Farah and I went to bed that night wondering if we would find ourselves back in 1944 again. In spite of the first couple of times I had time-slipped, since then it seemed it was the bed that had acted as my “Tardis” to wartime.

‘Well, I guess he’s always thought I was a bit girly,’ I confided; ‘but he was never mean about it–unlike a lot of other boys.’

In part 2, Alan goes to see Liz, but does she really help him or do things just have to get worse before they get better? Witchcraft works in mysterious ways.

NOTE: I finished editing part 3. I'll post it tomorrow. I hope you enjoy my story.

Comments are gratefully received as always. :)

Chapter 8

Claire tried to rest in bed. The medicine she took eased the pain just a bit.

“She should be herself in a few days,” the physician told Mary Windham.

“I don’t want any word of this to get out,” she told the Frenchman standing at the foot of Claire’s bed.

Chapter 7

“Don’t you think they look so handsome in their uniforms?” Becky asked Claire as they watched the soldiers march down Main Street.

A band played. The soldiers sang. It was incredible sight to see. They wore clean uniforms. Their buttons and pieces of brass glistened in the midday sun.