the reasons why I have done things. I
think it's probably because they don't feel the same way I do.'
'What kind of things did you do?' asked William.
She paused again before answering. She had thought a lot about the events that had
happened during her reign since she had come to this time, and she knew that she
could not tell William the truth. At least, not yet. It was a very different time that she
had come to, and she knew that what was acceptable during her lifetime was
completely abhorrent now. Of course, William would know what had happened,
everyone did, but he would never associate those events with the woman sitting in
front of him. Of that she was sure.
'I made decisions that affected people's lives.' She paused. 'I don't feel that I can tell
you yet what those decisions were, I hope you can understand.'
'I do appreciate that, Mary' said William 'but if we are to get to the bottom of why
you feel the way you do about things, and what is going on in your mind, you will
have be honest with me and open up to me.'
'I know, said Mary, 'it's just that I'm finding it hard to be honest with you. I don't
mean that I've been lying to you, it's just that I find it hard to be honest with most
people and tell them how I'm really feeling.'
She paused.
'I have had to have my guard up for my entire life, can you understand what that is
like? I can't let my guard down in case I say the wrong thing.'
'What do you mean by that?' asked William.
'I...' she faltered, fumbling for an explanation. There was a silence. Then she spoke.
'I suppose I've always been aware of how what I say can have an effect, not just on
me, but on others around me.'
'Is this something that your mother taught you?'
She shook her head. 'This idea, this belief, really came from my father. He was a
difficult man sometimes, and often he would fly into a rage if someone said the
wrong thing.'
'Was he ever violent?'
She nodded. 'He was. People would often get hurt when he got angry.'
'Did you ever see him being violent?'
'No, but I heard about it from others after it had happened. Some of the things he did
were awful, he was worse than....I ever could have imagined.'
'So these rages, they were completely unexpected?' asked William.
Mary nodded. 'His personality seemed to change quite suddenly. One day he was a
kind father, then the next his behaviour was threatening.'
'So he was violent towards you.'
It was more of a statement than a question, but nevertheless Marie felt compelled to
answer.
'No, he never was. Although, sometimes, I did feel threatened by him.'
'You did?'
'He had a very bad temper, as I've already said, and he couldn't handle his authority
being challenged. I suppose he felt that I was challenging him, from time to time, and
he couldn't deal with it.'
'Was this as you were growing up? That you felt threatened?'
Mary nodded. 'Yes, it started when I was fourteen. I suppose, at that point, he was
determined that he was going to divorce my mother, and he thought that I was some
kind of obstacle to his plans. I didn't like the woman he was going to marry, and he
was completely besotted with her, and because I couldn't accept their relationship he
wasn't happy. He made this very clear on many occasions.'
William was intrigued. 'So your father was getting divorced from your mother,
essentially, so that he could marry another woman?'
Mary nodded.
'And how did that make you feel?'
'I felt that he had betrayed both my mother and I. She had loved him for a really long
time, and was devastated when he told her that he didn't want to be married to her any
more. It was very upsetting for her. I hated to see her being hurt like that.'
'And did you blame your father?'
'A little bit, but the one who was really responsible for it all was his mistress, the
woman he eventually married. She wouldn't settle for being his bit on the side, she
wanted to marry my father and would not have settled for anything else. As for him,
his head was turned by her and I always thought it was almost like she had put a spell
on him. He would never have divorced my mother if she hadn't come along. And my
mother wouldn't have died sad and alone, away from her only child, less than three
years later.'
William looked at the clock on the wall. 'Our time is up.' he said. In fact, they had
gone slightly over the allotted hour, so engrossed had William been with what Mary
was telling him.
Mary got up. 'Shall I make another appointment?'
He nodded. 'I feel that we're really getting somewhere here. If you carry on with this
therapy, you will no doubt be able to resolve your present difficulties.' He smiled.
'Suzanne will be able to make another appointment for you.'
He watched her as she walked out the door and went to the reception desk. He stood
with the door slightly ajar, his eyes on her as she chatted with his receptionist.
William couldn't shake the feeling that there was something that she was not telling
him. He was an experienced therapist, and knew by instinct when someone was not
being entirely truthful. He had been aware from the start that this was true in Mary's
case. Although he was beginning to realise that she was not deliberately lying to him.
He sensed that she was unable to tell him the truth for some reason.
He sighed and sat down in his chair. This client was beginning to cause him some
difficulty. He wanted to get at the truth, wanted her to open up to him but he was
beginning to realise that perhaps this was impossible for her for some reason. He
wished he knew what that reason was. In a way, he wished that he no longer had to
think about other people's problems. Not for the first time, he wondered if maybe his
earlier idea about closing his practice had been the right one. He had said that he
would wait until his trip to London with Jolene to make up his mind for sure, but now
he thought that he probably would be closing the practice sooner rather than later. It
wasn't something he wanted to do, but rather that he felt he had to do, for his own
peace of mind. There was no real reason for staying on, financially he and his wife
were well enough off and would be able to survive quite well without the income that
he brought in.
He heard the door shut and realised that Mary had gone. He went out into the
reception area, where Suzanne was poring over some paperwork.
'Did Mary make another appointment?' he asked.
'She did. A week on Wednesday at 2pm.'
'Did she talk to you about anything else?'
'No, she didn't' said Suzanne 'she just made the appointment, then left. Was there
something she'd forgotten?'
William shook his head. 'No, there's nothing. Thanks Suzanne.'
He went back into his office and shut the door. An idea was starting to form in his
mind. At the next session, if Mary was okay with it, he would try some
hypnotherapy. He had learned the technique some years ago, and although he had not
used it recently, he was confident that he still knew how to carry it out. Perhaps being
more relaxed would enable Mary to open up to him more easily, and she would be
able to tell him the things which she felt unable to say under normal circumstances.
As for Mary, she had left William's office in a somewhat strange state of mind. She
wondered if she could ever bring herself to tell him the truth about who she was. She
didn't quite understand herself how she had somehow managed to be in twenty-first
century Belfast, with so much emotion inside of her. Of course, she had always been
emotional, had always had feelings, but she had learned from a very young age that
she had to bottle them up and not betray what she was really thinking. Her one
refuge, the one place where she knew that she could always be honest was when she
was at prayer.
It was cold outside and Mary wished that she had worn something a little warmer.
She thought back to the clothes she had worn in the sixteenth century. She missed
them. The long skirts, the trailing sleeves and the jewels were exquisite and the drab
suit she was wearing now just didn't really compare to that finery.
Her mind couldn't quite grasp the fact that she was here, in twenty-first century
Belfast. It really was too much for someone from over four hundred years ago to take
in. She felt distinctly uncomfortable in the modern age, like a fish out of water. She
was frightened, far from all that she knew and above all she had felt compelled to
open herself up to the closest of scrutiny, with attending a psychotherapist's clinic.
She had no idea why she had done this. It was as if her lifelong need to make herself
understood had finally come to fruition, in the oddest of ways.
There were no therapists in the sixteenth century. Then she had talked to her
confessor, or her advisers, and had sought guidance from them. She was confused by
the myriad of leaflets she had seen in the waiting room of Mr Marcus's office, which
offered advice on everything from dealing with the break-ups of someone's parents'
marriage to coping with bereavement.
She thought back to when her mother had died. Mary had been living in her halfsister
Elizabeth's household at the time.
She had gone to bed early as she had had a headache. She had just been drifting off to
sleep when she had heard a knock at her door.
'Lady Mary?' a voice had called out. It was Lady Shelton, her sister Elizabeth's
governess. 'Are you awake?'
She had got up from the bed and opened the door. 'What is it?' she had asked.
'There is a letter for you. I think it is from your mother.'
She had opened it with anticipation but as soon as she had read it she had been
overcome with emotion. The letter was not from her mother, but one of her mother's
servants. It informed her that her mother had died a few days ago. Wordlessly, she
had handed the letter back to Lady Shelton who had also read it. Dumb with shock,
Mary had only been able to retreat back into her room and had closed the door. She
had wanted no one with her, no one would be able to comfort her. Her mother was
dead, she had died alone and separated from the man she had loved and the child she
had adored.
It had been a terrible time and one that she avoided thinking about as much as
possible now. The memory was too painful. So, Mary shook herself back into the
present day. She had things to do, which she would never be able to accomplish if she
allowed herself to be dragged back into the misery of the past.
*****
The day was cold and William Marcus was finding it hard to drag himself out of bed.
It was the middle of December by this point, and it was one of the harshest winters he
could ever remember.
On his way to the office he thought about the day ahead. He thought that perhaps
today would be the day that he would finally find out the truth about Mary Smith.
This idea implanted itself firmly in his brain as he walked from his house to the train
station, during his train journey, and then again on the short walk from the train
station to his office.
He arrived in his office to find Suzanne there. This was unusual. He usually arrived
before her.
'You're in early.' he said. He meant it just as a comment, but his tone of voice seemed
to Suzanne to be somewhat accusing. She glared at him.
'I couldn't sleep.' she said defiantly. 'I thought I might as well get an early start.'
William realised what he had done. 'I'm sorry for snapping at you.' He smiled at her
apologetically. 'Do you have my list for today?'
She handed it over. He studied it carefully, then handed it back. 'There's a name
missing.' he said.
Suzanne checked the list again. 'No,' she said firmly 'all your clients' names are on
there.'
'Mary's name's missing.' It was his turn to be firm.
'Oh, I forgot to say. She rang yesterday to cancel her appointment.'
'Did she make another one?'
'No, I asked her if she wanted to change to another time but she said no, that she
wanted to cancel completely.'
'Did she say why?' asked William.
'No.' said Suzanne.
William stormed into his office and slammed the door with such force that Suzanne
wondered if she shouldn't ring Jolene to tell her that her husband was behaving
strangely and she should come and collect him. She had never seen him like this. He
was usually so calm.
William was furious, and confused to boot. He had no idea why he was so upset. He
had dealt with this kind of situation before. He had had a few clients over the years
who, for one reason or another, had felt unable to continue their work with him.
But none of them had intrigued him quite as much as Mary Smith had.
There was something about her that he could not quite explain, something that drew
him in and made him want to know more. From that first time she had sat in his
office, just a few weeks ago, he had felt that she was hiding something. Now he
would never find out the truth.
He realised that he must have alarmed Suzanne with his strange behaviour, and that
he needed to apologise to her. He came out of his office and approached the reception
desk. Suzanne regarded him warily. She had never seen him so upset before, and she
wondered what had caused it. Surely it wasn't the loss of his client, that had happened
before and it had never affected him in that way.
'I'm sorry I flew off the handle there, Suzanne.' he said. 'I must have scared you.'
She nodded. 'I've never seen you like that before. Do you want to talk about it?'
He paused. How could he tell Suzanne what he was feeling? He wasn't quite sure
himself. It wasn't like him to get upset at losing a client, but then this was no ordinary
client. Of that he was sure.
'Thanks for the offer, Suzanne, but I think I'll be okay.' He started walking back
towards his office, then stopped. He turned to his receptionist. 'Suzanne, I think I've
become a bit more emotionally involved with Mary Smith than is advisable. It's
probably for the best that she won't be coming to see me any more.' He paused again.
'There's something I need to tell you. I've been thinking for a while about shutting up
shop. I think I've been inside other people's heads for far too long and I need to take a
break from it. What happened today has convinced me that it's the right decision. I
know you'll be out of a job and I'm sorry about that. You're a hard worker though,
and I'll be giving you an excellent reference. You've been a great help to me since
you started here. I know you won't have any trouble finding another job.'
Suzanne looked thoughtful. 'Thanks for letting me know. When do you think the
place will close?'
'I'm not sure.' William replied. 'I won't do anything until after Christmas though. Six
months, maybe?'
'At least the office is only rented, so you won't have to worry about selling the place.'
pointed out Suzanne.
'That's true' said William. 'Well, I'd better go and do some work.'
'Would you like a coffee?' asked Suzanne. 'I'm going to make one for myself.'
'That'd be lovely.' said William.
'Okay.' said Suzanne. 'I'll bring it into you when it's ready.'
The rest of the day passed without incident, and soon William was on the train
heading home.
Jolene was out when he arrived at the house, so he pottered about the kitchen, making
himself a cup of tea. He had just sat down when the door opened and his wife came in
with a woman he didn't recognise.
'Hiya, love.' the woman said.
Jolene made the introductions. 'William, this is Dolores, who I work with. Dolores,
this is my husband William,'
'Pleased to meet you.' said Dolores.
'Likewise.' said William. 'How are you?'
'Fine thanks. Not loving this weather though. It's awful cold. How are you?'
'Not too bad. I had a bit of a rough day, but I'll be fine.'
'Jolene says you're a psychotherapist.' said Dolores.
'That's right' said William. 'I've been doing that for more than thirty years.'
'You must get some interesting cases.'
He smiled, thinking of Mary Smith. 'Sometimes, yes.'
The three of them chatted for an hour or so over cups of tea. Eventually, Dolores
stood up.
'Well, I'll have to get home. My husband will be wondering where I am.'
Jolene and William stood up as well. 'Where do you live?' asked William.
'Just on the other side of the town' said Dolores.
'How did you get here? Do you need a lift home?' asked William.
'I'll take her.' said Jolene, 'You stay here and rest yourself.'
As the two women left, William settled down in front of the TV. He flicked aimlessly
from channel to channel before eventually finding some kind of apocalyptic drama
which intrigued him enough to take his mind off the events of the day. After a while,
he heard the front door opening.
'Jolene, is that you?' he called out.
There was no answer. However, after a few minutes his wife came into the room.
'Hi, honey, I'm home.' She smiled. 'How was your day?'
He decided not to mention that he had lost his temper. 'It was fine.'
'Just fine?'
He didn't answer.
'I thought I heard you tell Dolores you'd had a rough day?' his wife said.
'Did you?' he lied. 'I don't remember saying that. You must have misheard.'
Jolene shrugged. 'I probably did. You know what my hearing's been like. What are
you watching?' She gestured at the TV.
'Some drama about the end of the world. It's not too bad, actually.'
She made a face. 'Rather you than me. I'm going to make a cup of tea, do you want
one?'
William shook his head. 'I think I've had enough tea for tonight.'
His wife came back into the room with her drink and they watched the end of the
drama together. Afterwards, William said he was tired.
'It's been a long day. I'm going to go to bed.'
'I'll just finish this,' his wife gestured at the cup of tea in front of her. 'then I'll be up.'
William headed upstairs. He was tired, but at the same time his head was buzzing and
he knew he would probably find sleep difficult to come by that night. He had a
notebook that he kept by the side of his bed, which he wrote in when he had a lot on
his mind. He decided he would make use of it tonight.
He was still writing when Jolene came up. 'Are you okay?' she asked, as she got into
bed. 'You seem to be writing 'War and Peace' there.'
'Just got a lot on my mind.' he said. 'You know that I like to write these things down.
In a few months I'll look back and wonder what I was thinking!'
'Is there anything you want to talk about?' his wife asked.
'No, it's just silly stuff. Things to do with work. I don't like to bother you.'
'Well, I am your wife.' said Jolene. 'For better, for worse, and all that.' She paused.
'Well. I'm going to try and get some sleep. You should, too.'
William put the notebook down. 'You're right.' He switched off the bedside lamp and
lay down. 'Goodnight Jolene.'
He awoke in the middle of the night, not quite knowing why. Something was niggling
at the back of his mind and insinuating itself into his dreams. If only he knew what it
was.
He tried to go back to sleep but unconsciousness eluded him. That feeling was there
again. He couldn't quite grasp it, it kept slipping away, but it was there nonetheless. It
was an unfamiliar feeling to him. It was as if he was trying to remember something
that was buried far inside his mind.
He tossed and turned for a little while longer but it was no use. He couldn't get back
to sleep. He got up, put on his dressing gown and went downstairs. He poured
himself a glass of water and sat at the kitchen table. He had to work out what was
bothering him.
He had taken his notebook downstairs, and he looked at what he had written before
he had gone to sleep that night. It had mostly been about retiring from his profession.
Concerns that now he would no longer be working he would find it difficult to know
what to do with his time. At the bottom of the page he had written a name.
Mary Smith.
He couldn't get her out of his head. He knew that he was being irrational. If he hadn't
known any better, he would say that he was almost becoming obsessed with her.
With finding out who she really was. That feeling that had been niggling at him now
presented itself. William was faced with an uncontrollable desire to find out the truth
about this woman. She had not revealed her true self to him at all. Of that he was
sure.
He had to find out who she really was.
*****
William woke up the next morning none the worse for the broken sleep of the
previous night. He and Jolene assumed their normal morning routine.
William looked at the notebook in his hand. Under the name 'Mary Smith' he had
written 'Find out the truth.' This seemed to him to be a reasonable undertaking. Yet,
how was he going to do this? He would have to find her first.
He kissed Jolene goodbye and headed for the train station. The first thing he would
do when he got into the office was look at the form Mary had filled in at her first
appointment. That would contain some contact details. If she didn't want to talk to
him after he got in touch with her, then he would have to find some way of making
her tell him the truth. William had a burning desire to know what Mary's real story
was, and he would not rest until his task was accomplished.
He arrived at the office to find that Suzanne wasn't there. This was nothing unusual.
William often arrived at the office before she did. He went to the filing cabinet where
all the client details were kept. He opened it and started looking for Mary's forms.
Suzanne came in just as he was getting started.
'Good morning, Mr Marcus.' she sang.
'You're in a good mood.' he said.
'Well, it's better to have a positive attitude. That's what my granny used to say.' She
noticed the open filing cabinet. 'What are you looking for?'
'I'm looking for the form Mary Smith filled in at her first appointment.' he said.
'It'll be in the bottom drawer, with all the other ex-client's forms.' She winced as she
remembered how upset William had been yesterday. She rummaged through the pile
of papers, before pulling a form out. 'Here you are!' She handed it to him with a
flourish.
He looked at it. She had written her name and her address in neat handwriting, but
there was no phone number. He looked at Suzanne. 'Why didn't she leave a contact
number?' he asked.
'She said something about not having a land line at the minute because some work
was being done to her house, and she said she didn't have a mobile either. I did say
she would be best to leave a number in case we had to get in touch with her for any
reason, but she was insistent. If there were any problems, she said, we could always
contact the museum, and they would be able to get a message to her.'
William scanned the rest of the form for information. Other than her work
information there wasn't anything else listed. William sighed.
Suzanne looked at him oddly. 'What do you need her details for anyway? I don't think
she's going to come back. She came here of her own accord after all, and she can
leave if she wants to. It's voluntary. You know that.'
'What did you make of her?' asked William.
'I never really gave her much thought. She was nice enough. Just came in, sat down
and waited for her appointment time. There was one thing that freaked me out about
her though.'
'What was that?' asked William.
'Her eyes.' answered Suzanne. 'When she looked straight at me I felt like she was
trying to look inside me.'
William had not experienced this. 'Why do you think she was trying to look inside
you?'
'I don't know. It was just the way I thought she looked at me. Maybe I was wrong.'
'Maybe.' said William. He moved towards the door of his office, then stopped. 'Did
she ever talk to you?'
Suzanne shook her head. 'Just small talk. Hello, it's a cold day, that kind of thing.
Nothing deep and meaningful.' She looked at William. 'Why have you got such a bee
in your bonnet about her? You were upset yesterday, and now you're asking all these
questions. Is there something you're not telling me?'
He came back over to the reception desk. 'I don't know.' he said slowly. 'There's
something about her that intrigues me. I don't mean that I fancy her or anything like
that, but there's just something about her that makes me want to know more. And I
think she's hiding something. I got the feeling sometimes that when we were talking
she was thinking more about what to say, that in a way she was saying things that
weren't exactly the truth.'
'Do you mean she was saying what she thought you wanted to hear?' said Suzanne.
William shook his head. 'It was more like she wanted to tell me the truth, but couldn't
for some reason. Maybe that's why she's stopped coming. Maybe she couldn't handle
telling me the whole story.'
'I don't think that's it.' Suzanne said. 'Apart from the freaky-eye thing, I got the
impression that she was a very brave lady. She looked like someone that wasn't
scared of anything.'
William nodded. He had kind of got that impression too. 'So you don't think she'll be
back then?' he asked his receptionist.
'I doubt it. You'll be okay, though. You've lost clients before and you've always
bounced back.'
He knew this was true. He headed once again for his office. This time there were no
more questions for Suzanne. He shut the door behind him and sat down.
Now what was he going to do? He had no phone numbers for Mary, although he did
have an address. Maybe he could go round there. And then what? He was well aware
that if he went to her house he would look like some kind of stalker.
He had taken the form she had filled out into the office with him. He looked at the
address. Cromwell Road, just off Botanic Avenue. He calculated that it would take
him about twenty minutes at the most to walk there. He could always do it at
lunchtime and Suzanne or anyone else wouldn't have to know. He was just going
round to Mary's house to check if she was okay, he told himself. There was nothing
wrong with that. Of course, on the other hand, someone might say there was a lot
wrong with that. This was a woman who he had met twice, in a professional capacity,
who for one reason or another had decided to discontinue her appointments with him.
He was not her friend, nor had he any reason to go to her house other than intense
curiosity. He tried to reason with himself, but could not talk himself out of what he
was about to do. He knew it was highly unprofessional, but he felt compelled to do
this.
And after he did, it would really be time to shut up shop. All his feelings surrounding
Mary were convincing him of this more and more.
He had a few clients that morning and made half-hearted attempts to listen to them,
and to help them but he felt like he was having some kind of out of body experience.
He was not himself. He didn't know who or what he was, but for the past few weeks
he had been living someone else's life. It was like someone else had taken control of
his body and of his mind. William wasn't quite far gone enough to think that he was
possessed by something. That was a step too far.
Everything had changed for him the moment Mary Smith had walked into his office.
He had been different since then. Usually his clients barely scratched the surface with
him, he could be an observer in their lives but this woman was different.
It was now approaching one o'clock. His pre-lunchtime client had just left. He went
out to the reception area. Suzanne was just putting her coat on.
'Are you going out for lunch?' she asked.
William nodded. He felt slightly uncomfortable about lying to her, but he could
hardly tell her what he was about to do. She would think it was a terrible idea.
Somewhere, deep down, he knew that it was.
He left his office and started walking in the direction of the University area. It was a
crisp day, and he could feel the cold biting his fingers. He slipped them into his
pockets, wishing that he had worn gloves.
On the walk over he reasoned with himself. He was being a good therapist, caring for
his client. He did not want her to come to any harm. Yet, he knew in a way that he
was being anything but reasonable.
He reached his destination fairly quickly. He walked quickly down the street,
scanning the house numbers quickly. Mary had given her address as number 25. He
paused. The house looked unoccupied and had a for sale sign outside. It didn't look
like it could be the right address, but then that was the one that she had given him.
There was a young woman walking up towards the door of the neighbouring house.
He called over to them.
'Hi there, I'm wondering if you can help me? I'm looking for the lady who lives here.
Mary Smith. Do you know her?'
The young woman shook her head. 'Sorry, but as far as I know that house is empty.
They've been trying to sell it for ages. Only people I ever see round there are coming
to view it.'
William's heart sank. 'Thanks anyway.' he said.
Glumly, he made his way towards the end of the road. It had been a wasted journey.
If he had only looked up he would have seen something which would have convinced
him that this was not the case. Mary was watching him from the first floor window.
Her features did not give away how she felt, but inwardly she was afraid. This man
might find out everything about her before she was ready to tell him. This could not
happen. She would have to find some way of warning him off. He could only find out
who she was when it was the right time for him to do so. It would possibly ruin
everything if he were to stumble upon the truth now.
*****
William woke up the next morning thinking he was about to give up on finding Mary
Smith. If she had given a false address and no other contact details then she obviously
didn't want to be found.
There was just one more thing he could try. He could always go to the Belfast
Medieval History Museum and look for her there.
He phoned Suzanne and told her he would be a bit later in today. He had no
appointments booked until the afternoon anyway, so it wouldn't seem too strange.
He got the train as normal, only instead of getting off at Adelaide Station as he
usually did he stayed on the train until it terminated at Great Victoria Street. There,
he got off and walked to the Cathedral Quarter. The museum was just behind St
Anne's Cathedral.
The woman at the door smiled at him as he walked in. 'Can I help you?' she asked.
William looked around. There was an exhibit on medieval warfare, which seemed to
consist of a lot of information panels but not much else. He wondered if many people
ever came here.
'I'm looking for Mary.' he said.
'She's not in today.' said the woman. 'My name's Louise. Can I help you with
anything?'
'No, it's a personal visit really. Do you know where I might find her? I need to get in
contact with her urgently.'
Louise looked thoughtful. 'I know she goes to mass at St Malachy's Church a lot.
She's mentioned it a few times. She seems to really like it there. She mentioned one
of the priests, Father Tunstall. I think he's been helping her with some things.'
'Thanks.' said William.
'I'll let her know you dropped in.' said Louise.
William was about to tell her not to, but thought better of it at the last minute. What
harm could it do if she knew he had been looking for her?
The next stop was St Malachy's Church, on Alfred Street.
William approached the door, feeling rather nervous. In a way, he didn't want to do
this, but he felt that he had to, if he was ever going to find out the truth about Mary
Smith. He followed the rest of the Mass-goers into the sanctuary, resisting the
temptation to look around him as he did so. Instead, he sat down and focused on
looking straight ahead. It had been a long time since he had been at a church service
of any description. Of course, there were the obligatory visits to cathedrals and
churches when he and Jolene had been on holiday, but this was not quite the same
thing.
The priest stood up. William wondered if this was Father Tunstall, who Louise,
Mary's colleague had mentioned. He began to intone the opening words of the Mass.
They held little interest for William, and he was glad when he heard the final words.
'The Mass has ended. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.'
William approached the priest as he stood at the door after the service.
'Are you Father Tunstall?'
'Yes, that's right.' said the priest.
'I believe we share a mutual friend, Mary Smith.' said William.
'Yes, Mary comes to mass here quite regularly.' said the priest. 'How do you know
her?'
William paused. Should he tell the priest the truth? He didn't see why not. 'She's had
a few counselling sessions with me and now she's rung to say she's not going to come
back. I'm worried about her and just want to check if she's all right. I don't suppose
she ever said anything to you about what was going on?'
The priest shook his head. 'No, she didn't.' he said. 'And even if she had, I couldn't tell
you.'
William left feeling disheartened. Maybe it was time to give up his search. Maybe he
was not meant to find out the truth. He disconsolately made his way to his office,
deciding on the way there that if Mary had gone for good, then that was a sign that he
should focus on the rest of his patients.
A few afternoons later he was in a counselling session with another client when a
knock came to the door. He opened it to find Suzanne standing there.
'I don't like to interrupt you,' she said 'but there's a phone call I think you might want
to take. It's Mary.'
William's heart skipped a beat. He went over to the phone and picked up the receiver.
'Hello, Mary.' he said. 'I'm so glad you rang. I'm glad you're okay. I....'
She interrupted him. 'William, I just spoke to Louise. She said that you came here the
other day looking for me. And Father Tunstall said you were at the church as well.'
'I was worried about you.' he protested. 'I wanted to make sure you were okay.'
'William.' Mary's voice was firm. 'Please don't try to find me. There are things that
you don't know about me and I want it to stay that way. For now. I can't and won't tell
you until I'm ready. If that ever happens.'
The line went dead.
Mary had gone.
