Changing Yesterday

by Sean McMullen

  ‘Thank you, Mother,’ said Daniel. But the real adventure will be in Paris.

  ‘And don’t even think about going to France and visiting Paris,’ said Emily, as if she were reading his mind.

  It took a month before Luker the Lurker finally managed to contact someone in authority who could safely be told about Barry’s secret. The key word was safely. Luker could easily contact a large number of people in authority, but all of them were more likely to have him flung into jail than come along for a discreet meeting with Barry the Bag about a stolen weapon of quite fantastic power.

  Finally he was introduced to a former soldier who was down on his luck and making ends meet by selling rifles stolen from local rifle clubs. This man introduced him to an officer with the local militias who was buying the rifles at a reduced rate, and from here Luker slowly made his way into the establishment until he met with someone who had letters after his name. Luker left his office with a man who was introduced only as Sir Bernard.

  ‘I am told that you want to meet someone who has the ear of the king,’ said Bernard as they walked along Collins Street.

  ‘That’s right, I got a matter of high importance,’ said Luker, who was very much in awe of the knight. ‘I’m in delicate circumstances, you know? I’m a shady cove, I’ll grant you that, but I’m still a patriot and I love king and crown. I’ll not sell them out for anything.’

  The man smiled and nodded. This reassured Luker.

  ‘A patriotic criminal,’ he said. ‘In wartime, we call you heroes when you go against the enemy. Tell me, why did you not volunteer to fight the Boers in Africa?’

  ‘Got a tropical disease. Can’t go anywhere hot or it flares up.’

  ‘Oh? How unfortunate. What disease is that?’

  ‘Malaria,’ guessed Luker.

  ‘You poor man. Well then, how do you wish to support king and country from here?’

  ‘I’ve been hearing talk from the local coves. Talk about a load of dynamite being stolen from a railway wagon in Melbourne on the day parliament opened, then a few days later another railway wagon full of dynamite blows up in Albury. I asks myself, is this something to do with enemies of the king?’

  Bernard leaned slightly closer to Luker as they walked, and paid him very close attention.

  ‘Go on,’ he prompted softly.

  ‘Well now, a while back this ratty little push boy comes up to me with a story about stealing a secret weapon. I thought it was just talk, but I happen to know that he was mixed up with the coves who stole that load of dynamite.’

  ‘The load that did not blow up?’

  ‘That one, yes.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, that’s all. He wants to meet someone from the king before he’ll hand the weapon over. He wants two thousand quid for it.’

  ‘What does this weapon do?’

  ‘It sort of cuts through stuff like a red-hot knife. I saw it slice an iron pole in half.’

  ‘Obviously some sort of trick, but tell me, how do you know that your associate was involved with the theft of the dynamite?’

  ‘Oh, I got a few contacts who need things moved along for a consideration, no names named.’

  ‘So you took part in the theft?’

  ‘Not as such. I was just contacted about moving a load for profit. Like I said, no names, no questions. Now what about this weapon, then?’

  ‘I believe I may be able to put you in contact with someone who would give you a hearing.’

  After enduring a month of waiting, Barry was growing so frantic that he was not far from giving up on Luker the Lurker and writing to the king directly. After all, there was only one king of England, so if he wrote The King and England on an envelope it was sure to arrive. Finally Luker announced that a meeting had been arranged. Barry was provided with an address, a time and a password, and told not to be late.

  The address turned out to be a club for very rich gentlemen in the centre of Melbourne. Although thoroughly intimidated by the building and the uniformed doorman, Barry boldly walked up, stopped and stood his ground.

  ‘I’m Barry Porter, an’ I were told I should come ’ere an’ say lion.’

  ‘Barry Porter, lion,’ replied the doorman smoothly. ‘You are expected, Master Porter. Do enter. An official will escort you to the correct room.’

  Once inside, Barry looked about the club in awe. He had not been aware that such opulence existed. There were huge paintings on the walls, and even the wallpaper was decorated with gilt leaf. A chandelier a yard across hung from the ceiling, and the carpet was so thick that his shoes actually sank into it. The reception area featured suits of armour, crystal cabinets full of silver trophies, and the biggest armchairs that he had ever seen. Barry had just settled down in one of the armchairs and was kicking his legs in the air when a man in a suit arrived and held up a little white card.

  ‘Master Barry Porter?’ he called.

  ‘Reckon that’s me,’ said Barry, clutching his bag and standing up.

  ‘Come this way.’

  Barry followed the man up a staircase of polished wood that was such a deep shade of red that he thought at first it had been painted. He was shown into a room furnished with yet more huge armchairs, and here he found Luker the Lurker waiting. With him was a broad-shouldered, middle-aged man in an embroidered waistcoat who he introduced as Sir Bernard, and a woman whose name was Lady Conrad. She was dressed in clothes that were close to the height of fashion. Barry was good at picking fashionably dressed people; they were the best to steal from. A fishnet veil hung from her hat, obscuring her features, but she looked to be about forty. A waiter brought in coffee on a tray with four cups on saucers. Barry suspected that the silver spoons were real silver, but he had the sense not to pocket one.

  ‘Er, so ya know the king?’ Barry asked Bernard once the waiter had left.

  ‘Lady Conrad knows the king,’ replied Bernard. ‘I am her personal assistant.’

  ‘Yer a knight, yet ya gotta work?’ exclaimed Barry.

  ‘Even the king works for the good of the empire, so why not the rest of us?’ said Bernard.

  ‘I am told that you have important information,’ said Lady Conrad. ‘I am very anxious to hear what you have to say.’

  ‘Could we ’ave Luker out of ’ere first?’ asked Barry, correctly suspecting that Luker was trying to take over the sale of the weapon.

  ‘Now just a minute,’ began Luker.

  ‘Leave,’ said Lady Conrad.

  The authority in Lady Conrad’s voice as she spoke that single word told Barry that nobody who knew what was good for him argued with her. Luker left.

  Lady Conrad turned back to Barry. ‘Continue.’

  ‘Yeah, well, this is gonna sound like a load of horsey, but I met a couple of coves back in April wot come from a time wot hasn’t happened yet and brung a weapon like ya wouldn’t believe,’ Barry began.

  There was a long and uneasy pause during which Barry panicked, lost his nerve, and forgot what he was going to say next.

  ‘So these two people came from the future?’ prompted Lady Conrad.

  ‘Er, yeah.’

  ‘And they brought a weapon from the future?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Rather like Sir Bernard taking a Maxim machine gun back from today to the Napoleonic Wars.’

  ‘Er, wot?’

  ‘A machine gun, Barry,’ said Bernard. ‘A Maxim gun can fire two hundred times more bullets in a minute than a soldier with an old-fashioned musket. One man with a Maxim would be as effective as two hundred soldiers during the Napoleonic Wars. His bullets would also travel over a mile, so he could fire at the enemy for almost half an hour before they marched close enough to shoot at him. He could defeat a whole army if he had enough bullets. Is that what your weapon from the future can do?’

  ‘Um, yeah, except that it can cut through iron from three miles off.’

  ‘You mean it can shoot bullets through iron from three miles away?’

  ‘E
r, yeah. That is, no. I mean it sort of melts stuff.’

  ‘With hot bullets?’

  ‘I’m not sure. It just sorta melts through stuff. Yeah.’

  ‘This sounds like a lie to me, Barry,’ said Lady Conrad in a very unsettling tone of voice.

  ‘No, no, I can prove it. I got it.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘I got it hidden. Like, if yer Bernard cove had a weapon like that, he’d hide it, too.’

  Lady Conrad and Bernard conferred quietly for a moment.

  ‘On another matter, Barry, there was a wagon load of dynamite stolen from the Jolimont railway yards in May. Mr Luker said you were involved. A very fat man named Lurker the Worker was involved too, and a railway clerk named Wreder.’

  Now Barry had a dilemma. If he denied all knowledge of this theft, he would lose credit for stopping the bombing of parliament. Luker the Lurker, Lurker the Worker and Wreder the Writer would get the credit, the rewards, and the medals.

  ‘Er, yeah, we was helpin’ the two coves from the future,’ said Barry, deciding that trying to tell them that Liore was a girl warrior was stretching belief just a little too much. ‘These two coves were Liore and Fox. They come back in time to stop parlyment bein’ bombed by coves called Lionhearts. Them Lionhearts are British, like us, except that they’re tryin’ to start us fightin’ the Germans so the empire will stay together.’

  Lady Conrad and Bernard exchanged glances again.

  ‘So two soldiers from the future came back through time to stop the bombing of the first Australian parliament by British agents who were going to blame it on Germany?’ said Lady Conrad with a condescending smile.

  ‘Yeah, ya got it.’

  ‘Where is their time machine?’

  ‘It was a sort of time cannon. It shoots people back through time but stays where it is, in the future.’

  ‘So no time machine?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What about the time travellers?’

  ‘Well, after they saved parlyment, Fox ran off to Paris with an artist floozy to learn to paint.’

  Lady Conrad rubbed her temples. Bernard patted her on the shoulder.

  ‘Go on,’ she said without looking up.

  ‘Liore’s at the university, learnin’ to be a doctor.

  ’ ‘So a warrior from the future is learning to be a doctor at the University of Melbourne?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Just how did you people save parliament?’

  ‘Well, Liore an’ Fox knew what would happen, ’cause they was from the future. They didn’t know where the bombs were, though, but I found out, so I stole them with a little help from Wreder the Writer, Lurker the Worker, and you already know about Luker the Lurker.’

  ‘And where is the dynamite?’

  ‘We sold it.’

  ‘Again, no evidence.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And I suppose you will claim to have destroyed the wagon in Albury, too.’

  ‘Yeah – er, not quite. That was Liore, with the future weapon gun thing.’

  ‘I heard that it was one of the guards, smoking.’

  ‘Nah, it was Liore with her weapon. Then she burned a hostel where some evydence about Germans killin’ the prince had been planted.’

  ‘I heard it was flaming wreckage from the explosion that started the fire.’

  ‘Look, lady, I know this all sounds like a load of cocky cacky, but I can prove it with the weapon.’

  ‘When?’ asked Lady Conrad, looking as if she now needed something a lot stronger than a cup of coffee.

  ‘Three days,’ said Barry desperately. ‘Three days. You bring two fifty quid an’ I bring the weapon.’

  ‘Luker said it was two thousand pounds.’

  ‘Did he? Jeez, that Luker, ya just can’t trust nobody. I said two hundred an’ fifty quid. No more, ’cause I’m doin’ it for the king.’

  Finally Lady Conrad smiled. Had Barry not been sitting down, he would have collapsed with relief. At last, someone who knew the king believed him.

  ‘Barry, here are my terms,’ said Lady Conrad. ‘You bring your weapon and all your fellow conspirators to North Brighton Station in three days, and I shall be there with Bernard and your money. If the other men confirm what you say, and if the weapon works, you get what you asked for, a medal, and a meeting with the king. If not, Bernard will kick you from one end of the station platform to the other, then back again.’

  ‘It’s true, I swear!’ babbled Barry.

  ‘What time?’

  ‘Three in the afternoon.’

  ‘I shall be there, and I shall expect convincing proof.’

  Railway Pier was where people left for overseas, and for many it was their last view of Melbourne. Daniel was about to leave, but he did not care whether he ever saw the place again. Even six weeks after he had been rejected by Muriel, his pain was still intense.

  He was driven to the pier in the family carriage, accompanied by his father, mother and sister. The ship carried a thousand passengers, and several times as many had come to see them off. Thus the pier was more crowded than a football match, and everyone was either waving, shouting or crying. The groom whistled for a porter as they arrived, and Daniel’s luggage was carried away to the ship.

  ‘Now remember, you are going to a very exclusive English school,’ said Mr Lang as the family escorted him onto the pier through the press of the crowd. ‘Study hard and forget all that silly girl business.’

  The advice was sensible, but memories of the only love of Daniel’s life were still clear and agonising in his mind. In his luggage were also two strips of Muriel’s petticoat and some nude sketches that he used to renew his memories of her.

  ‘She was a worthless baggage anyway,’ said Emily. ‘She was an artist, what do you expect? Artists run away with other artists. That’s what they do.’

  Daniel made no attempt to argue or fight back. Very soon his family would be on the pier, waving as the Andromeda pulled away, with him aboard. He could then dream of holding hands with Muriel without anyone bursting in and telling him to pull himself together. His only regret was that Barry and Liore had not come to see him off. On the other hand, Daniel had not been particularly good company for anyone in the weeks just past, so it was only to be expected.

  The Lang family finally reached the gangway of the Andromeda, which was easily the largest ship docked at the pier. To Daniel’s relief, his sister was so thoroughly awestruck by the ship’s sheer size that she stopped ordering him about.

  ‘It’s so big, how can it possibly move?’ she exclaimed as she gazed upwards.

  ‘Nonsense, the bigger the ship the faster it travels,’ scoffed Mr Lang. ‘Everyone knows that.’

  Acutely embarrassed, Emily was immediately silent. The Langs climbed the gangway, found a steward, and were shown to Daniel’s cabin. His mother snatched the key from the bed and dangled it before Daniel.

  ‘This is the key to your cabin, now put it in your pocket and don’t lose it. Always lock the door whenever you leave, you never know what sorts of riff-raff will be on the ship.’

  ‘Mother, he’s a first-class passenger, the riff-raff are not allowed in this area,’ said Emily.

  ‘Well one of them might climb up here on a rope or something. You know how good sailors are with ropes.’

  ‘This is a gentleman’s cabin, so always act like a gentleman,’ said his father. ‘Be sure to play some deck games, but only the right sorts of games. Deck cricket to establish yourself with the other young men, and quoits so that you can mingle with young ladies from good families.’

  ‘Do not volunteer for the amateur theatrical shows, only vulgar people do that,’ said his mother. ‘Remember, if there is a fancy dress ball, I have packed a mask and a cardboard dagger, so you can wear your Harlingford academic gown and go as a spy. That will look very dashing.’

  Daniel’s cabin was on the port side, and Mr Lang pointed out that he would have a view of Brighton Beach as the ship sailed sout
h down Port Phillip Bay. Emily looked out through his porthole.

  ‘So big,’ she cried, still trying to comprehend the size of the ship. ‘The people down on the pier are like little dolls.’

  ‘Ten thousand tons gross weight,’ said Mr Lang, who had read a pamphlet about the ship. ‘All driven by triple expansion steam engines and twin screw propellers. Her service speed is between eighteen and twenty knots, so Dan will be in England in only six weeks.’

  Daniel’s luggage began to arrive at the cabin, and he did not even bother to protest as his mother and sister began unpacking his trunks and putting his clothes away. The strips of Muriel’s petticoat and the sketches of her were safely hidden in the lining of the suitcase, thanks to some advice on the art of smuggling from Barry the Bag. His father now took him out to the promenade deck, where he gave him a small camera and told him to photograph significant things on the voyage, such as the Suez Canal and the Rock of Gibraltar.

  ‘You must remember to get photographs of people, too. Make friends with some young man and have him snap you in the company of important people. Photos like that can have a great bearing on how others view you in later life.’

  To Daniel’s relief the ship’s horn sounded a warning for visitors to leave. He saw his family to the gangway.

  ‘Don’t forget to send letters from Ceylon and Egypt,’ said Emily.

  ‘Always lock your cabin,’ said his mother.

  ‘Remember that place on the promenade deck I showed you,’ said his father. ‘We will be looking for you there.’

  Once they were out of sight Daniel turned - to be confronted by Liore. As always, she was dressed as a boy. Daniel blinked, unsure if his imagination had spilled over into the real world.

  ‘Me, it is,’ she said.

  ‘I – I thought you might not come along,’ stammered Daniel. ‘Barry said you are at the university a lot.’ ‘

  My friend, you are. Am late, I apologise.’ ‘

  That’s quite all right. Just to see you at all is better than a whole morning of Emily.’

  Liore looked down at the deck for a moment. She is unused to compliments, thought Daniel. Before Muriel, was, too. Strange how a few soft words can shake up invincible people, just as surely as weaklings like me.