Timekeeper

by Tara Sim

  Until another town becomes the next Maldon.

  Matthias shifted to face him. “You mustn’t think like that. They’ll find a way to stop this.”

  Danny watched the little girl feed the birds, throwing down crumbs like confetti. A boy on a chrome bicycle zoomed by, scaring the pigeons, and the girl shrieked as they all took off in a chaotic flutter of wings. Danny knew how that felt: to be content one moment and terrified the next. For something normal to erupt and leave you senseless.

  Danny stuck out his long legs. If only Matthias knew the entire problem. Thoughts and fears frothed under the surface, ready to spill over at a word.

  Matthias’s story about the clock spirit was true. Whenever Maldon’s name came up, the man’s eyes dimmed, his face like a closed door to the past.

  Matthias losing the two loves of his life was enough reason for Danny to stay quiet. More than that, Danny didn’t want to become like him, exiled from Enfield and shunned by his colleagues. To be a lonely man in an empty house, trailed by the ghosts of his mistakes.

  As if Matthias had peeked into his thoughts, he asked suddenly, “How have those assignments been?”

  “Terrible.” Danny ignored the familiar pinch of guilt when he thought of Enfield. “The clock tower keeps breaking.”

  “Still?”

  “It’s just one thing after another. The numeral, the hand, the crack in the face …” Danny would have asked, “What next?” but was irrationally afraid Colton might hear and decide to do away with his pendulum just to vex him. Danny groaned and rubbed his hands over his face.

  “The tower sounds defective,” Matthias said, eyebrows furrowed. “I hear the one in Dover’s been having problems as well. Has anyone else looked into it?”

  Danny shook his head. “The Lead’s doing his part, but I’m sure he’s got enough to handle without breaking his back over this, too.”

  “Aren’t you worried something might happen to the Enfield tower? You can’t afford another accident. I’m worried about you, Danny Boy. You look tired.”

  Danny swallowed. “I probably won’t go back there anyway.”

  Again he felt the burning desire to tell someone—anyone—about his encounter with Colton, but the words stuck in his throat. No one can know, he reminded himself firmly.

  But Matthias might understand.

  “Matthias,” Danny started, “I was wondering if you could tell me what you know about clock spirits.”

  The man looked at him sharply. “Why?”

  “I just … I was curious.” He lowered his voice. “About … you know. What happened to you.”

  Matthias’s tension eased. He looked older than Danny had ever seen him. Danny watched as Matthias closed his eyes and took a deep breath, pulling back the ghosts. “I’m sorry, Danny. I appreciate the thought, but I’m not in the mood.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. Please.”

  Danny nodded. He should have guessed that would be Matthias’s reaction. It only reaffirmed that Colton was a secret he had to keep to himself, whether he liked it or not. He would have to weave his own lies over the truth until it became unrecognizable. Until it became just another story.

  A torturous week passed. Each day felt years long. Danny prowled the house like an anxious tiger in a cage, looking for distraction.

  He normally busied himself with reading when he wasn’t working, but every book he picked up he immediately put down again. He found the collection of fairy tales in his bag, stared at it, and stuffed it back in with muttered curses.

  He ended up visiting Cassie at the garage. After he paid her the next installment for the boiler, they sat together for a cup of tea. A steam train roared down the nearby tracks, shaking the garage so that the chipped teacups rattled on their saucers.

  “Noisy things, aren’t they?” She took a bracing sip. “Auto should be ready by tomorrow.”

  “You’re a godsend, Cass.”

  She winked. “Don’t tell me what I already know.” Her smile dimmed, and she began fidgeting in her chair. “Danny? There’s a function my mum’s making me go to.”

  “Oh?”

  “Some ridiculous dance. It’s supposed to be for people our age to, you know, mingle and all that. I don’t want to go, but she’s forcing me.”

  If Cassie’s mother made her go, Danny knew his mother would urge him again. Their mothers were good friends, and always hoping their children would marry off. Danny’s recent announcement about his preferences had barely slowed them down.

  “You want me to go with you.”

  “I’m already planning a way to sneak off,” she said. “I know where it’ll be, and there’s an easy way to slip out if no one’s watching.”

  Danny couldn’t help but laugh. “When is it?”

  “In a few weeks. Promise you won’t leave poor, defenseless me all alone there.”

  He snorted. Cassie, with a wrench in her hand, was anything but defenseless. “Fine, I’ll go with you. But only if you’re sure the escape plan is foolproof.”

  “Foolproof,” she agreed. “Thank you, my chuckaboo.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  Danny ran a finger around the rim of his cup. He wondered if she would live with him if his mother moved out. But then people would talk, and he would have to convince them that there really were no plans of marriage between them. That might produce an even bigger scandal.

  In the end, he couldn’t bring it up. Instead he asked, “How do you think I could get a person to not like me?”

  She choked on her tea. “Wassat?”

  “If someone fancies you, how do you suppose you could get them to not fancy you?”

  “Who’s this, then? The blond boy? You don’t like him?”

  Danny shifted in his chair. “It’s not that, exactly. It’s hard to explain.”

  “But you’re sure he likes you?” Danny hesitated, then nodded. “And you like him?” Another hesitation, and a less certain nod. “So what’s the problem? Your mum hasn’t been on you about it, has she?”

  “No.” He tugged on his shirt cuff, frowning. “I don’t know. It’s odd.”

  “Why? Is he into the weird stuff?”

  “Cass,” he groaned. She was a bricky girl, he’d give her that.

  “What is the weird stuff for blokes, anyway?”

  “How should I know? I’ve never …” He sank so low in his seat that his eyes became level with the table.

  “Get back up here, Dan. I’m only teasing.” But he stayed put. “Are you sure you fancy him? Sounds to me like you’re confused.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  Cassie drummed her fingernails on the table. “I know—bring him to the social. That way, I get to meet him and tell you if he seems all right.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Why not?”

  He can’t leave his town, that’s why not. “He’s in Enfield, for one thing. For another, I barely know him. Forget I said anything. I might not even see him again.”

  Despite Cassie’s pleading, Danny couldn’t explain further, so he left the garage to wander the dismal day alone. Besides, seeing his father’s auto strung up for repair depressed him.

  He bought bread and milk. The shop blended into meaningless colors, and he hardly paid attention to his transaction with the automaton behind the counter. The figure was man-shaped and made of bronze, although it had no face. Someone, no doubt one of the other shop clerks, had put glasses and a hat on it. The automaton jerkily lifted its hat to Danny when he paid.

  The city hummed with energy and insistence—go here, do this, look at that, step aside—a pushing, cycling swell of activity. Not like Enfield. Quiet Enfield, where the only push was the wind sweeping across the grass of the village green like an ocean wave. Where people’s eyes met and their lips turned up in true smiles. No averted gazes, no hard mouths. How are you and good day instead of spits and curses. A place to draw a deep breath. A place
his lungs ached for.

  Back at home, Danny drew a bath. He quickly submerged his body to hide it from the scrutinizing reflection in the mirror on the wall. He curled up in the water and inhaled the steam, slumping against the side of the tub.

  His reflection refused to stay hidden. When he turned his head, his own face stared back: thin, sharp, young. Green eyes, dramatic eyebrows. A taunting echo of his father. A ghost that haunted his mother. What he would give for the automaton’s harmless blank mask.

  The telephone rang around noon, and he rushed to answer it. He craved anything that might break the brooding silence.

  “Daniel, thank God I caught you at home,” the Lead Mechanic said in a rush. “It’s that damn Enfield clock again. Something’s happened.”

  Danny’s heart ricocheted off his clavicle. He’d wished for anything to break the silence—anything but this. “S-something’s happened, sir?”

  “The escapement’s gone off, and time is completely warped. It runs slow, then fast. The people can’t catch up. And the face has been scratched again.”

  Danny’s fear turned to fury, sharp and hot in his throat. He wasn’t going to let this sway him into going. He’d made up his mind to stay away. “Sir, I wish I could go, but my auto’s in the shop.”

  The Lead sighed. Danny could almost see him nodding. “It can’t be helped, then. We’ll send a driver for you.”

  “But, sir, another mechanic could—”

  “No, no. You’re already familiar with the tower, and I trust you. Just try to get there as soon as possible. I’ll send Summers as well.”

  “I …” No matter what he said, the Lead wouldn’t take no for an answer. Danny exhaled through his teeth. “All right. But let me call the shop for my auto, sir. My friend works there.”

  “Very good.”

  Danny slammed the receiver back onto its hook. Clenching his jaw, he thought about the smile he had last seen on Colton’s face, full and bright. Then he thought about the ruined clock face in Rotherfield.

  He wasn’t going to let Colton get away with this.

  He felt the wrongness even before he reached the town’s perimeter. A violent shudder crawled over his skin, followed by a flash of cold and a flash of heat. Danny fumbled with his timepiece. The hands were zooming around its face. As he watched, they slowed to their normal movement, then sped up again. Danny looked up and saw that, though it was early afternoon, the sky was steadily progressing toward sunset.

  Townspeople were muttering and groaning, watching the same spectacle from the green. Someone saw Danny and clapped him on the back.

  “Here’s our man! Fix it up right, won’t you?”

  “Yes, I’ll just—if I could get through?”

  “Clear the way,” the mayor said loudly, sweeping his arm to make room for Danny to pass. Still, a few people trailed behind, accompanying him to the base of the tower like some bizarre entourage. How was he supposed to work with these anxious people watching? Danny wanted to scare them off, wondering if they would scatter like the pigeons in the park.

  “It’s going to take a while,” he told them. “You should wait at home.” He met eyes with Aldridge, and the mayor nodded before he echoed Danny’s words as an order. Some people muttered and walked off, but a few rebelliously stayed across the street, staring up at the scratched clock face.

  “This won’t be another Rotherfield, will it?” the mayor whispered to Danny.

  “No, sir. I should hope not.”

  Not if he had anything to say about it.

  Brandon stood outside the tower door. They nodded in greeting and took to the stairs.

  “The escapement’s out of order,” Brandon reported. “Had a peek while I was waiting for you.”

  Danny had only visited the pendulum room briefly, but now it was his destination. They walked through the door leading to a wooden platform that hugged the sides of the tower, forming a square around the enclosed, windproof space where the pendulum hung. The pendulum was about three meters long, a dark bronze color, swinging side to side. But the swinging had become erratic. Something in the mechanism above was catching.

  The clock tower, like Big Ben, contained a double three-legged gravity escapement that separated the pendulum from the clockwork. It looked skeletal and sinister, the gears making up the body where the pendulum clung. Danny examined it, running his eyes over the gear train. The escapement adjusted the weight attached to the pendulum, and therefore managed the pendulum’s speed, preventing the clock from running too fast or too slow.

  But with every swing, the gears and escapement caught and the weight dropped. As he watched, the slow tick tocks that filled the air increased with sudden and alarming speed. Ticktockticktockticktock.

  “Why’s it doing that?” Brandon demanded.

  Danny knew why. “Let’s get the mechanism properly wound. We might have to take the gears off and reinstall them.”

  A platform had been built above the clockwork to allow mechanics easy access, so he and Brandon climbed up and laid out their tools. Danny reminded him how to handle the gears. Another apprentice would have rolled his eyes, but Brandon just nodded.

  They worked in silence unless Brandon had a question. Danny removed the smallest gear from the train and rewound the clock, one of the only technical duties the town’s maintenance crew had; it was too much of a bother to call a mechanic every time a clock needed winding. Danny used a wrench and pulled until the weight was where he wanted it to sit.

  His forehead was soon dotted with sweat. He removed each gear, checked it was sound, cleaned it to make sure, and reinstalled it. Brandon took apart the escapement and did the same. As they worked, Danny sensed time shift and grow tense around them. The tick tocks ceased. Even the timepiece in his pocket stilled.

  For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He thought of the mechanic who told his class about the jerky movement of time, the gray barrier of a town Stopped.

  But once everything had been replaced, the pendulum swung freely again, and the ticking resumed. Danny let out a long breath, but couldn’t get his hands to stop shaking.

  Just to be certain, Danny checked the very top of the pendulum. A few pennies had been put there to adjust the time. Adding a penny would lift the pendulum’s center of mass, increasing the speed with which it swung, just as removing a penny would decrease the speed. Danny was not surprised to see several coins there now. He removed the unnecessary ones until it felt just right.

  They climbed the stairs to the clock room to repair the scratches on the face. As Danny approached the scaffolding, he caught a glimpse of white.

  Colton stood across the room, a glower on his clawed face. Danny’s heart tripped at the sight of him, whether from anger or excitement, he couldn’t tell. Colton shone like a lighthouse, his beacon both a welcome and a warning, drawing Danny to his shores even though he knew he would be dashed upon the rocks.

  Danny turned away, but he felt the spirit’s eyes follow him.

  Outside, the sun had returned to its correct position in the early afternoon sky. Time was still a little off, but the fibers would take or add time as they saw fit until the tower stabilized itself. Danny and Brandon used resin and cleaning rags to buff the scratches from the face, Brandon wondering aloud if there was any clock in all of England in such miserable disrepair as this one.

  By the time they were finished, the sun was well and truly setting. Danny made sure they checked the clockwork again, just to be sure, but everything seemed to be running smoothly. Both mechanic and apprentice were exhausted, so Danny told Brandon to get a pint. The thought of driving home now seemed agonizing.

  With Brandon gone, Danny’s face hardened into a determined mask and he took the stairs to the clock room. There was still one thing left to do.

  As he expected, Colton stood there waiting for him, his skin now unmarked. His amber eyes gleamed in a silent challenge, a fringe of blond hair falling carelessly over his forehead. He was brilliant in his fury, golden and untouchab
le.

  Danny glared at him a moment, too furious to speak. He dropped his bag and coat on the floor.

  “Are you a spirit or a child?” he demanded at last. “I asked you not to do this anymore, and then you turn around and make the town suffer because you don’t get to have your way.”

  Colton looked away, but not from guilt. Instead, he looked self-justified. “You don’t know what it’s like here.”

  “What, to be alone and have no one give a damn?”

  Colton closed his eyes.

  “I understand, Colton. I don’t think you realize how much I understand.” Danny ran trembling hands through his hair. “But that’s not the point. Do you realize what happens to the town if you’re not working? If the town Stops, then it’s all over. Everyone will be trapped here, cut off forever, and it’ll be your fault!”

  Your fault.

  “I don’t want the town to be cut off forever,” Colton said.

  “Then why did you do this?”

  The silence lasted so long Danny almost thought the spirit wouldn’t answer. “You didn’t come,” Colton said at last, his voice almost too low to hear, like the scraping of old gears. “Why? You said you would.”

  Danny leaned back on his heels. When he didn’t say anything, Colton went on.

  “I waited. You said you’d come back, but you never did. This was the only way to bring you back.”

  Your fault.

  “My auto broke down,” Danny said, his voice hoarse. Although it was the truth, it still felt like a lie. “I couldn’t come with a broken auto. And I couldn’t very well send a note. ‘Yes, please deliver this to Colton Tower in Enfield, attention: clock spirit.’” Danny paced around the room, kicking over a dusty box. He sneezed and tried to sniff indignantly.

  Colton stared at the floor. He was finally beginning to look guilty. “You couldn’t come?”

  “No. My auto was in shop until this morning, but then I got the call that you’d gone and done this. Bloody ungrateful fool, that’s what you are. Why are you here, exactly? What’s your purpose?” Colton looked up, confused. “To keep time running! You’re Enfield’s guardian. You’re supposed to take care of yourself, not—not destroy yourself like some selfish—Goddamned—”