Clay's Cottage (Book 1)

Chapter Four

His face was expressionless. "What joke?"

I laughed. "Wow, you are really good. Believable, too. Are you a professional actor?"

"I am a painter, Miss. Now, if you're not needing any assistance, you'll have to excuse me." Eager to escape from my presence, Banjo scurried away from me.

"Oh, my phone," I called after him, stopping him in his tracks. "I left my phone in the house. I need it to call Anna." Advancing towards the house, I didn't even make it halfway before he blocked my path.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

"I just told you," I replied, getting tired of this game.

"I'm not allowing you to go back in there."

I sighed. "Are you kidding? I said joke's over, now get out of my way."

He stood firmly on the spot.

"Have you escaped from an asylum?" he asked, staring at me with interest. "You are rambling incoherently."

Okay, enough was enough. My patience was wearing thin. "Have you escaped from an asylum?" I pushed past him, bumping his shoulder, and marched back along the path, up to the front door. It was closed so I tried the doorknob. Locked. I spun around, moving determinedly once again up the path, and stood in front of him. "You are infuriating," I grumbled, hands on my hips, waiting for a reply. One eyebrow raised at me. "Fine. I'll walk back to Hettie's. My phone probably hasn't got any service, anyway."

I stomped towards the road.

"You're going to walk such a long way?" I heard him call out behind me. I continued on, not turning around.

"You got any better ideas?" I made it up onto the road.

"I suppose..." He paused, thinking about what to say. "I suppose I could give you a ride."

I stopped and looked back at him. "Oh, well, there's an idea," I said, sarcastically. "Thank you, kind sir. I would much appreciate a ride back to Hettie's," I added, curtsying, playing along to his stupid game.

He nodded firmly once, spun on his heels and strutted around behind the house. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. I wasn't entirely sure where he was going. I didn't recall seeing another car parked anywhere. I waited impatiently, tapping my foot on the ground, thinking how ridiculous this all was.

What was taking him so long?

I realised I was standing in the same spot where I was admiring the house when I first arrived. I couldn't make sense of the garden that stood before me, the manicured lawn, the broken window that was no longer broken...

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of horse hooves and wheels. I couldn't believe my eyes with what I saw. There was Mystery Man, perched atop a two-wheeled buggy, drawn by a black horse.

All I could do was laugh. I laughed so hard my ribs hurt. This was getting more ridiculous by the minute.

The horse leisurely pulled the buggy up a driveway, which I didn't remember seeing earlier, and stopped before the road.

"Are you all right, Miss?" he asked, with a concerned expression on his face. With all the cackling I was doing, I think he was worried I'd gone completely batty.

Taking a few deep breaths, trying hard to calm myself, I wiped a tear from my eye. "Yes, fine. I just feel like I've travelled back in time to the 19th century or something. I have absolutely no idea what's going on right now, that all I can do is laugh."

"But Miss, I don't understand. You are in the 19th century."

My eyes stayed on him, mouth gaped open, trying to comprehend what he just said. Him, the buggy and the cottage did all seem real, authentic. Anna and Bradley would never be able to pull this off. Not in such a short time. Is it possible? Could I really have somehow... time travelled? It's absurd to even been considering it. But what other explanation is there? I could be dreaming, I suppose. But I've never had a dream that felt this real before. I pinched my arm a little too hard.