The Turnarounders and the Arbuckle Rescue (19 page)

‘Gran says that only the old folk remember. The family travel but they always come back here at the same time each year, and Gran’s mother told her the story when she was a child. Anyway, the legend is that centuries ago there was a monster.’

‘Here we go,’ said Seth but the others shushed him.

‘The people couldn’t kill it, but eventually they used magic to capture it. They imprisoned it underground – buried it alive right under where the village is now – sealed behind a huge black door.’ Kat’s voice lowered to a whisper. ‘They say that one day, at a time of War and Fear, the walls of the prison will be broken and the monster will return to seek its revenge.’ Kat’s green eyes glinted. ‘Gran says that, when it comes, the village will be swallowed by darkness and the streets will run with blood. There’ll be so much of it flowing into the harbour that the sea will turn red…’

Seth laughed loudly making everyone jump. ‘Cheerful old soul, your Gran!’ he gurgled, wiping his eyes. ‘She’s not worried that after all this time the monster will be nothing more than dust, I suppose?’

Ralf ignored him. ‘A monster buried somewhere below King’s Hadow. What kind of monster? Did it have a name?’ he asked Kat

Kat shook her head. ‘I only know what they call it around here. King’s Hadow is named after it.’

‘I don’t get you.’

‘King’s Hadow. King Shadow. Over time the break between the words got put in the wrong place. They called it the Shadow King.’

‘It’s war time now, isn’t it?’ said Valen.

Kat nodded. ‘And the dreams mean it’s on its way.’

Seth snorted and shook his head. ‘Dreaming of monsters?’ he said. ‘A sign that it will come back? Give me a break. It’s more likely because you’ve been eating cheese before bedtime!’

Seth’s voice seemed, to Ralf, to be echoing a long way away. He felt as though his heart was thumping right between his ears and it was only when the train stopped and doors started to slam that he was shocked into breathing again.

For the next week the Black Door haunted Ralf’s days as well as his nights. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it, or the tale that Kat had told them about its origins. ‘
Nos Darras’
. He repeated the words in his head over and over, and had taken to doodling them on slips of paper when he was supposed to be doing his prep and muttering them under his breath as he reeled in pots alive with creeping lobster. The problem was that the words were not new to him. He felt as if he’d heard them before, a long time ago, and he just needed something to happen or someone to say something that would unlock the memory.

On Friday evening that is exactly what happened. Walking three abreast down the High Street he, Seth and Alfie were comparing notes on the Falls they had been checking when something caught Ralf’s eye.

He stopped so abruptly that Alfie nearly walked into the back of him. Above the shop front was Valen’s bedroom window. The square pane of glass in the centre had had an extra strip of tape added.

‘They’ve found something!’ he gasped. They ran back the way they had come.

When they reached the Green, Valen practically flew to meet them.

‘I think there’s another Fall!’ she said.

‘A new one?’ Seth asked.

‘No, I think it must have been there a while!’ said Valen excitedly. ‘Shut up while I tell you! I heard
Isaac Kitchen, The Blacksmith, talking to Mr Hatcher this morning about this weird noise he keeps hearing coming from a big old oak just outside his forge. He was trying to laugh about it and called it his ‘Wailing Tree’ but you could tell he was scared.’

‘Everyone is superstitious here,’ said Seth.

‘I didn’t really click at first until he said he hadn’t dared go near it. Then I started thinking, okay, what if there’s a Fall there and he’s been hearing what’s on the other side of it?’

‘But wailing?’ said Alfie.

‘I know,’ said Valen. ‘But Isaac’s hearing’s not so good. It’s all the hammering. Maybe it sounds like wailing to him but it’s actually traffic on a road or a plane or something? He’s practically deaf, for goodness sake!’

It was as good a theory as any and the more they talked about it as they trooped down the alley at the back of the High Street shops, the better it seemed.

‘The sound might even be amplified or distorted by the Fall,’ Seth agreed reluctantly.

Valen grinned. ‘This could be it! This really could be it!’

The forge was set back from the lane. A dirt yard in front held all manner of farm machinery that Ralf could neither recognise nor name. There were horseshoes nailed above open barn doors and cartwheels leaning next to them. Smoke drifted from a redbrick chimney and from inside the smithy came the regular clang of hammer on metal.

‘Let’s slip round the back,’ said Alfie. He scuttled across the yard to stand next to the doors, peered inside and then, safe in the knowledge that no one within was watching, darted in front of the open doorway, along the building to the corner.

Valen followed suit, completing her journey with a commando-style roll that brought her to stand next to Alfie. She grinned and beckoned.

Seth went next. Reluctant to be outdone, he Shifted to the door, peeped inside, then Shifted to stand next to Valen and Alfie.

Bemused by these James Bond style antics Ralf and Leo looked at each other for a moment and, reassured by the steady clang of the hammer inside the workshop, strolled over to join them.

The oak was about a hundred yards from the main building, standing proud behind a wooden shed. They edged towards it. There, in plain view, near its base was a small, triangular shaped patch of haze.

Dumbfounded, they just stared at it for a second. After all this time, was it really going to be so easy to get back? Ralf’s heart fluttered uncomfortably in his chest and he had a horrid guilty moment when a voice inside his head pleaded ‘not yet’.

‘It’s a small opening so it might be a bit of a squeeze.’ He rummaged in his satchel and took out a coil of thin rope. ‘Been carrying this around for a week now,’ he said. ‘I’ll just tie one end round my waist and you lot hold on to the other. I’ll have a quick look but you’ll be able to stop me being sucked in and you can haul me out if it’s not the right Fall.’

As they threw their stuff into a haphazard pile on the other side of the massive trunk there was a rush of warm air. A breeze emanated from the hole and on it drifted the wailing noise that Isaac had talked about.

‘Does that sound like –’

‘A siren!’ squealed Alfie. ‘That’s a cop car, serious!’

Valen hopped from foot to foot. ‘Sure you don’t want me to go, Ralf?’ she asked excitedly. ‘In case of trouble?’

Ralf shook his head. He poked his head into the hole and tried to first edge, then crawl in afterwards.

‘It’s that murky in-between stuff we saw before. It’ll be a squeeze but I can slide along on my stomach,’ said Ralf. He didn’t relish the thought, but it was the only way. ‘So, I’ll have a quick look,’ he said. ‘See if I can figure out the date. It’s best to be really sure before we all go through together. I’ll tug twice to come back, okay?’

‘Good luck, mate,’ said Leo, slapping him on the back.

‘Good luck!’ the others echoed.

Ralf nodded and, mouth dry and heart thumping, dropped on to his stomach. He inched forward, using his forearms to propel himself towards the narrow opening. ‘Someone keep an eye out for Isaac, okay?’ he said. Then he plunged into the hole.

It was, Ralf thought, like crawling through candyfloss, only not quite so pink. For a second he almost wanted to laugh at the situation. What must he look like? But when he snorted out a breath he realised it was difficult to take in another. The memory of the plunge through the Fall by the Thames came back in a rush and, with it, that terrible sensation of drowning. He thrust forward with his arms hoping to push out into whatever time and place lay on the other side but, instead, his arms and upper body slid onward into nothingness. He flailed on the edge of what? A step? A cliff? Then slithered headlong into whirling grey-white space.

Don’t pass out! He screwed his eyes shut but held on to the thought as he tumbled and rolled. He heard the wail again. It was closer now and sounded less like a police car, less mechanical. Good, he told himself even though his chest was burning. Keep thinking. Stay awake! The rope uncoiled like a whip cracking behind him.

He landed so hard the air would have been knocked out of him, if he’d had any oxygen left in his lungs. He gasped like a landed fish for a few seconds, then drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Noise hit him in a huge, violent wave and his eyes flew open.

He was in a bush. In the dark. Imprisoned in deep undergrowth, battered on all sides by the most appalling, unearthly wails, he frantically disentangled himself and sat up. When he did, he wished he hadn’t. A large part of him wished he had lost consciousness so he didn’t have to see what he was now seeing or hear those terrible cries. Human cries. It hadn’t been a police siren they’d heard. Alfie’d been wrong about that. But Ralf could understand the mistake. No human should make those sounds. No one should have to hear them, either.

Ralf huddled low in the bush and peered out through the branches. He was next to a clearing. A circular open space burned out of the centre of a vast, ancient forest. A cold, bright moon hung in the sky. Trees climbed high as tower blocks to grapple with the night on all sides. Even by moonlight, Ralf could see clearly that at their tops, the leaves were acid green with sap and life but, lower down, their trunks were scorched and marred with soot. It looked almost as if they were trying to claw their way out of a stagnant pit, or a pool of tar-black slurry in which they might drown. Black shadows boiled around their roots and crept up their limbs, threatening to drag them, crashing to the earth below.

From between those poor trees, shrieking with grief and despair came the people. Small, dark haired men and women staggered drunkenly towards the centre of the clearing. Their faces showed terror and their bodies seemed reluctant to take each shuddering step. They fought the movements but were as helpless as slivers of iron being dragged by a powerful magnet.

Ralf blinked as a man, the same age as Old Bill, emerged from the trees supporting himself on a gnarled wooden staff. He was the slowest and the last but, like all the others, moved falteringly onward.

The magnet, the force that was pulling them, was in the middle of the space and directly in Ralf’s line of sight. A set of wide, steep stairs led down from the clearing into the side of an ash-covered mound from which an orange light glowed. The people descended in jerky steps, their moans and wails becoming fainter with each one. Ralf shook his head, confused and so, so frightened. It was like watching the dead entering the Gates of Hell.

The last man – the old one – faltered at the top of the steps. His staff wavered in the air. He stopped. Ralf felt a thrilling surge of hope, as a terrible battle ensued. Whatever was happening to those people, whatever compelled them to go down those awful stairs, the old man was fighting it!

The man writhed but planted his staff in the ground. Cords stood out on his neck and a bead of sweat trickled from his sparse hair. Then he wavered and a strange ululating cry broke from him. His lips stretched back into a grimace and the shout turned from one of challenge to despair. His strength left him. He crumpled, his back crashed onto the steps and he slithered down them to slide through a massive open door.

Ralf’s whole body prickled. He would have tugged on the rope then – he didn’t want to see any more – he didn’t think he could stand it. But then he saw the two figures that guarded the entranceway. They stood each side of the door. Incredibly tall, cloaked in shimmering grey, they resembled statues of kings in their stillness and magnificence. As one, their movements graceful as dancers, they reached behind them to close the doors, which swung together smoothly. The orange glow was extinguished. The night was abruptly silent. The two figures resumed their positions on either side.

That was when Ralf realised what he was seeing. The door was black – shiny and black. ‘Nos Darras!’ he breathed.

The two figures at the door did not move their bodies but their heads turned to stare directly at the bush where Ralf was concealed. He could not see their features, but from beneath the cowls of their hoods, in the deep shadow where their faces would be, two sets of yellow lamp-like eyes regarded him. It was enough.

Ralf yanked on the rope sharply, once, twice. There was an awful second when nothing happened. Then he was dragged roughly backwards. The rope bit into his stomach but he didn’t care. He was jerked back through the Fall, through swirling grey-white mist that filled his lungs but gave no air.

Abruptly, he was on the ground again, earth beneath his belly, fingers digging gratefully into grass and leaves. He drew in a deep breath of cold, sweet air. His head and his guts spun. He just had time to gasp ‘Wrong Fall!’ before he vomited.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Heading for a Fall

‘It’s ridiculous on so many different levels, Wolf!’ Seth exclaimed, as they headed back towards the village. ‘I know you saw something awful, your face was enough to tell us that – and puking everywhere kind of underlined your point. But you’re adding two and two and getting five! No, listen!’ he said, when Ralf started to object. ‘Kat had just told you her old wives’ tale. The idea of the Black Door was in your head, so when you saw one through that Fall you made a connection. An understandable connection, but a connection that shouldn’t have been made.’

‘Oh, get over yourself, Seth!’ Valen exclaimed.

‘What?’ Seth asked, surprised at the irritation in her voice.

‘There’s no logic to any of this!’ she cried. ‘Kat’s story is just as likely as us having had a conversation with Old Father Time and you can’t deny we did that!’

‘But that story doesn’t make any sense!’ Seth insisted.

‘Nothing does, bruv,’ said Alfie.

‘What I saw was certainly a long time ago,’ said Ralf, distractedly. He was feeling a lot better physically, the nausea had gone within a minute of being back, but his thoughts were still in turmoil. ‘And the people were Celts. I know enough about history to know that. No, it was definitely the Black Door. I’ve dreamt about it enough times to recognize it.’

‘But your logic’s off!’ Seth persisted. He stopped walking and appealed to them with his arms open. ‘Kat said the people imprisoned the
monster
behind the door, not the other way around.’

‘Stop being such a patronising git!’ Valen yelled, walking on. ‘You can give us the logic lecture when you can explain how the hell we’re stuck in 1939!’

Ralf continued walking, consumed by the vision of the old man he’d seen, awed by his heroic struggle. Seth stared after him until Leo gave him a nudge.

‘We weren’t there, mate,’ said Leo, simply. ‘Ralf was. He knows what he saw.’

Seth nodded and they Shifted to catch up.

‘Alright,’ Seth said falling in beside Ralf again. ‘I’m sorry, okay? I’m just trying to look at all this craziness as sensibly as I can. Attempting to find the most likely explanation.’ He sighed. ‘Look, I can’t account for what just happened but I do know we need to cross that Fall off the list and move on.’

‘But there’s nowhere to move on to!’ Ralf exclaimed. ‘Valen can’t find the one on the High Street and we’ve checked all the others. They’re closed.’

‘They’re closed at the moment but we don’t know how they work,’ said Seth, as they reached the top of the High Street. ‘Ghosts are still appearing though. So, either the same Falls keep opening up and we haven’t managed to be there at the right time or we just haven’t found all of them yet. Maybe there are several Falls close to each other, like – like holes appearing in a giant dam? Whichever it is, we need to keep checking those places where we know there’s a weakness or leak between Times.’

‘But it seems so pointless. Every Fall we’ve checked is either dangerous or closed!’ said Valen

‘Ah, but we haven’t checked them all,’ said Seth.

‘You want to start poking around in Chax Forest in the middle of the Army training camp!’ Alfie exclaimed. ‘They use live ammunition in there, you know that don’t you?’

‘Not the forest, no,’ said Seth with an infuriating twinkle. ‘There’s another Fall in the area we haven’t checked yet.’

Ralf stopped walking. ‘Eh?’

Seth turned. ‘Think about it, Ralf. Your auntie’s Spirit Guide!’ He paused to let his words sink in. ‘Is she really having regular chats with a dead person?’

‘What?’

Seth smiled. ‘Or do you think that there’s a Fall somewhere on Hawkes Manor, through which she’s been conversing with
someone from another point in history?’

Stunned, Ralf stopped dead. Why hadn’t he made the connection before? Now that Seth had spelt it out, it seemed so obvious.

‘I’ll head over to see her straight after school,’ he said.

‘No need,’ said Val. ‘She’s right over there.’

Ralf glanced up to see Gloria pushing her bike up the High Street towards them. Spotting them, she waved. ‘Fancy a cuppa chaps?’ she called, cheerfully.

‘How lucky is that?’ said Ralf. ‘You lot coming?’

The others shook their heads. ‘You’re on your own for this one, mate,’ said Leo.

Ralf left them lurking at the newsstand and walked over to meet his future Guardian. Strange how things turn out, he thought, distractedly.

Gloria leaned her bike against the Post Office window and pulled Ralf towards the door. A bell tinkled and suddenly Brindle was looming in the doorway.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you!’

Ralf flinched but Gloria turned and asked, with a winning smile: ‘What’s that, Miss Brindle?’

Brindle nodded at the plush camera case and tripod sitting in the bike basket.

Though he hated to admit it, Ralf thought Brindle might have a point – the expensive equipment wouldn’t last five seconds in the twenty-first century, but Gloria was genuinely baffled.

‘What could possibly happen to them?’ she asked. ‘Everyone knows they’re mine.’

Brindle crossed her arms triumphantly over her ample bosom and nodded across the road to where Alfie stood talking to Valen and the Hatchers.

‘I hate to tell you, Miss Kingston-Hawke,’ Brindle said in a voice, which betrayed anything but reluctance. ‘But one of those evacuees has a criminal record.’

Ralf froze but Gloria burst into a peal of tinkling laughter. ‘Oh, you mean Alfie?’ she giggled, glancing over the lane. ‘I think it’s fairly safe. Alfie’s an absolute peach! But, in any case, I’d give him the camera if he asked me for it. Now, Ralf, let’s see about that tea.’

Slightly crestfallen, but clearly determined to start an argument about something, anything, Brindle followed them.

‘And I’m telling you right now, Ralf Osborne, if you’re selling raffle tickets, we’re not interested.’

‘Excuse me?’ Ralf said crisply. He’d almost forgotten all the raffle ticket fuss.

‘I’ve had Crispin’s boys in here every day this week,’ said Brindle, hands on hips. ‘What they’re doing bothering decent hardworking folk in the village, when their parents have money coming out of their ears, I don’t know. It makes my blood boil!’

Good, Ralf thought. He hoped they were making her really miserable. He hadn’t forgotten the way she treated Cabal or the way she’d spoken about his friends that day in the woods. He hid his satisfied smile in a cough.

‘I won’t be bothering you,’ he said, tersely. ‘I’ve only got one left to sell.’

‘Yes, and I’m buying that,’ retorted Gloria. She rifled in her bag. ‘How much did you say again, Ralf?’

Ralf worked harder to control his smile. Gloria was so great sometimes. Brindle harrumphed as they sat down by the window.

‘Well, I want you to pass on a message,’ said Brindle. ‘You tell them up at the
school that they’re not to come down here again. The Village is for villagers and School is for school. I don’t like their manner and I won’t have them causing trouble in the Post Office. This is a vital communications centre, you know, essential to the war effort and it cannot afford to be disrupted by time wasting and trivialities.’

Gloria looked at Brindle sternly. ‘They’re just being boys, Miss Brindle.’

Brindle sniffed. ‘There was a fight on Broad Street, this morning. Did you know that? That Aston boy and George Tatchell were at it tooth and nail with the boys from Hoad’s Farm. And this raffle ticket business was at the bottom of it. You tell them that, Osborne.’

She stalked off and Hettie came to take their order. The timid waitress looked very pale but still lots better than the last time Ralf had seen her. At least now she wasn’t in a heap on the church floor.

‘So,’ said Gloria, remembering her manners before getting to whatever she really wanted to talk about. ‘How are you? Others settled in all right?’

‘Fine thanks,’ he said. He wondered for a moment how he was going to approach this but then threw caution to the wind. ‘We’ve been quite interested in all these ghost sightings actually. We –’

‘I know,’ she said, eyes twinkling. ‘But they’re not the half of it! There’s something strange going on in King’s Hadow, I can tell you!’

‘More strange than a load of ghosts popping up?’ Ralf laughed.

Gloria glanced towards the kitchen where Hettie could be heard humming softly and dropped her voice a notch lower. ‘Yes, much more strange! Sinister things have been happening up at the house. Mother’s at her wits’ end.’

‘Sinister things?’

‘About as sinister as you can get. Knocks the dead fox in Church in to a cocked hat!’ She leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘The gardener’s dog mysteriously got locked in the icehouse. And that door is never locked. If I hadn’t happened to fancy a cold lemonade, I don’t care to think what would have become of poor Rufus. Anyway, I sort of put it out of my mind after that. Other things happening, you understand. But then, over the last few weeks, more discoveries… Dead mice in the dining room, frogs in the library. Father’s study was absolutely stinking and eventually poor Tilly – one of the maids – found six or seven sardines filed away in between all Father’s train timetables. He was furious. He had to throw away his Great Northern collection.’

‘But where did they come from?’

‘That’s just the point, isn’t it? We don’t know. Father’s convinced it must be one of the staff but Mother won’t hear of it. She thinks it’s the ghosts.’ She sat back in her chair and rolled her eyes.

‘But you don’t?’

Gloria’s amber eyes continued to twinkle. ‘I think when dead people come back to visit us they’ve got better things to do than file fish in our library. The ghosts are trying to tell us something. What’s going on up at the house is something else entirely.’

‘So what do you think it is?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But it’s playing merry hell with Mother’s migraines. What with that and the Captain’s incessant chatter, she’s spending most days in her rooms.’

‘Captain Keen’s still staying at the Manor?’

‘Just until his arm’s better,’ she said. ‘May he make a speedy recovery! The man never shuts up!’ Gloria shook her head. ‘I shouldn’t, really. He’s very sweet. Incredibly gallant and protective and jolly good with Jules…Oh and talking of Jules…I know you boys have had your scraps before, but he’s taking your latest disagreement awfully hard. Will you please, have a word with him?’

Ralf squirmed. ‘I honestly don’t think he’s that bothered, Gloria.’

‘Oh, but he is! Ju’s been moping round the house for weeks now. And he flares up over the slightest thing. Do patch it up with him, won’t you? You’re the only real friend he’s got.’

‘Oh come on!’ Ralf snapped. ‘He’s got Aston and Tank hanging on his every word. I’m just the brother of the hired help!’

‘Nonsense!’ Gloria admonished, with real surprise. ‘Daddy thinks the world of you!’

‘He does?’ This was news to Ralf. He hadn’t thought Gloria’s father even knew of his existence. ‘You know, when Father spoke to Hilda about you coming over to chum up with Julian, Mother wasn’t sure it was a good idea,’ she said. ‘You were only two or three at the time, but right from that first day the change in him was huge. He was always such a serious little chap. Pa always thought it was because of Arthur dying.’

Ralf’s attention snapped back to Gloria as he caught the last part of her sentence.

‘Arthur?’

‘Of course,’ she said sadly, ‘You wouldn’t remember. Julian was a twin. Both boys were terribly poorly when they were born. Julian pulled through but Arthur didn’t. Pa says it’s like a bit of Ju is missing. He’s not meant to be alone. That’s why he asked Hilda to bring you up to the house when you were small, you being so close in age and everything.’

‘I didn’t know.’

Gloria punched him playfully on the arm. ‘Of course you didn’t. I wouldn’t have mentioned it now except…’ She shrugged and smiled.

‘I’ll try,’ he said, eventually.

She sighed then put her cup down suddenly, glanced at her watch and waved at Hettie for the bill. ‘I really must dash,’ she said. ‘I promised not to dawdle. Mother will be having fits.’

Gloria was getting out her purse and Ralf could see his opportunity slipping away if he wasn’t careful. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to ask you about your Spirit Guide. I was hoping you’
d show me where you see him?’

‘I’ll introduce you if you like,’ she said. ‘I say, what a marvellous idea! D’you know Ralf, I never had you pegged as a true believer. You’re quite the changed man.’

‘Now?’

‘Afraid not. I wanted to get down there for a conflab with him today, but I don’t see that happening now. I’d have loved to, honestly but I’ve still got to pack before dinner,’ Gloria went on. ‘I’m heading off to London tomorrow. I’m going to really miss my little chats with him whilst I’m away.’

‘So he doesn’t travel with you?’

‘Gosh, no! Always appears in the same spot on the edge of the coppice by the lake
.’ She looked at her watch again and then craned her long neck towards the kitchen. ‘Where is she? For goodness sake, Hettie, time’s ticking!’