Ignoring my surrounds, I hurried along a neat, narrow path leading from the cottage up to the road. Legs feeling like jelly, I lent on a wooden fence post for support.
A hundred questions raced around my mind, trying hard to make sense of it all. His home? Never been vacant? Trespassing? And what about the fireplace? The dust? The garden?
The light-headedness retuned and my stomach was churning with anxiety. With a firmer grip on the fence post, it took all my strength to remain upright, until I realised the fence was no longer a tangled mess of barbed wire on the ground.
Feet collapsing under me, I blacked out and dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
~
"Miss. Miss. Are you all right, Miss?" A quiet voice echoed in the distance, growing louder as I gained consciousness. Were they talking to me? Are they calling me Miss? Someone was shaking me. My eyes fluttered open, then slammed shut, stinging from the bright sun above me. My head pounded. I think I'll stay in bed a little longer, I thought. Wait, the sun. Was I outside? Someone shook me again. "Miss, open your eyes. I think you may have had a fainting spell." I opened one eye, preparing myself for another blinding attack of the sun, but whoever was speaking and shaking me, was leaning over, shielding my face from it. I was thankful for that and the other eye popped open. My eyes came into focus and it was the man from inside the cottage. Memories flooding back, I began to panic all over again. When I attempted to sit up, he placed a hand on my shoulder. "Wait, you've had a fall. Do you feel any pain?"
I wiggled my fingers and toes. Everything felt normal.
Shaking my head, I replied, "I'm okay. Just a pounding headache."
He nodded once, giving me permission to sit up. As I did, he backed away, keeping his distance.
"Are you well, Miss?" His body language indicated he was anxious or perhaps even a little afraid of me? I bet he was desperately hoping I'd say yes so he could run back inside and hide.
"Physically, yes. Mentally, I'm not sure," I replied.
That was not the right thing to say. His anxiety skyrocketed. "Ah, all right, um- D-Do you need assistance of-of some sort? Do you need help getting back to town?"
"Um, no, thanks. I have my car," I said, waving behind me in the general direction of where I parked my car. He glanced past me and blankly looked left then right. I twisted the upper part of my body and looked behind me, jaw dropping. In an instant I was on my feet, ignoring the throbbing in my head. "Where is my car?" I yelled, and turned back to him. He didn't reply. "What have you done with my car?" I took a couple of steps forward and he took a couple back.
"I don't know what you are talking about, Miss," he said, both hands raised, as though protecting himself from me. "What is this car you speak of? Is that the name of your horse?" He genuinely looked confused. Was this guy dense or what?
"Don't play dumb with me," I said, pointing my index finger at him. "And stop calling me Miss. I drove here today in my car and I parked it right there. Now it's gone. Look, I even have the keys." I reached down into my jeans front pocket. No keys. I tried all other pockets. No keys. Damn. Did I leave them in the ignition?
"You are wearing the most unusual clothes," he commented, eyeing me up and down.
I glanced down at myself, seeing nothing wrong with my dark jeans and beige knitted jumper. "Excuse me? I'm not the one dressed up like Banjo Paterson."
"I don't believe I know anyone by that name."
"Oh, come on. Waltzing Matilda, the guy on the $10 note?" He shook his head. And then it dawned on me. This was all a set up. I was going to strangle Anna when I saw her. "My friend Anna put you up to this, didn't she? You're probably one of Bradley's friends. I can't believe I nearly fell for it. Okay, ha ha, very funny. Joke's over."
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.
"Ow," I said, rubbing my skin.
"I ask again, Miss, are you all right? You are looking dreadfully pale and you have not spoken for several minutes." He climbed down off the buggy and approached me with caution. He was now wearing a brown coat, which he must have gone and retrieved at some point.
Nineteenth century. He said he was a painter. That small detail Anna wouldn't have known about. He said it was his home and that it had never been vacant. Could it really be...?
"What is your name?" I asked.
He blinked, his wariness of me returning after my little outburst of laughter. He finally answered, "Nicholas Clay, Miss."
"Yep, I was afraid you'd say that." That was another detail Anna would not yet know.
"May I ask your name?"
It took me a second to remember it. "Um, Matilda Fletcher."
"Now that we have become acquainted, may I ask what you were doing inside my home?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"I have every right to take you to the Constable, you know." '
"No, please don't do that. I mean no harm. I just... I need to get home."
"Where is your home?"
"Hobart."
"I'm sure somebody in town will be able to assist you. Shall we get going?" He gestured towards the horse and buggy.
"No, wait. Hobart is my home but I need to get back to where I came from before I can go home."
He stared at me blankly. "Hettie's?"
I shook my head. "No. Well, yes. But Hettie's back in my time. I don't belong here."
"No, Miss Fletcher, you don't belong here. This is my home and you're trespassing. I'm losing patience with this silly talk. Now, please, get onto the buggy."
I didn't know what to do. I could go with him into town but then what? I didn't know anyone, I had no money. I could try get back into the house but there was no way he was going to let me do that. I could run but that would be stupid. I'd be stuck out in the middle of nowhere with no food or water.
"Maybe I could stay here? I mean, just for the night. I'm still feeling unwell from my fall and don't think I'm up for travelling."
He shook his head vigorously. "Absolutely not, Miss!"
Damn. I definitely wasn't going to get back into the cottage. Not today, anyway. I guess it wouldn't hurt to stay somewhere for the night and try again tomorrow.
"Fine. You can take me back to town."
"Back to this Hettie's place?"
"Uh, no, no. I can't go back there."
"And why not? You seemed pretty eager to get back there a few minutes ago."
"Oh, I suddenly remembered I have no money. Actually, I won't be able to afford to stay anywhere."
He sighed in annoyance. "I have a friend you can stay with tonight."
I was surprised at his generosity considering he just found me snooping inside his house. "Wow, thank you, I appreciate it."
He nodded once and gestured for a second time towards our mode of transport. I approached it with caution, having had no experience with horses, and certainly none with buggies. Either sensing my hesitation or simply living in a time where chivalry wasn't dead, he outstretched his hand for me to hold onto. I placed one hand on his and the other on the buggy to steady myself, and struggled into the seat. I wondered how women used to do this wearing such heavy, long dresses. It was hard enough in tight jeans. Our hands parted, and in one swift movement, he was settled in along side me. Show off, I thought. Being only a two-seater, the two of us were now only centimetres away from each other, and I could smell the faint odour of oil paint and sweat.
He flicked the horse's reins and we were off. I had no idea what to expect when we got to town. I only drove through there today, in the 21st century, and even then there was not much there. How surreal would it be to drive through there now, in the 19th century, and not in a car but on a horse and buggy.
As the horse pulled us along the uneven road, we sat in silence. I still couldn't believe this was happening. Time travel? It was ludicrous. I must be dreaming. The sickness I experienced inside the cottage must have sent me in a state of deep unconsciousness. The pinch wasn't enough to wake me from it yet. I honestly had no idea. Whatever this was, whatever I was experiencing, it all started in that cottage.
And I would do whatever was necessary to get back inside.