In this third installment of George Cox’s quietly riveting serial, The Last Time-Traveller, Anna’s story deepens. As she reveals the existence of two fellow travellers — lost somewhere in the English countryside — the young vicar finds himself drawn into a web of secrecy, trust, and moral risk. What begins as curiosity becomes a mission: one that may yet cost him far more than faith alone.

She continued her story.

‘Both of my fellow travellers were despatched to separate villages, one here, the other not too far away.  The idea was that they could contact one another in case of difficulties.’

‘And presumably meet up if they wanted to discuss things?’

‘Yes, but that was intended to be under exceptional circumstances not a regular occurrence, at least for the first few years. In the meantime, they were each expected to get slowly but progressively immersed in the activities in respective locations.’

‘So, what was their motivation for making the one-way trip, or yours come to that?’

‘Each slightly different, I think. But it’s what has often driven explorers over the years.  Partly curiosity, partly adventure. The other two were both professional historians.  Imagine giving an Egyptologist the chance to see the pyramids being built or a palaeontologist the opportunity to observe living dinosaurs.  Many of the great explorers of the eras that preceded yours had little expectation of returning home. And, of course, no one was selected for a time-trip who has a family.

‘And you, Anna?  Are you a historian?’  

‘I was.’

‘Was?’

‘I have spent the last ten years working full-time on the time-travel programme: most recently responsible for the selection and training of the travellers.’

They both sat silently for a while.

‘So you never intended to travel yourself?’

‘No, that was never expected of me and not one of my personal aims.’

‘But when it was decided to terminate the programme, you felt that you owed it to the two who had already been sent, to explain it to them?’

‘Yes, exactly, and also to clear up any loose ends’

‘Loose ends?’

‘I’ll explain more as we go along. So, are you still willing to help me?’

They looked at each other in silence for a while, her eyes fixed on his, scrutinising his reaction rather than just waiting for an answer.

He felt a frisson of excitement. While it was hard to believe her incredible story, was it just possible it was true? Either way, he felt there was nothing to be lost by playing along.  More than anything else, the woman intrigued him. 

‘Yes, alright. I’m not sure how helpful I can be but I’m happy to do whatever I can.’

—

‘OK. Presumably, we just need to track down two individuals?’

‘Essentially, that’s it, but it needs to be done with discretion. As I explained, the plan was for each of the scheduled twelve travellers to be sent to a separate village, able to get in touch with one another if necessary but not causing any suspicion. The plan was that they should each slowly embed themselves in the local community and that’s what I expect they’ve done. We cannot draw attention to them.’

‘OK. I get the message.  Where do we start?’

‘Well, as I said, one of the villages is yours. I need you to ask – discretely – about an individual who arrived here about a year or so ago. Perhaps you might have encountered him yourself?’

‘Quite possibly. Do you have a name and a photo?’

‘Yes.’

She pulled out a tablet from her bag, which he thought looked like an iPad: something which struck him as a bit odd. 

‘Did you find that in a museum and brought it with you, or have you rapidly become acquainted with early 21^st century technology?’

‘Neither, it was the only sophisticated item that I was allowed to bring. You have no idea of the research behind it. It looks like an everyday item, and indeed fulfils many of its expected functions. Any external examination could not distinguish it from a standard iPad but underneath it is an entirely different piece of technology.’ 

‘But what if it got mislaid? Or what happens to it when you’re no longer around? Doesn’t that violate all your principles about leaving evidence of your visit?’

She smiled, then widened it into a broad grin.

‘That’s very perceptive, Gregory. You really have grasped things very quickly.

The device will only respond to me, using complex biometrics.  Moreover, if I haven’t activated it within a twenty-four-hour period, it will self-destruct, the insides turning into a glutinous mess: just a mass of foul-smelling sludge.’ 

She leant across to show him a picture of a man in what appeared to be late middle age, with silver hair.  He thought the man looked rather distinguished, an author or professor perhaps? He took a picture with his phone.

He shook his head.

‘No, I’ve never met him. What’s his name?’

‘For the purpose of the programme, it’s Harold Hamilton. Does that sound ordinary enough?’

‘Yes, fine. So, you want me to track him down?’

‘Yes.  Discretely, of course.’

‘Of course.  Do you want to do this together?’

‘No, I think it would be better, more low-key, for you to do this initial probing on your own.  Can you get started this afternoon? Meantime, I’ll get back to work on the task you interrupted – digging up your churchyard!’

‘OK. So, where and when do you want to meet? How about, we meet up at the end of the day and have supper together?  The Two Pigeons isn’t exactly haute cuisine but it’s not a bad example of twenty-first century fare.’

She smiled.

‘Would that look unusual to the locals?

‘Not really. They will quickly notice that we are working together on something. The less furtive we make it, the better.’

‘OK, I’ll meet you there at what,7pm?’

‘Fine.’

‘Where are you staying?’

‘It’s not relevant.’

‘How do I get in touch?’

‘You can’t. And before you ask, I don’t have a mobile phone.’

With that, she got up and slipped her coat on.

‘See you at 7. Good hunting!’

—-

He felt disconcerted but at the same time, excited. He realised that he was starting to accept Anna’s story and as a result he was on a mission: a mission which could have great significance, even if no one else would   ever know of it. The forthcoming potential encounter with two alleged time-travellers would provide further, if not necessarily conclusive, evidence of her story.

His first point of call was the café. As he came through the door, he was greeted by the smiling owner.  

‘What? Back again? Another coffee?’

‘Please.’

‘Anything else?

‘Yes, why not? I’ll have a bacon roll please.’

He took his coat off and settled back into his usual spot. Trying to disguise his eagerness before asking her any questions.

With no one else to serve, she was back within minutes, placing the coffee and warmed roll in front of him. Before she turned away, he pulled out his phone.

‘Alice, I wondered whether you might be able to help me with a little problem. I’m trying to get in touch with this individual.’ 

He held out his phone.

‘You wouldn’t by chance have seen this man, would you?’

She glanced at the photo.

‘Yes. Yeah, he was a newcomer to the village a while back. Before you turned up.  Nice guy, used to come in quite regularly, very pleasant but not very forthcoming. Then she stopped. If I remember correctly, he had a health problem. The Two Pigeons would probably be able to tell you more. I think he had become something of a regular there.’

‘Thanks, Alice, that really is most helpful.’

‘Glad I could help. What’s the nature of your interest, if I can ask?’

This gave him a chance to try out the cover story he had been considering.

‘It’s in connection with that lady that you might have seen me with a little earlier. She’s the chap’s half-sister. She lives abroad and they’ve lost touch over the years. Now she’s keen to get back in touch.’

‘Well, good luck.  I only hope he’s still around.’

The reverend finished his coffee and ate his roll as quickly as he could, before setting off on the short walk to the local inn, excited at the prospect of a remarkably quick result to his quest. The bar was empty when he arrived, the lunchtime clientele not yet having turned up: not that there would be many at this time of the year. The barman looked up as soon as he came through the door.

‘Hello Rev. Bit early for you, isn’t it? No members of your flock here yet.’

Gregory grinned.

‘No, Ted, I’m not saving people today.  Well… perhaps just one of them.  Do you know this guy?’

He showed the man the photo.

‘Yeah, that’s Harry.’

‘Harry?’

‘Mm. Used to come in here regularly.  I think he was an author, you know, serious stuff, not stories.  Not a lot in common with most of our regulars but very keen to talk to people. Very pleasant’.

‘So, what happened to him?’

‘Illness. Might have been Covid, maybe a bad bout of flu; whatever it was, he had to be hospitalised.’

‘Did he pull through?’

‘Fortunately, yes. Before it happened, he looked in good shape for his age but whatever it was, it knocked all the stuffing out of him. When he came out of hospital he had to go into a residential home.’

‘Do you know which one?’

‘Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s that big place out on the Stowe road. Can’t recall the name but you can’t miss it. I think one or two of the lads went to see him.’

‘Thanks, Ted, that really is most helpful. Do you recall the guy’s surname’

‘Yeah, Hamilton.’

Gregory recognised that in his eagerness he had made a silly mistake.

‘Yes, of course. I forgot. I assumed it must be the same as hers. Anyway, I thought I’d contact the home before getting back to her, just to check whether he’s still there and up to a visit.’

The explanation seemed to satisfy the barman.

‘Well, good luck. Let me know how it goes.’

                                        —

He arrived early for their supper, eager to share the success of his investigations.  She arrived at precisely 7pm, spotted him easily as no other evening diner had arrived and headed for the table that he had chosen close to the log fire.

He stood up and pulled back a chair for her and sat back down.

‘OK. First things first. What would you like to drink? I’m having a white wine.  The house white is very drinkable.’

‘Oh, anything. But nothing alcoholic.’

He raised his hand to attract the attention of the barman. 

‘A tonic water and a medium glass of sauvignon blanc, please Ted.’

‘OK. How did you get on this afternoon?’ she asked.

‘Good.’ he responded, endeavouring to conceal the excitement he felt and keen not to spill out his story too quickly,

‘…I’ll tell you when we’ve ordered.’ 

The barman returned promptly with their drinks and smiled at the woman as he put them down.

‘Hope you’re successful, love.’

She flashed a look at Gregory with obvious concern, and waited until the barman was out of earshot.

‘What does he mean?’

‘Don’t worry. Everything’s all in hand.  I had to construct a cover story.  It’s very simple.  You’re looking to find your long-lost half-brother and I’m giving you a spot of help.’

As she did not look convinced, he added:

‘Look, we need a cover story and this one’s very simple.  And credible.’

She thought for a brief moment, then nodded, then smiled.

‘OK. Yes, that’s good. Thanks. So, what have you discovered?’

The reverend smiled and still seeking to prolong the anticipation, said. ‘Let’s order our food first’.

Having talked her through the nature and merits of the various items on the menu, they settled, on his recommendation: the ‘always reliable’ battered cod and chips. Having placed their order, they got down to business. 

‘Well, I think I’ve cracked it.’ he said

‘Your traveller friend apparently settled well in the village, and was clearly successful in making friends with local people – at least within the confines of the café and this place. And he doesn’t seem to have raised any suspicions. Just what you’d have wanted. Right? Then about a year ago – a few months before I arrived – he was struck down with some sort of virus…’

‘Oh, my goodness. Is he still alive?’ she interjected with obvious concern.

‘Yes. At least I think so.  I believe he’s living in a care-home about twenty-minutes’ drive from here.’

‘OK Let’s go. We can eat later.’

She pushed her chair back.

‘Whoa! Hold on. You can’t just turn up at night demanding to see somebody. And we agreed ‘low key’ remember? Nothing to arouse suspicion.’

She sat back in her chair.

‘You’re right.’

She reached across the table, smiled and squeezed his hand, a gesture that took him back a little. It was the first physical contact they had had.

‘Well done. Did you get the name he was using?’

‘Yes, it’s Harry Hamilton.’

‘Yes!’ she said with obvious delight, ‘That’s exactly what we’d agreed. I need to speak to him.  So, what’s the plan?’

The Reverend Green felt flattered that she was looking to him to take the lead.

‘We have to be a bit careful.  These care homes are wary of strangers turning up, purporting to be long-lost relatives.  And rightly so. 

Presumably, you hope that he’s going to be delighted to see you, but you can’t be sure. Right?’

‘Yes. Who knows what effect the last couple of years have had upon him?  After all, I am responsible for his being here.  At least in part.’

‘That’s what I figured. So, I don’t suggest ringing to give advance warning. What I suggest we do, is that we pop along to the home tomorrow, unannounced, around mid-morning. I’ll wear my dog-collar – which should give some re-assurance – and I’ll do the talking.  We’ll explain that you are an old friend passing through the area and would like to see him. Just keeping everything low key and simple.

How’s that sound?’

‘Sounds good to me.’