From: Philippa Chapman (Glastonbury, Somerset, UK.) Date: Sun, 23 Feb 1997 15:00 +0000 Subject: Looking-glass Limbo, part 8/10 LOOKING-GLASS LIMBO PART 8 'Could the windsong be our love-song and the windsong make us one?' Adrian Snell: 'Windsong' I was being punched hard by two men. I struggled to defend myself, but felt a third holding my arms and neck in a vice-like grip. "I do 'ope that's loosened your memory, sunny Jim. We wants the safe opened *now*!" The leader of the thugs came into view. He was short, stocky and mean. There was a huge red birth-mark on the right side of his face. His pals released me and I fell on my knees to the floor. One of them kicked me in the side. I looked around and saw the safe in the corner of the room. I started to make my way over to it painfully, trying to buy time until Al helped me out. It was old-fashioned, one of those big heavy things with a central dial. My eyes caught a poster hanging in the window. It was advertising The Beatles and it was virtually brand new. The haircuts they were wearing put me somewhere between 1962 and 1966. I placed my head to the safe as I'd seen so often in the movies and began to listen carefully as I turned, praying that the trick *really* worked. "It's 6, 1, 9, 37,"came a voice in my left ear. I tried not to jump at the sound of Al's voice and gratefully put in the combination. As soon as the safe swung open, the heavies hauled me out of the way and helped themselves to the contents. British money, including 10 shilling notes amongst the larger denominations. "Now then, we don't want you squealing to old Dixon of Dock Green before we've got away." The men stripped me to the waist, bound my hands behind my back and carried me down some nearby stairs. I was hurting too much to resist, and there were too many of them. I guessed I might stand a better chance of staying alive if I remained quiet. We entered a cellar and they bound me to a pillar, face forwards. They were about to gag me when a movement in the shadows caught their eye. They pounced on another man who had been trying to hide. "Well, would you look here! It's your little boyfriend! Here, nancy boy. We'll tie you up face to face. That way you won't be able to *comfort* one another, you worthless little....." There came a shout from outside the cellar and the heavy mob vanished. I looked down at my companion and nearly cried out. It was Viola, a little bruised and battered, but otherwise okay. I glanced over to Al imploringly. He deliberately went behind Viola to consult his handlink. "They didn't hurt you too much, did they?" Viola smiled up at me. "Well, I've got a few bruises, but I think I'm alright. It's good to see you again, Sam. We lost contact after I missed holding onto you in Glastonbury. There's no danger of that *this* time!" Al looked up at me. A slow smile spread over his face and he gave me the 'thumbs up' sign and mouthed the words 'good luck' at me. Then he left us alone. I started by gently kissing Viola all over her face. "I missed you so much, Viola......I finally realised that I love you.....I love you so much......I *adore* you." "Sam, my darling...." I stopped and looked into her eyes. "You love me?" She smiled tenderly. "I love you....I never knew how much until I lost you." There were no other words needed. I managed to lean around the pillar a little further and our eager lips met. The kissing went on and on; long, sweet and utterly fulfilling. When we finally paused to catch our breath for a moment, I knew what I had to ask. "Will you be mine?" Viola smiled against my cheek. "I think I'm mostly yours already...." "I mean....I'd offer you a lifetime if I could." "I know. Perhaps when we get back home....." I managed to move my hand a little to touch hers. "This isn't exactly the most romantic setting I could think of to open my heart to you." Viola gave me an Eskimo kiss, nose to nose. "Well, at least we're *together*. I'm more concerned about the two men we leaped into. I'm pretty certain this is the early Sixties. This green shirt I've got on screams 'Carnaby Street' at me. And if the heavy mob who left us here are right, and the two men *are* lovers, well.....it's still illegal; at least in Britain. Not that I regret a single kiss we've shared....I would love you, no matter *who* you'd leaped into." I answered Viola with another long and fervent kiss. She was right; love is a meeting of souls. The body that soul is wearing is merely secondary. It began to get dark and after a while the windows high up in the cellar glowed with yellow sodium street lights. Viola and I talked, kissed and occasionally tried to loosen the tight ropes around us. Only the last activity proved unsatisfactory, those hoodlums had known what they were doing when they trussed us to the pillar like a couple of Thanksgiving turkeys. At last, Al came back, shortly followed by Beatrice. She gasped when she saw Viola. "Oh, my goodness! Are you alright, hen?" Viola smiled at her. "Couldn't be happier, Bea. The ropes *are* a little tight, but I've been half cuddling Sam for *hours*!" I felt myself start to blush and was glad of the semi-darkness. Beatrice looked at both of us, then Al. "Alright, Al. Have you been putting your spanner in the works again? I bet he hasn't even told you that it's 1964, May 15th. You're Bertrand Smith and he's Ian Black and you joint-own this building, which is a club in London." "And I missed you *too*! I just gave these two love-birds permission to express their love for each other. I think they've earned it." Beatrice approached him in a determined manner. "I missed you....a lot. But I'm still waiting for you, darling. You've appreciated me every which way, but I'm still waiting for those three little words from you." Al shuffled uncomfortably. "That's the $64,000 question, Beatrice. If you must know the truth, I'm scared......I want everything certain and guaranteed for the rest of my life, and taking the plunge into uncertainty is nerve-wracking." I hadn't heard such honesty from Al in a long, long time. Beatrice recognised it too. "You take the plunge, Al and I'd be right there with you, 100%. You'd get me completely and unresevedly in exchange." Beatrice's voice shook with nerves and the surprise on Viola's face said the rest. Al moved as close to Beatrice as he could and looked silently into her eyes for a quite a while. When he spoke, it was barely a whisper. "Tu ben sai quanto io t'amo." Beatrice's eyes glowed. "In English, my prince. Just once." Al hesitated for the tiniest fraction, then he surrendered. "I love you, Rosa mia. And I *wish* I could kiss you again." Beatrice's face was radiant. "You will, my love, you will. And when you do, I will be utterly yours." Al trembled with barely suppressed desire and anticipation, and his eyes simply *glowed*. I was beginning to wonder what to say and where I could safely begin, when I felt Viola nudge me. I moved my attention away from the highly charged tenderness between Al and Beatrice, back to Viola's face. "I've never seen Beatrice so vulnerable before. I'm positive that she really loves him.......just as I know now how much I love you." I smiled and kissed her hair. "Where do we go from here, darling?" "Not very far at the moment!" Viola said, ruefully,"Let's just take it one step at a time. Whatever is leaping us through time will provide; and if we never get another chance before we go home, I'm so glad we had this time together. I'd have been the poorer for not loving you, no matter what the future brings." "So would I, Viola." I kissed her and the door of the cellar opened. We all jumped as the cellar door met the wall with an almighty crash. A male figure stood outlined in the doorway. "Hello," came a deep voice,"What's going on here, then?" I felt Viola stifling a giggle. "We're down here, officer!" she called out, then added in a mutter,"We seem to have landed up with Dixon of Dock Green!" "The mob that beat us up used those very words. I don't understand." "Sorry, it's a British cultural reference. It was an incredibly popular police show when I was a child. I tell you now, if he salutes us and advises us to take care or go safely, I won't be able to contain myself!" The policeman came down the stairs, straight through Al and Beatrice and began to untie us. When we were free, the first thing we did was hug each other, then began massaging the places where the ropes had been most uncomfortable. "Did you get a good look at the men who attacked and robbed you, sirs?" Viola only had a limited amount to reveal, but I was able to recall the ugly boss with the birth-mark very well. The policeman nodded, then found the light switch to write down the details. "I'm afraid this isn't the first time this gang have struck. Have you heard of the Kray twins?" I hadn't, but Viola nodded,"Well this lot, led by the bloke with the birth-mark have been following their footsteps; demanding protection money, blackmailing and generally terrorising businesses like yours that aren't on the Krays' manor." Al whistled significantly. "My goodness, it's just like the mob all over again." We followed the policeman back upstairs again. I found what was left of Ian's shirt and jacket and slipped them back on. "Can I use your phone, sir? I ought to get in the fingerprint boys." "That won't do any good, officer," I said, remembering another detail,"They all wore gloves and I opened the safe." "Alright, then. I'll get them to give this office the once-over, just incase our friends left any clues. Then, if you wouldn't mind dropping in to the police station in the morning to fill out the paperwork. I'll get a car to run you two gentlemen to the hospital." "I don't think we're badly injured..." Viola began. "Can't be too careful, Mr Smith. I know those bruises you've got could hide broken bones or hair-line fractures. And if they do, we can get the bastards for criminal assault on top of the charges of burglary and threatening behaviour. One of my officers will go with you to get any relevant medical details, then you should be able to go home." Al and Beatrice helped find the keys to the club for me, then Viola and I followed the police officer to the waiting car. A clock in a church tower told me it was half past ten at night. It felt a lot later. Now that things were becoming almost normal, I could feel all the aches and pains from my beating and the sore places where the ropes had cut into me. The doctor at the hospital was kind and thorough. He examine each of us separately, noting down all the details for the police report. The ribs where I had been kicked were fairly badly bruised and I could see other bruises that were going to come out soon, but apart from those and some other minor cuts and abrasions, I had been surprisingly lucky. I took a look at Bertrand's face in the bottom of the steel kidney dish as the nurse patched me up. Red curly hair, a thin almost aesthetic face, scores of freckles and a whopper of a black eye. I came back out, accompanied by Al. He had spent most of his time admiring the nurse's mini skirt and speculating audibly on how Beatrice would look in it. Then, he looked over at her and stopped dead. She had taken off the bright red pants she was wearing and was standing there in her thigh-length green shirt, smiling triumphantly at Al's stunned expression. Viola was covering her smile with her hand and trying to look shocked at the same time. Al recovered his poise with characteristic speed. "Baby, have you got *legs*!" he enthused, hurrying forward for a better look. "I do hope so, Al," Beatrice remarked, attempting hauteur, but amusement got the better of her,"You never told me you were a 'leg' man." Al glinted at her dangerously. "Them too, gorgeous....them too. You'd better cover them up before Sam has a heart attack." I turned away, fighting the urge to either laugh or get angry. Would they *never* stop? I guess I knew it was partially a safety valve; in this situation Al would normally have either got mad or tried to diffuse the tension with humor. Beatrice was helping him find the latter. When I turned back, Beatrice had put on her pants again and we were all able to go back out to the police car. "Are you alright, dar....I mean *Ian*?" Viola looked at me. "Yes, a few bruises and probably delayed shock for Ian, but I'm alright. That shiner you've got looks really painful. We ought to get some raw steak to put on it." "Seems an awful waste of a steak. I'd rather put one *inside* me. I'm missing my supper." "I don't think you'll find takeaway steak in London at this time of night. Fish and chips; maybe Chinese if you're really lucky. I suppose there might be a Wimpy bar still open, but I don't remember them doing takeaway food. If this was the Nineties, you could probably find *anything* you wanted." The idea of the Wimpy bar intrigued me. Viola had one L5 note in her pocket that the mob hadn't stolen. The policeman waited while we went inside. I was amazed. Somebody had come across American hamburger chains and tried very hard to reproduce the experience in Britain, with mixed success. It was almost, but not exactly right. The hamburgers had catsup, but no pickle; the fries weren't thin enough, but the Coke float was spot on. It was close enough for my stomach to appreciate. We didn't have enough money to be able to sample any more, but the pictures of the ices on the wall seemed to be suffering from the same transatlantic schitzophrenia. It was one of the oddest experiences of my life. The policeman finally dropped us off at Bernard and Ian's shared apartment at around half past eleven, by which time I was more than ready for a good night's sleep. Al and Beatrice guided us to the right door, then disappeared with noticable tact. Viola looked as tired as I was. She found the bedroom by instinct, then disappeared into the bathroom. She'd hardly spoken a word for quite a while. She emerged a few minutes later in pyjamas, yawning. "I'm sorry, Sam. All that physical stuff is getting to me. And I ache all over." I held her gently in my arms. I was beginning to dread the double bed I had clearly seen in that bedroom. "You go ahead," I said gently,"I'll be there in a minute." I peeled off the torn jacket and shirt and went to the bathroom myself. Bertrand's pyjamas were under his pillow. I couldn't wear the top, I knew from experience that I'd burn up in bed. I put the bottoms on over Bertrand's underpants and crawled in. I didn't know what I expected next - no, that's not right - I knew what I *dreaded*. I had told Viola I loved her. She would have been within her rights to expect, well, certain things. But there was no way, not tonight, not even for Viola. I was feeling bruised all over. She snuggled up to my good right side. I tensed, trying to begin to frame the right words. She put her arm across me, sighed happily and promptly went to sleep. I glanced down at her in surprise. Nothing, only her steady breathing. I suddenly realised that *she* must trust me. A man with less discomfort or less scruples might well have tried to take advantage. And I almost wouldn't blame him. I stroked her hair until I fell asleep as well. When I awoke the next morning, I realised that sometime during the night I had leaped. I couldn't remember ever sleeping through a leap before. I *must* have been tired. I was on my own in a single bed. No Viola. I regretted that; I wished I could have woken up with her as well. I looked down at myself, but I seemed to be in the best of health. I hoped poor Bernard would be okay. The bedroom I was in was definitely masculine, probably single by the mess. The decor and the posters on the wall told me I was in the late Seventies. One of the posters was 'Star Wars'. Some innate sense inside me told me I was in the States again. I looked out of the window. Los Angeles: I'd recognise those hills, the buildings and the smog anywhere. I looked in the full-length mirror on the wall. Brown skin, high cheekbones, thick black hair, but with a long straight nose similar to my own. "My goodness, what am I? Innuit, Negro or Native American?" "Make that a yes on all three counts," came Al's voice behind me,"And with a dash of Hispanic thrown in for good measure. You're a real mongrel this time, Sam." I turned around to greet him. He was looking surprisingly sober in a black shiny suit, gold waistcoat and tie. "Not another death, Al?" Al looked at himself. "Oh...no, I see what you mean, though. I've been invited to this wedding and I was about to pick this when we found you. I'd probably wear the dress uniform to a funeral, not *this* old thing." It didn't look that old to me, but I kept my mouth shut. "Anyway," he continued,"You're in L.A., it's the 16th July 1979 and you're name is Juan Ezekiel Paul Domingo. Your father is half Negro and half Native American and your mother is half Innuit and half Spanish. I'd say it's difficult to judge which genes are winning, but that's some mixture to be going on with. You're the only child..so you had it tough growing up, even in L.A. And today.....you're not going to like this, Sam, but Juan gets married today. Ziggy says you're here to make sure the wedding goes ahead. Sorry, Sam." I felt the sheer frustration and anger rise inside me. "There's no way I'm marrying some strange woman today, not after last time. I'm in love with Viola and, to my surprise and delight, she loves me. You know as well as I do how I feel about marriage vows. It would be a betrayal of our love to say words I had no intention of keeping to some other woman. I doubt if it would be fair to Juan and his fiancee, either." "I know this won't help much, but Juan and Chei had a civil marriage yesterday. Today is the church ceremony to please the relatives." "What about their honeymoon night? Didn't they *want* one?" Al made a wry smile at me. "The families think that Juan and Chei are being patient little bunnies, but actually, they had their honeymoon in advance some time ago; this is the Seventies, after all. They've been given a couple of weeks on one of those off-shore islands as a honeymoon gift. All palm trees and seclusion, like a cheaper version of Hawaii." I frowned at Al. "There's no way I'm hanging around *that* long......and we seem to have lost Viola and Beatrice again." Al's facial shutters came down. "Not lost, exactly. Viola's here in L.A. and she'll get to you as soon as she can. She sends her love and everything. Beatrice said so." This was going to be the strangest relationship, if I had to resort to using go-betweens. "Tell her....tell her I love her and I hope to see her soon. You can tell her 'thank-you' as well." Al's face lit up with a salacious grin. "So it *was* like that last night!" "No, actually, it wasn't....but that's none of your business," I said, gritting my teeth,"Viola knows what I mean." Al feigned innocence. "Anything you say, Sam. I'll deliver the message." He left hurriedly before I got tempted to punch him one, which would have been useless. I decided that I might as well continue with this charade for the mean time, until some better idea turned up. I could always refuse to say the vows if the worst came to the worst. I let Juan's parents organise me. Juan's father was tall, with magnificent bearing, although he looked old before his time. His thick wiry hair was almost completely gray. Juan's mother was small and round, but she had hints of her Spanish heritage around her eyes and in her determined chin. I had a feeling she had provided much of the driving force for the church marriage. I hoped Juan would understand and keep his vows as much as I would under the same situation. I kept wondering if Chei would stand him up, then I had to ask myself why I was contemplating such a question. I couldn't understand it. My 'best man' arrived and took me in his car to the church. Juan's parents followed at a discreet distance. I walked up the steps outside the church in the growing July heat, feeling distinctly uncomfortable in the tux that Juan was wearing. I entered the church slowly, taking as much time as I could to greet people and meet Chei's parents. That was the first big surprise. I suppose the name should have warned me. They were American Chinese. My goodness, any children born to Juan and Chei would have really complicated family trees. I finally let Georg, the best man drag me to my seat. The church was beautiful, and in any other circumstances I would have admired it, but my mouth had gone dry and I was definitely *not* looking forward to spoiling the day for the young couple and their nearest and dearest. The music struck up. Not Wagner, thank goodness, but Handel. I stood up in front of the priest. This was *terrible* The bride approached, heavily veiled, on the arm of her father. I turned towards her and helped her lift the veil. I just stared, dumb with shock. So did she. It was Viola, her eyes red from crying. I folded her into my arms and hugged her. Then I saw Al and Beatrice over her shoulder, looking straight at us. "Told you I was going to a wedding today, didn't I, Sam?" Al grinned at me. "Of all the low down, rotten, sneaky tricks to play...this was the worst!" I muttered, just loud enough for him to hear, then I looked at Viola,"This is incredibly short notice for both of us.....but *could* you, will you?" I could see the priest shuffling nervously, just at the edge of my field of vision. Viola covered by wiping her eyes, but her face was transfused with a strange kind of joy. "I can...and I will, Sam." I kissed her briefly on the lips and the service began. I didn't let go of her hand for one minute. We were doing fine until the priest reached the 'has anyone got an objection to this marriage' bit. Then all hell broke loose. About half a dozen men in black leather outfits stood up at the back of the church and began shouting out the foulest insults imaginable about mixed marriages. The verger tried to intercept them and persuade him to leave, but they knocked him over. The priest hurried all of us through into the vestry and got the door bolted just as they reached it. The police were contacted, whilst Viola and I stood holding each other in the corner and trying to get our breath back. "Mr and Mrs Domingo, Mr and Mrs Xiao....I don't know how long the police will take. I could continue the marriage in here....I'm sure Our Lord would understand. I can hear our *guests* outside damaging the church, but we'll be safe in here. What do you say, friends?" "What do you think, Viola?" "I was distraught when Beatrice told me I had to marry a complete stranger. She was acting awful cagey, though. Kept telling me it would be alright, that I was free to get married. Then, when I saw it was you, I came *this* close to fainting. I didn't think we'd get the chance, but there you were....." "I have always said to Al that I consider marriage vows sacred and binding. It would be that way for me now, with you. You're the one I've been waiting for." Viola's smile was beautiful. "And they would be holy to me. I guess that's why Beatrice told me this morning that I'd hardly ever been married when I changed things back home. I was waiting for you, too." We kissed then, and it was almost as if we made our vows to each other with that kiss. The words were just the verbal expression of some private exchange that had already happened and would soon, I hoped, reach their ultimate expression. The priest gently cleared his throat to interrupt us. All Juan and Chei's friends and relatives were waiting for us to make our decision. "If Father...." "Father Edward," Al supplied in my ear. "If Father Edward thinks it best, then I....we don't mind exchanging our vows in here. I hope the church building won't be too damaged before the police get here." So the good Father began and everyone settled down as comfortably as they could. Luckily the vestry was large enough to accommodate all of us, albeit standing up. Once we got to the vows, though, Viola and I had eyes only for each other. We had just been pronounced man and wife when the cops arrived. There came a knocking at the door from one of them. Father Edward carefully opened the door, then pulled it wide when he saw the uniform. Everyone apart from the four of us slowly left the vestry. Al and Beatrice spoke together by accident. "You may now kiss the bride." Then they turned to each other and smiled. I shared another overwhelming kiss with Viola. "Everyone's waiting for you, Sam." That was Beatrice. "I don't care. I just married the woman I love," I said between kisses,"They can start the reception or whatever without us." "I think Father Edward would like to bless you in the church, now that it's free." I gave in and walked with Viola back into the church. The church didn't look as bad as I feared. A lot of the plaster saints had been damaged, but otherwise, the building wasn't too affected. We dutifully knelt before the altar rail. Father Edward laid his hands on our heads. Even before he spoke, I felt a strange, deep peace come upon me, just like.....just like.....I couldn't remember when, but it had involved water. The sense of peace and rightness grew until it was almost overwhelming. We had been touched by something, or rather Somebody, greater than ourselves. Any lingering doubts I may have had flew away. *This* was the right time and the right woman. The cops let us go very quickly. Al and Beatrice piled into the wedding car together. They both threw confetti at us, but of course, it never touched us. "I like this idea," Viola exclaimed,"No-mess confetti!" "I don't know *what* Gushi's going to say when he finds it." I chuckled. "Okay, you two; we owe you one, but how on Earth did you know what to do?" Al grinned mischievously. "You'll have to blame Ziggy *and* Scherzo. They were 100% adamant that you needed to be married right now, this leap. Apparently 1979 is significant in some way. *We* decided to surprise you...we both thought you might get cold feet if you'd known in advance." "I wouldn't," Viola asserted,"I've been ready to commit myself for quite a while. I wouldn't have cried my eyes out, either.....well, they may have been tears of joy instead." I kissed Viola and Beatrice sighed almost wistfully. "I *love* happy endings." "It's not over yet, Strawberry. These two have got a honeymoon to go on." I looked up at Al in surprise. Al continued,"It's true. The wedding reception was yesterday. You've got to go to Chei's house, get changed and catch a plane to the islands." The driver took us to the house. Beatrice and Al helped us by guiding us to the luggage and the documents. I came back down the stairs in a rather loud Hawaiian type shirt and shorts, whilst Viola was wearing a simple flowery dress. We double checked that we had everything that Juan and Chei needed, then we were off again. The small landing strip was filled with Juan and Chei's friends who had gone straight there to send them off. We got covered in real confetti *this* time. After a lot of hugs and kisses, we climbed aboard the light airplane and we were off again. "It's a bit like a rollercoaster ride," Viola commented,"I've hardly had time to catch my breath." I put my arm around her and held her close. The arrival was smooth, if a little scary on such a tiny island. I paid the man who carried our bags and made a point of carrying Viola over the threshold. "Are you sure about this? There's more of me than meets the eye.....oh, well, you seem to be managing alright!" I took her, after a couple of false starts, to the bedroom of our villa. We sank onto the bed together in a bit of a tangle. I brushed Viola's hair aside and kissed her deeply. She began undoing the buttons of my shirt, but fumbling endearingly. "I'm sorry....I'm all thumbs...." "You're doing just fine." I assured her, then kissed her again. The world seemed to spin around me. It *almost* felt like we'd leaped. Then I looked up and there was Viola on top of me; but she was wearing, or rather half-wearing my shirt. I couldn't help but see how lovely she was underneath. I looked down at myself and realised the awful truth. We had literally changed places. Viola's eyes looked into mine. She knew it too. "Ohhh, boy," we whispered together,"Ohhhhh, boy!" End note: I have a feeling you've got some rather *interesting* questions on your lips at this point. All will be revealed in the next bit! (And then some). Wouldn't it make a great end to an episode, though?! And since I wrote it, I get first pick at being Viola. (I can dream....)