The story begins………….
In the early morning light she slowly stirs and drifts back from the Land of Dreams. Her eyes still closed, she hesitates to leave that place but all is lost. Once again she finds herself awake. Routine now takes control so back the bed sheets roll and feet seek out the floor. Standing then, she finds her way across the room and wanders through the door.
The water, warm, pours gently on her skin and washes clean away the night’s adventures grim. She dresses for the day ahead then eats and drinks her fill. Remembering the day before her heart now skips a beat. This day might bring the same.
Life in the suburbs was pretty much a dull affair but Heather was having none of that. She lived her life to the full and nothing was going to stand in the way. She was almost an adult now and felt the need to escape her somewhat restricted childhood. An intelligent and gifted girl, she sailed through school life and it rewarded her with excellent qualifications. Her parents had plans for her, a university degree, a high-profile profession, a doctor, a lawyer but that was not her wish. Heather was hopelessly romantic and pictured herself as a well paid, in great demand, model. Being attractive she thought that life would be hers for the taking. At seventeen she had the world at her feet. She could be anything she wished. How would it happen, how could it happen? It was summer and her school life had ended. She had applied to several universities because of her parents insistence but her heart wasn’t in it. She felt trapped and hoped something would turn the tables for ambitions to bear fruit.
It was usual for Heather to meet with friends on a Saturday morning. Three or four of them would go to the city and do some window shopping, drink coffee and have fun. This time was special for them all, an escape from reality. None had boyfriends, they hadn’t the time until now. Too much study and a need to do well prevented lasting relationships but they were young and time was on their side. This Saturday started much as every other with a coffee in Starbucks.
The previous day, Friday, Heather had made a special trip to town on an errand for her mum during which she met with somebody new to her. It wasn’t a young man. It was an elderly woman, elegant if a little eccentric, especially in her dress. She seemed stuck in time, a time not of the present but one belonging a hundred years in the past. She had tried to look cosmopolitan but hadn’t really succeeded. No-one however seemed to notice that or care. To Heather though, she was a dear old thing who had something special to offer. She felt it but wasn’t sure what it might be. Unfortunately their first meeting was brief because Heather needed to return home. They parted without making arrangements to meet again. There was something exciting about this woman and Heather knew it.
The girls sat down in the café sipping their hot cappuccino, nibbling at their free biscuits and chatting about girly things and the day ahead. Someone caught Heather’s eye. An old woman standing at the counter looked familiar and certainly dressed in an old-fashioned way. She couldn’t be certain but it looked like the old woman from the day before. Again Heather’s heart skipped a beat and a feeling of anxiousness overcame her. ‘Are you alright’? Asked one of her friends. ‘You look a little pale, like you’ve seen a ghost’. Heather assured her friend that all was well but as she glanced back across the room she found no trace of the old woman. Heather resumed her interaction with her friends. Two minutes passed by and something caught her eye again. I was the old woman and she was sitting at the other end of the room from the girls. She was looking directly at Heather. She waved and Heather waved in return. One of her friends noticed and asked who it was she was waving to. Heather pointed to the woman but the other girl couldn’t see her and asked where she was. Heather told her but the girl could see nobody there. ‘I think you are seeing things’, the girl said and by this time the other girls where looking too. ‘She’s seen some guy’, one of them said but Heather insisted that the woman was there and that she was waving to her. Her friends began to think Heather was playing with them but little did they realise she was telling the truth. Heather began to wonder what was going on. Was it a ghost she was seeing and why didn’t the other girls see her?
These things were forgotten as the girls moved on into the town to do some window shopping but for Heather it was something more. She wanted to understand. Who was the woman she had met the day before and who sat in the coffee bar that morning? For the time being she didn’t let her experience spoil the girl’s day out. Later they all went to one of their houses for an evening of listening to their favourite music and generally doing things that most girls their age do. It wasn’t until Heather finally left for home that her earlier vision began to haunt her. Had she been talking to a ghost? Were there such things as ghosts anyway? These questions kept nagging at her and that night she found it difficult to get to sleep. She did though because she was really tired after her day out with her friends.
Now that school had finished as far as it concerned Heather there was more time to do the things she wished. With the ever presence of her parents, especially her mum who kept nagging about the university prospects she made every effort to escape the house for a few hours. Hoping she might see her seemingly invisible friend she took another trip into town, alone.
Her first stop was Starbucks where she sat sipping coffee for more than an hour. There was no sign of the old woman. Feeling dismayed she began to leave but just then the old woman came through the door. She tried to make eye contact but the woman appeared not to notice her. She left her seat and approached the counter where the woman was ordering a drink. ‘Hello’, said Heather, ‘How are you today’? The old woman turned and smiled. ‘Hello’, she replied and suggested Heather join her at the table. Heather ordered another coffee and the woman insisted on paying for it. They moved to the table and began to chat. Heather did most of the talking though. She talked about her parents, university and her life free of school. The woman was patient and listened intently. Heather felt she could trust her and in some way felt sorry for the old woman. She began to ask questions of her. What she really wanted to ask she kept to herself being afraid of the woman’s reaction. She wanted to know why her friends could not see her as Heather obviously could. She let it slip from her thoughts. The old woman sensed the tension and suggested they go for a walk in the park for a while where they could chat in the warm sunshine of the day. ‘I don’t know your name’, Heather blurted out. ‘Mine is Heather’. ‘Pleased to meet you Heather, my name is Florence’, the old woman replied. What an old-fashioned name thought Heather but the reason was to become more obvious later.
She invited Heather to see it. Heather was a little dubious about the site of the house for she knew the town very well and had never seen a house there. She was curious though and agreed to go with the old woman but mentioned that she had to return home soon. They walked the short distance to town but still Heather couldn’t see a house. ‘It’s just through here’, Florence said as Heather was about to walk past an old wooden door. She often walked down this street but had never noticed a door before. It sat between two large department stores and would be easy to miss. The door had a lock. Florence opened it and they went through. There was a long passageway on the other side which meandered quite a distance to a small wooded area. They past beneath the trees and there before them stood the house. Heather gazed in amazement and wondered why the house was there at all. Nobody noticed the space behind the town’s shopping centre but there it stood right before her. The house looked very old indeed and seemed badly in need of repair. To say it was large was an understatement for it boasted twenty rooms which didn’t include the cellars. A large garden surrounded the property. It was a haven in the midst of the bustling town they’d just left. Heather’s curiosity grew and they both entered the front door.
They entered into a large dark entrance hall, dark and gloomy but lit with candles which gave it an eerie feeling. There were several doors leading to other rooms and Florence guided her young guest through one of them. They entered a very large and old-fashioned reception room which seemingly hadn’t been decorated for may years but had a large and inviting fireplace to which immediately attracted Heather’s attention. Although it was the height of summer the fire was lit and was very inviting because the house was otherwise cold inside. The old woman invited Heather to sit in a large fireside armchair. ‘We will have tea and biscuits now’, said Florence but Heather was paying but scant attention as she was overcome by her surroundings. Never before had she experienced such a place. After a few minutes a maid came into the room carrying a tray on which was a pot of tea, crockery and a huge plate with biscuits. ‘This is very nice of you’, Heather exclaimed. ‘Thank you so much’. ‘My dear’, said the old woman, ‘You are my guest and I am so pleased to have you here’, she continued. Heather thought it was strange that the maid dressed in early Victorian costume but again thought that it was perhaps a novelty, something of an eccentricity on Florence’s part. She asked Florence about the house and why there was no electricity to power the lights. In fact there were no lights, just candles dotted about the room. Florence replied with an unusual statement. ‘There was no electricity in 1840′, she said. ‘But it is 2008′, replied Heather. ‘Oh, I have lost all track of time’, said Florence. ‘Don’t worry my dear, time doesn’t matter here’, she continued. This was confusing to Heather. How can it not matter she thought? She noticed there was no television, no radio, in fact nothing at all electrical in the room and assumed the same was true throughout the house. She asked Florence if this was so. ‘Well’, said Florence in reply, ‘There is no need for electricity here. We manage quite well without it. Like I said, electricity wasn’t invented in 1840′, she continued. ‘I don’t understand’, said Heather. ‘It is 2008′! ‘Are you sure’? Came the reply. Now heather was somewhat concerned. Was it really 1840 or was she imagining everything?
She looked out of the window whilst Florence poured the tea. It all seemed so very quiet and still in the garden and Heather thought it impossible to be that way in the centre of a city. She drank her tea and nibbled at a biscuit. ‘I haven’t seen biscuits like these before’, she said. ‘They don’t make them anymore’, replied Florence. Heather wondered even more about the date. ‘You’ll be wanting to get back home soon’, Florence continued. ‘In a short while’, Heather replied. She felt something about this house, about Florence that was not quite right. She needed more information but did not wish to offend the old woman. Something about the place attracted her. ‘May I see more of the house’? she asked. ‘Perhaps another time’, said Florence, ‘It’s getting quite late now’. Heather finished her drink and thanked her host. She was ready to leave but didn’t really want to go. She put on her coat and they walked outside. It was uncannily quiet. Somehow the garden looked much larger than before and whilst she took that in she noticed a horse-drawn carriage driving by in the distance. ‘That cannot be’, she thought and took a second glance. The carriage had disappeared. They walked the long pathway back to the old wooden door and Heather stepped back into the bustling town. She turned to wave goodbye but no-one was there. Her mind was filled with crazy thoughts as she rode homeward on the bus.
All the following weekend Heather was troubled in her mind. She wanted to talk with her friends about it but was too frightened in case they thought she was insane. Speaking with her parents was out of the question too. She decided to forget about Florence and enjoy the time with her friends instead. One morning about a week later Heather found herself back in town. She had seen an advertisement in the local newspaper asking for girls for a photo-session organised by a health food store. They were searching for healthy looking girls to advertise their products. She thought it an opportunity to be recognised as a prospective model. Well she could at least dream and it would do no harm. It wasn’t as if she was being asked to pose naked.
The venue for the photo-session was in an old theatre in the old part of town and she was to be there at nine in the morning on Saturday. She told her friends about it and they went to town with her for support. They arrived at the old theatre on time but found to their dismay a rather long queue had formed outside. I seemed there were more girls interested than Heather had assumed. They began moving inside where the girls registered before being selected to pose. At this point many were turned away and those who were left were less than fifty in number. Heather began to feel more relaxed knowing that she was one of the fortunate ones who were to stay. Each girl was asked in turn to sit for a couple of photos after which they could be on their way.They would be informed by letter if they had succeeded in pleasing the organisers. That done heather and her friends left and headed to their usual haunt, ‘Starbucks’. Heather had forgotten about the old woman as they walked toward their destination. They had to walk past the wooden door behind which was the long path to the old house where Heather had been the week before. Then they saw the old woman standing there. This time all the girls saw her. As they approached they began to whisper amongst themselves and wondered if the old woman had seen them. She had but her eyes were fixed on Heather and she just stood there smiling. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us’? One of the girls piped up. Heather turned to the old woman as if to apologise to her but she welcomed the girls with open arms. They chatted for a few minutes then began to walk away from the woman but she stopped them and asked if they, along with Heather would like a special treat. Heather wondered what that might mean and looked apprehensively at Florence. ‘You girls must be very thirsty’, said Florence.’ Why not come to my house and have some tea’? The girls looked at each other, turned to Florence then accepted the invitation. They walked to the wooden door and all went inside. They hadn’t noticed how suddenly quiet it had become now they were on the other side of the door. Then it dawned on them. ‘Where on earth are we’? One of them asked.
Before long the girls found themselves inside the house. Once inside they became speechless but were deeply intrigued by what they saw. Heather had seen it all before and understood their feelings. ‘This place is awesome isn’t it’? She said. ‘It’s like we’ve been transported back in time’. Just then Florence entered the room where they all were sitting, followed quickly by her maid with the tea and biscuits. ‘How quaint’, said one of the girls. Florence asked the girls what they were discussing as she entered the room. ‘Oh I was just saying that being here is like being transported back in time’, said Heather. ‘How do you know you haven’t'? Replied Florence. They all fell silent.
The girls looked to each other not knowing whether to respond until one of them couldn’t hide her curiosity any longer. She looked directly at Florence and asked if they had really been taken back in time. ‘Do you see anything here from your time’? Florence asked. When the girls looked around they saw nothing from their own time, no television, telephone, computer, not even electric lights or power points! All they saw were candles, everywhere candles. Come to think of it there were no cars outside the big house either. Heather had glimpsed a horse-drawn carriage on her previous trip and now everything was beginning to make sense. There was nothing about the house that spoke of modern times. Some of the girls asked if they could see more of the house and Florence was only too pleased to show them. So off they all went on a grand tour.
The house was massive and there were many rooms, all of them tastefully decorated if not very ‘old fashioned’. The furniture looked as if it was a couple of hundred years old and yet it didn’t look worn as might be expected for old furniture. ‘Would you girls like to spend a weekend here’? asked Florence. ‘You could each have your own room’, she continued. The girls were somewhat apprehensive at the suggestion but equally intrigued. Would their parents allow it? Well they were all seventeen years old and very sensible girls. Where was the harm? Maybe they could find out more about this strange old house and it’s owner. They had spent an enjoyable if not unusual Saturday afternoon and the prospect of being able to stay longer seemed so inviting. The girls agreed to let Florence know if they could return perhaps the following week. Heather had been selected to relay the message as she seemed to know the old woman better than they and knew how to contact her. It wasn’t true of course but the girls seemed to think so. Heather agreed to meet with the old woman the following Wednesday as she hoped by then to have received information regarding her recent photo-shoot and might be in town anyway to do some more. She felt confident that she would be selected but fancied a trip into town anyway. So all arrangements had been made and the girls departed for home. The next couple of days found them frantically communicating with each other to see if they had succeeded in convincing their parents that the proposed weekend stay at the old house was nothing to worry about. It appeared they succeeded but only because they were going as a group, five of them. All that they needed to do was reveal the address of the old house. Now that was a problem, none knew what the address was. They couldn’t just say it was a large house, set in large gardens and the access was behind the main shopping stores in town. They needed the address. Heather had an idea. She came up with what she thought was an appropriate address.

The Old Manse
Town Gardens
Main Street
Melford

It seemed reasonable and no-one queried it. So all was agreed and Heather went to town on Wednesday morning. She waited at the wooden door at the appointed time but the old woman made no appearance. She waited a full half hour and decided that Florence wasn’t going to turn up. She was a little upset and decided to visit Starbucks for a drink and something to eat. She ordered a coffee and a sandwich and sat down near the window in the hope she might see Florence. After a few minutes she felt a hand upon her shoulder. She turned to see Florence standing there and looking a little sad. ‘What’s the matter’, Heather asked. ‘I have just received news about my son’, replied Florence. ‘That is why I am late in meeting you’. ‘Bad news’? Asked Heather. ‘Yes, I’m afraid he was killed in action recently’, said Florence. ‘I am so sorry’, Heather replied but wondered in which battle he had been killed. She didn’t ask but just consoled the old woman. ‘We will make arrangements to visit with you some other time’, said Heather. ‘You don’t want a group of girls milling about at such a time as this’, she said. Florence assured her that the girls were most welcome to come on Saturday and they would be good company for her. They sat and talked for an hour, mostly about the young man, Florence’s son.
Saturday came round once more and saw the five girls with their overnight bags meeting together in Starbucks again. There was an air of excitement in their conversation as they waited patiently for their host to arrive. Florence was to meet them in the café. After a short time she appeared and greeted the girls but they sat together for a few minutes more whilst Florence finished her coffee. ‘I must say’, said Florence, ‘coffee has come a long way since my day’. They all left the café and made their way down the main street to the wooden door. No-one really noticed their exit from the street as they passed through the door. It was a beautiful sunny morning as they walked through the little woodland garden toward the house. There at the entrance was the maid in her old-fashioned but quaint servant’s dress, long black skirt with a white apron and small white hat. She looked out-of-place for the twenty-first century. Florence mentioned something about a butler whom she employed but who had since passed away. She was finding it difficult to replace him. Evidently he had been a real asset to her in the running of the house and had been with her for many years. They all went inside and made their way to the main reception room, the one they sat in on their previous visit. By this time it was approaching lunchtime so Florence suggested they sit together at the huge table in the adjacent dining room for a light lunch. The maid had prepared some food and it was already on the table. The girls wasted no time tucking in to their snack. ‘We will sit down to a proper meal later’, Florence said. ‘In the meantime girls just enjoy yourselves and eat’. The dining room table could sit at least twenty people and there were twenty chairs surrounding it. Above was a huge chandelier fully illuminated with candles. There were no wall lights but several large table lamps lit with candles were dotted about the room. Pictures covered the walls. All were hand painted. Rich, heavy curtains adorned the massive windows and had been drawn open and tied back with decorative sashes. Although it was a sunny day very little light filtered into the room because of the large trees out in the garden. ‘When we have finished our lunch I will escort you to your rooms so that you may relax and refresh yourselves’, announced Florence. Rooms? The girls wondered if they would each have their own room.
Soon lunch was over and they all went up the wide stairway to find their rooms. Upstairs was just as well furnished as it was downstairs. It was obvious to the girls that this house must have cost a fortune to live in when it was first built. They wondered how Florence could manage to live there now. The house had eight bedrooms, plenty for the girls to each have a room to themselves. There were two bathrooms with two separate toilets. As it later transpired, the house had not been built with bathrooms these had been installed at a much later date. The girls were each shown their rooms and Florence left them whilst they settled in.
The girls explored their surroundings and visited each other’s rooms to make comparisons. Each room was well-appointed and was equally nice to be in. After a couple of hours of chatting the girls began to get bored so they went downstairs to look for Florence. They searched each room but could not find her. The maid finally caught up with them in the library and asked if they were ready to eat as dinner was about to be served. They followed the maid and found Florence in the dining room. ‘Good evening girls’, she said. ‘I hope you like your rooms. I know it must be a little boring as there is no television but after dinner I have a surprise for you’. The girls wondered what it might be. They sat and enjoyed a lavish meal and thanked Florence for her generosity. They moved into the library after dinner and gathered around the fireplace where it was lovely and warm. Although it was summer the nights could be cool and this was especially so in the large rooms of the old dark house.
As they chatted Florence posed a question. ‘If there was anything special that you could wish for girls, what would it be’? They each thought for a moment and began to say what they each would desire. A film star, a singer, a fashion designer, all centred around fame and being the centre of attraction. Fame and money they though would bring happiness and an easy life but of course they had no real idea of how much hard work is involved in any of these ventures. ‘What plans have you made then’? Asked Florence. The girls hadn’t made any plans but thought they would succeed anyway. ‘Perhaps you would like to try these things first’, suggested Florence. ‘You may have second thoughts about it later’, she continued. The girls didn’t think that was a problem. ‘It’s only a dream’, one of them said, ‘It may never happen’. The night wore on and the girls showed no signs of being tired but Florence suggested they all retire for the night. Not wishing to offend their host they decided to go to their rooms.
The following morning Heather was greeted by a bright sunbeam shining through a chink in the curtains. The room remained dark but the sun shone on her face. Yawning, she was about to get out of bed but then heard the door handle being turned and thought she would stay under the sheets. Someone came into the room and opened the curtains. Heather saw that it was a smartly dressed woman who was immediately followed by another carrying a tray of food. ‘Breakfast time’, shouted the young woman. ‘I hope you had a good night’s sleep’, she said. ‘There’s much to do today. You have a busy schedule’. Heather blinked and wondered what the woman was talking about but she sat upright and gazed at the healthy breakfast tray that was being placed over her knees. ‘Enjoy your food Heather. I will return in a half hour so that we can discuss your schedule’, said the woman who promptly left the room with the waitress.
What on earth was going on? Heather slowly ate her food and momentarily forgot about the woman. It began to dawn on her that she been dreaming about being a famous model when she had been woken. ‘No’, she thought, ‘it couldn’t be. Could it’?
She finished her breakfast and got out of bed. Putting on her robe she dashed to the other girl’s bedrooms to tell them what she thought was happening. None of the other bedrooms were occupied! Thinking they must have all gone downstairs she returned to her own room and had a shower. A shower? How could there be a shower she thought, there was no electricity but lights were switched on in the rooms. She looked toward the door and sure enough, there was a wall switch there! She was confused. Just then the young woman entered the bedroom and insisted she get ready for the appointment she had. Heather asked to be reminded about the appointment. ‘Have you forgotten already? You are the guest model at the annual fashion show in town today. Please hurry, your clothes have been set out for you and the chauffeur will be here in a half hour’, she said as she left the room. Model? Fashion show? Chauffeur? The clothes looked beautiful so she put them on. The woman came back and did her make-up. Heather asked about Florence. The woman replied that she had no idea what she was talking about. ‘There’s no-one by that name living here’, she said. ‘What about my friends? Heather asked. ‘What friends might they be’? asked the woman. ‘We are the only guests here today’. Eventually they went downstairs and waited for the car. A newspaper lay on the seat beside Heather and she looked at the date. It was five years into the future.
Heather was now somewhat concerned. Where were her friends and Florence? What was going to happen to her? She sat there not daring to ask the woman any more questions. The doorbell rang and the woman opened it. The car had arrived. She went outside and sat in the back with the woman. The chauffeur closed the doors got in himself and they drove away. The drive was long and winding through the wooded gardens just as it was when Heather first saw it. She thought they might have used the wooden door not realising for a moment that they were in a car. The car turned down an unfamiliar path towards a large set of wrought-iron gates which opened as they approached. They drove through and the gates closed behind them. It was a relatively short journey across town to the venue. They pulled up outside the Old Theatre where they were greeted by photographers all keen to get the best shots of her. The car door opened and she followed the woman into the building posing on the way as the paparazzi expected. She was amazed how natural it was for her as if she’d been doing it for years. According to the newspaper she’d seen in the house she was now almost twenty-three years old! She didn’t feel different. Inside she was met by various fashion designers who all called her by name. She couldn’t reciprocate for she knew none of them but it didn’t seem to matter. Other models were there too but today Heather was the prima donna. The other girls and a couple of guys modelled the majority of the garments to the select audience. There were a handful of special garments laid out for Heather to wear. The day went well and Heather thoroughly enjoyed herself forgetting about the little problem of it being five years later in her life overnight! After the main event she was guest of honour at a special dinner in memory of two girl models who had been tragically killed in a fire the year before. It was eleven o’clock in the evening when she and her assistant, the smartly dressed woman, drove back to the house. Heather paid scant attention to the scenery but noticed that the driveway back to the house was now fully lit by roadside lights dotted along the way. It was a warm and pleasant evening and Heather was by now feeling somewhat tired. It wasn’t long before she found herself back in her room and under the bedclothes. The bedside clock was showing twelve o’clock. She closed her eyes and drifted off into a deep sleep.
Heather slowly opened her eyes and saw that it was morning. She was still in a dreamy state and was thinking about the previous day and if it was all real. She looked for the clock by her bedside but it wasn’t there. She peered out of the window and saw another sunny day in prospect. She drew back the curtains a little and turned back to see that her room looked different from what it had the day before. Gone was the electric ceiling light and wall switch. A candle rested on her bedside table. She wandered to the wardrobe to see if those lovely clothes she had worn the day previously were still there. They were not. Only her own clothes hung there on the rail. She was confused. Had yesterday just been a dream? She went to see the other girls one by one and told them of her experiences. They all had similar stories to tell. Each of them had experienced a special day doing what they yearned to do when they were still at school. By now they were all in the same room chatting about it when the maid came in and informed them that breakfast was ready. None of the girls had dressed so they went downstairs in their dressing gowns. Florence was there to greet them. ‘Did you all have a good night’s sleep’? she asked. The girls looked at each other before unanimously replying with a resounding ‘yes’! ‘It is Sunday and you girls will no doubt be ready to return to your homes’, said Florence. ‘I do hope you have all enjoyed your stay. Perhaps you will come again’?
It appeared that Saturday had been something special for each of them after all.

Copyright Shirley Anne 2010