Out of Time

by Bruce Macfarlane

  “Will you be on your own?”

  “Yes, though I can bring a friend for your sister Flory, if you like?”

  “Certainly not, Mr Urquhart! I will meet you at the tradesman’s entrance. And I will be with one of the servants.”

  “OK. By the way where is this lodge?”

  “Why, it’s the Lodge at Hamgreen”.

  “Hamgreen? No probs, I’m only in Chichester. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  “But Mr Urquhart, that’s over ten miles!”

  “Don’t worry, the roads are good at this time of the day. See you then. Bye”.

  ---~---

  E.

  I looked at Flory.

  “He said he will be here in half an hour. I don’t know how but we should prepare; he may only be pretending he’s in Chichester”.

  I touched the black glass again.

  “Look, there is a list of people with pictures of themselves, Flory”.

  He seemed to know a lot of ladies, though I must admit I did not approve of the state of their dress.

  I accidentally pressed one. The phone began to buzz again. A lady’s voice spoke.

  “Hi, Jim, what you phoning me now for? I’m in traffic on the M4.”

  I could hear music and a strange roaring sound. Before I could reply the lady spoke again.

  “Jim! Jim? God, the idiot’s sat on his phone again.”

  And then it was silent.

  ---~---

  J.

  It was an easy drive up to the lodge. I turned on to the gravel drive and cut the engine. It looked empty save for a light in one of the ground-floor rooms. It was quite an old place, Georgian probably. Grade 2 at least with ashlar walls.

  I went around the side and found what looked like the tradesmen’s door and pressed the bell. After a while the door opened and an old chap appeared wearing what looked like the clothes of the asset-rich and cash-poor. His hair had receded someway on his head and to compensate he had grown a rather an unkempt forked beard and straggly whiskers to match. For some reason he looked familiar.

  “Hi, I was told to come around here, is this the tradesman’s entrance?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Sorry, I was told by the lady who lives here to meet her here. She has my phone you see.”

  I could see that he didn’t see.

  “Sorry, I’ll start again. I lost my phone and a girl called Elizabeth Bicester found it and told me to come here to collect it.”

  “There is no Bicester here”. He had that rather clipped Edinburgh accent you hear from Scots who have been exposed to too much to the English.

  This day was going crazy.

  “Look, I might have the wrong address. Is this Hamgreen Lodge?”

  “Yes, but I can assure you there are no women here.”

  “OK. Would you mind if I use your phone so I can clean up this mess?”

  He looked at me suspiciously, trying to decide whether I was out to rob his house. Then said, “Follow me.”

  I followed the old chap into a small hallway. It had the air of one of those faded country mansions which hadn’t had the fortune to be done up by the National Trust. The walls or wall paper were that faded green you see in every Georgian house and beside the inner door, a table and cabinet that looked like they were from the same period but had suffered too many house moves.

  I picked up the phone and dialled my number.

  It picked up and I heard Elizabeth’s voice.

  “Elizabeth? Sorry, I seem to have come to the wrong house.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Hamgreen Lodge.”

  “But that’s where I am too.”

  We were both silent for a moment, trying to work out who had it wrong

  “Elizabeth, are you still there?”

  “Yes, I am by the pantry door, but I cannot see you.”

  “I must be at the wrong entrance. Describe it to me, you know the whole room.”

  “Er, green walls, a glass cabinet and a small dresser.”

  I looked around me; it was exactly as she described it.

  Then I noticed the old chap had been listening in. For some reason he was looking as worried as me.

  If I was being set up then this was getting to be an expensive joke.

  I rang off, apologised for disturbing him and drove off home. No one’s going to believe this, I thought. Better get the phone blocked.

  ---~---

  Chapter Two

  E.

  His voice had disappeared. We looked at each other. –“He must be around the back of the lodge, Flory!”

  We searched the ground floor rooms, looking out of the windows, then went into the garden. No one.

  I was at a loss. Was this some strange game? If it was, I could not understand it.

  “Try contacting him again, Elizabeth.”

  I tried again but there was no answer.

  I sat down nonplussed then Flory said she had an idea.

  “If you really want to return this case we can try the railway station at Chichester tomorrow. Remember he did say he was travelling from Chichester but also that he was not from around here. He may have arrived by train recently.”

  “Yes, they may recognise him and know where he is staying.”

  The next morning Smethers drove us into the market town. Unfortunately, our enquiries at the railway station did not lead to success and so reluctantly at noon we rendezvoused with some of our friends for a picnic luncheon in the Priory Park. We spent much time recounting our adventures which were received with interest though not necessarily with much credulity.

  “And you say this black case allows one to speak to someone at a distance?” said Albert, who I had noticed recently had been showing interest towards Flory.

  “Only certain people,” I replied.

  “Then let us try to contact him now,” he said.

  “I do not have it with me. It is at the lodge for safe keeping. I have tried twice but to no avail.”

  “Is this one of your silly practical jokes, Elizabeth?”

  “No, it is not! It is all true, isn’t it, Flory?”

  I could see they were beginning to doubt our story but just then I thought I spied him again. He was wearing different clothes. I was glad to see him a little smarter than yesterday and he was conversing with a strangely dressed young gentleman. When I thought he had turned in my direction I waved.

  ---~---

  J.

  When I got home it was quite late and my sister Jill was curled up on the sofa eating Hobnobs.

  “Had a good evening?” I said.

  “You don’t want to know. How about you? You haven’t been out frightening the young ladies of Chi again?”

  “Funny you should mention that. I lost my phone.”

  “You idiot. You only just got it repaired. Have you blocked it?”

  “Not yet. A girl's got it.”

  “Wow! That's your secret social life finished. I better warn my girlfriends. What's she like?”

  “Nothing like I've seen before. Got enchanting eyes though.”

  “Oooh! Fancy her, do you?”

  “I don't think she fancies me. Got off on the wrong foot somehow.”

  “Jim. You really have to learn to think before you speak and.....God, is that the time? Bed for me. I've got an early meeting in the morning with some clients down from London.”

  “Sorry, I forgot. Shall I meet you for lunch? I've got nothing on in the afternoon.

  “Mmh. Ok. Yes. Meet you in the Cross for a drink, grab a sandwich and go up to North Park for a bit of sunshine. And you can tell me more about Miss Magic Eyes.”

  The next morning we drove down to Chichester and after seeing the estate agent picked up some sandwiches from Subway and strolled into the park off North Street.

  And there were the two girls again sitting with a group all dressed in similar clothes to those I had seen them in at the cricket club.

  “Jill, see that group over there?
”

  “What, the pretentious ones dressed up like it’s the Goodwood Revival?”

  “Yeah, they must all be down here for some special toffs’ event. I met them up at Hamgreen during our ramble yesterday.”

  “You must have looked a bit odd in your hiking gear.”

  “Yeah – tell me about it! Anyway, see the one on the left in the powder blue dress? I think she has my phone.”

  “Must have been some party. I thought your phone was surgically attached to your body. Anyway, only one way to find out. Let me ring your phone.”

  Just then Elizabeth waved at me.

  “Looks like your new girlfriend has seen you. Let’s go over and say hello. I like to see who can get your phone off you.”

  “Ok, let’s find out what they are playing at. Word of warning though. They act posh and are very prudish.”

  “Sure you just didn’t just overstep the mark with your banter?”

  “Come to think of it, I did ask them what they were wearing underneath all that finery.”

  “Still as smooth as ever, eh Jim? Far be it from me to give you advice on your predatory habits but I suggest dropping ‘Are you wearing knickers?’ as your opening gambit.”

  ---~---

  E.

  He waved back at us, then he and the young gentleman with him walked over to us. As they drew nearer, I suddenly realised that his friend was actually a young woman. Her short hair and her trousers had confused me. In fact, on closer inspection I realised she was wearing thick black stockings under a very short skirt or kilt and a black vest, which to my embarrassment was cut to reveal her shoulders and significant portion of her neck and bust!

  “Hello Elizabeth, hello Flory.” He said. “Still in fancy dress I see. Another charity do I suppose.”

  He saw my perplexed look and checked himself.

  “Oh I forgot, where are my manners. This is my sister, Jill.”

  I nodded trying not look at her body and wondering why he had allowed his sister, (if she was!) to wear such a provocative outfit in public. Was his sister one of those “actresses” I had read about? I had never seen a woman dressed so scantily in public and was bemused that he allowed her to accompany him without any sign of embarrassment.

  But before I could say anything his sister began to speak in the same familiar manner as James.

  “Yep, I’m his sister. Purveyor of all my girl friends who end up battered on his rocky shore. She gave him a mildly accusing look, and then continued. “So, I hear you may have James’ phone. Good move, usually his girlfriends only manage to get his phone number. His text history would be worth a fortune to some I know.”

  This language was beyond me. I looked at Flory for support, but she was equally nonplussed.

  “I’m afraid I do not quite follow. Yes, I do have Mr Urquhart’s black case which I believe is called a “phone” but I have left it for safe keeping at the Lodge.”

  “So how do we get it back?” he said with a worried look. “I’ve already been there once, and you weren’t there!”

  “So you say, Mr Urquhart, but I can assure we were there and you did not turn up!”

  He turned to his sister for help, who gave a look that suggested she did not wholly believe his story either. Then he tried again. “Maybe I can drive you back to the Lodge so we don’t lose each other again.”

  “Sir, you do not think that I would go gallivanting off with a stranger unaccompanied, do you?!”

  “My sister does it all the time!”

  His sister gave him a look which I can only describe as amusement rather than the shock such a slur on her character should have produced.

  “Look, if you are concerned about my intentions ... ”

  At this point his sister shook her head and rolled her eyes up at me as if to apologise for him and said, “Look, please excuse my brother, how about if I come with you?”

  “Yeah, I’ll bring my sister Jill. I have it on good authority she is quite safe with other women and you can bring your sister Flory. Then I will be safely outnumbered three to one.”

  I listened to this offer with some trepidation, but I could see that they were as genuinely perplexed by the situation as we were. Flory and I looked at each other.

  “I suppose we could, though we insist that Smethers follows us in his carriage.”

  They both looked around and looked quite surprised to see our carriage by the edge of the park where Smethers was feeding the horses.

  “What, that contraption there?” he said. “I hope he can keep up.”

  Then he reverted to his manners of yesterday.

  “Do you wish to change first into your normal clothes or are you going back like that?”

  “Mr Urquhart that is the third time you have referred to our clothes. I can only think that it may be normal where you come from, but it is not so in Sussex.”

  “I was only worried about you getting into my car.”

  His sister intervened again. “I do apologise for my brother. All he wants is his phone back. Without it his whole social life, as he calls it, will collapse.”

  “Very well,” I said. “We will accompany you. If only so we can resolve this problem once and for all!”

  We walked over to our carriage and I told Smethers we were going in Mr Urquhart’s carriage and he was to follow us closely.

  We then accompanied Mr Urquhart and his sister into the Wynd which lead to North Street, but when we turned into a large courtyard there were stationed in rows, to our intense surprise, the most unusual carriages, or dare I say contraptions, I have ever seen! Each carriage looked like a gigantic ostrich egg with a long bulbous nose punctuated by sealed dark windows. Most of them were very small, certainly less than head height, and the undercarriage no more than a foot above the ground supported near each corner with tiny wheels made of a thick black patterned material. They did not seem suitable for travel save in a town with well-made cobbled roads. The surfaces of the carriages were varnished in a variety of colours and were so well polished that they reflected their surrounds. On the front and back two or four lamps enclosed the body with no obvious means of lighting the candles. But what was most baffling was that there were no attachments for the horses. Nor did I see any drivers or porters!

  I said, “How small is your carriage, Mr Urquhart! And such tiny wheels. You must be careful to avoid the ruts. But where are the horses?”

  “Under the bonnet.”

  I said quite crossly, for I felt he was taking me for a fool, “Are you playing games again, Mr Urquhart?”

  To my surprise, he replied with equal vigour, “I thought it was you who was playing games in your fancy dress and your pretentious high-class stuff.”

  My temper flared, “How dare you! I do not take slurs from people like you!”

  Then his sister, quite rudely interjected, “OK. That’s it. Shut up both of you. You’re sounding like a bickering old married couple. You sure you don't fancy each other?”

  We both stared at each other, then at Miss Urquhart who seemed to have acquired a rather impish smile.

  Then he raised both his hands as if in surrender and said, “OK, I’m sorry. I’m a bit stressed. To answer your question it doesn’t have any horses.”

  Before I could say anything, he produced what looked like a key and when he pressed it, orange lights lit up at the corners of one of the carriages. He motioned us towards it. “Here’s our car. Front or back, ladies?”

  I was completely confused but before I could say anything he stepped forward and opened a door, inviting us to enter the carriage. Inside were snug black leather contoured seats. We were rather hesitant at first as there seemed to be very little room but his sister allayed our fears by opening the front door and, ducking down, slid into the seat. I realised now their clothes were obviously fashioned for travelling in such vehicles.

  “I suggest, ladies that you take your hats off before getting in as there may not be enough room for them.”

  We could se
e looking inside that there was no option but to comply and with a mild look of disapproval and resignation we withdrew our hat pins and removed our hats.

  Then rather than having the manners to look away, he stared at our hair with what I can only say was an extremely approving look even though I could feel one or two of my ringlets had fallen on to my face.

  We eventually managed to arrange ourselves in the seats by spreading our skirts in a rather unglamorous arrangement. James sat in the front. I was glad he did not regard our discomfort.

  There was then much confusion as he insisted that we fit ourselves into some sort of harness. We declined his offer to help rather vigorously and were relieved when his sister came to our rescue.

  Then he pressed a button and the roar of an engine could be heard, and to our complete surprise the carriage inexplicably began to move forward. I could see James was guiding it by means of the wheel in front of him though I could not see the means of propulsion. All I could think of was that it was propelled by some kind of new-fangled steam engine. We moved very quickly until to my surprise we came to a road where literally dozens of these horseless carriages drove past at incredible speeds. There were also people everywhere dressed like James and his sister.

  “Where are we, Mr Urquhart? This looks like Chichester, but it has changed completely.”

  “Don’t tell the locals – they’ve been fighting to keep it the same for the last hundred years!”

  Suddenly he turned the carriage on to a great highway and accelerated up to an impossibly high speed.

  “If the roads are ok we should be Hamgreen in about half an hour,” he said.

  The trees and houses sped past us like a blur. Yet there was hardly any feeling of speed or wind. James seemed very relaxed as though he was just sitting in an armchair looking out of a window. Now and again another carriage came towards us. Each time I had to close my eyes. It passed us impossibly close.

  “Mr Urquhart, what speed are we travelling?”

  “Oh, about fifty miles an hour.”

  “You mean we could travel fifty miles in one hour!”

  “Yeah, do you want go faster?”

  “Certainly not, Mr Urquhart. This is quite dangerous enough!”