Bring Back Time

By Julia Sutton

Bookworm Amber Stone loves immersing herself in worlds of magic and mystery. Working as a secretary, she is excited to be invited on a team building experience with the rest of the staff.

But upon arriving in the Peak District, she soon becomes aware that there is something strange about the surrounding Silver Springs Lake. Sucked into an enchanted whirlpool with her colleagues, they are catapulted back to the Medieval times and the land of Magus, ruled by the unscrupulous King Bernard.

Tasked to journey North, Amber’s only chance of freedom is to bring back what King Bernard desires: two talismans which will grant him the ability to travel through time.

Together with an impressionable servant lady, a fearful solicitor, a shape-shifting merman and a handsome knight, Amber sets out on the perilous quest. But can they overcome the monstrous, mythical beings on their way, and return home unscathed?

Julia Sutton's BRING BACK TIME is a thrilling time travel romance set in a medieval, magical world, where friendship and love are tested to the limit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Next Chapter
• Release date: Jun 11, 2024

Book preview

one

The hideous ogre picked up a craggy boulder and threw it with all his might across the lake. It landed with a gigantic splash, causing an arc of water to shoot upwards and large waves to ripple outwards. In the centre of the lake, a robed figure watched with horror. Perched in a wooden boat, they frantically rowed away from the monster who had murder on its mind. For the unfortunate woman, there was to be no escape; a swell of water lifted the flimsy boat into the air where it hung suspended before crashing down. Battered from side to side, the young woman let go of the oars, grabbing onto the flimsy handrail. She emitted a terrified scream as the boat rocked wildly. As she was tossed around like a ragdoll, her fingers slipped, her nails breaking against the wood. Another crashing wave hurled her out of the boat and into the air. With her arms and legs flailing, she closed her eyes as the water rushed towards her. This is how I’m going to die, she thought with despair. Seconds later her body hit the water, and she fell into the murky darkness.

It was so cold beneath the surface, and yet, a feeling of peace enveloped her as she surrendered to the powerful force of the lake. There was nothing living amongst the mud and reeds. No fish, not even algae survived down here. She was all alone, heading towards an eternal rest, and all she could think about was her family; the thousands of tears her mother would cry, how her father would wail and beat his chest with grief, how she’d never hear her little sister singing again and never feel the sun’s rays on her rosy cheeks. Darkness was all that remained. A watery grave that even an animal didn’t deserve. Hers would be a sorrowful death that family and friends would whisper about for years. Suddenly, she felt a tug on her arm, and she was rising upwards, her legs flailing. Opening her eyes, she squinted at the golden light surrounding her. It scorched away the darkness, and she knew she was no longer alone. A man with flowing hair and bright eyes swam around her. Staring at her curiously, he gathered her in his arms, and all she could do was cling to him as he shot gracefully through the water. And as they broke through the surface of the lake, the woman knew he was more than her saviour; he was her soulmate, her one true love. He was her destiny…

Amber exhaled a shaky breath and clutched the hardback novel to her chest. Her tear-filled eyes slid to the left, and for a few confused seconds, she wondered where she was. She had been so immersed in the fictitious world of fantasy romance she had almost missed her stop. Luckily there was a stream of people waiting to alight from the bus. She watched them through the dirt-encrusted window, commuters hurrying to reach their places of work in central Birmingham.

‘After you,’ a man dressed in a long mac motioned for her to join the line of departure. She smiled and rose to her feet, wincing as the numbing pain of pins and needles shot up her left leg.

‘Thank you,’ she managed through gritted teeth. Amber’s neck prickled with perspiration. Her dear enochlophobia was back, commonly known as the fear of packed spaces. It frequently reared its head, especially when on public transport. She inhaled deeply, focussing on a lady wearing a red anorak, and tried to recall what other quick-fix solutions the calming YouTube channel she intermittently visited advised.

As she counted backwards from fifty in her head, desperately willing the line in front of her to start moving, the man in the brown mac tapped her on the shoulder.

‘You forgot your book,’ he said. His smile revealed a set of dazzling white teeth which looked like they had been cosmetically enhanced. Close up, he looked to be in his late fifties. There were lines around his eyes and mouth and his hair was a startling unnatural looking black colour.

‘Oh.’ Amber’s hand shot out to reclaim her precious book from the stranger. ‘Thank you.’

She turned back to face the front, biting her lip as he continued to talk. Good manners forced her to turn to face him.

‘My wife loves reading. Our house is full of books. She prefers paperbacks, of course, refuses to let me buy her a Kindle. Which do you prefer?’ He cocked an eyebrow.

‘I like either I guess.’ Amber shrugged her shoulders, warming to chatting about her favourite hobby. ‘Kindles are good to take on holiday, but I love the feel and smell of a real book. This one,’ she tapped the front of the hardback, ‘is a signed copy from Jasmine Drake.’

‘No way! The fantasy author?’ The man’s eyes lit up.

‘Yep. She did a book signing in Waterstones, here in Birmingham.’ Amber shivered as she remembered that particular Saturday, standing in the queue being soaked by freezing rain. A sweet elderly couple had given her a cup of coffee from their flask and told her all about their romance, which had begun after the end of World War Two. By the time Amber had reached the top of the line, she had two new friends who had invited her to partake of afternoon tea with them at their house later. Amber had politely declined, telling them she was meeting her boyfriend in an hour. They had been intrigued to learn that herself and George had been childhood sweethearts, both born on Valentine’s Day and still together at the mutual age of twenty-four.

‘What was she like? Jasmine.’ The man’s question filled the silence which had descended.

‘Lovely.’ Amber blinked. ‘Down to earth, warm, friendly.’

‘She’s a stunner too,’ the man added eagerly. ‘Up there with my other celebrity crushes.’ He chuckled and took his phone from his coat pocket. ‘This one’s my favourite though.’ A picture of Jennifer Lawrence flashed on his iPhone. ‘A total babe, don’t you think? Man, I loved her in The Hunger Games, I’ve seen it five times now. Have you watched it?’

Amber felt her concentration slipping away from the conversation. She wondered whether George had enjoyed his weekend with his friends. Amber had missed him, they usually spent Saturdays with the local walking club, before enjoying a movie at home, with a takeaway. But, after George’s friend had teased them about being too attached, he had agreed to a lad’s only weekend. Amber hadn’t heard from him since Saturday afternoon. She was concerned that he hadn’t messaged her and had been kept awake by awful visions of him lying drunk in a ditch somewhere.

‘Yes?’ The mac guy was staring at her expectantly, waiting for an answer.

‘Erm,’ Amber shook her head to clear her mind of her sweetheart. ‘The Hunger Games? I have watched it. They’re okay if you like dystopian entertainment. Personally, I prefer, historical fantasy.’

‘Oh sure,’ the man nodded enthusiastically, ‘J R Tolkien ismy favourite author. Love all that magic and sword fighting stuff.’

To Amber’s relief, the queue was starting to move. The harassed-looking bus driver was shouting apologies to the commuters. Apparently, some teenager had been caught graffitiing and there had been a ruckus.

‘Well, good to meet you,’ Amber had just registered that he had an American accent. ‘You have a nice day.’

‘You too.’ Amber returned the smile and turned around just in time for a baby, on the woman’s shoulder facing her, to projectile vomit all over her smart, white jacket.

‘Ugh.’ Amber staggered off the bus, mopping at the yellow stain on her clothing, which was already starting to crust and smelled awful. The mother and her offspring had disappeared amongst the crowd, leaving Amber feeling highly irate that she had received no apology. Her phone beeped in her pocket, and she fumbled to pull it out. It slipped from her perspiring fingers, clattering on the floor, and as she was bending to retrieve it, a youth on an electric scooter whizzed past, almost knocking her into the kerb.

‘Get off the pavement, you idiot,’ Amber shouted and was given an extremely rude two-fingered response.

Amber hated the journey to her workplace. Every day was the same stuffy overcrowded bus ride, and then she risked her life trying to navigate the busy roads of inner-city Birmingham. Even the pavements weren’t safe due to the rise in those ridiculous, supposedly environmentally friendly contraptions. She thought it might be illegal for scooters to be ridden on the pavements, but where was a police officer when you needed one?

Smoothing down her wild black curls, Amber waited for the pelican crossing to turn green and then hobbled across on her new wedges. The High Street was busy, the shops were just opening, and there were hordes of people outside Marks and Spencer, eager to grab a bargain in their spring sales. She was seriously considering nipping in herself and purchasing some flat heels. Fashion wedges looked very pretty on the shop mannequins, but they were totally uncomfortable to wear on a practical day-to-day basis. A glance at her watch informed her that it was quarter to nine, which left her no time to do anything other than hurry down the road and into Chapel Avenue.

Baynam Solicitors was stationed in the middle of a blossom tree-lined street. It was a fancy area, similar to the posher parts of London. The buildings were regal looking with marble pillars and gold letterboxes. Most of the other establishments were other law firms too, apart from a small scruffy-looking food outlet at the end, which had a billboard flapping outside proclaiming a two-for-one offer on all of their kebabs. A miserable, geriatric solicitor from one of the other firms in the street had tried to get it shut down, reporting it to environmental health for causing a supposed rat infestation along the street. They tried to blame the Turkish proprietor, who was affectionately known as Delicious Dev by the legal secretaries who frequented the place. Blessed with a hunky physique and Arabian-style good looks meant most of the women and quite a few of the men were willing to overlook any ongoing vermin problems.

Amber lifted the latch on the iron railing and pushed open the gate. It banged behind her, disturbing the local stray cat who was curled up on a bed of pink blossom. She keyed in the door code and waited for the door to click open.

Once inside, she headed straight for the cloakroom, shrugging off her

soiled cotton jacket.

‘Good morning, Amber,’ Doris the receptionist said. peeping her head around the door frame. ‘Did you have a nice weekend?’

‘Yes, thank you. Did you?’ They chatted for a few minutes about trivia before Doris was called back to her desk by the ringing of the telephone. Amber went up a short flight of stairs to an open-plan office where the other staff were situated. On the left side of the room were the offices of the two solicitors, Mr Baynam Senior and Mr Baynam Junior. In the centre of the room were two desks: hers and Jenna’s. Jenna was also a legal secretary, who, being tri-lingual, dealt with the international cases. As colleagues went, Jenna was likeable; bubbly and warm. She was also, in Amber’s opinion, irresponsible. Especially on a Monday morning, when the weekend excesses kept her in bed. She usually surfaced about ten o’clock, breezing into the office without a care in the world and seemingly oblivious to the disapproving eyes of Mr Baynam Senior. She did as little work as possible and often had extended boozy lunches. Amber, in comparison, was always diligent and conscientious. The thought of Jenna’s reckless behaviour made Amber shudder with unease. Amber prided herself as being mature and sensible and always strove to conduct herself in a responsible, professional manner.

‘Good morning, Amber,’ Mr Baynam Senior said as he came out of his office. ‘I have some photocopying here when you’re ready please.’

‘Good morning, Mr Baynam,’ she said with a courteous smile. ‘Leave it on my desk and I’ll see to it straight away.’

‘It can wait,’ the solicitor replied, looking at her with kind eyes. ‘Get yourself a drink first.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I heard that Doris has bought chocolate hobnobs. I’d have a few now if I were you. Once my greedy son finds out about them, they’ll be gone.’ He chuckled heartily and she laughed along too.

Amber put her handbag underneath her desk, switched on her computer and then made her way into the small staffroom kitchen. As she waited for the kettle to boil, she stared out of the window, watching the trees in the yard swaying to and fro in the breeze. She popped teabags into two mugs with milk and sugar and then opened the fridge to extract a few biscuits. Once the tea was made, she carried it on a tray into the main office, placing her mug on her desk and taking the other into Mr Baynam’s office. She was always amazed how tidy Mr Baynam Senior was, nothing was out of place, and even the paperclips were lined up in a perfectly neat row. It smelt pleasant, of lemon polish and Mr Baynam’s expensive aftershave. The walls were adorned with accolades of his career as a solicitor and on his desk were photographs of his wife and children. Amber thought he was a thoroughly nice man, both personally and professionally.

Amber cast her mind back to the time he’d taken her on as an office junior, all those years ago when she’d been a shy eighteen-year-old. He’d encouraged Doris to take her under her wing, to show her the ropes, and Amber had flourished under the guidance of the older woman. When one of the secretaries had left, Mr Baynam Senior had promoted Amber to the position, giving her a substantial rise in her wages and her name on a gold plaque. And although she disliked the commute, Amber was generally happy at Baynam Solicitors. The only fly in the ointment was Mr Baynam Junior, or Derek as he liked to be informally called.

Derek was nothing like his respectable father. Over the years, Amber had grown wise to him and viewed him as a duplicitous, dishonourable type of person. A man who possessed a mean streak and a crude sense of humour, especially when his father was out of ear shot and he was with his male cronies. Amber was amazed how they could be related, especially when his mother, Mrs Baynam, was so sweet and kind. Doris had divulged once at a staff Christmas party that Derek was also unfaithful to his long-suffering wife. This information did little to thaw Amber’s hostility towards him, and over the years, her dislike for him had intensified. Thankfully, Dickhead Derek, as she had privately nicknamed him, had been in Germany the past two weeks and the office had been a joyous environment without his presence. Amber hummed as she placed Mr Baynam’s drink down before exiting his office and sitting at her desk to begin work.

An hour later she was typing up a dictated letter when Jenna stomped in, grinning like the proverbial cat who’d lapped up all the cream.

‘Amber, hi! Good weekend?’ She threw her cropped leather jacket over her revolving chair before hopping up to sit on Amber’s desk. A flicker of annoyance rose in Amber as she noticed that Jenna was squashing her pack of expensive gel pens.

‘Er, yes… it was okay.’ Amber frowned as she heard the crunch of snapping stationery, but Jenna seemed oblivious to her colleague’s annoyance.

‘I have had a blast,’ Jenna pronounced with a gleeful expression. ‘That new nightclub on Broad Street is the best. Half-price shots and cocktails all night. I danced so much I had blisters.’

‘Did you wave the glo sticks about too?’ Amber queried with a small smile, resigned to the fact that her pens were now unsalvageable.

Jenna gave her a baffled stare. ‘Er… maybe in the nineties I might have. That whole rave culture is so over, Amb.’

‘Oh, okay.’ Amber felt herself blushing and pushed back a tendril of her black curly hair. ‘Well, I prefer Motown music anyway.’

‘That’s cool,’ Jenna said with a nod. ‘You should come out with me one Saturday. They have Motown bars in Birmingham too, y’know.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Amber rolled her chair over to the printer. ‘Nightclubs aren’t really my scene, plus I don’t like alcohol.’

‘Well, what is your scene?’ Jenna asked with an exasperated sigh.

‘Books?’

Jenna rolled her eyes. ‘I already know that, but what else gets your pulse racing?’

‘Walking? I’m a member of a rambler’s club.’

‘That’s… great.’ Jenna nodded. ‘But don’t you do anything with people your own age?’

‘Pardon?’

‘I mean. Where are your friends? I’ve been here a month now and I’ve never heard you mention hanging out with anyone your own age.’

‘I prefer the company of older people. But I do have a boyfriend, which I’ve told you about on numerous occasions.’

‘Oh yes! Wallflower George. The librarian with OCD.’ Jenna chuckled. ‘Can you honestly say that he gets your libido firing?’ Jenna licked her lips lasciviously. ‘When’s the last time you had wild, passionate sex?’

Amber felt a blush rise in her cheeks. ‘There’s more to a relationship than… that. George is intellectual and… interesting.’

‘If you say so.’ Jenna gave her a dubious look. ‘I had the best stranger sex up against the back wall of the club on Saturday night.’

‘Jenna!’ Amber could literally feel her blood pressure rising. ‘That’s nothing to be proud of.’

‘Sorry, Miss Prim-and-Proper.’ Jenna threw back her head and laughed heartily. ‘I’m taking you out with me next weekend. Forget Wallflower George. We’ll have a blast and be very naughty young ladies of disrepute!’

Amber reached around Jenna to pick up the stapler and dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘You should maybe start work. Mr Baynam might not be happy if he sees us chatting about our social life and… other stuff.’

‘Does this face look bothered?’ Jenna scrunched her nose up and bared her teeth then laughed at Amber’s look of trepidation. ‘Don’t worry, angel, I’m not about to get you into trouble with the boss.’ She hopped off the desk. ‘Besides, you’re his favourite. His little golden girl.’ This was followed with a wink and said without malice. Amber watched her skip over to her own desk. Although Jenna was completely different in persona to Amber, she was fond of her. There was something very likeable about her rebellious colleague. Beneath that brash exterior, Jenna was a kind soul. It still rankled, however, that she eluded any type of management intervention, but then Amber doubted that Jenna would have taken any notice of any reprimands from what she termed ‘the old boys’ network’ anyway.

‘I’m off out for the rest of the day.’ Mr Baynam’s softly spoken words made her jump and brought her wandering mind back to the present. ‘I’ll be in court if there’s an emergency.’

‘Okay, Mr Baynam.’ Amber smiled up at him. ‘Have a good day.’

Mr Baynam patted her shoulder. ‘You too, dear, and make sure you have your lunch break today.’ He folded his trench coat over his arm and left swinging his briefcase.

Once the door had clicked shut behind him, Jenna waved her arms in the air and said, ‘Yo, Amber. Let’s get this party started.’

Amber shook her head and, picking up a metal letter opener, set to work sorting through the morning’s mail.

two

‘Well, hello, ladies.’

Amber’s skin prickled at the sound of the familiar voice. Reluctantly, she looked away from the bright computer screen and grimaced at the sight of Mr Baynam Junior, or Derek as he liked to be informally called. He swept into the office, a podgy figure full of energy, rattling the glass in the door as he slammed it. Great, thought Amber, trying to hide her sour expression, the peace is shattered. As usual, he made a beeline for Jenna. Resting against her desk, he gave her his most dazzling smile.

‘You’re looking lovely today, Jenna.’ His wheedling, smarmy tone really got Amber’s teeth grinding. ‘Have you missed me?’

‘Course I have,’ Jenna replied with a giggle. ‘I’ve had no one to make me a coffee.’

‘Well, I’m back now, so I’ll stick the kettle on.’ He glanced at Amber. ‘Want one?’

‘No thanks,’ muttered Amber.

‘How was Germany?’ Jenna asked as she rooted in her handbag for a brush to comb through her blonde highlighted hair.

‘A hellhole,’ Derek shouted over his shoulder. ‘You think our judiciary system is bad but theirs is a joke! The scenery was beautiful though. Lots of castles and lakes.’ He turned to give her an appraising look. ‘Maybe next time I’ll take you with me.’

‘Well, that would make sense considering I speak fluent German,’ Jenna replied tartly. ‘I wanted you to come this time,’ Derek shot back. ‘But I was overruled.’

‘How dare your father spoil our fun,’ Jenna replied sardonically.

Amber pressed her lips together, tempted to add that maybe Mr Baynam had cottoned onto Jenna and Derek’s naughty behaviour. The pair of them were so unprofessional and cringy.

‘So, how about if I organise a trip to France instead…’ he trailed off, giving her a wink.

‘Er, Mr Baynam,’ Amber interrupted. ‘Derek. Mrs Bennett is due in half an hour.’

‘Oh Christ!’ Derek slapped his forehead. ‘The divorcee from hell. What more does she want us to do? She’s already bled her poor ex dry; I suppose she wants full custody of their traumatised children?’

‘I don’t know.’ Amber blinked. ‘Doris has pencilled her in…’

‘I’m kidding.’ Derek chuckled. ‘One day you’ll get used to my sense of humour, Ambs… whereas wicked Jenna is a girl after my own heart.’

Amber frowned as the pair of them exchanged amused glances.

‘Your wife also rang.’ Amber felt a sliver of satisfaction as Derek swallowed.

‘I’ll get those drinks and, er… yeah.’

The office once again was quiet, with only the humming of the photocopier permeating the air.

At half past twelve, Amber took a lunch break. She sat in the staffroom, unwrapped her tuna sandwich and switched on the television. A sombre looking news reporter spoke about death and destruction around the world in an emotionless tone. Amber switched it off and the noises from outside seeped through the ajar window. She remembered the last section of her book she needed to finish reading and eagerly unzipped her bag, delving her hand inside and felt… nothing. Frowning she pulled the bag onto her lap, opening it wide to peer inside. There was definitely no book, just a packet of chewing gum, a lipstick, housekeys and the pink jewelled purse her mum had gifted her for her twenty-first birthday.

‘Oh no!’ Amber cried as the realisation hit her that her precious signed book was missing. She cast her mind back to this morning and remembered with a sinking sensation how the book had slipped from her hands, dropping onto one of the bus seats after the baby had puked. That was the last place she’d seen it; it must still be there. Surely some kind soul would have handed it in to the driver? But on the other hand, they could have decided to keep it, or worse someone might have even chucked it in the bin.

‘Bugger!’ Amber thumped the settee, tears pooling in her eyes.

‘Is that Amber Stone I can actually hear swearing?’ Jenna stuck her head around the door, then seeing Amber’s distress, she rushed over. ‘What’s wrong, angel?’

‘I left my book on the bus,’ Amber sobbed, wringing her hands.

‘Jesus!’ Jenna placed one hand over her chest. ‘I thought something serious had happened.’

‘This is serious.’ Amber’s face was stony. ‘It was a signed book… from Jasmin Drake. It had sentimental value, Jenna.’

‘Never heard of her.’ Jenna blinked. ‘Will it be worth something in years to come?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Then we must get it back for you.’ Jenna pulled her phone out of her back pocket, logged out of Facebook and googled the number for the Birmingham Bus depot. ‘Don’t panic, nobody would have nicked it, surely?’

‘They might have done,’ Amber said miserably. ‘I would if I found a signed book from the Jasmin Drake.’

Jenna gave her a speculative look. ‘No, you wouldn’t, Amb, you’re far too good, whereas I probably would.’

‘Can you just ring the bus station… please.’

Amber got to her feet and began pacing the staffroom. Her negative mood was further heightened by the appearance of Derek with a bun in his hand.

‘Don’t get your cakes from that new bakery. They’re scrimping on the sultanas, there’s hardly any in this…’ He trailed off, aware of the tense atmosphere. ‘What’s up with you pair?’

‘Amber’s left her signed book on the bus,’ Jenna informed him.

‘Jeez,’ Derek held up his free hand. ‘That’s a real catastrophe.’

‘Don’t take the piss,’ Jenna shot back. ‘Books are important to Amber. Think how you’d cope without your cappuccino.’

Amber blinked at Jenna’s forthrightness. Sure, Derek was a dick, but he was still their boss and had the power to reprimand or even to sack them.

‘It’s fine,’