Story summary: When Martha Burton buys an old fob watch from an antique shop, intending to give it for her dad's birthday, little did she suspect it would be haunted by the spirit of an WWI cavalry officer, and finds herself stuck with an unexpected housemate whom only she can see.

Time Knows No Boundaries ~ Chapter One

I hear voices when I'm all alone
Hearing voices but there's nobody home
Hear the voices could it be they're calling out to me?
Hearing voices I look, why can't I see?
I hear voices, can't stop those voices
'Hearing Voices' – Suicidal Tendencies

.:*:.

To say that Martha Burton was in her element was the understatement of the century. The smile on her face easily outshone the dim up-lighters situated on the walls of the overcrowded antique shop. She felt like an eager child in a sweetshop, or in an Aladdin's cave that was full to bursting with knick-knacks and treasures untold. She could now understand why her father craved to visit places such as this.

The shop seemed to stock items suited to every passing fancy of mankind: great, dark, elegantly carved pieces of furniture were scattered around the shop floor; huge, rickety-looking mahogany shelves were absolutely stuffed with plentiful shinies like ornaments, hats, glassware, china sets, old toys, timepieces, ceramics... each and every one with a story to tell, no doubt. Martha had found herself positively drooling at the mouth when she discovered a corner of the musty-smelling shop devoted entirely to vintage clothing, some from as early as Edwardian times, maybe even before.

But Martha wasn't in here to buy something for herself. She was on the search for a birthday present for her dad. He was hitting the big five-oh in three weeks time and Martha felt that she wanted to buy him something a little more special than the usual annual gift of aftershave or a box of his favourite liquorice allsorts. But so far nothing was catching her eye, calling out to her or begging to be taken home with her.

"Was there anythin' you were lookin' for in particular there, missy?" asked a voice, and Martha tore her green eyes away from a pile of leather-bound books by Charles Dickens, to look around at the shop's proprietor, a tall, willowy woman of middle age with flyaway greying curls. "Or are ya just browsin'?" she added kindly.

"Oh... well, I'm looking for something for my dad's birthday actually," she explained, tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear. "He's a bit of an antique nut... but there doesn't seem to be anything here in my price range at all, I'm afraid," she continued regretfully, staring around the shop floor, eyeing the various pieces a little hungrily.

She always had loved shops like this and picking up undiscovered gems like a magpie ever since she could remember; something which, during her teens, had provoked much teasing from others – especially when she had been at school - and had made her feel quite isolated over the years.

"Well, why don't ya take a look in this 'ere box?" the woman suggested, gesturing to a tatty cardboard box that was sitting on the cashier's desk. "They're all reduced. Ya might be able t' find some trinket in there that'll take yer fancy... "

"Okay, thanks," said Martha with a smile, approaching the desk to have a root around in the box as she suggested. A label reading "Reduced items" had been sellotaped on there, which she had always thought was retail-speak for "junk and shit that nobody actually wants". Nevertheless, she had a look.

There was all manner of things which had been accumulated here: a tarnished candle snuffer, a number of silver knives – all dull and blunt – and serving spoons, a tiny music box (broken), and a hideous stuffed figure of a stoat, which was real, much to her slight horror. Martha sighed a little. She couldn't see anything which would be suitable as a present for her dad. She was about to call it quits and make ready to leave to search elsewhere, when something else in the box caught her eye.

Curious, Martha dug deeper into the hoard of objects and pulled out a silver pocket watch. It was a beautiful piece and it looked very old, and Martha wondered why it had been stuffed into a box like this in such a careless manner. Surely an item like this should have had pride of place in a display cabinet or something? The outer silver casing was a bit tarnished but something which could easily be fixed with a spot of polishing, she thought; swirly patterns of leafy vines had been engraved in such exquisite detail by a clearly expert hand. There were marks on the outside which appeared to be an inscription of some kind, but it was worn down as though someone had continually run the pad of their thumb over that spot. The poor light in the shop made it difficult for Martha to make it out. Pressing her finger against the tiny button on the side, the mechanism inside allowed the timepiece to be opened with a distinct 'click'. The time showed a quarter to twelve. Judging by the lack of ticking, it wasn't working, though Martha didn't really expect it to. Perhaps if she sought out somebody who knew how to fix old fob watches like this, this would make an ideal gift for her equally antique-crazy father.

"Excuse me? How much is this?" Martha asked the woman behind the desk, holding up the watch to show her.

"All the items in tha' there box are a fiver, dearie," answered the woman briskly before attending to another customer who had just arrived.

Five pounds? Martha thought in surprise. Is that all?

Clearly this woman did not seem to be aware of the proper value of this watch, but Martha did not deign to dispute the fact.

"Can you hear me, Miss?"

Martha was so taken by surprise by the sudden voice that she jumped and nearly dropped the watch. She turned around to see who had spoken but the only other people in the shop was the proprietor and the man who had just walked in on the other side of the room.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" she called over to them. The woman blinked.

"No, dearie, I didn't say a thing," she said.

Martha frowned slightly. She was certain she had heard a voice. It had been as loud and clear as though somebody had spoken right into her ear. She didn't think it was the woman as it had definitely been a man's voice she had heard. She shrugged, thinking that her over-active imagination was running away with her and she dropped her gaze back to the pocket watch in her hand, deciding that she would indeed purchase this for her father. At such a low price, how could she refuse?

"You can hear me, can you not, Miss?" came the apparently disembodied voice again softly.

Martha whipped her head around again with a slight yelp, slightly panicked. She turned on the spot – a complete three hundred and sixty degree circle, as though determined to find the source of the voice, but there was nobody else in sight. She was dimly aware of the woman shopkeeper laughing at something the other customer was saying, but this voice was unlike either of theirs. It was male, she was certain of that; smooth and well-spoken, and the tone had sounded... hopeful.

As the shopkeeper bustled back behind the desk, Martha heard the mysterious voice again.

"Please, Miss... have you come to help me?"

"Who's saying that?" Martha demanded in a whisper, an unexpected overwhelming feeling of panic rising in her throat. The lady behind the desk looked up from her computer monitor to raise her eyebrows enquiringly at her.

"Are ya alright there, lovey?" she asked friendlily, seemingly oblivious to the curious situation Martha was experiencing. Martha closed the pocket watch with a snap.

"Uh... I - I'll take this, please," she said shakily, but the woman did not appear to have noticed her trembling.

"That'll be five pounds then, please... "

Martha rummaged clumsily in the pocket of her leather jacket to unearth her purse and hastily slapped a five pound note onto the scuffed surface of the counter before stuffing the old timepiece into her pocket.

"But... dearie, don't ya wish me to gift wrap it for ya as it's for yer dad's - ?" the woman called as Martha all but sprinted to the exit.

"No, thanks, it's fine!"

As soon as she had vacated the premises, Martha leant on the wall beside the shop, taking deep, steadying breaths. Away from the shop's musty interior and dim lighting and out amongst the hustle and bustle of the busy street outside, it was hard to imagine that anything out of the ordinary had just occurred. But Martha had been so sure she had heard a voice speaking to her as clear as a bell. Perhaps that place was just getting to her and her imagination was indeed running wild... At least, she dearly hoped so, she thought as she made her way over to a shiny black motorbike parked at the nearby curb and pulling a helmet from her backpack to jam it onto her head... After all, you know what they say about people who start hearing voices...

A/N: Hope you lovely people enjoyed this first chapter. Reviews would be most appreciated!