by carl ashmore
By the time they had descended the stairs, Becky felt thoroughly miserable. She looked ahead at Joe and silently plotted her revenge, which involved his nose, four peanuts and a chopstick. Her heart sank further when she saw him tiptoe silently toward the front door. ‘Where are you taking -’
‘Shhh,’ Joe said, inching the door open. ‘Now, whatever you see, don’t - make - a – sound. That means no screaming! Okay?’
Screaming, Becky thought. What exactly would she see? Following Joe on to the porch, an icy blast of rain spattered her face. Thanks a bunch, Joe, she thought. I’m going to get told off, sent back to Manchester, and catch pneumonia, all in one night.
‘This way,’ Joe said, and he dashed off.
Becky pulled her coat tightly around her neck and followed him to the side of the Hall. She watched horrified as he approached a familiar outbuilding. Joining him, she shot him an angry look. ‘You haven’t broken into Uncle Percy’s laboratory, have you? He said it was out of bounds. If you have, I’ll thump your face so hard it swells like a - ’
‘Quiet,’ Joe barked. ‘Listen…’ He pressed a finger to his lips.
For once, Becky did as she was told. The rain was fading now and even through the moaning wind she could hear muffled voices. She grew intrigued.
‘Look round the corner,’ Joe whispered, pointing to the edge of the wall.
Becky hesitated. Slowly, suspiciously, she bent forward and peered round.
‘Can you see? Are they still there?’
Becky didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Mesmerised by the astonishing sight before her, she didn’t even hear his words.
Will was crouched on the waterlogged grass; beside him, a large sandy-coloured animal was in a heavy sleep, its chest moving up and down in a slow, consistent rhythm. Uncle Percy stood over them, soaked and exhausted. He held a pair of pliers jubilantly in his hand. The pliers contained a fat, yellowing tooth.
‘Good girl,’ Will breathed, softly patting the creature’s back.
‘Milly should be out for about half an hour,’ Uncle Percy said with a smile. ‘What do you say to a nice cup of tea, William? I believe we’ve earned it.’
Will laid the animal’s head lightly on the grass. ‘I deem we have.’
Becky’s head spun like a top. She felt confused, bewildered, dazed. Not to see Uncle Percy up at this time of night - she half-expected this would be when he did his inventing. No, looking at the sleeping animal, she knew it shouldn’t be alive at all. She’d seen one before at the Natural History Museum in London. But that was only a life-like reconstruction and not the genuine article.
A Sabre-tooth tiger lay sedated on the lawn of Bowen Hall - a very large, very real Sabre-tooth tiger.
- Chapter 6 -
A Question of Time
Becky felt numb. Questions surged through her mind. Then, as if to make matters worse, she heard a soft growl and felt a sharp tug at the hem of her pajama bottoms. Looking down, she saw a small brown cat gnawing on the fabric. Her eyeballs nearly popped from their sockets: a Sabre-tooth tiger cub. ‘Get off,’ she yelled instinctively, giving the cub a light kick. Uncle Percy’s head jolted up. Becky dipped behind the wall, but she knew it was too late.
She’d been seen.
Colour drained from Uncle Percy’s face. ‘Oh, crikey,’ he uttered. ‘SABIAN! Come here… NOW!’ The cub released Becky’s robe and padded obediently over to him. Uncle Percy scooped him up and took a very deep breath before he spoke, ‘You can come out now, Becky.’
Becky emerged, her eyes fixed resolutely on the ground. Hesitantly, Joe followed.
‘And Joe too, I see,’ Uncle Percy said flatly. ‘Deary me.’
‘It’s his fault.’ Becky nodded at Joe. ‘He was spying on you.’
‘I wasn’t,’ Joe said defensively. ‘I - err - I woke up, went to the loo, heard a roar outside and then - ’
‘That’s quite all right, Joe,’ Uncle Percy said.
‘That’s a - a - Sabre tooth tiger,’ Becky blustered.
Uncle Percy paused. ‘Yes. Her name’s Milly. She had a nasty abscess on a back molar. We had to remove it.’ He gave a weak smile and held up the bloody tooth as if it made the explanation more palatable.
‘But…it’s a Sabre-tooth t-tiger?’ Becky repeated.
‘A Smilodon, to be precise, and this little tyke is her son, Sabian.’
‘How - how have you got a Sabre-tooth -’ Becky’s words were interrupted by a deep rumbling sound beneath her feet.
‘Oh, no…’ Uncle Percy’s body seemed to deflate like a balloon and he dropped the pliers on his foot. In that instant, the air filled with thick streams of light.
‘What’s g-going on?’ Becky shouted, shielding her eyes.
A mighty crack echoed all around. And then silence. Slowly, Becky lowered her hand and gasped. A milk float had materialised on the lawn.
*
Becky froze like a statue and gawped at the milk float. A thickset middle-aged man in a racing green blazer and cravat was sitting in the front seat. His fine blond hair, slicked back with wax, made his large round head glisten like a Christmas bauble. ‘Greetings, Percy, old boy. What’s the matter with Milly?’
‘Evening, Keith,’ Uncle Percy replied awkwardly. ‘Milly’s fine, she’s just sedated. We had to perform a minor tooth extraction.’
‘I see,’ the traveller replied. ‘Well, you’re quite right, of course. Best do it yourself, most vets wouldn’t fancy a twelve-thousand year old tiger on their operating table.’ He chuckled and his chins rippled wildly. ‘Anyway, I found the Stonehenge manuscript you wanted.’ He pulled a folded piece of ragged brown parchment from his pocket.
‘Excellent.’ Uncle Percy’s eyes flicked from the traveller to Becky and Joe.
‘You were right, Rodney Taylor had pinched it,’ the traveller continued. ‘He’s a rum ‘un that one. Oh, and you were right about something else. Bernard Preston had paid him a visit, and it was about the manuscript. So, whatever your theory about his murder is, well, you seem to be right on the money.’
Suddenly the traveller noticed Becky and Joe and his broad smile fell from his face. Turning back to Uncle Percy, he arched his eyebrows. ‘Ooops, I didn’t -’
Uncle Percy shook his head and placed Sabian on the grass. ‘Not to worry, Keith. Thanks for this.’ He seized the manuscript and slipped it into his coat pocket. ‘Care for a nightcap?’
‘No thanks, Perce. Things to do and all that.’
‘Another time, then?’
‘Absolutely. Anyway, must be off.’ Offering a hasty wave, the traveller fumbled about frantically on the dashboard. ‘Cheerio, Perce, Will. Ta ta everyone.’ A few moments later, the milk float had vanished.
Uncle Percy unbuttoned his top collar and forced a weak smile. ‘I do believe I have some explaining to do...’
‘T-that was a milk float,’ Becky said, staring at the empty space where the milk float had been.
‘Yes it was.’
‘But - but it disappeared.’
‘Yes it did.’
‘How?’
Uncle Percy exhaled heavily. ‘Well, that’s because it isn’t strictly a milk float. It’s a time machine.’
‘A time machine?’ Becky snorted.
‘Indeed. And that gentleman was Keith Pickleton, a good friend of mine and a very experienced time traveller.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Becky snorted. ‘Time travel is not possible!’
Uncle Percy inclined his head toward the sleeping tiger. ‘Well, I didn’t get Milly at Asda.’ He gave a half-hearted chuckle.
Becky’s head reeled. ‘But … h - how?’
‘Well, how, would take some time to explain. But the process involves Einstein’s general theory of relativity, time dilation, four-dimensional wormholes, temporal curvatures, and quantum mechanics. But you have no idea what I’ve just said, have you?’
‘Uh,’ Becky grunted.
‘And you’re a t-time traveller?’ Joe gasped.
/> ‘I am,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Now, I think we’d better get out of this rain and have a little chat, don’t you?’
*
‘Drink up, you’ll feel better.’ Uncle Percy placed two mugs before Becky and Joe. He pulled up a wooden chair and joined them at the kitchen table. ‘Now, I’m sure you have lots of questions. So, please, fire away …’
Becky and Joe sat there, staring dumbstruck at the swirling liquid.
After a long pause, Joe spoke first, ‘Why doesn’t Milly eat you?’
Uncle Percy smiled. ‘Well, she’s really very tame and exceptionally loyal. And we do feed her well. Personally, I think she’d rather chew on a juicy steak than my scrawny ankle.’
Becky didn’t smile. ‘Did you invent time travel?’
‘Good heavens, no. The credit for that belongs to a remarkable scientist named Henry Locket in 1946 when he created ‘Old Betty’ the world’s first operational time machine. Anyway, he told some of his contemporaries about Betty and, before long, they were using his specifications to build their own machines. Over the next few years, even though Locket insisted their activities remain secret, word got out. By 1955 there were thirty two time travellers, world-wide.’
‘And how many are there now?’ Becky asked.
‘Over two hundred.’
Becky couldn’t believe her ears. ‘Two hundred?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Uncle Percy smiled weakly. ‘And it’s quite the global affair.’
‘How did you get involved?’ Joe asked eagerly.
‘Well, much later, Henry Locket was one of my tutors at Oxford. I had always been fascinated by the concept of time travel and, aided by some fellow classmates, conducted some experiments of my own. Anyway, I think Professor Locket appreciated our efforts and took us under his wing. And that’s how I first became involved with the community.’
Becky took a moment to digest the information. ‘So… what’s the future like?’
Joe’s eyes lit up. ‘Do England ever win the World Cup again?’
Uncle Percy gave a somewhat relieved laugh. ‘I have no idea, to either question. You see, it is only possible to visit the past, and back again, of course, but not the future. The limitations of the technology dictate that a time machine can only ever return to the present, not travel to the future.’
‘It’s still pretty cool,’ Joe said. ‘I mean, you could keep going back to 1966 to watch England win the World Cup the first and maybe only time.’
‘I knew someone that did precisely that,’ Uncle Percy said, a slight edge to his voice.
‘So have you met any famous people?’ Joe asked.
Uncle Percy relaxed into his chair and tapped his long fingers on his chin. ‘Let me see … I met William Shakespeare.’
Becky shuddered. That name had always filled her with dread ever since she read Macbeth at school.
‘And what was he like?’ Joe asked.
‘As dull as his plays,’ Uncle Percy replied, winking at Becky as though he could read her thoughts.
Becky grinned back at him. ‘Have you met anyone else?’
‘I was fortunate enough to meet Gandhi; he was a wonderful chap, great sense of humour. Martin Luther King - he was smashing, a bona-fide gent. Florence Nightingale - she was an extraordinary woman and a devilishly good poker player. Oh, and The Duke of Wellington, but I found him a bit too big for his boots.’
Becky almost laughed but stopped when she noticed Joe staring darkly at Uncle Percy. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘Will’s from the past, isn’t he?’
An uncomfortable silence cloaked the kitchen. After a few seconds Uncle Percy spoke, ‘Yes.’
Joe nodded solemnly. ‘Who is he?’
A very slight smile formed on Uncle Percy’s face. ‘Well, I heard you mention a television programme about Robin Hood.’
Joe’s face ignited. ‘He’s Robin Hood!’
‘Err - not exactly,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Robin Hood didn’t exist. However, some of the Robin Hood legend is indeed based on fact - the so-called merry men, for example, did exist. They did steal from the rich and give to the poor. And, for a while at least, they all lived in the great trees of Sherwood. Their leader was - ’
‘- Will … Scarlet?’ Joe breathed.
‘I suppose so, yes,’ Uncle Percy said.
Then another voice floated on the air. ‘And methinks I should have remained in my own time.’ Will stood at the kitchen door, silhouetted by the glassy moon behind.
Joe’s jaw dropped. ‘You’re the real Will Scarlet?’
‘I am the real Will Shakelock.’
Dumbstruck, Joe asked, ‘So, why are you here, in our time, I mean?’
‘Your uncle saved my life, and -’ Will paused, about to say something else but changed his mind, ‘- and I owe him a great debt.’
‘You owe me nothing, Will,’ Uncle Percy said simply. ‘You know that.’
‘You saved his life?’ Joe said, looking at his uncle with newfound admiration.
‘Not really. He’s exaggerating.’
‘He did a very fine thing,’ Will added sincerely.
‘What?’ Joe asked.
Will was about to reply when Uncle Percy cut in.
‘It’s a long story that happened a very long time ago,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Besides, it’s late and -’
‘- And there is still one member of the household yet to meet,’ Will said mysteriously. Becky and Joe swapped bewildered glances. Someone else lived at Bowen Hall?
Will whistled loudly. A sturdy, grey creature stomped into the kitchen and knocked over an umbrella stand. About five foot in length, it had a large fan-like plate on the back of its head. A horn protruded from its beak-like mouth and two larger horns from above its eyes.
At first, Becky thought it was a rhinoceros. She was wrong.
‘Ah, of course,’ Uncle Percy smiled. ‘Becky. Joe. Meet Gump.’
After seconds of stunned silence, Becky managed to speak. ‘I-It’s a d-dinosaur?’
‘Indeed, he is. A Triceratops,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Only a baby, of course, an adult Triceratops would be as big as a lorry.’ He tickled Gump under his chin. ‘You can stroke him if you’d like. He does enjoy a good mollycoddling.’
Trembling, Becky and Joe crouched beside the Triceratops and patted him. Gump made a soft groan that sounded rather like a cow mooing.
‘Anyway,’ Will said. ‘I shall retire to my lodgings and take our grey friend with me. I bid you sleep well, although I predict that easier said than it is done.’ He smiled at Uncle Percy. ‘I wish you luck, old friend.’
‘Thank you and good night, William.’
‘Night,’ Becky and Joe said at the same time.
‘Come, Gump.’ Will held a carrot to the Triceratops’ nostrils and moved toward the kitchen door. Gump followed.
Joe panted as Gump lumbered into the night. ‘Wait ‘til I tell Zimmo about this,’ he said, voice trembling. ‘He’ll never believe me.’
Uncle Percy’s expression grew stern. ‘Now, both of you, I must ask that you do me a favour. And I’m deadly serious about this. What you see at Bowen Hall must remain our secret. Absolutely no one can know about what happens here… not your friends, your teachers, not even your mother. Do you understand?’
‘But -?’ Joe said.
‘There can be no buts, Joe,’ Uncle Percy said firmly. ‘I must ask you to give me your most sincere assurance you won’t tell a soul. If you did, everything here - every person, every animal - would be in danger. In fact, the whole world would be in danger.’
‘What kind of dang -’ Joe said.
‘Just promise, dweebling!’ Becky snapped. ‘Of course, we do. Don’t we, Joe?’
‘Course,’ Joe said sincerely. ‘We won’t tell a soul.’
‘You give your me your word?’
Becky and Joe nodded.
Uncle Percy looked relieved. ‘Excellent,’ he smiled, stretching in his chair.
‘May we …may we come
with you on a journey?’ Becky asked nervously.
Joe’s face ignited like a firework. ‘Pleeaaase.’
‘I’m afraid not,’ Uncle Percy replied simply.
‘We’ll be good, I swear,’ Becky added.
‘I’m sure you will, but travelling can be dangerous. I wouldn’t want to put you in harms way.’
‘Then take us somewhere you know is safe,’ Becky said.
‘Can we see a T Rex?’ Joe said.
Uncle Percy chortled. ‘I wouldn’t say that corresponded with my definition of the word ‘safe’, young man.’
Joe shrugged. ‘It would be cool though. Wouldn’t it, Becks?’
Becky ignored him and looked again at Uncle Percy. ‘Seriously, you wouldn’t have to take us back far, either. Debbie Crabtree was run over by a granny on a mobility scooter in Primark last week. I’d give anything to see it.’
Uncle Percy looked quite shocked. ‘Poor Debbie.’
Becky gave a flippant wave of her hand. ‘Oh, don’t worry about her. She’s a bully and a right cow.’
Uncle Percy was about to reprimand her, when she appeared to notice this and continued. ‘And she wasn’t hurt. No, my point is, it doesn’t have to be years. It’s just the fact that we would’ve done it.’
Uncle Percy hesitated. ‘I’m sorry. I really can’t. I could never forgive myself if something happened to either of you.’
‘Nothing will happen,’ Becky said. ‘And as mum always says, ‘you can’t lead a horse to water and not expect it to take a drink.’
‘But I didn’t lead you anywhere, did I? You stumbled upon across the whole thing because of Joe’s bladder.’
‘Either way,’ Becky grinned. ‘We know about time travel now and we won’t stop badgering you until you take us on a trip. And we can be pretty annoying when we badger, can’t we, Joe?’
‘Dead annoying,’ Joe smirked. ‘We’re great badgerers.’
‘And we’re here for another four weeks,’ Becky said. ‘That’s a lot of badgering.’
‘Badger, badger, badger,’ Joe said.