‘This is like, soooo not normal,’ Alfie grinned, wiping his sweaty forehead and stubbornly replacing his tam o’ shanter.
Ralf could not agree. To him, it all felt shockingly normal. The salt tang of the sea smelled more like home than any of the dusty rooms at Janus Gate. The village was more familiar to him, more real somehow, than anywhere he’d ever been.
There, at the edge of the harbour was The Crown Inn… and the landlord’s name… the landlord’s name was Duke – Frank Duke. And there was the fish shop, Hatcher’s Catch. And just here on the left was the Post Office. The memories came in a jumble and he fought to clear his head.
‘I know this place!’ he whispered shakily. ‘I know it.’
Alfie stared at him. ‘Of course you do, you numpty. You live here!’
‘Eh?’
Valen gave him a scathing glance. ‘Everyone knows you! And you’ve no nametag or suitcase,’ she said shifting hers from one arm to the other.
‘I’ve said I’ll carry your case – ‘
‘I’m perfectly capable of carrying my own case!’ Valen snapped. ‘In 1939 or anytime.’
‘Oh!’ Seth stopped walking so suddenly that Alfie walked into the back of him. His face lost colour by degrees and his eyes were wide with horror.
‘Are you going to tell us what’s the matter, then?’ Leo snapped at him. ‘Or do we have to guess?’
‘Wolf’s 1939 self lives here!’
‘So?’
‘So, what if we meet him? There can’t be two Ralf’s running around this village can there? Your 1939 self will go mad if he sees you! What are we doing wandering round so casually like this? What if our 1939 selves really are evacuees and we get to the Post Office in a minute to find them all waiting for us?’ Seth put his case down and sat on it heavily.
‘That’s bad, is it?’ said Alfie.
‘Shut up! Let me think!’ The others watched Seth, head in hands and eyes screwed shut. They could almost hear the cogs whirring. ‘It’s a Grandfather Paradox…Novikov…Yes, but what about Temporal Modification Negation Theory?’
‘What’s he saying?’ Alfie whispered.
‘Shhh!’
Seth sighed, gnawed at his bitten fingernails, clutched at his hair. ‘Godel? No, no, no…Stick with the physics…Quantum Mechanics. Yes…M-theory. A Brane?’
Valen dropped her own case and sat down. Seth opened his eyes and watched her tugging at her plaits in irritation. His hand went to his own hair, his clothes and the rubber buttons on his mackintosh. His eyes cleared. ‘You can’t step in to the same river twice.’
‘Come again?’
Seth laughed, a short nervous sound. ‘It’s just like Ambrose said. You step into a river, right? And then step out on to the bank. Then you step in the river again but it’s not the same river.’
‘Of course it’s the same river,’ said Valen. ‘You haven’t moved to a different place, have you?’
‘No!’ said Seth excitedly. ‘It’s not the same river! It might have the same name, but it’s completely different from the river you stepped into seconds before. The water round your feet is different water. The particles of sand and bits of weed, the water molecules are different. The fish. Everything! Everything has moved on with the current.’
Alfie stood on his toes to whisper in Ralf’s ear. ‘Why’s he chatting about rivers?’
‘Listen!’
‘It’s the hair, you see!’ said Seth as if this explained everything.
‘Hair?’
‘The hair. The clothes. All of it! If we’d simply travelled back in time we’d either be in our normal clothes or naked.’
‘Gross!’ said Valen wrinkling her nose in Alfie’s direction.
‘But we’re not. We’re in the same river. It’s just a bit different from how it was two hours ago.’
‘Seth, you’re not really making a lot of sense to the rest of us non-geniuses, mate. Do you think you can explain what you’re on about?’ Ralf asked struggling to keep his voice calm.
‘It’s simple,’ said Seth. ‘Actually no, it’s not simple, it’s tremendously complicated but the upshot is this: we’re in 1939 clothes and have 1939 haircuts and we’re starting to get back the memories of our 1939 selves. We’re not going to meet our previous selves because somehow we’ve replaced them!’
‘So where are our 1939 selves?’
‘Either being very confused in our time or somewhere else.’
‘Somewhere else?’
‘There are endless possibilities. But they’re not here.’
‘Are you sure?’ Leo asked.
‘Fairly sure.’
It sounded logical enough but Ralf didn’t really care. He would have come in to the village even if the others had refused, because he simply had to see it. He had to have more of this strange feeling. This feeling of … what was it? Excitement? Happiness? The emotion was so long forgotten he hadn’t a name for it. All he knew was that if what he’d been told was true, if he did have a brother in this life, maybe he had other family members too? And if he did, he would see them in the village.
Seth frowned. ‘If I’m wrong we’ll walk through that door in a minute and come face to face with our 1939 incarnations which would be horrendously bad and might jeopardise the entire space time continuum and life on this planet as we know it.’ He shrugged at the other’s appalled expressions. ‘I’m pretty sure I’m right, though.’
Alfie wiped his forehead again. ‘I’d kill for an ice cold coke.’
The church clock was striking eleven as Ralf pushed open the Post Office door. Somewhere above his head a bell tinkled, clashing discordantly with the hour chimes outside. Ralf took a deep breath and, followed by the others, stepped inside. Their eyes darted everywhere for a sight of their previous selves, but the room was empty except for the strong smell of paper, glue, coffee and dog. On the right was the Post Office proper and on the left was an archway leading to what looked like a small teashop. Ralf fumbled with his memory and his neck prickled. Yes, that was it, The King’s Hadow Café, which at the moment held four tables with checked cloths but no people.
There was a movement in the corner of the Post Office section and Ralf spotted the source of at least one of the smells. A mangy looking mongrel with protruding ribs and sad, watery eyes lay in a corner of the room. It raised its head as they came in but slumped down again with a whining sigh a second later. Unthinkingly, Ralf stepped forward to pat it but, before he got close, a sharp voice said: ‘Stay away from her!’
The woman who’d spoken emerged from a back room and stood behind the counter, glaring at them all with narrow eyes. Ralf recognised her ginger hair, ample frame and florid face immediately and was rocked by the intense feeling of dislike that came with the memory.
‘So you’ve decided to turn up, have you!’ she barked. ‘Very nice of you, I’m sure!’ She shuffled papers and stamped documents until the counter shook. ‘I’ve wasted an hour of my morning traipsing round the village looking for these children, Ralf Osborne. I suppose you thought it would be funny to take them gallivanting off around the circus while working people have to chase after you?’ She glared at him with her hands on a set of very generous hips until Ralf realised he was expected to reply.
‘Er – no. I’m very sor –’
‘Spare me the apologies! You’re too big for your boots by far and I, for one, am sick of you. You four!’ Brindle snapped, making the others jump. ‘Pick up those cases!’ She raised a section of the counter top and, by turning sideways and breathing in, eventually managed to squeeze through the gap to stand before them.
They stood to attention, still and nervous, while she checked each of their nametags against her list. She pursed her thin lips when she came to Valen, scowled at Alfie, sniffed at Seth and would not meet Leo’s eyes at all.
‘DOWN!’ she roared suddenly and the five ducked instinctively until they realised she was talking to the dog again. She curled her lip at them.
‘Come with me!
’
Timidly they followed her through the archway into the café. In her belted dungarees and boots she looked a lot like a sack tied in the middle and Alfie seemed almost mesmerised by her swaying behind. ‘Line your cases against the wall and sit there,’ she directed, pointing to a table in the darkest corner of the room. ‘And you, Osborne. You’ll be making amends for this morning’s fun and games in a minute, so don’t even think about leaving.’
The thought that she might send him away had simply not occurred to Ralf. Where would he go? He was just thinking about this when he noticed Alfie had his hand up.
‘What do you want, boy? Be quick about it!’ Brindle snapped.
‘Please Miss, could we get a drink? Its desert conditions out there, man and we done enuff walking –’
‘I don’t need to hear your life story!’ Brindle snarled back at him. ‘You!’ She jabbed a finger at Valen. ‘Go into the kitchen and bring glasses and a jug of water.’ Now she turned her finger on Alfie. ‘This boy is to remain in his seat. He is not to go anywhere near the kitchen. I am going to collect your billeting families who, I might add, were here two hours ago. I will be back shortly.’ She glared at them through too pale eyelashes. ‘And I know exactly how many oranges there are in the bowl!’ With a satisfied nod at their consternation she slapped her thigh and roared ‘Come!’ to the dog, which limped after her out of the front door.
‘Glad we caught her in a good mood,’ said Leo when she’d gone.
Even Valen had to laugh at that, disgruntled as she was at having to wait on the others. She chuckled as she went into the kitchen and returned a minute later with the much-needed water and a bowl of apples.
‘What?’ she said, when she saw Ralf’s raised eyebrows. ‘She never said anything about the apples!’
‘Listen,’ said Ralf, when they’d finished gulping. ‘While she’s gone we ought to agree on some kind of plan.’
‘Wolf’s right,’ said Seth. ‘She’s going to come back in a minute with the people we’ll be staying with. We’re probably going to be split up. Some of us might even be on our own.’
All of them looked at Alfie who was polishing off his second apple, core and all. He blanched. ‘What you eyeballing me for? I’m not bothered. I’ve been in and out of care since I was five.’
‘Oh– er– right then, well,’ Ralf wriggled in his seat. ‘Valen?’
She laughed. ‘No worries. I’m on my sixth foster family and believe me, there’s no one alive who’ll be worse than foster father number three. It was ‘cos of him I took up karate.’
‘Don’t any of you have parents?’ Ralf asked, shocked.
‘In our time?’ Seth shook his head. ‘I live with my grandfather.’
Leo took a moment to answer. He’d been examining his clothes when, with an expression of wonder and delight, his hand slid into one of his pockets and he pulled out a battered pack of playing cards. He started shuffling them. ‘Adopted,’ he said, his eyes back on the others. ‘That’s some coincidence!’
‘It’s not a coincidence, man!’ Alfie cried. ‘You heard Ambrose. We’re cursed! It’s that Scathferox dude. He’s killed all our families and now we’re stuck back here and he’s gonna get us.’
‘It is not Scathferox!’ Seth hissed. ‘He’s dead. Ambrose explained all that. He warned us that time was behaving strangely and we should be on our guard.’
‘Yeah,’ said Valen. ‘And if you’d listened, instead of sticking your hand into the first suspicious hole you came across, we wouldn’t be sat here!’
Leo patted Alfie on the back reassuringly. ‘It was an accident,’ he said. ‘And the whole dead parents thing is just a coincidence.’
Ralf wasn’t so sure. ‘If you think that’s a coincidence, you’re not going to believe this!’
He told them about Gloria. He watched their jaws drop, waited until Alfie had stopped choking and Valen had finished thumping him on the back, then told them about King.
‘Gloria seems to be the same person. King must be one of those Echo people that Ambrose was talking about. In our time he goes to my school.’ said Ralf.
Leo pulled a face. ‘Lucky you.’
‘Two people from our own time are also in this one?’ Valen repeated. ‘It’s unreal!’
‘Three, I think,’ Ralf said grimacing. ‘I’m pretty sure that King’s friend Tank is Julian’s stupid sidekick, George.’
Leo looked at Seth, who’d gone awfully quiet. ‘What do you think?’
Seth’s face was pale. ‘I’m more concerned about –’ But before he could go on, the tinny bell sounded again and the door whipped open.
Brindle charged into the café, eyed the apple cores, scowled but said nothing. Behind her were a rosy faced old farmer and his even rosier looking wife, a couple dressed in identical white coats and rubber aprons and a dark haired man with an oversized moustache.
Ralf’s eyebrows shot upwards. It was the man he’d said ‘Hello’ to, outside the antique’s shop in his own time. ‘Another one!’ he whispered to the others and stood as the moustachioed man stepped forward to pat him on the back.
‘I’ve collated all the material from the Barrow site,’ the man said to Ralf, excitedly. ‘It’s most interesting. We’ll have a good old look at it when we get back to school. Ah! And this must be young Seth!’ He offered his hand for Seth to shake. ‘Ich heisse, Winters. Wie geht es dir?’
‘Ganz gut, danke,’ If Seth had been surprised at being able to understand Gloria’s German earlier, now his eyes were round in wonder. He could, it transpired, speak it fluently too. ‘Schon, dich kennenzulernen,’ he said, his accent perfect.
‘Nice to meet you too!’ Winters beamed. ‘Right Seth, if you’ll get your case we’ll go straight off. Miss Brindle’s given me a rather detailed letter from your grandfather and I’ll need to get directly on to the Headmaster to make arrangements for you. If all goes well you’ll be joining Ralf at St. Crispin’s next week.’
‘Not school, man, please!’ Alfie muttered, but none of the adults seemed to hear him.
Dragging his feet and looking worriedly back over his shoulder, Seth followed Winters out of the Post Office. Next it was Valen’s turn.
‘A nice strong girl,’ the man in the apron said ominously. ‘We’ll have her.’
Valen eyed them nervously. She looked like she was about to make a break for it but the woman gave her husband a withering look and came forward to pat her on the arm. ‘Don’t take no notice of him, love,’ she said with a smile. ‘Opens his mouth without engaging his brain most of the time! He just means you might like to help us out in the shop. We’re the Hatchers. You passed our place on the way down.’
Valen’s look of trepidation was quickly replaced by a broad smile. ‘Oh! The fishmongers! Yes, I can help.’ She looked back at Ralf and raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m used to fish. I live above a chippy.’
This information appeared most satisfactory to the Hatchers who hustled Valen and her suitcase out of the door without further ado.
The weather beaten couple were next, but the handover looked like it was not going to be quite so straightforward. Brindle drew them aside and, drawing a letter from the pocket of her dungarees, spoke to them quietly in a corner with an even more severe than usual glint in her eye.
When they returned to face the three remaining boys they looked worried and the man had taken off his flat cap to scratch his head, thoughtfully.
Miss Brindle smiled nastily and pointed at Alfie. ‘Mr and Mrs Sedley. Alfredo Lightfoot.’
‘ALFREDO?!’ Leo mouthed at the younger boy, his face cracking into a broad grin. Alfie rolled his eyes once but then faced the old man who appeared to be gearing himself up to speak.
‘You know what Miss Brindle just said to us, likely?’ said Mr Sedley.
Alfie shot Brindle a hate filled glance and then turned back to look Mr Sedley in the eye. ‘I do,’ he said.
‘Bain’t be none o’ that while you’re with us. Agreed?’
&nbs
p; Alfie’s little face broke into a huge smile. ‘None,’ he said. ‘I swear.’
Mrs Sedley stopped wringing her hands and twinkled at her husband. ‘He can’t say fairer’n that can he Jack?’
‘I don’t suppose he can,’ Mr Sedley said, as he replaced his cap. He shook Alfie’s hand and picked up his case giving him a wink and a pat on the back.
‘There but he’s a tiddy one,’ said Mrs Sedley. ‘You’ll have eggs and good fresh milk in you the minute we get back to the farm.’
Alfie left the Post Office with a backward grin and Mrs Sedley’s arm wrapped round his shoulder. Mr Sedley looked down at him. ‘Nice hat,’ he winked. Alfie looked like the Cheshire Cat as he stepped into the sunshine.
With only Ralf and Leo left, the atmosphere in the little café became even frostier and it soon became clear why.
‘Your antics this morning have meant that we’ve missed the Arbuckles,’ said Brindle. ‘So you’ll have to look after this one for the rest of the day,’ she declared huffily. ‘Come with me.’
Arbuckle. Now that was a name Ralf definitely knew. Gloria had had a photo of them too. The two smiling young fishermen! But he suddenly knew more than that. In this life, the Arbuckle boys and their father, Old Bill, were his next-door neighbours and they were good people. Relief washed over him. The memories were coming back clearly now and he was pleased that Leo, at least, would be close by. He glanced over to give him a reassuring nod but Leo was too absorbed in glowering at Brindle. Ralf didn’t blame him. What was so difficult for her about using Leo’s name?
The boys were silent as they followed Brindle from the Post Office, each lost in his own very different thoughts. Ralf was so absorbed that he didn’t realise they were going to his house until they were practically there. They walked along the harbour, along a lane and then down a narrow strip of cobbles to a rolling peninsular. A line of terraced cottages, sign posted ‘Fox Earths’, looked out across an open stretch of water and the harbour beyond. They stopped at the second to last house.
The Turnarounders and the Arbuckle Rescue Page 10