Page 72

Frantically, still in her medieval shoes, she ran like a crazy woman through the wet, empty land. The ground was soft and muddy, and it was like in a nightmare: no matter how much she tried to speed up, she was still slow. Her side ached, the ankle she’d twisted a few days ago started to hurt, and she began limping.

Finally, she got to the nearest house that she saw at the edge of the town. Cars were parked on the narrow street, but no one was outside. Power poles lined the edge of the street, lines hanging from house to house. Gulping for air through her aching chest, she reached the cottage and banged on the door. It was a simple, rectangular house with beige walls and a dark tile roof. Next to it was a large hill with bushes and grass.

She banged once again, struggling to catch her breath. The door clicked and an old lady opened it.

“Please help!” Jenny blurted out. “I need to get to the nearest hospital.”

The woman looked her over, nodded, and shut the door in her face.

Jenny gaped at the closed door before her for a moment, then knocked more frantically. “It’s a matter of life and death! Please!”

Behind her, across the street, a door opened, and another old lady looked her over. She had a white bob and a thin face with a white mouth. Large glasses perched on a sharp, pointy nose. She wore a thick, brown, woolen sweater. “What is the matter?”

“I need to get to the nearest hospital, now, please!”

“Are ye hurt?”

“Yes. No. It’s for someone else. They’re dying.”

She nodded and disappeared for a moment behind her door. Then she appeared again, putting on a raincoat. She slid her feet into rubber boots and said, “Gail will not help a soul if someone is dying in front of her.”

As Jenny hurried towards her, she walked down her stairs, unlocked her ancient Land Rover and climbed up with surprising agility. Jenny got into the passenger seat. As the woman struggled to start the car, Jenny’s heart drummed. With every beat, she knew Aulay’s time was coming to an end.

“What’s yer name, dear?” said the woman.

“Jenny. Jennifer Foster.”

“Ah, nice to meet ye. Philippa MacDonald.”

Philippa turned the key over and over, each time the engine whirred but died. “Is there another film being made somewhere on the island?” Philippa asked, looking over Jenny’s dress.

Jenny started to shake. She didn’t have a plan for how to explain her dress. So, she simply nodded.

The engine revved and the car moved. Finally! As though something had been unplugged in her, Jenny opened her mouth to say something about a film…

But instead, she said, “Actually, not a film, Philippa. I traveled in time…”

While the houses passed the car window, Jenny kept talking. The Isle of Achleith. Aulay MacDonald kidnapping her. How she fell in love with him. How he was dying now back in time and needed antibiotics.

They drove for a few minutes, and Philippa didn’t say a word, just listened and nodded. She stopped the car in front of an old house that looked like her own cottage. There was a sign there: “Port Ellen Health Centre.”

“Can you please wait for me here?” asked Jenny, “and drive me back to the ruin?”

Philippa shrugged. “I have nothing else to do. Maybe ye’ll entertain me some more with yer interesting stories. In fact”—Philippa laid her hand on the door handle—“I’ll come with ye.”

Jenny ran into the practice. It must be a GP’s and a dentist’s office. Inside, two people sat in the waiting area. Behind the reception desk, there was no one.

“Follow me, dear,” said Philippa and marched down the corridor to her left. “I’ll show ye where the GP is.”

Philippa stopped before a white door. Unceremoniously, Jenny opened it. The GP was a man in his forties with a good mane of dark hair and a handsome face. He was leaning over a patient and examining his throat. He turned to Jenny. Something about him reminded her of Bhatair, and her heart squeezed. How was Aulay? Please, let him live…

“Antibiotics!” she yelled. “Now!”

This was no way to come into a doctor’s office and demand medicine. Fear must be turning her into a crazy person. She must look insane to the doctor.

The GP’s face reddened, and he pointed at the door. “Out! Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Please, my fiancé will die—”