The Time Traveller (Part Seven)
When I dared to look again, the kitchen was exactly as it had been. No wind, no swirling lights, no burning photographs. Just the morning sunlight streaming through the window, illuminating motes of dust in the air.
And Emily, standing in the centre of the triangle, looking remarkably ordinary.
'Did it work?' Joanna asked, her voice hushed.
Simmington was checking one of his devices, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. 'See for yourself,' he said, gesturing to Emily.
She took a tentative step forward, then another. Her movements were cautious, as if she expected to vanish at any moment. When nothing happened, a look of wonder spread across her face.
'I feel... different,' she said. 'Heavier, somehow. More... present.'
'You're fully anchored in this time stream now,' Simmington explained, beginning to pack away his equipment. "Your quantum signature is now stable." No more shifting, no more drifting.'
'So I'm just... normal?' Emily asked, sounding almost disappointed.
Simmington chuckled. 'I wouldn't go that far. You're still a nineteenth-century woman living in the twenty-first century. But yes, physically, you're as "normal" as anyone else now.'
Joanna approached Emily cautiously, as if afraid she might still disappear. 'How do you feel?'
'Strange,' Emily admitted. 'For so long, I've felt like a ghost, never fully belonging anywhere. Now I'm... here. Just here.' She looked around the kitchen, taking in the modern appliances, the digital clock on the microwave, the electric kettle. 'It's going to take some getting used to.'
I noticed something then, a subtle change in Emily's appearance. 'Your clothes,' I said. 'They're different.'
She looked down at herself in surprise. Instead of the period dress she'd been wearing earlier, she now wore jeans and a simple blouse—modern clothes that nonetheless suited her perfectly.
'A side effect of the temporal consolidation,' Simmington explained. 'The anchor process has integrated certain aspects of your existence across different time periods.' He frowned slightly. 'Though I must admit, I didn't expect it to affect your attire.'
Emily ran her hands over the unfamiliar fabric of her jeans. 'I've seen women wearing these, but I've never...' She laughed suddenly, a sound of pure joy. 'They're remarkably comfortable!'
Joanna joined in her laughter, the tension of the morning's events finally breaking. 'Wait until you try yoga pants,' she said, linking her arm through Emily's. 'Come on, I think we all need breakfast after that excitement.'
As Joanna busied herself preparing food, I helped Simmington finish packing his equipment. 'What happens now?' I asked quietly. 'For you, I mean.'
He snapped the case shut with a decisive click. 'I return to 2027. My work here is done.'
'And Emily? What about her lack of identity, documentation?'
Simmington reached into his pocket and produced a small envelope. 'Birth certificate, passport, National Insurance number—everything she'll need to establish herself in this time.' He handed it to me. 'The details are as close to her original identity as possible, adjusted for the modern era.'
I glanced inside the envelope, noting the name on the passport: Emily Emma Cartwright. 'How did you manage this?'
A mysterious smile crossed his face. 'Let's just say that temporal research has its advantages.'
'Will you visit?' I asked. 'Check on her progress?'
His expression softened. 'I can't. Once I return to 2027, this timeline becomes fixed for me as well. No more travelling to this specific point.' He looked over at Emily, who was laughing as Joanna showed her how to use the toaster. 'But I think she's in excellent hands.'
After breakfast, it was time for Simmington to depart. We gathered in the garden, away from the prying eyes of neighbours.
'I can't thank you enough, James,' Emily said, embracing him warmly. 'For everything.'
'You've given me more than I've given you,' he replied. 'Your case has advanced our understanding of temporal mechanics by decades.' He stepped back, his expression growing serious. 'Remember what we discussed? A linear life has its own challenges. Patience will be your greatest virtue.'
She nodded. 'I understand.'
Simmington turned to Joanna and me. 'Take care of her,' he said. 'And perhaps keep an eye on that cottage in Selly Oak. Historical sites sometimes retain... echoes.'
Before we could ask what he meant, he activated a device on his wrist. There was a brief distortion in the surrounding air, like heat haze on a summer road, and then he was gone.
'Well,' I said after a moment, 'that's something you don't see every day.'
One rainy afternoon, about a month after Emily's anchoring, Joanna made a discovery while sorting through some old family papers.
'Emily!' she called from the study. 'Come look at this!'
Emily and I hurried to join her. Joanna was holding a yellowed letter, her expression one of amazement.
'It's from Emma Wilkins—from you, or the other you—to her daughter on her wedding day,' Joanna explained, handing the letter to Emily.
Emily's hands trembled as she unfolded the delicate paper. The handwriting was unmistakably similar to her own, though with subtle differences. She began to read aloud, her voice soft with wonder:
'My dearest daughter,
On this most joyous day of your marriage, I find myself reflecting on the strange and winding path that has brought us here. You have often asked about my life before I met your father, and I have never found the words to explain fully. Perhaps now, as you begin your own new chapter, it is time for me to share a truth I have kept hidden.
Before I was Emma Wilkins, I was Emily Cartwright. I had a sister named Charlotte, whom I loved more dearly than life itself. She was lost to me in a tragedy that I spent many years trying to undo, until I came to understand that some events, however painful, shape us in ways we cannot foresee.
There was a time when I existed in two places at once – as Emily, forever searching, and as Emma, building a life with your father and your children. I cannot explain how this came to be, only that it was. And though Emily continued her desperate quest, Emma found peace in acceptance and in the joy of the family we created.
If you are reading this, then Emily has finally found her peace as well.
Know this, my darling: love endures across time in ways we cannot comprehend. The bonds we forge with those we cherish create ripples that stretch far beyond our understanding. Your life – your very existence – is proof of this.
Live fully. Love deeply. And remember that even our greatest sorrows can lead to unexpected blessings.
With all my heart,
Your mother'
Emily lowered the letter, tears streaming down her face. 'She knew,' she whispered. 'Emma knew about me. About us.'
Joanna took the letter gently, examining it with new eyes. 'The date,' she said. 'Look at the date.'
I peered over her shoulder. The letter's date was 12th November 1925.
'That's today's date,' I said, startled. 'One hundred years ago exactly.'
Emily sank into a nearby chair, overwhelmed. 'It can't be coincidence.'
'Simmington said historical sites retain echoes,' Joanna reminded us. 'Perhaps time itself does as well.'
Emily smiled, but there was a shadow in her eyes. 'I still miss her,' she said quietly. 'Charlotte. I always will.'
Joanna reached across and took her hand. 'Of course you do. That never goes away.'
'But it changes,' I added. 'Becomes something you can carry without being crushed by it.'
Joanna leaned against me, her head on my shoulder. 'When I was a girl, my grandmother used to tell me that our family had a guardian angel. Someone who watched over us through the generations.' She smiled. 'I never imagined she meant it quite so literally.'
Time, that most mysterious of forces, had brought us together across impossible distances. And now, anchored in the present, we would face the future together — one day at a time.
“John M Tonks' The Time Traveller is his best Spoken upload yet. He keeps gravitating toward themes I love—Ancient Egypt, cosmic wonder, and now, time travel. One of my favourite genres, and he takes it on with absolute confidence. The writing is expert-level, smooth, and immersive, making for a mesmerizing and easy listen. The multi-character, multi-voice cast (MCMV) is perfectly utilized here. When done well, this format turns a story into an experience, and this is one of those times. It’s evident that the author put care into crafting this element. I loved his casting of Simeon (11Labs) as the lead narrator. He’s not a common pick, but he should be. There’s something in his delivery—an "I’m letting you in on a secret" quality—that works synergistically with the story’s tone. The effect is subtle but powerful. From the opening chapter, the mystery hooks you... a storm, a stranger, a journey through time. As the story deepens, the time travel mechanics are handled with the same finesse, never over-explained, never underwhelming. John M Tonks understands that time travel isn’t just about paradoxes and possibilities—it’s about people.”
Spoken
