Emily groaned. This was the sixth time her managing editor
had thrown an article back on her desk dripping with red pencil and the word
“deleted” sprinkled throughout the text..
Jack still wanted “hard copies” of the articles everyone
wrote for the Everingham Gazette, one the oldest and highly regarded newspapers
in northern England
Emily, who got her job out of college, two years ago, loved
journalism. However, she slowly came to the realization that her ideas and
talent did not matter. The only thing that mattered was Everingham Gazette,
Ltd. If one was a company player and fell
under the spell of loyalty to the company, fine. If one was at all a bit
quirky, or “different”, if one wanted to be created and push the envelope just
a little bit, Jack would pounce on the budding journalists like a cat on the
proverbial mouse.
Now, Emily could see her days at the paper were, most
likely, numbered. This sixth refusal was almost the maximum the others who had
been fired told her made up the magic number of re-writes, and that was seven.
Molly had left on her own accord last year, and Emily lost
her ally in distress. Molly had tried to be a creative, even daring, feature
editor for five years, emphasizing interviews with the locals, old families,
and doing great historical pieces, which earned her a commendation from the
main office in London Great Britain Edinburgh , Chris grew up in Birminham, Stacey was from Winchester ,
Ted was from York, Dean from London , and Colum
from Dublin Manchester
Molly and Emily made up the local contingent, hired when two
other women quit suddenly two years ago, for mysterious reasons, none of the
other staff understood. Of course, rumors circled the office, like low fog off
the sea, but rumors were just, well, rumors.
That Meredith and Cassie had just “got up and left” one
Monday morning two years to this date, when Emily was staring at her rejected
copy, July 5th, gave Emily goose pimples.
Her cell twittered like a bird. “Emily here, ah Molly, yes,
I think I need to meet you for lunch, sure.”
Emily looked at her cell, It was ten past one. She was late
leaving for lunch and because of the tight scheduling of the office, she had to
be back by two. But, Molly was meeting her at La Piazza, as that was close to the
newspaper office.
Emily gathered her things and rushed out. Molly was already
at the restaurant. Emily and Molly kept up their friendship even though Molly
was now married, pregnant and planning on being a stay-at-home mum.
Molly looked great, better than ever. “Molly, thanks so much
for phoning. I really needed to talk with you today.”
Emily sat down and ordered the same thing she always
ordered-the veggie wrap with a black coffee.
“Emily, I am glad to see you.” Molly could see her friend
was flustered. She would wait and listen to Emily vent.
“I got number six today. Doesn’t look good for me, Molly.
Jack just hates my work and more and more picks away at all my sentences. Look
at this copy!”
Emily pushed an envelope towards Molly over the black faux
marble table.
Molly read the text.
“This is so unfair. Your writing is brilliant, much better than mine
ever was, and I only had four articles refused before I quit. Jack is being so
picky.”
“I really can’t take this much longer, Molly. Not only is
Jack rude as well as being stupid about my work, but the ambience in the office
has become horrible. No one talks to me because I am seen now as a pariah. No
one wants to go down in my sinking ship. Not even Chris talks with me now. I
have been marginalized.”
“Jack does that. He creates this ethos of coldness, which
others pick up and then sits back and waits until the person he is shutting out
by his manipulations quits. He never fires anyone. He just isolates them until
they walk.”
Molly drank her tea. Emily noticed how well she looked, but
she also seemed burdened.
“Molly, I am sorry about rabbiting on. What is bothering
you? Do you feel well? Is the baby fine?”
Molly smiled. She could never hide her feelings. “Emily, I
have news which is good and bad. Good for Dave and me and bad for you. He is
being transferred to Cambridge
"It is not classified info. Here, I wrote a little story on
it. You can use it. But, I won’t be here for you anymore. We leave in two weeks.”
Emily tried not to look disappointed. That her only and best
friend was moving far away did crush her even more than the problems at work.
“Molly, I understand. You know how much I shall miss you, but maybe I need to
move on somewhere else as well. This job is
a dead-end.”
Molly picked at her salad. “I am so sorry, Emily. You can
come stay with us, while you look for work, if you want to move near us. Dave
and I talked about it. I shall need help when the baby comes.”
Emily tried not to cry. “Oh, Molly. You two are wonderful. I
shall think about it. Hey, I need to get back. Thanks for the story. Maybe this
news will get me out of hot water, but I doubt it. I shall phone you tonight.”
Emily got up to leave. She put her hand on Molly’s shoulder.
“I need to think about all these things. I phone you about eight.”
Molly nodded. “I need to leave now, anyway. Can you believe
it, three weeks from my baby’s due date and I have to pack.”
Emily blurted out. “Oh, I am so selfish. Hey, can I come
over tomorrow, on my day off, and help you?”
Molly and Emily stood outside the door, They hurriedly put
up their umbrellas, as rain began to fall softly over the town. “Would you? You
have no idea how I dread packing.”
“I’ll phone, but I shall see you tomorrow for sure. Bye, I
need to run.”
Molly waved and walked back to the short distance to the bus
which would take her to the base. Emily raced across the street and down the
road to the office, She was not looking, and a small, electric car came up
behind her, knocking her onto the pavement. She fell and blacked out. When she
came to, she could here voices, people talking, but she could not make out what
they were saying, She felt sick to her
stomach. She sat up. She was groping for her handbag, cell phone and the envelope
from Molly. But, when she put her hands down around her to push herself up, she
realized she was feeling grass and dirt and not cement. Emily felt sick from
the accident, but now, she panicked. She looked around her at the people. Who
were these odd people? They were all dressed as if they were either going to a
masquerade or were in a play. Four women stood around her in long gowns, two
were nuns in black habits, old and strange habits. Two men bent over her, one a
priest, in a strange cassock, like an old Benedictine habit. Emily looked
around her, and saw that Everingham had literally vanished. She was sitting on
the grassy edge of a small road, a dirt road. She felt terrified. Then, she
realized the two men were speaking a dialect of old English from this area of England
Emily woke up in a warm room with a large fireplace and dark
walls covered with heavy woolen blanket-type hangings. Two nuns fussed about
the room carrying large pewter bowels of water. Emily felt sick. She thought
she was hallucinating. But, when the nun came and put a cold cloth on her head,
Emily knew this entire scene was not a dream. How could she be in such a
strange place? Was this Everingham?”
Emily decided to speak in Latin, not the odd dialect of
English she was hearing.
“Where am I? Who are you?”
A beautiful young nun with the face of an angel came and
laid her hands on Emily’s shoulders. “Ah, you speak Latin? You were speaking
odd words earlier. We were concerned. And your dress, so odd. But do not
worrying, the abbess said we could care for you until we find out where your
people are and until you are well.”
Emily looked around the strange scene. The room was large,
but cozy. Everything was made out of oak or beech, she could see that. The bed
she was in felt strange, and she realized it was made out of rope and a feather-bed.
The fire in the fireplace crackled in a homey way, and in
one corner was a large shrine with a statue of Our Lady, a strange statue, more
ancient and modest than Emily had ever seen. The statue made Emily think of the
Lady of the Taper, in Wales. But, not quite.
“Dear Sister, where am I?”
“Do not be concerned. You are in the monastery of Bishop’s
Farm, and the abbess is the holy Everildis, whom you will meet later. Here, drink
this, please.” The nun gave Emily a large goblet of some type of hot drink. Emily
tasted it. It was an odd combination of mint, lavender and something else she
could not place, plus hot wine of some sort, or a heavy alcoholic drink, almost
like purple mead.
Emily drank and laid back on the feather bed. She was
strangely calm. Even though she could not understand how she got to this odd
place, Emily felt safe. “Bishop’s Farm, Everildis…I have gone back in time, from
a car accident, not a tardis.”
Emily knew local history extremely well. Bishop’s Farm was
the land given to St. Everildis by the great St. Wilfird or a Benedictine monk. Was this 680? How could
a bump on the head, or a concussion cause this odd travel time warp? Emily
looked at her clothes. The nuns had changed her into a soft woolen garment,
like a very heavy nightgown. It was grey with white flecks. On her head was a
large bandage, and on her feet, heavy stockings, again wool.
When she fell, which now seemed like an eternity, it was a
rainy but warm day in Everingham. Now, it seemed cold and dry, not damp.
Perhaps the fire helped.
“I know a little Latin,” offered Emily, feeling much
stronger from the drink. “But, not much.”
The young nun smiled. Her blue eyes looked like stars. “I am
here by your side because I know a little Latin as well. My uncle is a priest
and he taught me. Few of the nuns know Latin, but my ancestors were Romans and
we kept up the language in our houses.”
The little nuns turned away and went over to a large kettle
over the fire in the fireplace. She then bought Emily a plate, with strange hot
fried bread and some cheese. “Can you try and eat this?”
Emily said thank you and took the plate, which was on a
small cloth. The plate was warm to the touch. “How long was I unconscious?”
Emily had to stretch for that word in Latin.
….inscius
“You were only not with us for a few minutes, but then you fell
into a fever, which has lasted five days. The abbess asked us all to pray, as
we thought you may die. But, here you are, still here, among the living.” The
young nun smiled and her face was like the sun.
Emily slowly ate and wondered at her predicament. She
realized now that by some strange will of God she had been taken from the
Everingham of 2014 to the Bishop’s Hill of 670 or so. How weird, how
mysterious. Emily could not even think of the word, “why” as the why word
seemed lame and out of place in this setting.
Just then, a tall, noble woman of about 45 came into the
room. The young nun, and the elderly one who was cooking and fussing about the
room, stepped to the side and bowed.
This new lady was obviously the abbess. Around her neck was
one of the most beautiful crosses Emily had ever seen. It was gold with a huge
emerald in the middle and small purple mosaics on the transepts.
Emily tried to get up to bow. “No, child, you rest. You do
not need to bow to me. I am Abbess Everildis, and when you are better, we shall
have a long talk. I want to ask you many questions.” Everild was one of the
most beautiful women Emily had ever seen. She had a long face, with dainty
features, but her eyes were large and the deepest blue Emily had ever seen.
“Lady Abbess, you know I am not from this world.”
Everild smiled. “None of us are from this world. We are all
from God. Now, rest. We shall have time to talk in a few days. These two
sisters, Mary Bega and Mary Wuldreda, will stay with you constantly until you
are well. They will say their hours here, in this room. Do you pray? I see that
you are wearing two strange emblems of our faith.”
Emily felt and under the heavy gown, she could feel her
Benedictine medal and her silver scapular medal. She sighed. “Yes, and I could
follow some of the Latin in the Book of the Hours.”
The Abbess turned to the two nuns. “You will let this woman
pray with you, but you must make sure she rests. I would say, Morning Praise
and Evening Prayer only for now. Goodbye, strange girl from the future, as I
know you are. I shall visit you tomorrow.”
Abbess Everildis held out her hand and Emily kissed her huge sapphire ring, the ring of a princess abbess. How amazing that Everildis, who Emily knew to be a saint, understood that Emily was not of
this time. They had her clothes, and maybe her cell phone, and her handbag with
all the normal things a woman of 25 would carry in her bag. As the Abbess left, Emily wondered also at
the nuns saying some sort of the Divine Office. She has learned that this rule
had only come in after Benedictines had come to England
She lay back on the feather bed and a strange thought came
to her. “I am glad my parents are dead. They would be so worried about my
disappearance. But, have I disappeared form 2014, or am I in two places at
once. And, poor Molly, I missed my promised to help her. What must she think?” Then, the sleepy woman thought of something odd-"My baptismal name is Averil, Averil Emily Grant."
Then, Emily became sleepy, but before she did sleep, she
could see the young nun bring a small bench over to her bedside and sit down
next to her. Emily again thought a fleeting thought as she fell asleep. “Maybe,
I am not out of danger. They would not stay and watch.” As she felt asleep and woke again,
Emily could hear part of the prayer.
"Fæder ure,
"Fæder ure,
ðu ðe eart on heofenum,
si ðin nama gehalgod;
to-becume ðin rice;
geweorþe ðin willa on eorðan swa swa on heofenum.
Urne ge dæghwamlican hlaf syle us to-deag,
and forgyf us ure gyltas
swa swa we forgifaþ urum gyltendum,
ane ne gelæde ðu us on costnunge, ac alys us of yfle.
Amen."
To be continued…
