Rebecca

This story contains sensitive content about accidental death.

The clock above Platform 8 has been telling lies for weeks. Its hands jerk forward, insulted by the idea of progress. Commuters glance up, tut, then consult the glowing truth of their phones. Nobody trusts the grand old things anymore. Not clocks, and certainly not each other.

I only came to the Transport for London Office at St Pancras to collect a plastic bag with my sister’s name on it. Rebecca’s effects, misfiled, were found, then forgotten again until a clerk with a paper cut and a conscience called me two days ago.

Her things had been sitting in a back cupboard since her death. Sometimes I think this city is a single oversized cupboard, stuffed with what we can’t bear to throw away.

The office smells like dust, lemon polish and missed trains. On the counter, next to a tray of umbrellas that will never be claimed, sits a brass bell and a notice: Please ring for assistance. I don’t. There’s a woman behind the counter reading a library book with lipstick the colour of a stop sign. She glances up when she feels me hovering.

“Hi, you called me about my sister’s things?”

“Maya?” she asks, as if there’s nobody else I could be.

I nod.

She disappears into the back and re-emerges with a clear bag. Inside is a scarred Oyster card, a lip gloss the wrong shade for Rebecca, a single hoop earring, and a creased receipt for a coffee she never finished. And oddly, a coin.

The coin glimmers in the fluorescent lighting. Strange, wide stripes indent the surface as if a tiger has clawed at the tiny round object.

“This is all?”

The clerk looks down, afraid to make eye contact with me.

“It’s all they could find at the… at the scene.” She says briskly.

“No purse?”

“Unfortunately, not.”

“Thanks,” I say as I grab the bag and pace for the exit.

I sit down outside a vegan café and empty the contents of the clear bag into my lap. Rebecca slipped, running for the train to Brighton. I won’t go into any more detail. You can imagine what happened next.

The hospital gave us all her other belongings. I had no idea the train station had found anything else. I open the tube of lip gloss, and the candied smell makes me gag. I don’t think this was hers. Nor was this weird coin hers either.

I take the coin and hold it up to the sunlight. Whisps of colour flicker off it. I hear a hum. Not of someone walking down the busy London street, but the hum of something else. Something ancient.

I lose my trance examining the coin when a boy wizzes past me on an electric scooter, almost knocking the coconut coffee I’ve ordered out of my other hand.

I need to get home, but the thought of taking the same path Rebecca took upsets me. I shake my head. I can’t be on the train platform to Brighton right now. It scares the shit out of me.

I text my friend Jess, who lives near Hampstead Heath and ask her if she has plans tonight. She doesn’t, so we agree to get some drinks in Camden.

I’m four tequila shots and three pints in when the room begins to tilt. A mash of the ocean floor and Aladdin’s cave. Music pounds against my ribs. Strangers’ gazes scrape my skin.

I stand on the street expelling a beery mix of tequila and bile from my stomach before tripping on a storm drain. My knee hits the ground first. Then my handbag. The contents of it flying out all over the street. As my face falls, it collides with the coin, and I take in a sharp breath before my lips hit it.

I blink. Once. Twice.

The street is the same, but different. The pub is closed, its neon sign switched off. The morning sun sears my eyes. Lorries roar past. Commuters queue for coffee. How had it been night only seconds ago?

My knees were raw, my heart hammering. The coin lay gleaming at my feet. Impossible. I scoop it up, twirling it through my fingers. Had it transported me here? No. Ridiculous. I was drunk. Hallucinating.

I order an Uber and slump into the back seat. When I reach St Pancras, I force myself onto the platform… her platform.

Most likely, I told myself, I’d passed out by the pub after I fell. Slept on the pavement until dawn. That was the logical answer. And yet…

I take the coin out of my pocket and stare at it. Did it transport me here? No, okay. That is dumb. I’m very intoxicated right now. I need to go to bed. The train pulls up, and I ever so carefully board without looking down at the tracks.

I walk in the front door of my parents’ house, and I can smell bacon cooking.

“Did you stay the night with Jess?” Mum says as she passes me a plate.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“And you got the bag the St Pancras Office called you about?”

“Half of it wasn’t her stuff. It was a pointless trip.”

“When you’re done, go up and take a bath, you smell like a pub.” She shouts as she and Dad flick on Saturday’s football match.

I do as she says and hop into a steaming hot bath full of fluffy lavender bubbles. I sit there sobbing off my hangover, feeling like I haven’t slept. The coin sits on the bathroom vanity, and I pick it up to stare at it again.

I recall my lips smacking straight into it as I fell over last night. Fell, I actually fell just like Rebecca did. I need to be more careful.

I hold the coin to my mouth and stroke my lips over it. An intense humming burns my ears. The scent of the lavender instantly vanishes. The water from the bath is drained. It’s dark, and the house is quiet.

“What the actual…” I curse loudly, shivering as I get up and turn the light on.

I look at the coin. Kissing it changes something. I kiss it again, and the bath is full. The morning is bright. “Incredible,” I whisper as I wrap myself in my towel and head to my room.

I dress quickly and fumble tying my shoe laces because I’m too excited. I sit on my bed. Hold the coin to my lips and pause. Can I tell it where I want to go?

I remember how last year in high school, I said no to Cameron Fulton’s request to take me on a date because I was so focused on studying and getting into Medicine at Oxford. Could I go back and say yes? Before he dates Clare Ashwell?

I kiss the coin and whisper, “April 4th 2024, Brighton College.”

The hum rips through my brain. It’s a chanting, relentless sound that causes all my senses to flinch. I look around the room. My school uniform is placed perfectly on the bed. I jump at the knock on the door.

“Maya, you’re going to be late. Meet me in the car in five.” I hear mum say.

“Coming, Mum,” I shout as I tear off the clothes I’m wearing and dress as if it's April 4th 2024.

The whole way to school, my hands are shaking as I grasp the warm coin tightly.

“Is everything okay?” Mum asks as we pull up to the gates.

My brow knits. “Just a headache. I have a maths test today.”

“You’ll do great, love. You always study so hard.”

But I haven’t studied. This maths test was over a year ago. I now need to remember it all and still ace it. That’s if I even stay here long enough to take the test.

With my pulse in my throat, I race out the car and make it my locker just in time for the bell. This is it. Cameron is going to approach me on my way to form room.

I take a quick, shallow breath before closing my locker. It’s his cologne that hits me first. Spicy with a hint of bergamot.

“You heading to form room?” He asks.

“I was actually going to skip it and cram for the maths test. You want to join me?”

“Library?”

“Perfect.”

We walk silently there, grinning at each other. As we enter, he takes my hand and pulls me behind the stacks of shelves and around the corner of a dusty section nobody ever visits. His scent is making my heart flutter. His honeycomb eyes devour me.

“Maya, you know I’ve liked you for a while.”

“I know,” I giggle, looking down at the floor, afraid of what any further eye contact will do.

“Then let’s make it official. Will you go out with me Friday night?”

“Cam, you know I have to get into Oxford.”

“You already got in.”

“That depends on my A-level results.”

“One little date won’t jeopardise those results.”

I finally look up, my chest almost exploding at his grin. The same conversation has happened before. Only I left the library with eyes full of tears because I told him no, I wouldn't make that mistake again.

I breathe him in. “Okay, one date. On one condition. Oxford always comes first.”

His eyes fill with starlight as he leans forward and kisses me. The softness of his lips consumes me as his stubble grazes my cheek. Each stroke of his tongue erases the present.

He lets go and we stand there in the stacks gazing at each other. I can’t contain my smile. This was all I’ve ever wanted. This… and my sister back. The bell rings again to signal the end of form room.

“I’ll see you in maths.” He says as he places another lingering kiss on my lips, which sends my pulse into overdrive.

Once he’s gone, I pull the coin from my pocket and flip it over. That should have done the job. I bring it to my lips, still echoing Cam’s kiss, and place them delicately on the coin.

“July 12th 2025,” I whisper, unable to contain my happiness.

A quick hum, a gasping breath, and I am standing in the school library. I’m still in my uniform. I don’t have my phone, and annoyingly, it's Saturday. I’m locked inside.

I kiss the coin again, and it takes me to Monday morning. I slip out of the library once Mrs Collins unlocks the doors. I wonder what awaits me when I get home.

I sneak in the back door and pace quietly up the stairs. When I open my bedroom door, I halt. Cam is asleep in my bed.

“Uh, what time is it? Why are you awake so early?”

“It may be summer, but it’s no excuse to waste a day.” I giggle as I sit down on the bed next to him.

“Why are you wearing your old uniform?” He laughs.

“Felt nostalgic.”

“I forgot how sexy you looked in it.” He pulls me close to him, kissing me sweetly. “Do you want to go to London today? We could go to that exhibition at the V&A you’ve been harping on about.”

“I think I just want to stay home with you today.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. There’s only so much time we have until I have to go back to Newcastle. Let’s just stay in bed all day.”

“Sounds perfect.”

I fall asleep in Cam’s arms. Blissfully lapping up the warmth of his body next to mine.

It’s late afternoon when he hops in the shower. Alone, I study the coin again. I don’t know why I didn’t save Rebecca first. To be honest, I wasn’t sure whether the coin was truly a time travel device or just a product of my imagination. I didn’t want to get my hopes up if it wasn’t actually a way to change things.

Now I know it works. I have to try to save her. Will it even let me save her? Can I bring someone back from the dead? It let me have Cam. It allowed me to go back and correct my mistake. Now the guy I’ve been in love with since I was thirteen is my boyfriend.

I press the coin to my lips and say: “The morning of December 31st 2024, 8:00 a.m. London King's Cross St Pancras.”

This time when the coin hums it also echoes an ear-piercing scream. I clutch my ears as it falls to the ground. I’m not at St Pancras, I’m still in my bedroom. I should have learned from the library mistake. The coin only takes you to where you physically are.

I check my watch. Rebecca could still be here. I race downstairs calling her name.

“You just missed her,” Mum says with a mouthful of toast.

“Can you drive me to the station?”

“I’m in my bloody dressing gown, love, today is my day off.”

“Please, Mum. Please, I need to catch her before… Before she.” I pause, my words caught in my throat, bitter and painful. I swallow. “I need to get to London and find her. She has her shift at the Battersea Dogs home, and then she is going to Adam’s house to help him prepare for the New Year's Eve party. Only Adam and she have an argument, he breaks up with her, and she leaves to get the train back early."

“I don’t think Adam would break up with her on New Year’s Eve, Maya. They have been together since they were sixteen. They’ll be engaged by next Christmas.”

“They won’t be. He’s going to break up with her. Then she’s going to…” I gulp, tears filling the corners of my eyes. “Please, mum. If we leave now, I might be able to catch her when she gets on the London train.”

Mum takes a last sip of her tea and grabs her car keys. Her hair still wet from the shower, she nods, rolling her eyes to Ralf across the road, scraping ice off his windscreen.

I jump out the car at the station running for the train. As I tap my Oyster, Rebecca’s train leaves the platform.

“No!” I shout, while commuters hurry past me.

The next London train is cancelled. Ninety minutes for another. The coin sears like fire in my pocket. I will make it to London. I will save her before she dies.

I finally get to St Pancras, my heart caged in my ribs. Too late for Battersea. Too late for Adam’s. I knew what would happen next.

I wait at the Brighton platform, eyes on the escalator. Every train that rushes by sends my cortisol levels high. My foot taps nervously as I keep looking up at the grand old clock that always tells lies.

And then I see her. Strawberry-blonde hair, coffee in hand, coat flapping as she runs. I catch her by the sleeve.

She stops, sweat on her brow, breath panting. “Maya?”

“It’s dangerous to run with hot coffee.”

She bursts out crying. I pull her toward me.

“Adam, he… he cheated on me.”

“I know.”

She pauses and takes a step back. The train that killed her has left the platform. She won’t die today.

“You know, how do you know? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s go home.”

We sit on the platform, and she finishes the coffee she was never meant to drink as she tells me everything that happened. I hold her arm as we get on the next train. Throughout the entire journey back, I gazed at her in amazement. I saved my sister. It was easier than I thought it would be.

We get in her Fiat, and as we are driving home from the station, her phone rings five times with missed calls from Adam.

“Don’t answer him,” I say, turning off her phone. “Let’s have a quiet night in. You can deal with him tomorrow.”

I notice tears still fall silently down her cheek as she drives.

“You don’t want to spend tonight with Cam?”

“You’re the only person that matters to me right now.”

She leans over and grabs my hand as we drive. One moment, I feel her touch on mine. Next, I feel glass grazing my cheek. Metal is twisted around me. Petrol burns. We are hanging upside down in her car.

“Becca, Becca!” I scream, clawing at her, but she doesn’t move. Pain tears through my legs. Blood blurs my vision. I hear shouting.

I knew she was gone. She was always meant to be gone. I crawl out of the car, and I stagger into the gutter as strangers pull her body free.

The coin glows in my hand, blood dripping onto its surface, bubbling before vanishing.

Time travel couldn’t cheat death. It could give me love. It could provide me with stolen joy, but not her. Never her, and I finally understood the truth: some clocks lie, but time itself never does.