Suffragette: The Guardians of Time, #4

By Vivienne Lee Fraser

When Izzy agreed to take Basia from post-apocalyptic Hampshire back to early twentieth century London, she had no idea of the political powder keg she was walking into.

 

Tired of trying to prevent humanity hurtling towards the future she saw in Basia's world, Izzy has returned to her own timeline to decide whether she will go on fighting, or pick up the threads of her old life working as a journalist in London.

 

Basia had agreed to her soulmate's dying wish for her to carry on his work uniting the people on war torn Hampshire, England. Not ready to take on that responsibility, she took Time Guardian Sigma's advice and has gone back in time to learn about women's role in social change from Time Fixer Izzy.

 

The two girls are in London for less than a day when their plans are derailed. Amidst violence and public outrage against them, advocates for women's suffrage are marching to London, and Izzy is sent to Winchester to cover part of the march for a newspaper.

 

In Winchester Izzy and Basia are forced to face their pasts, while plotting their futures. If that isn't difficult enough, fate intervenes in the guise of a missing suffragist. As past and present blur together, they fear not only for the life of the missing girl, but also for the impact her disappearance will have on the timeline.

 

They call on the help of their friends, but will they be able to rescue her in time? And, where is Sigma when you need him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vivienne Lee Fraser
• Release date: May 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9780645515718

Vivienne Lee Fraser

After many years as a closet writer my family circumstances allowed me to follow my dream of actually writing books and seeing them through to publication. I write stories I enjoy and that I think my family can identify with. I love reading Fantasy Books because you can immerse yourself in a world with no preconceptions. I love writing fantasy stories for the same reason. I live in Sydney with my husband, son, our dog Trouble and an over-active kitten called Lola. We get to travel a lot because our family lives around the world. To fund my writing I sell children's books online and at local markets. You can always find me at The Bookbubble. When I am not writing I love reading, walking the dog, craft activities and good movies. One day I am sure I will grow up, but hopefully not too soon. And when I do I would like to be exactly what I am now, and what I have always dreamed I would be, a writer.

Book preview

Dedication:

For the Williamson women in my life. It has been a privilege to be related to so many strong, independent, powerful women—aroha nui.

A special shout out to my sister, Lauretta. This was a four book series until you said I couldn’t finish there. Your voice kept popping into my head as I wrote. Hope you can see how much you influenced this story.

Prologue: Time Fixer Headquarters - Just to the Left of Time

Sunlight falls across the bed. Beta squeezes his eyes closed, trying to block it out, but finally  the light forces his eyes open. Drowsily rolling away from the offending brightness, he snuggles into Cynthia's sleeping form. His lips curl into a smile. He had forgotten what a pleasure it was inhabiting a body, but over the past week, Cynthia had made it her mission to help him remember.

As if sensing his gaze, Cynthia's lids flicker open, and she smiles sleepily. ‘Harold, how come you’re awake so early?’

‘I guess it’s this new body. I was a Time Guardian for so long, and without a corporeal form, we didn’t sleep. Now I’m out of the habit.’ He sighs. ‘Besides, I’m so used to Sigma contacting me at odd hours, I expect him to call at any moment.’

‘After having been lauded by the Time Guardians and Time Fixers for preventing the end of the world, isn’t he taking a well-earned sabbatical?’

‘He is, and I fear it might be a long one. That last mission.... Well... let’s just say he has much to think about.’

‘Then he won’t be calling, and you can relax.’ Cynthia cups his face, leans in as if to kiss him, then pauses. ‘What is it?’

‘Sigma’s never taken leave before, and I fear he will find some trouble to get himself into even while he’s on a break.’

Chuckling, Cynthia raises herself onto an elbow, and waves of unruly red hair tumble across her shoulders. ‘You know, Isolde is a real pain in the butt, but I miss dealing with her little rebellions. Funny, but I think they might actually keep me from becoming complacent.’

Beta reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind Cynthia’s ear as he muses, ‘That’s an interesting spin on a difficult situation.’

Cynthia touches his hand in thanks. ‘I find myself hoping that her little jaunt back to her own time will renew her commitment to the Time Fixers.’

Beta scratches his chin, surprise stilling his hand when his fingers rake across stubble. Yes, it’s definitely odd being back in a body.

‘Just out of interest, what period is Isolde actually from?’

‘The turn of the twentieth century,’ Cynthia says, then chuckles in amusement. ‘Not a great time for women, especially not independent, thinking ones like Isolde.’

‘I can imagine. I assume she was part of the suffragette movement,’ Beta says, rolling onto his back and linking his fingers behind his head.

‘She was, until she became disillusioned,’ Cynthia confirms.

‘Because of the lack of progress? Or because of the violence?’ Beta closes his eyes, and scenes of women being manhandled by constables play in his mind from the one time he had been in England during that period.

He rolls a little as Cynthia pushes herself up and leans against the headboard. ‘Both, actually. Back then Isolde could not quite come to terms with the idea of using, shall we say, more militant tactics to change people’s minds about giving women the vote. After the supposed suicide of one of her mentors, Emily Davidson, she lost heart.’

Beta opens his eyes, and his brows draw into a frown as he struggles to remember his history. At the time, the newspapers had been scathing of the suffragette who had thrown herself in front of the prince’s racehorse. Years later historians theorised that Miss Davidson might not have launched herself forward but could have actually tripped.

‘I thought later investigations found Miss Davidson's death was as likely to have been a tragic accident as a suicide.’

A sad smile pulls at Cynthia’s lips. ‘True, but that came much later. At the time, Isolde was torn. Even with such a great sacrifice, the position of women in society seemed unlikely to change in her lifetime. And if they couldn’t even get voting rights for women passed in Parliament, how would they ever change society’s view on what really mattered to her?’

It takes a moment for Beta to catch on to what Cynthia alluded to. ‘Ah, you mean changing how society thought about marriage so she and Jo could be together? I thought things were loosening up after Queen Victoria’s death.’

‘They were, a little. Perhaps in London among the bohemian set, they would have been able to be together and be accepted.’ Cynthia’s shoulders rise in a shrug. ‘In the rest of the country, though, things had changed very little.’ She sighs. ‘Without the love and support of her soulmate, Izzy was cast adrift and was looking for some direction. It’s such a tragic love story.’

Beta rolls over towards Cynthia. ‘So, she became disgruntled and joined the Time Fixers?’ he prompts.

‘We offered her a place, and she didn’t have many options at the time. She was living in London, and her only friends were in the movement.’

He places a hand on her thigh and gives a gentle rub of support. She reaches down and wraps his fingers with hers. Her grip tightens, and her green eyes shimmer with unshed tears as she says, ‘She couldn’t bear to return to her home in Hampshire because Jo was about to marry another.’

He gives her a moment to wipe the tears from her eyes. She sniffs and releases his hand. ‘That’s why Basia could not have chosen a better guide to take her back in time.’

Unable to make the connection between Izzy’s love life and the girl from their last mission in a dystopian future going back in time, he asks, ‘How so?’

Cynthia runs a hand through her hair, but it drops back over her face. Irritated, she reaches over and grabs a hair-tie from the bedside table. As she pulls her tresses back into a loose ponytail, she says, ‘They have both lost their loves, although obviously Basia’s Allan was shot, and he died. Then there’s the way both of them are searching for a way to move forward and build meaningful lives in the wake of their loss.’

Silence falls heavy in the room as Beta’s thoughts turn to Basia. Within the space of a week, the young woman had met the love of her life and followed him halfway across Hampshire, only to have him literally die in her arms like something out of an old movie. Suddenly a thought creeps into his head, and he sits up, turning to face Cynthia.

‘I thought Izzy said something about seeing if she could make a life with her Jo, and that was why she wanted to rejoin her timeline. Did she change her mind?’

Cynthia shakes her head. ‘No. She decided to spend a little time in London with Basia first. The idea was, when Basia returns to her timeline, Izzy will go down to Winchester and see if she can pull together the threads of her life.’

‘Oh, so she's a Hampshire lass. That explains why Sigma kept running into her on his missions down there.’

‘She has always had a soft spot for that area, and, well, I guess she had a certain person she wanted to keep tabs on throughout her reincarnations.’

‘Jo?’ Beta asks.

‘Jo, John, Johan, Josephine—it’s all the same to her. Still, it was Josephine she lost her heart to, and Josephine she wants to be with.’

Beta’s eyes widen as the full weight of Izzy’s plight hits him. ‘Now I understand her a little better. Her desire to shake up the world has its roots in her love for a woman she could never have.’

Cynthia nods again. Then she covers his hand with hers as if the touch gives her strength. ‘Unfortunately, when she time travelled with us, she found out that even once women had the vote, it would still be a long time before love between two women would be accepted by society.’ Cynthia smiles wanly and sighs. ‘As I said, a sad story, but not one we can do much about.’ She squeezes his hand. ‘So, enough of this maudlin talk—what is on your agenda for today?’

‘More meetings to sort out communication protocols for joint missions. And you?’

A grimace settles on Cynthia's face as she says, ‘I have an appointment with Jason and his parents. I hope to persuade them to take him home and keep an eye on him while he undergoes retraining for a head office role.’

‘You want him working in mission control?’ As he speaks Beta is sure his expression mirrors Cynthia’s grimace. To him, Jason is a bad egg, and the Time Fixer should be thrown in jail for what he did—fatally shooting a key player on the first ever Time Fixer/Guardian mission, a person who was instrumental in saving humankind from annihilation. And if they threw away the key, well... he’d be okay with that as well.

A finger pokes him in the ribs. ‘Hey, are you listening?’

‘Sorry, I was miles away.’ Beta smiles and pats her hand.

‘I was saying I don’t really want Jason out and about at all, but at least if he’s in head office, we can keep an eye on him.’

It’s Beta’s turn to laugh. ‘I guess that’s one way of looking at it, but wouldn’t you prefer him out of the Time Fixers altogether?’

Cynthia snorts. ‘Of course I would—’

‘Hey, they won’t foist him on us, will they? I mean, it’s difficult enough to set up this joint unit as it is....’ Noticing Cynthia’s furrowed brow, he stops. They wouldn’t do that... couldn’t do that... could they?

‘Unfortunately his family have built up a lot of influence in the Time Fixers over the years, so I really can’t say. What I do know is no other team leader wants the man who killed Basia’s Allan and nearly brought about the end of history on their team.’

Cynthia picks at the duvet cover with her other hand, a sure sign she is bothered about something.

Wanting to ease her burden, he quickly glances at the clock before snuggling back down in bed. He half rolls over and pulls Cynthia into his arms. ‘Enough work talk. We still have some time before we’re required elsewhere, don’t we?’

She leans close to him and whispers, ‘We most certainly do,’ before covering his lips with hers.

Chapter One

Welcome to London

Basia's nose wrinkles with distaste as the smell of London hits her in all its decaying glory. She had been so excited about travelling back to a period in history she adores in books that she hadn't considered her imagination might be holding on to a sanitised version of reality.

The next assault to her senses is the noise. The loud, bustling background sounds of people moving in the underground city of Portsdown had been a surprise for someone growing up on a farm. Here, in early twentieth-century London, her ears are assaulted with the clamour of goodness knows how many people going about their daily business. The calls of street vendors, the din of machinery, and the sounds of moving vehicles have merged into an ear-splitting racket.

Isolde pulls her from the alleyway they appeared in and into the hustle and bustle of a main thoroughfare, giving her eyes a view of what her ears have been telling her. There are people everywhere, and the street is full of motorised buses, horse-drawn carriages, and a handful of cars. Her jaw drops at the sight of the vintage cars—only they aren’t considered vintage here. Isolde yanks on her arm, pulling her out of the way of a car turning down the alley they had just left, and her jaw snaps shut.

Izzy drags Basia back onto the footpath. ‘You’re not in Kansas now, Dorothy.’

‘Huh?’

‘I guess that’s a little before your time,’ Izzy says as she leads the way through the throng of humanity crowding the street.

Basia has never seen so many people in one place before, not even when she had been in Portsdown, and they are all staring at her and Izzy.

‘We have to go home and get changed,’ Izzy says, scanning the street, her lips pursing as her gaze falls on a couple men who are watching them. ‘We’re attracting too much attention dressed like this, and with recent suffragette activity on the rise, there are some who would not think twice about attacking us for dressing in male attire.’

‘You’re joking, right?’ Basia asks. Izzy turns and directs a frown her way. ‘All right, you’re serious, but surely we’re not in any real danger.’

‘We could be. Look, let’s just go home, and I will explain there,’ Izzy says, tugging urgently at her arm.

Suddenly this little trip back to London's past seems less like an adventure and more like risking her life again. This is meant to be a fact-finding mission for Basia to learn how the suffragettes led a social change movement, not a dance with death.

Okay, it’s also a chance for her to recuperate and mend her heart after a life-changing week—a chance to take stock of her life and to decide where she wants to go from here. It’s hard to believe that it was only a few days ago she was a farm girl. Her daily routine in a post-apocalyptic Hampshire had been boring, her days taken up with learning to be a medic, reading, and bemoaning just how boring her life was.

In a single week, she had helped a team of time travellers save the world from ending. She had promised the man she had hoped to spend the rest of her life with that she would carry on his work uniting the different factions of survivors, therefore ensuring the continuation of humankind. It’s been a lot to process.

Leadership isn’t a mantle she wears easily, which is why Isolde—or Izzy, as she prefers to be called—had agreed to take her back to the turn of the twentieth century. She wanted to introduce Basia to some of the people working in the women's movement so she might learn how even the most mild-mannered person might change the world.

‘Harlots! Think you can replace us men, do ya?’

Basia’s head whips round as if pulled by the anger in the words, and her eyes focus on a group of about five boys around her age peeling away from the horse-drawn cart they’re loading. As they stride towards Izzy and herself, they emanate such menace that everyone clears out of their way.

Izzy tightens her grip until Basia's fingers complain. ‘Run!’ she commands, and Basia has no choice but to follow.

Her feet thud against the hard, uneven stones of the London streets as they dodge through the mass of people. Some move out of their way, but many attempt to hinder them, perhaps hoping their pursuers will catch them up and teach them a lesson.

As the boys gain on them, Izzy turns down an alley, and Basia gasps in panic. It’s a dead end. She stops, pulling Izzy to a halt in front of her. ‘We can’t go down there. We’ll be trapped.’

‘Come on,’ Izzy urges, tugging at her hand again. When Basia doesn’t move, she lets go and says, ‘Your being here isn’t going to work unless you trust me.’

Glancing over her shoulder, Basia sees the shadows of their pursuers as they enter the alley. Something hits her shoulder. ‘Ouch.’

‘We have you now,’ one of their attackers brays, his voice echoing off the buildings, adding to the menace.

All right, trust Izzy it is, then. Basia takes off, following her friend as she streaks between the towering alley walls. I hope she has a way out of this. They’re almost at the end when Izzy pulls her into an opening.

Pushing Basia in front of her, Izzy turns and slams the wooden gate closed before ramming an enormous lock across. Leaning against the brick fence, Basia’s chest rises and falls at a rapid pace as she tries to catch her breath. Fists pound the wooden planks in frustration, but the bolt holds. We made it. We’re safe.

‘C’mon, youse can’t stay in there forever,’ a voice shouts in frustration.

Basia looks at Izzy, her eyes sharp with amusement as her mouth pulls up in a smile, and the girls burst into laughter.

‘Hey, this ain’t no joke. You get out here and face up to what’s coming to you.’

The new command sets them off again and results in more banging of fists against wood. Drawing in great gulps of air, Basia quells her laughter, then pushes herself off the wall and turns in a circle, checking out her surroundings.

They are within a gated yard at the back of a dwelling. The brick walls on either side are taller than she could easily reach, and in front of them is a three-storeyed brick house. Directly opposite the gate that had saved them is a stout wooden door—and it’s firmly shut. They may have avoided a beating, but there’s no way out.

Their only option is to hope the boys tire of waiting and leave. Hopefully that happens before the owner of the house finds them camped out in the yard.

‘We’re trapped,’ Basia groans, giving voice to her fear.

‘No we’re not.’ Izzy grins. ‘Have a little faith.’ She reaches up to dislodge a brick near the gate. Her fingers disappear and return holding a key.

‘We’re breaking in?’ Great, my first day in London, and I’m already a criminal.

Izzy chuckles. ‘Not exactly. This is where I live. I leave this key here for emergencies.’ The wooden gates rattle as the thumping grows more vigorous. ‘And I would say this is an emergency, wouldn’t you?’

Izzy turns the key in the lock before letting Basia into an empty kitchen. A fire crackles in a coal range, but the room is otherwise silent. After closing and locking the door, Izzy joins her.

‘This room doesn’t look much different to our kitchen on the farm back home,’ Basia says, allowing her amazement at the similarities to show.

‘Mrs Gardiner is thinking about getting a gas oven, but it will be a while before we get any running water inside round this area,’ Izzy responds as she pushes Basia into a dark, narrow corridor.

The inside of the house smells of boiled cabbage and something else... something greasy. Basia wrinkles her nose in distaste. She can't see where she’s going and takes tentative steps along the carpeted floor.

Izzy pushes past her impatiently, leading them up three flights of narrow stairs. It’s all so odd and unfamiliar, and it has Basia questioning her decision to leave her own time to come to this dismal place.

I should go back.

As soon as the words enter her head, her stomach knots.

No I shouldn't. Ooh, I hate this uncertainty.

Although she had agreed to become part of the rebellion when the boy she fell in love with was killed, she has never been certain she’s the right person to reunite their war-ravaged world. Before she commits to such an important role, she needs time to adjust to the changes in her life—and time to mend her broken heart.

Unable to bear the constant sympathy of her family and friends, Basia had jumped at the chance to travel back in time to learn a little of how the politically savvy females in the early twentieth century had developed as they fought for women to get the vote.

Running away now would not solve her problems, and it won’t bring Allan back. Squaring her shoulders, Basia lifts her chin and whispers to herself, ‘I will find a way to help heal our world, and in the process, I might heal myself.’

‘What was that?’

‘Nothing,’ Basia pants, concentrating on placing one foot after another as she follows Izzy up the narrow stairs. ‘Just wondering how much further.’

‘We’re here,’ Izzy says, stopping on a small landing.

Basia joins her, trying to catch her breath while Izzy searches for her key.

‘Isolde, is that you? I did not expect you back so soon. Did you get what you needed for the story?’

Izzy leans over the banister, and Basia follows suit. ‘Hello, Mrs Gardiner. Yes, I did. I am just here for a quick change of clothes before taking my notes to the paper to see what they can do with it.’

‘I see you have a friend with you.’ The tall, black-clad woman peers upwards, trying for a better look at Basia, who takes a step in behind Izzy so the woman won’t notice her strange clothes.

Izzy half turns, a questioning look on her face. Shrugging, Basia thinks, Don’t ask me. I have no idea how best to explain why I’m here.

‘Ah yes, this is... um... my friend Barbara from school. I bumped into her on the train back.’

‘Ah, another of you girls taking up a new life in London.’ The woman catches Basia's eye. ‘I am afraid I have no spare rooms—’

‘It is all right, Mrs G. She can stay with me for a few days until she finds her feet.’

Mrs Gardiner frowns, shakes her head, then says, ‘Mmm, just for a few days, mind, and you will pay extra if she joins us for meals.’

‘Of course.’ Izzy turns and bundles Basia back into the shadows before opening the door behind them.

Basia is surprised to find herself in a well-lit attic room. It’s clean and tidy, if sparsely furnished. In one corner is an old cast-iron double bed with a faded quilt on top. Under the dormer is a desk covered in a shocking explosion of books and papers. Behind the door is a large wardrobe with drawers at the bottom. The only thing in the room that isn’t strictly essential is the large multicoloured rag rug on the floor.

Once the door is firmly closed, Basia turns and asks, ‘Barbara? Is she made up or a—’

Izzy places a finger over her lips to silence her, opens the door a smidgen, and listens at the gap before closing it again. ‘Mrs Gardiner is a great landlady, but she does like to snoop.’

She strides