The Turnarounders and the Arbuckle Rescue (11 page)

‘Don’t any of you have parents?’ Ralf asked, shocked.

‘In our time?’ Seth shook his head. ‘I live with my
grandfather.’

Leo took a moment to answer. He’d been examining his clothes when, with an expression of wonder and delight, his hand slid into one of his pockets and he pulled out a battered pack of playing cards. He started shuffling them. ‘Adopted,’ he said, his eyes back on the others. ‘That’s some coincidence!’

‘It’s not a coincidence, man!’ Alfie cried. ‘You heard Ambrose. We’re cursed! It’s that Scathferox dude. He’s killed all our families and now we’re stuck back here and he’s gonna get us.’

‘It is
not
Scathferox!’ Seth hissed. ‘He’s dead. Ambrose explained all that. He warned us that time was behaving strangely and we should be on our guard.’

‘Yeah,’ said Valen. ‘And if you’d listened, instead of sticking your hand into the first suspicious hole you came across, we wouldn’t be sat here!’

Leo patted Alfie on the back reassuringly. ‘It was an accident,’ he said. ‘And the whole dead parents thing is just a coincidence.’

Ralf wasn’t so sure. ‘If you think that’s a coincidence, you’re not going to believe this!’

He told them about Gloria. He watched their jaws drop, waited until Alfie had stopped choking and Valen had finished thumping him on the back, then told them about King.

‘Gloria seems to be the same person. King must be one of those Echo people that Ambrose was talking about. In our time he goes to my school.’ said Ralf.

Leo pulled a face. ‘Lucky you.’

‘Two people from our own time are also in this one?’ Valen repeated. ‘It’s unreal!’

‘Three, I think,’ Ralf said grimacing. ‘I’m pretty sure that King’s friend Tank is Julian’s stupid sidekick, George.’

Leo looked at Seth, who’d gone awfully quiet. ‘What do you think?’

Seth’s face was pale. ‘I’m more concerned about –’ But before he could go on, the tinny bell sounded again and the door whipped open.

Brindle charged into the café, eyed the apple cores, scowled but said nothing. Behind her were a rosy faced old farmer and his even rosier looking wife, a couple dressed in identical white coats and rubber aprons and a dark haired man with an oversized moustache.

Ralf’s eyebrows shot upwards. It was the man he’d said ‘Hello’ to, outside the antique’s shop in his own time. ‘Another one!’ he whispered to the others and stood as the moustachioed man stepped forward to pat him on the back.

‘I’ve coll
ated all the material from the Barrow site,’ the man said to Ralf, excitedly. ‘It’s most interesting. We’ll have a good old look at it when we get back to school. Ah! And this must be young Seth!’ He offered his hand for Seth to shake. ‘Ich heisse, Winters. Wie geht es dir?’

‘Ganz gut, danke,’ If Seth had been surprised at being able to understand Gloria’s German earlier, now his eyes were round in wonder. He could, it transpired, speak it fluently too. ‘Schon, dich kennenzulernen,’ he said, his accent perfect.

‘Nice to meet you too!’ Winters beamed. ‘Right Seth, if you’ll get your case we’ll go straight off. Miss Brindle’s given me a rather detailed letter from your grandfather and I’ll need to get directly on to the Headmaster to make arrangements for you. If all goes well you’ll be joining Ralf at St. Crispin’s next week.’

‘Not school, man, please!’ Alfie muttered, but none of the adults seemed to hear him.

Dragging his feet and looking worriedly back over his shoulder, Seth followed Winters out of the Post Office. Next it was Valen’s turn.

‘A nice strong girl,’ the man in the apron said ominously. ‘We’ll have her.’

Valen eyed them nervously. She looked like she was about to make a break for it but the woman gave her husband a withering look and came forward to pat her on the arm. ‘Don’t take no notice of him, love,’ she said with a smile. ‘Opens his mouth without engaging his brain most of the time! He just means you might like to help us out in the shop. We’re the Hatchers. You passed our place on the way down.’

Valen’s look of trepidation was quickly replaced by a broad smile. ‘Oh! The fishmongers! Yes, I can help.’ She looked back at Ralf and raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m used to fish. I live above a chippy.’

This information appeared most satisfactory to the Hatchers who hustled Valen and her suitcase out of the door without further ado.

The weather beaten couple were next, but the handover looked like it was not going to be quite so straightforward. Brindle drew them aside and, drawing a letter from the pocket of her dungarees, spoke to them quietly in a corner with an even more severe than usual glint in her eye.

When they returned to face the three remaining boys they looked worried and the man had taken off his flat cap to scratch his head, thoughtfully.

Miss Brindle smiled nastily and pointed at Alfie. ‘Mr and Mrs Sedley. Alfredo Lightfoot.’

‘
ALFREDO
?!’ Leo mouthed at the younger boy, his face cracking into a broad grin. Alfie rolled his eyes once but then faced the old man who appeared to be gearing himself up to speak.

‘You know what Miss Brindle just said to us, likely?’ said Mr Sedley.

Alfie shot Brindle a hate filled glance and then turned back to look Mr Sedley in the eye. ‘I do,’ he said.

‘Bain’t be none o’ that while you’re with us. Agreed?’

Alfie’s little face broke into a huge smile. ‘None,’ he said. ‘I swear.’

Mrs Sedley stopped wringing her hands and twinkled at her husband. ‘He can’t say fairer’n that can he Jack?’

‘I don’t suppose he can,’ Mr Sedley said, as he replaced his cap. He shook Alfie’s hand and picked up his case giving him a wink and a pat on the back.

‘There but he’s a tiddy one,’ said Mrs Sedley. ‘You’ll have eggs and good fresh milk in you the minute we get back to the farm.’

Alfie left the Post Office with a backward grin and Mrs Sedley’s arm wrapped round his shoulder. Mr Sedley looked down at him. ‘Nice hat,’ he winked. Alfie looked like the Cheshire Cat as he stepped into the sunshine.

With only Ralf and Leo left, the atmosphere in the little café became even frostier and it soon became clear why.

‘Your antics this morning have meant that we’ve missed the Arbuckles,’ said Brindle. ‘So you’ll have to look after this one for the rest of the day,’ she declared huffily. ‘Come with me.’

Arbuckle. Now that was a name Ralf definitely knew. Gloria had had a photo of them too. The two smiling young fishermen! But he suddenly knew more than that. In this life, the Arbuckle boys and their father, Old Bill, were his next-door neighbours and they were good people. Relief washed over him. The memories were coming back clearly now and he was pleased that Leo, at least, would be close by. He glanced over to give him a reassuring nod but Leo was too absorbed in glowering at Brindle. Ralf didn’t blame him. What was so difficult for her about using Leo’s name?

The boys were silent as they followed Brindle from the Post Office, each lost in his own very different thoughts. Ralf was so absorbed that he didn’t realise they were going to his house until they were practically there. They walked along the harbour, along a lane and then down a narrow strip of cobbles to a rolling peninsular. A line of terraced cottages, sign posted
‘Fox Earths’
, looked out across an open stretch of water and the harbour beyond. They stopped at the second to last house.

Brindle rapped on the door. A fair woman in a print dress and straw hat opened it. The smile on her face faded the moment she saw who was standing there. ‘Oh, it’s you Zilla,’ she said coolly. She looked at Ralf. ‘Your lunch is on the table, Ralf. In you go.’

Even after everything that had already happened, the shock of seeing this woman made Ralf weak. There was an explosion of warmth in his chest and he had a sudden fear he might burst into tears. She wasn’t his mother, Ralf realised that, but the resemblance was startling and he knew instantly she was family.
Hilda
. The name popped into his head along with all the information he needed. She was his sister, half-sister actually, but that made no difference. She was Christmas morning. She was warmth and comfort and good food.

With a glance back at Leo, Ralf stepped through the open door into a kitchen dominated by a huge stove. Drying herbs hung from the ceiling and on every shelf there were glass jars and pots with waxed lids containing jams, pickles and chutney. Through an open pantry door he could see bacon, a bowl of eggs and a slab of marble on which there was a creamy yellow cheese. A glazed ham stood under a square of muslin on a gouged but spotlessly clean table.

Eyes welling up, Ralf stood and breathed in the strange-familiar scent of the room and, for the first time in two years, felt like he was home.

The only blemish on his sudden, perfect happiness was the tense conversation he could hear through the open door.

‘I won’t keep you,’ Miss Brindle said crisply. ‘I know you people keep odd hours.’

‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean by ‘you people’, Zilla,’ said Hilda drawing herself up to her full height. ‘But I am, as you see, ready to leave for Hawke’s Manor.’

Miss. Brindle bristled. ‘Quite. As I was about to say, I am, as you know, the Billeting Officer for this area, and –’

‘And?’

‘It’s a difficult job at the best of times without being run ragged by impertinent, young scoundrels who can’t leave well enough alone –’

‘We went through all this earlier.’

‘Yes, well. This is the last one here. Boy!’

Leo edged forward and Brindle stepped aside as if a particularly nasty smell had just assaulted her. ‘Hasn’t spoken a word since he arrived. A bit feeble-minded if you ask me, but then that’s not very surprising considering he’s… Well, be that as it may, I need to place him and I know that with the older boy gone today, the Arbuckle’s have a spare room.’

‘But do you think that’s the best –’

‘Oh, don’t worry about that. He’s from an orphanage, this one. He’s used to roughing it.’

‘I still don’t see why you’re here.’

‘That’s just what I’m trying to tell you, Hilda. There’s no one in at the Arbuckle’s.’

‘They’re seeing Michael off at Dark Ferry.’

‘Well, I have to get back to the Post Office and as your brother was responsible for throwing off my schedule it’s only right that he make amends. He can look after this one,’ she said indicating Leo with a disdainful jerk of her head, ‘until they get back.’

‘Of course, Zilla. You only had to ask,’ Hilda said politely.

Brindle gave a contemptuous sniff. ‘They know where to find me, if there are any questions.’ Ralf jumped as she roared at the poor dog to come to heel and was immensely relieved to hear the woman’s brisk footsteps clatter down the path and gradually fade away.

‘You’d better come in, love,’ Hilda said. ‘Ralf, will you pour – I’m sorry dear, I don’t know your name?’

Leo held up a cardboard tag on a string round his neck. ‘Er – Leonard Antwi – Leo.’

‘Right,’ said Hilda, propping his suitcase by the table. ‘Ralf, will you pour Leo a cup of tea and cut him a sandwich? The Arbuckles won’t be back until after three, I’m thinking, so perhaps you’d like to show him round?’ She gave him a smile then looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘I really must get on. I’m running late as it is.’

‘Of course,’ Ralf spluttered. The urge to rush over and hug her was making talking difficult. ‘You go. We’ll be fine.’

Hilda gave Ralf’s shorn hair a quick ruffle. ‘And do try not to get into any more trouble.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Boy on the Bridge

The sandwiches tasted incredible. Thick slices of floury soft bread, fresh churned butter and salt-sweet ham, with crumbly cheese and ripe red tomatoes on the side.

‘These tomatoes taste so – so – tomatoey,’ Leo raved, biting into his fourth one.

‘And the lemonade,’ said Ralf, wiping his hand on his sleeve. ‘I could drink pints. It’s gorgeous. Why doesn’t it taste like this at home?’

They took their time over the meal but eventually, full to bursting; they tidied up and went out.

As they walked back up Ralf’s lane, their footsteps sounded oddly loud. A vast stillness surrounded them and the only other noises were the soft lapping of the sea and the far off cry of gulls. Ralf didn’t think he’d been anywhere so quiet in his entire life. There was a lack of all modern noise, not a car on the street or a plane in the sky, just deep, thick peacefulness. His short meeting with his sister had filled Ralf with an intense sort of happiness but he felt he could not show it as, despite the good food, Leo was clearly miserable.

‘Can you believe that woman, Brindle!’ he grumbled as they walked. ‘She is the most poisonous, spiteful, hatchet-faced old…old…bag of spanners...’

‘If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure she’s nasty to everyone.’

‘No, Wolf,’ Leo countered. ‘There’s more to it than just nasty. She’s got it in for me, I’m telling you.’

Ralf wanted to disagree but a strong, heavy feeling in his gut, told him that Leo could well be right. He was worried about the others too, especially Alfie. Being here was weird enough for him, and he remembered the place, but how must it feel for the ten year old, dragged from everything he knew into a past so strange?

Pushing these thoughts aside, he tried to focus on where they were. Dredging his memories he led the way back to the village, putting a name to each of the now familiar landmarks and giving Leo a potted history of each of the people they passed.

After exploring the harbour they walked west down a narrow lane. After some distance they came to a fork in the road. The right hand turn was marked Chase Fort Cross but they headed left, which Ralf was fairly certain led across King’s Meadow, then up to the hills and eventually to a stark collection of rocks known locally as Fox Scar.

‘Why this time, though?’ Leo asked suddenly. ‘I mean, of all the times we could have gone back to, why here and now?’

‘Just lucky I suppose,’ said Ralf thinking of Hilda. Then, seeing Leo’s expression, he tried to change tack. ‘Look, I know there’s a war coming and everything and things might be quite tough for you here but it could be worse. At least the sun’s shining.’

‘Are you nuts?’

‘I’m just saying. At least we didn’t end up in the middle of an ice age or anything. Or coming face to face with a dinosaur.’

‘Brindle is a dinosaur!’ said Leo with feeling.

Ralf laughed. ‘Yes, I suppose she is, really. But a lot of the other people are nice.’

‘Yes, and some of them are seriously weird too. Those Muntons, for example.’ Leo shook his head as he walked. ‘And this place. It looks pretty – but isn’t it just a little bit odd? Can’t you feel it? Something’s not right.’

Leo’s words were still hanging in the air as they rounded a bend. In front of them stretched a wide expanse of flat marshland across which threaded channels of sparkling water. Tall grass whispered on every bank and all manner of water birds dipped, swam and waded. Gloria, in galoshes and sunhat, stood by a still pool near the centre of the marsh. She waved and called to them. A camera was set up on a tripod and she was peering through the viewfinder at the open expanse of King’s Meadow as they joined her.

‘Hello,’ said Ralf. ‘What are you doing?’

Gloria grinned back at him. ‘Feeding a giraffe. What’s it look like?

‘I didn’t know you liked photography,’ he lied.

‘Why would you? I’ve only just taken it up. Needed an excuse not to have to talk to the Captain. It’s jolly interesting, though,’ she said beckoning him over. ‘Take a look at this.’

He squinted through the viewfinder where Gloria had focused the lens on a group of wading birds. ‘Looks good,’ he said politely.

‘Yes, it does, rather, doesn’t it?’ she said. ‘Of course, this is only a trial run. What I’m really after is getting some concrete evidence about the ghosts.’

Leo raised his eyebrows behind Gloria’s back. The words ‘I told you so
,’ were written all over his face.

Ralf coughed. ‘Ghosts?’

‘Oh, come on Ralf,’ said Gloria. ‘There’s no point trying to keep it a secret from Leo. Someone will have seen another one before the week is out, you mark my words.’

‘They will?’

‘Obviously!’ She pulled a face at Ralf then turned to Leo to explain. ‘We’ve had an absolute rash of sightings, you know. It’s been terribly exciting. Well, some people have been upset by it, I’ll grant you, but really they shouldn’t. The ghosts are trying to communicate with us.’

Ralf couldn’t ask any questions. He was supposed to know. He nudged Leo with his boot.

‘Oh – er, yes,’ Leo said. ‘So what have people seen?’

‘All sorts. There’s been a monk in the graveyard. A highwayman on the High Street! Chax Forest is riddled with them, if you believe all the rumours,’ she said. ‘And yesterday I saw a group of Cavalier horsemen galloping over this very spot.’

Leo couldn’t suppress a shiver and Gloria, cheered by this reaction, dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Of course some of us are more open to vibrations from the other side than others. Of everyone in King’s Hadow, I’ve seen the most,’ she said proudly. ‘I’m hearing my Spirit Guide more clearly all the time and I’d like to communicate with the ghosts that come through. It’s a shame your Ambrose wasn’t at the Circus. He could have given me some pointers.’

Spirit Guide? What did she mean, Spirit Guide? Ralf had immediately liked this eighteen-year-old version of his great aunt but felt unexpectedly deflated – sad, even. He had thought Gloria’s strange behaviour in the future was just the effect of old age but perhaps it was time to consider something else. It felt awful to think it, but maybe she’d always been crackers?

The boys loitered while she took photographs, Leo looking nervously around for signs of ghosts and Ralf asking what he hoped sounded like interested questions. When she’d finally taken all the shots she wanted, Gloria folded the tripod and dumped it into his arms without asking.

‘Ginger b
eer?’ she asked, collecting the rest of her things together. ‘I’ve got my cycle on the other side of the wood. Be my porters for five minutes, I might even stretch to a bun.’

The five minutes turned out to be more like twenty and carrying all Gloria’s things was hard work. King had been right, it was a scorcher of a day, the sky cloudless, sun white hot and very soon the boys were sweating, tired and thinking longingly of the promised drink. At length they reached the edge of Tarzy Wood and it was with some relief that they stepped out of the sun into cool green shade. Gloria charged on ahead, chattering on over her shoulder whilst the boys took turns carrying the tripod and camera, stumbling over what seemed like every branch, bramble and root in the process.

Very soon Ralf and Leo were lagging behind. Without Gloria next to them the woods seemed too quiet and Ralf thought of Gadd Munton’s warning. He had the sensation of eyes on his back, but when he turned there was nobody there. Leo raised his eyebrows questioningly. Ralf’s neck began to prickle and just as they were stepping out of the trees onto the lane, Ralf realised why.

‘Look!’ he whispered to Leo.

Up ahead where there should, at this time of day, have been a clear line between the wood and Sparra’s Pond, shadows stretched. Instinctively Ralf looked skywards and then right and left to confirm his suspicions. The shadows on the other side of the lane were much smaller. On their left though, where the pond’s still water met the trees, long tendrils of darkness reached out like soot stained fingers. And, even though the day was windless and still, they were moving. Ralf swallowed.

They stood, blinking in consternation, until Gloria called back over her shoulder: ‘Buck up you two!’ They scuttled to join her but she was clearly not conscious of anything strange. She hadn’t noticed the forbidding shadows but Ralf was certain that they must on no account step into them. He and Leo exchanged looks and then, on either side of Gloria, they set a course that gave the shadows a wide berth. As they passed the longest patch of darkness that touched the road, a chill hit them and they watched Gloria frown, shudder and pull her blouse more closely round her throat.

Leo had been right. Something was very wrong here. The feeling was bad enough, but moving shadows in the middle of the day were more than unusual. They were downright unnatural.

Ralf gave a sigh of relief when they emerged from the quiet hedged lane into the gentle bustle of King’s Hadow Station. As she’d promised, Gloria treated the boys to sugared buns and ginger beer at the Station Café and then she rushed off. By unspoken agreement they headed back down the lane to take another look at the shadows but when they got there the birds were singing and everything was normal.

‘We did see them, didn’t we?’ Ralf asked.

‘Yes,’ said Leo gravely. ‘I wish Seth had seen them too.’

Ralf looked up at the sun. ‘Let’s go find him. We’ve still got time to kill before the Arbuckles get back.’

Ralf was surprised when Leo started to laugh. ‘What?’

‘Time?
Time
to kill?’ Leo chuckled. ‘Good one.’

Keen to find Seth they hurried back to the High Street, ignoring the curious glances directed at Leo.

‘You wouldn’t think they had shadows creeping all over the place and a load of ghosts running around would you?’ said Leo, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Judging by the looks I’m getting, the most unusual thing in King’s Hadow at the moment is me. You’d think I was from Saturn not Southwark.’

Winters’ small cottage was on the banks of the River Dribble
, which because of the weather, was dotted with paddlers and bobbing with swimmers all the way from the ford down to the sea. Leo was desperate to join them.

‘I’m boiling!’ he said tetchily. ‘Let’s have a swim. I bet the others’ll turn up here if we wait long enough.’

He was suffering in his big red jumper and Ralf too was feeling sticky and irritable. Ralf was about to strip off when he saw a smallish, rather weedy lad hauling himself on to the side of the bridge above the river.

‘I don’t believe it!’ Ralf groaned. ‘What
is
this kid’s problem?’

‘What?’

‘It’s the same boy I saved from Highgate Ponds in our time!’ Ralf said through gritted teeth. ‘He must have a death wish or something!’ He was already running.

‘Shouldn’t we be keeping a low profile?’ Leo panted as he caught up with him. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to draw attention to ourselves.’

‘What am I supposed to do – let him drown?’

‘Fair point.’

Luckily the boy was hesitating on the wall and Ralf was able to grab him before he jumped. Luckier still, Leo and a group of four other King’s Hadow boys had followed him on to the bridge. Ralf couldn’t recall their names but they clearly knew him and were eager to help. They all hung on to the kid to stop him trying to throw himself off a second time.

Ralf was employing his previous strategy of holding the boy’s arm behind his back when –

‘Don’t be an ass, Ralf,’ said a familiar voice. ‘We’re doing something here.’

Ralf groaned as he manoeuvred himself and the small boy to face King who, it turned out, had been the one who’d dared him to jump in the first place. A beefy Tank Tatchell, stained and sweaty, stood grinning like a loon at his shoulder. Ralf groaned again. He’d been right. Tank was Gormless George.
Gormless George was Tank. Great.

‘Doing what?’ Ralf asked, keeping a firm hold of the boy who kept trying to squirm from his grasp. ‘Trying to kill him?’ The moment the words were out of his mouth, Ralf knew they were a mistake. You didn’t embarrass King in front of his friends. He wouldn’t back down now.

King’s face flushed. ‘Let him go, Ralf.’

Ralf deliberately softened his tone. ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit dangerous?’

‘Don’t be such a killjoy. Will’s just been telling me he’s done it hundreds of times.’

That was it. Ralf suddenly remembered the boy’s name was William and he lived in the village. Ralf gave the startled looking boy a stern look but let go of his arm and s
tepped forward. ‘He’s lying, King.

‘Rubbish! You’re fine, aren’t you?’ King said, clapping an arm round Will’s shoulders.

‘He’s just trying to impress you, Julian. Can’t you see that?’

‘You’re just upset because he’s not trying to impress you!’ King’s cheeks flushed a shade pinker. He pushed Will to one side and squared up to Ralf. ‘Why are you being such a ruddy ass?’

‘It’s not about me, you idiot!’ Ralf shouted. ‘It’s about him. He’ll drown!’

Ralf was as sure of this now as he had been the first time at the ponds on Hampstead Heath. He was determined to stop him and the whole thing might have ended in fists there and then if Will’s sister hadn’t turned up, boxed him smartly round the ear and dragged him home.