King scowled. ‘Why does he have to stay with us, anyway? He’s always whistling.’
‘Because he needs looking after and his father is a friend of Father’s. So you’re going to have to put up with him. He shan’t bother you. Mother’s put him all the way down in the East Wing.’
‘How about you come along?’ He looked at Ralf hopefully. ‘This business with the Captain won’t take long and then we can go down to the lake?’
‘I can’t,’ Ralf said glancing nervously at Leo and the others who were watching the exchange with open-mouthed fascination.
‘Why ever not?’
‘For goodness sake, dry up Jules, you little tick,’ said Gloria. ‘He doesn’t want to go with you, damn it!’
‘You really are a beast, Beth,’ King whined. ‘And Mother would have a fit if she heard you swearing like that. What if I were to tell her, eh?’
‘If you tattle tale to Mater about me, I shall tell her exactly who it was who broke the glasshouse window. And I’ve told you,’ she said, tapping him lightly on the cheek, ‘the name’s Gloria.’ She turned to Ralf and winked, exactly as she would still do seventy-four years later. ‘Now run along, dear, or you’ll be late.’
King’s eyes flashed but he said nothing more and strode towards the exit with his nose in the air.
Ralf smiled. It was rather nice being with Gloria when she had all her marbles.
‘So, where are you chaps off to?’
‘We want to find Vitallian Ambrose – Er, Father of the Future? Fortune Teller Extraordinaire?’ Ralf said, hopefully.
‘I’ll tag along,’ said Gloria, not waiting for him to agree. ‘I’ve just been to see Dorcas Noakes.’ She waved a hand in the direction of a gypsy caravan nearby. ‘Her Tarot is a lot better than her palm reading but she wasn’t quite what I was looking for. Actually,’ she said conspiratorially, ‘this Ambrose fellow sounds like just the chap I need. I’m hoping for a bit of advice...Oh, more tents! Let’s try over there.’ She linked arms with Ralf and set off at a brisk pace. ‘Chop, chop, the rest of you, we’ll never find him if you dally like that!’
‘But –’
‘So, Ralf’s been showing you round King’s Hadow, has he?’ she asked the others as they walked. ‘Must be dull as dishwater for all of you after London, I’m sure. Where are you from?’ She was looking expectantly at Leo and after glancing quickly at his label he found his voice.
‘Southwark,’ he said, rather apologetically.
Gloria wrinkled her nose. ‘Too awful for you.’
She spent the next ten minutes questioning them about themselves and rambling on about Kent country life, hardly pausing for breath. At the end of this time they had walked round three quarters of the circus field and had begun to realise they each had memories of life in this time and many of those memories were not good.
‘Your grandfather got you out of Germany just in time, I’d say.’ said Gloria to a bewildered looking Seth, who’d just given her a lot of detailed information he had no idea he knew. ‘Raus Ihre Eltern?’
Seth shook his head. No, his parents had not got out. He frowned in puzzlement. He could understand German?
Gloria patted his arm. ‘Too bad. Father says there’ll be no stopping that jumped up little Fuhrer now, especially with the Bolshies being so spineless. I must say, though,’ she said giving Seth a squeeze round the shoulders that made his face crimson, ‘your English is very good. He’s hardly got an accent at all has he, Ralf?’
‘Er, no.’ Come to think of it, though, Seth was beginning to speak with a bit of a German accent. He hadn’t when they first arrived, Ralf was sure of it. Seth gave him a look and Ralf stared back. They needed to talk about this.
There were a number of small tents behind the Big Top but apart from a stout Corporal standing by one, they looked deserted. As they trooped on a thud of hooves made them turn. Six plumed black horses cantered out of the back of the Big Top.
‘Cor! Last time I saw horses like that was at Uncle Mick’s funeral!’ Alfie exclaimed.
Ralf was going to say something too but then he noticed the girl. A slight figure in a feathered headdress sat astride the lead horse like a pink spangled statue. Suddenly the statue came to life as the girl reigned in. She slid to the ground in one fluid movement and started to loosen the animal’s girth.
‘You’re going to have to go out there, Karl!’ she called. ‘The Muntons are lurking at the gate flogging black market nylons. We’ll have the law on us if you don’t get rid of them!’
A sinewy, hugely moustachioed man in Cossack dress emerged from the caravan. ‘I’ll go,’ he said menacingly. ‘And I’ll take Boris.’
Ralf didn’t much like the look of Karl and suspected that Boris wouldn’t be any better but just as he was steering Gloria away the girl in pink noticed them.
‘Hullo! What you doing back here?’ she asked, slipping a rope over the head of the horse and leading him to a waiting trough of water.
‘We’re looking for Ambrose, the fortune teller – ‘
‘Not here,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Sorry.’
‘Not here?’ Ralf repeated weakly.
‘How can he not be here?’ Valen cried. ‘He’s supposed to be here!’
The spangled girl blanched at Valen’s reaction. ‘Gran’s the only fortune teller with us now,’ she said quietly, scratching the horse behind the ears. ‘There was a man, a while back, I think his name was Ambrose –’
‘Where is he?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said shortly. ‘He comes and goes when it suits him. What d’you want him for, Ralf?’
‘You know me?’ Ralf tried for a friendly smile but succeeded only in looking like he had a nasty case of indigestion.
The girl pulled a face and dragged off her feathered headdress to reveal a mass of wildly curly red hair. ‘It’s me – Kat.’
‘K– Kathleen?’ Ralf stammered. ‘I know you!’
‘I haven’t changed that much since primary school, have I?’ she laughed. ‘I used to be in your class, when I could be bothered to go that is. Who are your friends?’
‘Oh, er, Leo, Valen, Seth and Alfie. Evacuees.’ The six exchanged nods. ‘And this is –’
Kathleen burst out laughing. ‘What’s the matter with you, Ralf? You know we’re camped in the Big House back field.’ She bobbed a curtsy at Gloria. ‘Hullo Miss.’
Gloria, who’d been fishing around in her bag, produced a sugar lump for the horse and stepped forward to pat him briskly and kiss his nose. ‘Good to see you back, Kat,’ she said. ‘If this Ambrose chap turns up, will you get word to me at the house?
‘I’ll come myself, Miss,’ Kat reassured her and with a nod and a wave to Ralf, she led the animal away. ‘Bye all!’
Gloria gave the horse a last pat on the rump and, straightening her blouse, turned back to Ralf. ‘Now what is he doing here?’ she asked, frowning.
The dashing army officer they’d seen earlier had ducked out of a nearby tent to join a portly looking Corporal. He glanced quickly left and right and then caught sight of Gloria. He strode over.
‘Miss Kingston-Hawke! Lovely!’ he said clicking his heels together.
‘You were supposed to be at the station ten minutes ago,’ said Gloria dryly.
The Captain slapped his free hand to his forehead and then struggled with his sling to look at his watch. ‘Am I late? Again! Ridiculous of me,’ he said grinning. He waved his good arm around. ‘I just couldn’t resist a look. Marvellous isn’t it?’
Gloria gave a wry smile. ‘Everyone. This is Captain Keen.’
‘And who’s this?’ Alfie murmured, as the red-faced soldier joined them. ‘Corporal Can’t-Wait-To-Get-Going?’
Ralf shot Alfie a look but Captain Keen seemed to think this hilarious. He actually slapped his thigh as he guffawed. ‘Rather!’ he chortled. ‘Raring to go aren’t we, Jenkins?’
‘Sir,’ the Corporal agreed with no enthusiasm.
Captain Keen thrust out his good
hand for them all to shake. He gave Leo an especially enthusiastic one that made his teeth rattle. ‘Excellent to see one of our friends from Overseas!’ he gushed.
‘He’s from Southwark,’ Valen shot back defiantly.
The Captain took a step back, astonished. ‘Well I never! Marvellous!’ he said and then turned to Gloria again.
‘Well, you’d better go now hadn’t you?’ she said.
‘Quite,’ said Captain Keen, suddenly serious. ‘Wouldn’t do to keep your brother waiting any longer.’ He took Gloria’s hand and kissed it gallantly. ‘Until next time.’ He turned to Valen, executed a dazzling smile and clicked his heels once more. ‘Come along, Jenkins.’ The two men marched off.
Gloria gave Ralf a sly look. ‘There’ll be no need to mention that in your next letter to your brother, all right?’
Ralf blinked. She was the second person who’d mentioned he had a brother and as he stared at her the penny dropped. A brother! He had a brother! For a second he forgot everything else. He couldn’t help himself. He wondered desperately what the Muntons had meant by gone. Where had this brother gone and when would he be back? Wouldn’t it be great if Ambrose held back rescuing them long enough for Ralf to meet him, or see him at the very least? There was a lot he hadn’t remembered about his life in this time and he was suddenly desperate to know everything.
Valen’s eyes followed Captain Keen and Jenkins as they left the field. ‘Wow!’
‘Astonishing isn’t he?’ said Gloria. ‘The whole thing hasn’t affected him at all. If anything he’s more cheerful now than before but I tell you, if I’d spent two nights down a denehole I’d be a gibbering wreck when they got me out, not cracking jokes like he was.’
‘Denehole?’ Alfie repeated.
‘Old chalk workings,’ said Gloria. ‘Ralf can tell you.’
‘What happened?’ Ralf asked.
Now it was Gloria’s turn to look puzzled. ‘You didn’t hear?’ she asked. ‘How odd. Well, you know the army has taken over all of the old Hodge Farm? They’ve cordoned off the whole of Chax Forest now – firing ranges and what not. Preparation for this ghastly war business. Well, Captain Keen was checking security on the edge of the wood on Wednesday and the ground gave way beneath him. That Hodge was an awful fool and never maintained the door to the chalk pit. Wood had rotted. Anyway, it took them a day to find him and half the night to gather all the equipment together to get him out. He was lucky only to break his arm.’
‘Nasty,’ said Valen.
‘Just so,’ said Gloria. ‘But not half as nasty as spending twenty-two hours alone in the dark at the bottom of a pit. His stories will do a far better job of keeping people away from Chax Forest than all those fences and signs ever could. Especially with all the talk of lights and howling going around lately.
‘Still, your Mr Winters was pleased, Ralf. They found a barrow down there. I expect you’ll be hearing all about it when you get back to school.’
‘A buriel ground? Really?’ Ralf tried to sound enthusiastic but his head was full of thoughts of family and he scanned the crowd hopefully.
Gloria didn’t notice. ‘Crashingly dull if you ask me. Anyway, if Ambrose isn’t here I’ll be off,’ she said. ‘Smashing to meet you all. I expect we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.’ Like a whirlwind she shook hands with the boys, pinched Ralf’s cheek and gave Valen a brisk hug, then rushed off leaving them all a bit stunned.
‘Vot now? I mean what – what now?’ Seth asked, twitching with embarrassment.
‘Hang around and see if Ambrose turns up?’ said Valen hopefully.
‘Maybe he’s waiting for us back at the station? That’s where we came in…’ Leo suggested.
‘Of course,’ said Seth. ‘We’ve been wasting all this time wandering round here and he’s probably been looking for us! We should have just stayed put.’
They dodged the crowds and, ignoring the stares at Leo, hurried out of the circus field, down the hedge-lined lane and back towards the station.
‘Wait!’ said Leo suddenly. ‘Look at that.’
The Munton brothers were lounging on a nearby bench but Gadd’s smile drooped when an old police sergeant appeared from round a corner and called him over.
‘Af’ernoon, Sergeant Minter,’ Gadd said in an obsequious tone. Then, as the children watched, he extracted something from his pocket and rapidly passed it behind his back to his younger brother. Covering the movement with a yawning stretch, the thin man got to his feet and ambled across the road to meet the policeman.
‘Something he doesn’t want the police to see…’ Seth whispered.
Alfie tutted. ‘Well sloppy,’ he said, shaking his head.
Ralf watched Gadd and the police sergeant talking and racked his brains for all the memories he had of the Muntons. They were supposed to be fishermen but the rumour in King’s Hadow was that they were crooks. That explained Kat’s concern, back at the circus and King’s comment about smugglers. Ralf watched Gadd’s face as he spoke to Sergeant Minter. He seemed anxious. In fact, both brothers were jumpy. Oyler appeared barely able to control the twitching in his limbs. The paper Gadd had given him was tossed quickly into the hedge and, as he joined his brother and the sergeant, his arms waved around like sails on a windmill.
As they trooped past the place where the Muntons had been sitting, Alfie seemed to stumble. Like an arrow his hand darted into the hedge, then it was back in his pocket and he was walking along again as if nothing had happened.
‘What was that about?’ Leo asked him as they went back into the station.
Alfie grinned. ‘Couldn’t stop myself,’ he said extracting a rolled up slip of paper from his pocket. ‘Just had to know.’
‘For goodness sake!’ Valen hissed. ‘What are you bothering with them for? We need to find Ambrose.’
‘No, go on, Alfie,’ said Seth. ‘Let’s see.’
They clustered round as Alfie read. ‘TR133354 DTF,’ he said, then grinned suddenly. ‘Maybe it’s his girlfriend’s phone number?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ said Valen.
‘Why? Too long?’
‘No. There’s no girl alive who’d go out with him.’
Ralf laughed at the look on her face.
‘Well whatever they’re doing, it’s probably not legal,’ said Leo.
‘You’re right,’ said Alfie, with a grim smile. He screwed up the note and thrust it into his pocket. ‘They’re dodgy as hell those two. I’d trust them about as far as I could comfortably spit a rat!’
They made their way back to the end of the platform and found their cases where they’d left them. A leathery looking old stationmaster limped along the platform towards them.
‘She’s in a right rage, she is,’ he said cheerfully. ‘But I told ‘er you’d be back.’ He seemed to find the startled looks on their faces very amusing because he started to laugh and clutched at his side. ‘I don’t know! Sometimes you kids just don’t know what’s good for you. Only been here an hour and already in trouble with Miss Brindle!’
‘Who’s Miss Brindle?’ Seth asked.
‘Oh ho!’ The stationmaster found this question even funnier. ‘You’ll find out!’ They watched in silence as he chortled again at his own joke but eventually he calmed down enough to give Ralf a friendly slap on the shoulder.
‘I’d get ‘em down the Post Office, Ralf, if I were you,’ he advised. ‘And be quick about it!’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Brindle
The argument had started the moment they left the station and continued all the way down the long avenue of oaks, holly trees and closely packed cottages that led to the centre of the village. Ralf pressed his palms to his temples, eyes flickering right and left. Everything was so familiar. He wished they’d just shut up for a minute so he could remember why.
‘What if Ambrose doesn’t come?’ Alfie asked. ‘We’ll be stuck here and it’ll be all my fault.’
‘Yes it will!’ snapped Valen.
‘He will co
me!’ said Leo.
‘Fat chance!’ exclaimed Valen. ‘How’s he supposed to find us? He had an hour glass in his tent, not a crystal ball!’
‘We’re stranded,’ said Seth, darkly. ‘We’ll be here for the rest of our lives and they haven’t even invented the computer chip yet –’
‘No Xbox?’ Alfie looked like he was about to cry. ‘But they have TV. Right? Tell me they have TV!’
‘Of course they don’t have TV, you moron!’
‘Stop it, all of you!’ Ralf yelled. ‘For the moment it looks like we’re stuck. We will get back, but it might take Ambrose a while to realise we’ve gone and figure out where we are. That’s why we’re going down to see Miss. Brindle. We have to play along with this evacuee business. If we are stuck for a bit we’ll need food and a place to sleep.’
Even Valen could see the logic in this and she nodded grudgingly as they trudged past a church where notices next to the lichgate reminded ‘Choir Practice: six o’clock. Evensong: seven o’clock.’ On the other side of the road was a billiard-table Green and whitewashed Village Hall. A poster in pride of place on a board by the door advertised ‘Double Agent!’ starring Charles Hart, ‘The Nation’s Favourite Actor’.
The road began to slope more steeply now and the sun beat down on the backs of their necks. But even the threat of sunstroke could not hurry them. They walked in a kind of daze, taking everything in. It was all so – so 1939.
There was no traffic and that wasn’t the only thing missing: no litter, no pylons, no cables, no fumes, no noise, and no fast food shops. But what shops there were! Dotted amidst a jumble of hobbit sized houses were a Butcher’s displaying pig’s trotters and hung partridge complete with feathers and glassy yellow eyes, a Baker’s with a mouth-watering array of cakes in the window and an open door venting the smell of hot bread. A rosy-cheeked boy emerged from the Newsagent’s clutching a paper bag. ‘I got gobstoppers and shoelaces,’ he said to his waiting friend. ‘Aniseed balls instead o’ lollies. They last longer.’ An old man came out of Picken’s Hardware Store with a proud smile and a gleaming new hoe. A smocked farmer, with crook and dog, crossed the road ahead of them, clicking his tongue over a flock of sheep.
The Turnarounders and the Arbuckle Rescue Page 9