Sara's Story - by Jonathan Malory - Chapter II - Embarkation

Delilah had had a pretty normal life, letting the river of existence carry her along through childhood, marriage, parenting and the rest. In fact, she was one of the few people she knew who had been bothered little in life by what could be called the rest, plain sailing summed up the life of Delilah; but that was all Then.

The room in which she lay was by far the most luxuriously comfortable space Delilah had ever occupied, a glorious gentle peach coloured glow saturated the walls and ceiling; never in her life did a window so large present itself so magnificently. It would only have taken the slightest indulgence of her imagination to be spread on a bed of petals somewhere in the wilderness with the warm touch of the campfire breathing over her, gazing up into the spangled nocturnal sky. It all seemed so close, Now; the ability to taste it in no way seemed odd.

 She’d always been told that memories of childhood became clearer when you were old and recent events drifted away like unattached spider’s webs caught on an autumn breeze. It was true. Delilah’s childhood was very clear to her now and had been growing more so over the last few years, yet, like a telescope focusing on a beautiful star, her recollections paled infinitely against the clarity she perceived at this moment; the reality of Now was that all her old memories were of close people who were no longer here, all waiting for her on the other side.

‘Are you an angel?’ A slender girl with long dark hair had appeared from the lamp-glow across the room.

Sara was still recovering, battling to fix her thoughts on the immediate surroundings. ‘No, my name is Sara…’

Delilah had already crossed over to wherever she went by the time Sara had finished speaking. All Sara could think of was running to the door and finding out where she was. Sara was about to close the door behind her when she perceived an echo of children playing, she glanced back once then walked out of the room.

Sara had already guessed that she was in a hospital when she almost collided with a gurney being rushed along the corridor by two male orderlies smelling of freshly pressed linen. After a little sign-following, Sara found her way to the main reception; it was one thing to find the exit though, more important to Sara was…

‘Excuse me, but could you tell me where I am?’ All the signs Sara had read were in English, it seemed reasonable to believe that English was the language to choose. The receptionist was dark-skinned with dark hair; she had an aura of friendly authority.
‘I’m sorry miss, are you okay; do you need to see a doctor?’ The woman’s face was awash with professional concern; still she was speaking English, yet her accent was a little strange.

‘No, really I’m fine. I’m just a little bit lost.’ Sara couldn’t help thinking she was sounding a little unusual, still a little dizzy from the Door. The receptionist had probably seen dozens of people approach the front desk, behaving just like she was now. Sara was about to tell her to never mind when a doctor came loping up to the desk.

‘May I have a look at Mrs Sloane’s papers please Jane?’ He smiled at Sara and she gave a little smile back.

‘Yes, of course Doctor.’ Jane produced a yellow folder from underneath the counter, in the top-left corner was a small photograph of a pretty Indian woman. Sara barely caught the surreptitious nod Jane gave the doctor in her direction.
‘Thank you, nurse.’ The doctor gently turned towards Sara, ‘Are you all right, is there something I can help you with?’

Before Sara could open her mouth, the nurse spoke for here.

‘She says she’s lost, doesn’t know where she is.’ Sara made a mental note to herself; if she ever ends up in this situation again, she will wait till she is outside the hospital and ask someone who is not a doctor or a nurse where she is.

‘I am not lost exactly, it is just that I can not remember how I got here.’ Sara realised that, by trying to speak more clearly and pronounced, she was sounding a little crazy.
‘My name is Jim, Doctor Jim Buckle; but you can call me Jim. Why don’t you come over here with me and we’ll try and sort things out for you?’ Jim placed a paternal arm across Sara’s shoulders and softly directed her towards a little room off to one side. In an effort to halt her transportation, Sara blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

‘No wait, I really am fine. I was at a party last night and a friend cut his hand, we all brought him here in a car but I fell asleep on the way. They must have forgotten about me because when I woke up in that waiting room they had all gone, and I just don’t know which hospital this is. I’ve never been to hospital since I was a baby.’ The little journey had ceased but the doctor was still looking a little worried about her explanation.

‘What is your friend’s name?’

‘His name? I don’t know, oh, Dave. Yeah Dave, that’s it. It doesn’t matter, please can you tell me which hospital this is?’ Sara was thinking of making a run for the door, no, if they caught her they’d probably phone the police or worse and she really didn’t know where she was.

‘Saint Vincent's; you don’t want to know if your friend is okay or not?’
‘Oh, he’s okay. It was only a scratch really.’ Sara was once again eying the exit longingly while her two companions’ suspicions were rising. ‘Saint Vincent’s? Don’t think I’m familiar with that one, where exactly is it?’

Jane made a gasp and looked at Sara incredulously, ‘You don’t know Saint Vincent’s? Where do you live girl!’ The nurse looked like she was going to reach for the phone to report an escaped prisoner or something.

‘Now now Jane,’ said the doctor, ‘it’s obvious she’s not from round here. Where’s that accent from, England, Ireland? Are you on vacation?’ Sara had been trying to emulate their accent but it was only now that she realised.

‘Yes I’m on holiday, I was trying to sound Australian like you but really I’m quite lost. Can you just tell me where the bus station is, I was supposed to meet my mum there half an hour ago.’

After a little map drawing on note paper and a ‘what do you think of Melbourne, better than Sydney don’t you think?’, Sara found herself outside the hospital on busy Victoria Street feeling extremely dazed. All the things that seemed so normal back on the island were screaming madness inside her head. Adrenalin was pumping up her anxiety like a rubber balloon ready to burst, Australia! Australia, how could she be in Australia. Less than fifteen minutes had passed since she had her hand on the Door controls back at the house; she had no passport, it would have to be sent to her by post. That would take at least a week! Where would she have it sent? She needed somewhere to stay.

‘Money, I have plenty of money; keep it together Sara.’ A couple passed by her sharing odd looks in her direction. Get away from the front of the hospital you fool! She ran towards the sinking sun down Victoria Street for about five blocks that seemed like miles then turned down a road called Swanston Street, eventually coming to a halt outside a large hotel. She needed to change some of her money and get to a telephone; apart from being on the other side of the world, the most frightening thing for Sara was that she had no form of identification. How could she explain how she got there? Why she had no passport if she were to be arrested? Would they think she was a spy? She could be locked away in some dusty prison with not a soul in the world to help verify her existence.

 No, her thinking was all wrong, controlled by panic; why would anyone arrest her? She wasn’t doing anything wrong, she was just a normal eighteen year old girl walking around Melbourne. Melbourne in Australia! Okay, she had to stop thinking about that. Just think about the phone and Jonathan Arkansas. Why had the idea seemed so reasonable on the island? Mister Arkansas had explained it all, she was aware that she would be transported to somewhere/anywhere on Earth. Yet, now it was real it all seemed so impossible. Sara took a long breath then straightened her clothes, trying all the time not to think about her location. She new that some hotels would change her money for her and the one in front of her looked pretty impressive so she went inside and walked up to the reception desk.’

‘Excuse me, could I change some of my pounds into dollars here?’

‘Yes, of course miss,’ the neatly dressed man replied, ‘but wont your own hotel do that for you?’

‘Erm, no,’ Sara tried to think fast, ‘I’m only staying in a little bed and breakfast place near the river.’ She secretly prayed that Melbourne actually had a river, seemed a reasonable guess as most cities do.

‘The river eh?’ The man beamed, ‘Well you’re certainly taking the grand tour coming all the way up here miss!’

‘Yeah, sure am. I always like to have a good look around. Used up all my money though; that’s why I need to change my cash so I can see some more, by taxi though now my feet are killing me.’

‘Okie dokie miss, how much would you like to change?’ There was something she hadn’t thought of, she slid her hand into a pocket on the inside of her dark brown skirt and carefully removed the wallet her new employer had given her so that the receptionist couldn’t see. The wallet was black and made from some kind of animal skin, inside were tightly compacted notes probably adding up to thousands of pounds; more money than Sara had ever seen. She counted out ten twenties and twisted her waist back around to face the desk.

‘Two hundred should do me for the rest of today.’ She tried to sound as if it were the most normal thing in the world, even though she was only been paid a little over seventy pounds a week less than a fortnight ago in that smoky little shop.