A Turbulent Crown

A Turbulent CrOWN A Timeless Falcon Dual Timeline Series Volume Three Gina Clark Thank you for your incredible friendship, love, loyalty, witty one-liners, naughty, and inspirational encouragement, extra-ordinary tea-making, continuous supply of champagne, and laughing together until we both could barely breathe; I love you. One The National Gallery – Present DayFour years since my first time-slip Trafalgar Square is packed with tourists in the autumn sunshine. Live-performance artists stand statuesque, hoping Jessica and I will deposit money into their little coin receptacles as they pose. I fumble in my bag to find my purse at the bottom and drop a pound coin into the performer’s pot at his feet. He looks down at me with a twinkle in his eye but makes no other show of appreciation. Jess yanks me by the arm. “Come on!” She frowns. “You’ll make us late.” I don’t know why she’s worrying because, as we make our way through the hustle and bustle of the crowds, I know we’ve a half-hour to spare before the talk we’re due to attend starts. She dragged me along to this event because she thinks the subject matter will be useful in supporting us both in our up-and-coming PhD studies at St Mary’s University, Twickenham. When I returned to Carshalton after my time-travelling adventures, having fallen down the steps after the episode with George, I was relieved to discover that the train accident Mum thought Dad had been injured in, wasn’t the one derailed after having failed to stop in time and hitting a fallen tree. Dad was on a later train, delayed by the incident. Having heard the news on the local radio station, Mum presumed the worst. Once my iPhone acquired sufficient charge, it sprung to life and pinged non-stop with missed calls, message notifications, and voicemails, because Mum and my friends had been frantic in their efforts to contact me. Not knowing, of course, that I was in the sixteenth century, she’d phoned all my friends trying to get messages to me about Dad, which is how Rob came to relay to Professor Marshall what she thought had happened, just as I’d time-slipped back into the professor’s office. I was so relieved Dad hadn’t been on that train. However, even without it being an emergency, it didn’t mean I’d go back to the Boleyns. Far from it. After sleeping with George, and the mess that likely followed, I vowed that I’d never go back to Tudor England. I took too many risks, and even though I might miss him, my fear of messing up the Tudor history of this country with my stupid meddling had floored me. The professor tried to question me on numerous occasions, but I refused to be coerced into sharing anything intimate about George and me. Sometimes, I wonder if Professor Marshall’s allowing me to find the cypher ring, and all that followed, is a flouting of the student/teacher relationship in terms of safeguarding. But, come on, what history student in their right mind wouldn’t want to time-travel? It’s a conversation my friends and I’ve had on many occasions, discussing what we might actually do. But experiencing a time-slip is another thing entirely. They have ideas on what events they might like to witness, but always as a somewhat distant observer. The possibilities were endless. But, for me, to experience the Early Modern period in real time, and close-up, was something else. And I couldn’t even hint at my reality. Though I haven’t used it since, I was fortunate with the way the cypher ring and time-slipping worked for me. While I may have been away for months or years in Tudor England, it usually meant I was only absent for hours or days in 21st century time. It’s mind-blowing. I didn’t question things too much, in case I jinxed it, but I’m glad the cypher never sent me awry. Each time, when I didn’t use the portal, I thought about when and where I wanted to go, and it took me there. And while my time in Tudorville was a fantastic experience, it can’t be denied that I meddled too much. It took enormous effort and time to fix the history, and I don’t want to risk messing it up again, to the detriment of our present day, not to mention Tudor times. Anyway, it doesn’t matter if I want to return – I can’t. I left the cypher ring in the top drawer of Professor Marshall’s desk, where it’s safe, and out of my hands. It’s not just about messing up the history. I’m afraid of returning to the Boleyns again because of what I feel for George, and because of how far things went between us. If Professor Marshall knew what happened, he’d go crazy. I have no doubt he would never give the cypher ring back to me, or allow me into his office, taking away any opportunity to return to George, even if I wanted to. It’s been best to keep my mouth shut about our tryst, not to mention our being disturbed by Henry VIII himself. I blush at the thought. No, I’m not prepared to give up my innermost secrets to anyone. Not the Professor. Not Rob, either. Those two know enough but, from now on, I will only share with them what I think they need to know. Jessica, while being my best friend, will never know what went on, and I’m never ever going to tell my parents anything about what happened since Professor Marshall gave me the cypher ring. All they need to understand is that I’m getting on with my studies, and that’s it. Some things are best left unsaid. It’s not that I can say ‘By the way, Mum, Dad, I spent a few years in the sixteenth century, where I was best friends with Anne Boleyn, made passionate love to her brother, and formed enemies at the Tudor Court.’ No one would ever ‘get it’, unless they’d seen