“Please, Mr Thornton, just say it. There is little I have not seen or heard.”
There it was again, that forward manner. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.
“There are no, erm, undergarments.”
MJ looked at the bed and back at the man.
“They are in the packet by the jeans. I will leave you to get dressed.”
Jean, who was Jean, he wondered as she stepped outside the curtain. He picked up the strange packet from the bed. How could something so small hold underwear? He undid it and withdrew the contents – they were made of cotton, that much he knew, but they’d scarcely cover anything. But as there seemed to be nothing else available, he stepped out of his pyjamas and put them on. The cotton was cool and soft against his skin but barely skimmed his thighs. Feeling uncomfortable, he quickly dressed in the other clothes on the bed.
“Are you decent, Mr Thornton?”
“Yes, come in,” he replied quietly.
But she didn’t. Instead, she drew the curtains from around the bed.
“Wow,” she whispered.
“Did you say something, Miss Hale?”
She shook her head, not daring to speak. Who’d have thought her mystery man would look so good in simple jeans and a jumper.
“I am afraid we have another problem. I have no shoes, Miss Hale.”
“In the box, there are some trainers. I hope they fit. It’s why I measured your foot.”
Trainers? There it was again – English, a foreign language. He undid the box and looked inside. The trainers were made of fabric and, unlike any shoes he’d ever worn, were comfortable from the moment he put them on.
“Are they OK, Mr Thornton?”
“I hardly know they are on my feet. Why are they called trainers?”
MJ stopped moving she’d never thought of that.
“I suppose because it’s what we train in – and, by that, I mean exercise.”
“Exercise? I don’t understand.”
No, he wouldn’t, would he, MJ thought.
“If you are who you say you are, then you’ve a lot of catching up to do. Fortunately I have a couple of machines at home that will help.”
Machines he could cope with – his world was one of machinery.
“Very well, Miss Hale, take me to these machines.”
“All in good time, Mr Thornton. Firstly, here are your belongings back. I’m sorry that your clothes had to be cut off in casualty but these things were in the pockets.”
She held a wallet, cravat pin and watch.
He stared for a moment, blinking at tears that flooded his eyes.
“Thank you.” To MJ’s ears his voice sounded raw with emotion.
“My… my mother bought me the pin and the watch was my father’s. I… I… I thought they were gone for good.”
“Then I am glad they are not. Now, if you are ready, the TV and PC await us.”
“Tell me, Miss Hale, does everybody in the 21st century speak in letters?”
*******
MJ glanced at the strange man in her kitchen. Although he looked a better colour, his hands still trembled as he brought the glass of water to his lips. The journey home from hospital had terrified him. Even a lay person like her had realised he was in shock. It would have been hard to miss the signs: pallor, sweating and trembling. He’d barely made it into the flat before he vomited profusely.
Chapter Four
Start from the beginning
