The Turnarounders and the Arbuckle Rescue (18 page)

‘She’s gone,’ said Leo into the silence.

There was a loud click as Alfie flicked on his torch and Ralf blinked with the suddenness of it. Alfie’s dirty, frightened face stared back at him. Leo’s eyes glinted cold and dark but when he spoke his voice was steady.

‘Stay in character, Ralf, remember?’ he said.

Ralf swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. Everyone else was so much better at this than him.

‘Ralf!’ Valen’s worried voice came from above. ‘Leo? Alf? Where are you? They’ve fallen down a denehole, Seth! Probably broken their stupid necks!’

The tense silence was broken as the boys down the hole burst out laughing. ‘We’re all right, Valen!’ Leo managed through chuckles. ‘We’ll be up in a sec.’

‘Wait up,’ said Alfie. ‘Now that’s well weird! What d’you reckon those are for?’ The circular beam of torchlight had fallen on the far wall of the hole in which they sat. Unlike the other walls this one was made up of six or seven rough wooden boards.

They crawled over. The boards were hinged. And there was a handle. Alfie’s hand reached for it.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ said Leo.

‘What?’ They could just make out Alfie’s indignant expression in the torchlight.

‘It’s probably one of those whatchamacallits – like Valen said –’

‘Deneholes,’ said Ralf. ‘Very likely. Open that and you’ll probably fall through. Some of them are hundreds of feet deep.’

Alfie’s hand went for the handle.

‘I don’t think –’

But it was too late. ‘No such thing as a door you shouldn’t open,’ said Alfie. The well-oiled handle turned noiselessly and before Ralf or Leo could do anything the door was open and Alf was crawling through it.

It was not the door from his dreams, Ralf was sure of that. But as he and Leo crawled after Alfie he couldn’t stop his heart thumping. Two heavy thuds behind him signalled that Valen and Seth had got fed up waiting and joined them below ground.

‘Oh pants!’ Valen’s voice was muffled.

‘What’s up?’ Ralf called, turning.

‘Only gone and torn
a chunk out of this stupid gymslip,’ she sighed. ‘Mrs Hatcher will do her nut!’

Ralf couldn’t help but smile as he faced forward again. Hunched in a line, they made their way down a short passage. It opened into a larger space in which they were able to stand.

They were in an arch shaped bunker, with smooth chalk walls. The torch beam picked out a hurricane lamp on a shelf and Val rushed forward to light it. The sudden brightness illuminated the room and there were gasps all round.  Attached to one wall stood a wooden bed and a table with a wireless transmitter. On the opposite wall, was a row of packed shelves and underneath them another wooden table.

‘Blimey!’ Val exclaimed. ‘Look at all that spam!’

Leo joined her at the shelf. ‘They’ve got ham, tongue, tinned fruit, about eight cans of condensed milk! There’s some medicines here too... Bandages. Ovaltine. Oh man, look at all this chocolate!’ Leo’s hand reached towards the pile.

‘Don’t touch anything,’ instructed Alfie, thrusting his own itching palms back in his pockets.

Leo gave him a dirty look but left the chocolate where he’d found it.

‘What is this place?’ Valen asked.

‘Oh my gosh!’ Ralf exclaimed. ‘I think this is a Zero Station!’

‘Do what?’

‘They set them up at the start of the war when they thought the Germans were about to invade. There were – I mean are – secret bunkers like this all over the country. Hideouts where British spies and Auxiliary Units are based.’ Ralf frowned, trying to dredge up knowledge from his hours of reading with Gloria. ‘Agents were ordinary people who would act as the Resistance if the Nazis arrived. The idea was that they’d spy on troop movements, blow up convoys and fuel dumps and pass on information to British Headquarters.’

‘So this is being used by people from the village?’ Leo asked.

Ralf nodded. ‘Yeah. People who’ve had training in combat and explosives and stuff. And there’ll be radio operators, women most likely, who’ve been taught to pass messages on. They probably don’t even know each other. They won’t have been told, in case they get captured and interrogated.’

‘They really thought the Germans were coming, then,’ Valen breathed.

‘And they were prepared to risk torture and death to stop them,’ said Seth grimly. ‘If they were caught, they’d have been shot.’

‘Makes you think, dunnit?’ Alfie commented.

‘Look at this!’ It was Leo from midway down the bunker. He was on his hands and knees examining a crate to one side of the table.

Ralf whistled softly. Inside the crate were three cans of petrol and a sinister looking box containing a series of small grey balls with strings sticking out of them.

‘Don’t touch that!’ Ralf gasped. ‘Those are plastic explosives!’

He didn’t know much about bombs but he knew enough to know that here were the makings of one heck of a bang.

‘Wouldn’t want to be around if that lot went up,’ said Valen.

‘I think we should go now,’ Alfie said. The torch wobbled slightly as he spoke.

‘Absolutely,’ Ralf agreed.

It was getting late by the time they emerged from the woods and Val
en squinted anxiously at her watch.

‘I am going to be in soooo much trouble,’ she cursed and rushed off back to the Hatchers trying to pick leaves out of her hair as she ran down the High Street.

The church clock struck six and Seth and Alfie headed home leaving Ralf and Leo to make their way back along the quayside as the first pinprick stars appeared in the sky.

Leo seemed to want to talk but Ralf was occupied with thoughts of Cabal. The dog had known him, he was sure of it. But in this life he belonged to Brindle. It must have been Cabal they’d heard whining in the kennel that time. Ralf’s stomach clenched at the thought of it.

As they reached the row of cottages at the end of the harbour lane Ralf became aware that Leo had gone very quiet. Brindle’s awful comments flooded back and he felt guilty. If he’d been angry with her, how must Leo have felt?

‘You alright?’ he asked as they arrived at his front door.

‘Bit of a funny day, that’s all,’ said Leo. ‘Look, I know we’ve got a lot to think about and everything, but will you do me a favour?’

‘Name it,’ said Ralf.

‘You couldn’t help me sell some raffle tickets, could you?’

It could have been worse. Most of the Dark Ferry pupils had been given thirty tickets – the Headmaster was taking the competition with Crispin’s very seriously – but, pleading that as an evacuee he barely knew anybody, Leo had got away with only taking ten.

‘I’ve managed to sell some already,’ he said, when they met up outside Hatcher’s Catch the next evening. ‘I Shifted up to the station first thing and sold three to men working the milk train.’

‘I’ve been practicing too,’ Val said enthusiastically. ‘It is so cool. I went all the way across the woods to the gypsy camp in four goes. You need to be careful of low walls, though,’ she said, showing them two scraped knees. ‘You can’t Shift through them. You have to go over.’

‘That makes sense, bearing in mind they’re made of stone,’ said Leo grinning. ‘I’m not Seth, but I’m pretty sure there’s a law of physics that says a person can’t move through solid objects.’

Valen scowled. ‘Because all these Time Falls and people popping through them follow the natural order, do they, Einstein?’

‘Shhh!’ said Ralf, suddenly. ‘Someone’s coming!’

Gordon Kemp strolled round the corner. It was obvious from the gas mask on his shoulder and tin helmet under his arm that he was just about to begin his ARP shift

‘Evening all,’ he said with a smile. ‘What are you young rogues up to now, eh?’

‘Hello, Mr Kemp,’ said Leo. ‘Nothing much. How’s it going in France?

‘Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies,’ Kemp said smiling and touching the side of his nose.

Mr Kemp knew no more about the course of the war than anyone else but because of his new role in the Air Raid Patrol the villagers now looked to him for news and comment and he enjoyed his newfound status as a ‘Government Officer’ and ‘the man in the know’, immensely.

Abruptly, Kemp stopped walking, his eye caught by something further along the quay. ‘Now what are they doing back here?’ he said to himself.

The children followed his gaze.
The Lot's Lady
was moored at the end of the quay and the Muntons were busy aboard doing what looked like a thorough overhaul.

‘I think I’ll just go down and pass the time o’ day,’ said Kemp looking at his watch. ‘I got plenty of time. The Missus is putting the kids to bed and its best to keep out of her way, like.’ He chuckled softly. ‘She seems to think I stir ‘em up a bit too much before sleep time, see.’

‘We’ll come with you,’ said Ralf. ‘We were going to go down and check over Niall’s boat anyway.’

They walked along the jetty until they reached the Munton’s mooring. They’d done a lot of work, Ralf noticed. The old boat, which used to be held together with tarpaulin and bits of string, had had a complete going over.

‘Evening, Gadd... Oyler,’ said Kemp, coolly. ‘You’re doing a fine job.’

Gadd swaggered to the stern to look up at them while, Oyler carried on with his painting.

‘Smart, ain’t she?’ said Gadd.

Kemp cast his eyes over the vessel. ‘Sandpaper, paint, brushes and is that a new mainsail I see? Must have come to a pretty penny. Been savin’ up have we?’

‘Won on the horses!’ said Gadd with a touch of defiance in his eyes.

‘Horses!’ echoed Oyler from the boat. He was grinning, Ralf noticed, but his eyes shifted nervously back and forth.

‘Congratulations!’ Kemp enthused. ‘What race?’

Gadd hesitated. ‘What’s it to you Kemp? Fancy a flutter?’

‘Mayhaps I do,’ Kemp barked. ‘What was the name o’ the horse. I might put a bob down when he runs next. Oyler?’

The ganglier of the two Munton’s froze, his face a mixture of panic and confusion and Ralf had a sudden urge to laugh. Horse, my foot, he thought. That wasn’t where they got the money.

Gadd laughed and shook his head. ‘You can’t expect us to give away a tip like that!’ He dismissed Kemp with a vague wave. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse us, we be wanting to finish afore it gets dark.’ He made to go into the cabin but Kemp called him back.

‘I hope you haven’t been doing nothing you oughtn’t, Gadd! Maybe Sergeant Minter should come down and have another word?’

Gadd tensed at the cabin door then turned slowly to face them. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you! Out to get us is what you are!’

But Kemp smiled. ‘Nonsense, Gadd. Just curiosity on my part. Though perhaps you’d be happier if you finished your repairs and then went on back to Hastings?’ Kemp made a show of looking at his watch. ‘I better be off. Evenin’ gents.’

He nodded to the children and sauntered back up the harbour, whistling. Gadd scowled at his back, glared at the children and went below. Ralf and the others made a hasty retreat down the jetty and climbed aboard
The Sara Luz
.

‘Won the money on a horse! What a pair of crooks!’ said Alfie gleefully.

‘Makes you wonder why they’re so keen for everyone to stay away from the woods, doesn’t it?’ said Ralf.

‘They probably got a stash there,’ said Alfie. ‘Did you see that crate of brandy in the cabin? They didn’t get that at the Cash & Carry.’

They spent the next half hour going over
The Sara Luz
. Ralf was tentative at first, dredging his memory for how to do things, but soon became more confident, checking fuel and oil levels, examining hoses and inspecting the bilges and his little coracle for signs of leaks. Leo and Valen pitched in to help, glad to be doing something, but Seth seemed ill at ease on the water. He stayed in the cabin to examine the charts and shout at Alfie who was gleefully Shifting around the cramped space and crashing in to things.

It was getting dark by the time Ralf was satisfied.

‘I think that’s everything,’ he said, taking in the scrubbed deck and neatly coiled ropes. ‘I should be fine to go out in the next day or two. Thanks, guys.’

The others said their goodbyes and left Ralf checking his fire extinguishers and stock of flares.

Valen poked her head back through the cabin door.

‘I nearly forgot!’ she exclaimed, with a worried look on her face. ‘What with everything that’s going on, I didn’t ask you –’

‘What?’ Ralf asked, concerned.

‘Well, it’s stupid really,’ Valen said. ‘But, you see, I’ve been given these raffle tickets…’

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Nos Darras

October arrived and with it a period of unseasonably cold weather that set the farmers of King’s Hadow to shaking their heads. The sky was a constant threatening grey, the fields frost bitten and the sea an angry, churning soup.

Despite the bad weather, Ralf was busier than he’d ever been and the memory of his slow, solitary life at Janus Gate was now so faded it almost felt like it belonged to someone else. More than a month had past since the sweltering day he’d woken on the station platform but because he’d been so occupied with schoolwork, chores, checking Falls and raffle ticket sales, it felt like much less.

They’d been lucky with the tickets so far. The Hatchers, Sedleys and Hilda had all bought one and, despite fierce competition from Crispin’s boys, they’d managed to sell most of Valen’s to local fishermen. Seth and Valen had stopped Ben Cheeseman’s milk wagon early one morning before school and he’d purchased two. And Jem Curtis, who lived way out on Hoad’s Farm on the other side of Fox Scar, had obligingly bought three – a sale made sweeter by the fact that King’s friends, Aston and Childs, had arrived at his place just as they were leaving.

Three days a week, straight after school, Ralf went to sea on
The Sara Luz
or paddled the harbour in his flat bottomed coracle, setting lobster pots. He lowered the rope contraptions into dark corners, under walls and jetties and, every other morning, when it was barely light, he went out to empty them. He was nervous at first but to his surprise soon found that, at the wheel of the boat, his feet planted firmly apart to keep his balance in the swell, he felt completely at home.

It was exhausting work, though, and the heavy pots made his arms ache. And on the days he wasn’t fishing he went cockle picking at low tide on the flat sands of the Dribble Estuary. The work was slow and backbreaking. Soon his hands were chapped and raw from the cold salt water and he had angry blisters from the pull of the rake. Often Leo came with him and as they worked, dumping skittering crabs into buckets on deck or waded in the shallows carrying cockle buckets, their talk inevitably turned to their situation.

‘Brilliant all this Shifting, isn’t it?’ grinned Leo one morning, as they chugged back to the mooring.

‘Yeah,’ said Ralf, grinning. ‘I keep on thinking I’m going to get caught. It’s actually really difficult not to do it once you’ve got the knack.’ Ralf smiled, thinking of the short work he’d made of the distance between the two Falls
he’d checked that day. The journey from the station to Sparra’s Pond had taken less than a minute. ‘It would be a right laugh walking Cabal,’ he said, wistfully.

‘Still worrying about him?’ asked Leo, quietly.

Ralf nodded. ‘I know it must seem mad, Leo. But that’s my dog. I know it’s him and I know she’s cruel to him too. When I walked past her place yesterday I could hear him whining. She keeps him locked up because she can’t control him.’

Leo pulled a face.

Ralf cut the engine as they came to the harbour wall. Leo leapt nimbly on to the quay and Ralf threw him a line, which he tied up perfectly. Ralf was impressed. He’d only showed him how to do it once and already Leo looked like he’d been doing it his whole life. Leo saw him watching and grinned.

‘Been helping the Arbuckles,’ he said. ‘Mending nets with Old Bill too.’

Ralf was embarrassed. ‘Leo, why didn’t you say? I can manage here on my own if they need you.’

Leo shook his head. ‘They don’t need me,’ he said. ‘But Old Bill’s been low this week. The sinking of the Royal Oak hit him hard. He’s been muttering about ‘blasted submarines’ and the ‘Dirty Hun’ breaking all the rules. You can understand it. He’s a sailor and he can’t stop thinking about all those drowned boys.’

Eight hundred and thirty-three had gone down at Scapa Flow. A hundred and twenty of them boys, the papers said. The thought made Ralf shudder.

‘So what with Michael gone and everything, I’ve been spending some time with him.’

Ralf battened the hatches and jumped ashore. ‘How d’you do that?’

‘What?’

‘That thing where you seem to know how people are thinking or feeling.’

‘That’s the darkest of Black Magic! My powers are Great!’ Leo laughed at Ralf’s expression. ‘Come on Ralf, I just had a feeling, ok? It’s not rocket science!’

‘Yeah,’ Ralf smiled. ‘We’ve got Seth for that.’ He looked back at the harbour and gave a nod of satisfaction at the sight of his small white buoys dotting the water. They started walking up towards the village.

‘I’m worried about Seth, you know,’ said Leo. ‘Alfie was right.’

‘About him being a nut job?’

‘No seriously, Wolf, I think we should keep an eye on him. Something’s wrong. Something he’s not telling us. A couple of times lately I’ve seen him
when he thinks no one’s looking. He’s had the strangest expression on his face...’

Ralf frowned. Seth had been searching for Falls with the rest of them but he’d never said anything to contradict his earlier conviction that they were all stuck in 1939. Ralf hesitated to mention it, though, Leo was so optimistic about them getting home. ‘He’s probably worrying about that thing with King,’ he said, eventually.

‘Yeah, but what if we never find the right Fall? What if we really can’t get back?’

‘We will,’ said Ralf, with more conviction than he felt. ‘Anyway, it’s not so bad here is it? Would it be a disaster if you couldn’t go back for a while?’ 

Leo gave him a wry smile. ‘You don’t seem in too much of a hurry.’

Ralf smiled back. He couldn’t help it. Leo was right. This life wasn’t half bad. Despite the chapped hands and sore back, the sense of urgency he’d had when they first arrived had disappeared completely. Even with his worries about Cabal and his bust up with King, Ralf was happier than he’d been since his parents died.

A combination of the weather and the war caused a sharp decline in the amount of entertaining done by the Kingston-Hawkes, so Hilda was home much more and Ralf could, for the first time in his life, enjoy having a sister. Each evening, after chores around the cottage, bringing in wood for the stove and polishing his boots for the next day he did his school homework. Then it was time for a wash in the metal tub by the fire, as Hilda cooked another mouth-watering meal. After supper they talked, listened to the wireless together or read by lamplight until it was time to go to bed. Each night, before he climbed the narrow stairs, Ralf coloured as Hilda hugged him and ruffled his shorn hair.

Despite his idyllic days, though, his nights were still haunted by the most appalling dreams. As was becoming increasingly usual he woke one chill Friday morning in the middle of October, with the Black Door fresh in his head. The nightmare consumed him as the ticking clocks had done at Janus Gate and he’d washed and dressed for school before its shadow began to lift. When Leo’s knock came, a little after eight, he shoved it to the back of his mind and they crunched up the lane, muffled in scarves, with their school caps pulled low over their ears.

The village was different that morning. It was subdued, quieter, and many of the shopkeepers and tradesmen had anxious looks upon their faces. Gordon Kemp, Ben Cheeseman and Frank Duke were huddled, collars up, in the pub doorway. Although they were speaking in hushed tones the unnatural stillness of the Village allowed their voices to carry.

‘But they fought like tigers them Poles!’ said Ben Cheeseman, with admiration in his voice.

Frank Duke shook his head. ‘Aye, but they didn’t stand a chance! Cavalry they had! Just horses against armoured tanks. Flesh against cold hard steel.’ He spat meditatively on to the cobbles. ‘And don’t talk to me about the Nastis working with them Bolshie traitors! Scum, the lot o’ them!’

‘Looks like they’re all set to be mates and divvy up Eastern Europe between ‘em,’ said Kemp. ‘Mind you, our lads will show them Bully Boys a thing or two once it all kicks off proper like!’

‘What’s he talking about Ralf?’

‘Well the Russians were supposed to be sort of on our side, or at the very least we had an agreement that they wouldn’t get involved if Germany started invading places. But then they did this secret deal with the Nazis and Poland and most of Eastern Europe got shared out between them.’

‘That’s terrible!’ said Leo as they walked up the High Street. ‘I didn’t know. Course, I know we win in the end,’ he added with a sheepish smile, ‘But, I can’t remember what happens next, can you?’ he asked.

Ralf could. After all those war biographies Gloria had made him read to her, the information had rattled round in his head for weeks. At the time he’d viewed it as wasted time but now it felt more like she’d been preparing him, as if she was making him study hard before a big exam.

‘Here?’ he said as they arrived at the station. ‘Not much for a while, I think. They call it ‘The Phony War’. A few minor skirmishes in Europe and Norway but nothing big until Churchill takes over and he’s not going to be Prime Minister until May next year.’

‘C
hurchill? Prime Minister?’ The stationmaster held his fat side as he chuckled. ‘You’se havin’ a laugh, Osborne!’

Ralf started, blushing. ‘It might happen!’

The old man wiped his eyes. ‘And us’ll be flying to the moon one day an’ all!’

He clipped their tickets and they boarded the school train. ‘Don’t worry about it, Leo,’ Ralf said, seeing his friend’s worried face. ‘He doesn’t have a clue.’

‘No, it’s not that. It’s just – do you realise, he’s the first person we’ve spoken to this morning?’

‘So?’

‘Three weeks ago that High Street was busy on our way to school,’ he said. ‘Don’t you remember how we kept getting in everyone’s way?’

‘It is quiet,’ Ralf admitted as they got on the train.

‘Yes, I thought the atmosphere was bad the day Poland surrendered but it’s actually been getting worse and worse.’

‘Who knows?’ said Ralf with a weary
smile. ‘Maybe it’s the weather.’

Seth and Valen were waiting, in the third carriage and they sat down with them. Leo barely said hello, though, his brow wrinkled in thought. ‘There’s something wrong. It’s not right so many people being still indoors at this time just because it’s a bit cold.’

‘A bit cold?’ Seth cried. ‘It’s warmer than this in Schlesvig – in January!’

‘The kids are out,’ said Valen and she was right. The usual crowds of children had boarded the train at each stop and ten minutes into their journey their compartment was full.

‘Yeah, but most of them don’t live in King’s Hadow itself. They live out on the farms or in other villages down the line. And it’s not just that people aren’t coming out as much,’ said Leo thoughtfully. ‘When you do see the villagers they’re quieter. They don’t stop to chat.’

‘Stationm
aster was fine.’

‘He lives right next to the station. Not in the village. It’s the villagers I’m talking about.’

Seth agreed. ‘I saw the Kemps this morning. They gave me quick nod and then hurried back into the shop.’

‘Gotta be them freaky things going down round the village,’ said Alfie ominously. His eyes widened as he saw Ralf’s questioning expression. ‘You must’ve heard! Two gravestones overturned and one of the vaults under the church opens all on its o
wn. Our – I mean – the Sedleys’ stream changed course overnight for no apparent reason and Hoad’s Farm Pond has dried up completely. And, and…and this is really dark, right? I get in to school Monday and the assembly hall’s wall-to-wall silage. Seriously, it looked like Alien Apocalypse in there, man, and it smelled worse! But the weird thing is, there weren’t no sign of a break in at all. Nuffin’, zip, nada! Honest! Sergeant Minter’s baffled. I’ve had a butchers and a dig around and trust me, I know. Whoever or
whatever
did it left no trace. No trace at all!’

‘It’s all people are talking about when they come in to the shop,’ said Valen.

‘It’s not just that,’ said Leo. ‘There’s something… That actor …Charles Hart –’

‘He’s
really nice, apparently. The Hatchers know him quite well. Mrs Hatcher’s in a proper state,’ said Valen. ‘Really snappy.’

Leo’s stared blankly into the middle distance and he frowned. ‘Something…’

‘I know what it is,’ said a soft voice above their heads. Kat Noakes peered down at them over the back of the seat, but Ralf hardly recognised her. She was wearing a patched Convent School uniform and her red hair had been wrestled into plaits that stood out at angles underneath a navy school hat. Ralf’s surprise must have shown because she shrugged. ‘Gran likes me to show my face once in a while. It gets the Education Board off her back,’ she smiled. ‘There’s a feeling in the village isn’t there? It’s Nos Darras.’

‘Nos Darras?’ said Seth sharply. ‘What’s that?’

Ralf knew the answer a split second before Kat said it.

‘The Black Door!’

Kat looked surprised. ‘You know?’

‘The Black Door!’ Ralf gasped as images from his nightmares flooded back. ‘I’ve been dreaming about it! What is it?’

She disappeared behind the seat and reappeared a moment later to sit next to Valen. One look at Ralf’s face must have told her she had an interested listener because she launched immediately into her tale.