The Timepiece and the Girl Who Went Astray: A thrilling new time travel adventure

by O. R. Simmonds

  The room was large and rectangular and aside from the two tall doors at either end and the two windows on the southern wall, on every inch of the walls there hung large paintings. Each one featured the same two people: a man and a small, smiling girl.

  Will and Frenz traced their eyes around the room, taking in all thirteen paintings. Will turned back to Madame Izri and said, ‘I don’t get it. These are all paintings of you and your father, right?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Then how was this any kind of sanctuary?’

  ‘Every single one of these paintings is a pentimento. Do you know what that is?’

  ‘Sure,’ Will said. ‘They’re paintings that have been altered, right?’

  ‘Very good, William. These paintings used to feature my mother. When my father began sending me here, I would spend all of my time sitting in front of each of these, looking at my mother and me together. She insisted that we have at least two family portraits done every year, one in spring and one in autumn. I would study each of them, sometimes for an hour at a time, remembering our time together. In some I am no more than a babe in arms, but I have a memory attached to most of them. She was my mother and these paintings were all I had left of her. At first my father didn’t know that by sending me here he was doing me an unintentional kindness. But it didn’t last. One day he came into this study with whatever woman was auditioning for a slice of his wealth. I was sitting in front of a painting, my mind buried deep in a memory of my mother. He must have spoken to me, but I didn’t hear him because the next thing I knew he was grabbing my arm and shouting at me not to ignore him. He felt embarrassed in front of his lover. When she looked up at the painting of him and this unattractive woman, he was mortified and stormed out of the room. The following day I was sent back to France to live with an aunt and uncle. And there I lived for the next ten years. My father had to keep up the pretence that I would replace him upon his death and knew it would draw too much unwanted attention from others in the agency should he have prevented this. So, my tutoring continued and it was there, when I turned thirteen, that I was officially made aware of the Timepiece and the agency. Even though I had overheard my father beat this information from my mother, I was too young and too terrified to really understand at the time.

  ‘When I turned eighteen, I returned to this house to continue my induction into the agency. I had missed the paintings awfully while I was away, but when I returned, I found them as you see them now. My father, as means of punishment, had my mother painted out of each and every one of them. I was devastated. When I saw him for the first time in ten years, he seemed to have aged by more than my ten-year absence would suggest. His clothing appeared more ragged and frayed and his hair was long and dishevelled. I found out later that he’d been foolish with my mother’s wealth, making numerous poor investments. As a result, most of the women who had leeched onto him over the years had lost interest and he’d been drinking excessively for some time. He’d become a pitiful man and even more cold and vile towards me, but I resolved to bury the hatred I had for him until the timing was right.

  ‘Many months passed, and I was at the agency every day, so I began to show an interest in his work. Since he wasn’t able to share the existence of the Timepiece with the few women who still bought into his lies, he revelled in being able to speak with me about it. He loved to boast of the power he had, and he did so, extensively. And I listened to him. Without him realising it, he was grooming me to replace him. I feigned admiration for him and his lofty station, and I was able to cultivate something close to respect between us. So much so that on my twenty-first birthday I asked a gift of him. Something that only a man of his stature and power could provide: I asked to see my mother once more.

  ‘At first he refused, but it’s surprising how far a little flattery and reverse psychology will go,’ she said, narrowing her eyes and smiling a wickedly playful smile at Will and Frenz. ‘One morning I suggested that I should perhaps approach one of the other Section Heads for this gift if he didn’t have the authority to procure it, and later that evening he returned home with a Mimic Watch. He had called in a favour and smuggled one out of Central Station. He said that later in the week an assignment was returning some fifteen years into the past and that he would allow me to use the Mimic Watch. He explained that I would need to be far from the house, on the outskirts of the property. I agreed but told him that I was scared and asked if a brave man like himself would accompany me there and await my return. Thrilled to be thought of as brave, he agreed. And so, on the prescribed day we set out and found a spot to the rear of the property, shielded from view of the house. I put the Mimic Watch on my wrist and waited for the signal that the Timepiece had been activated. I moved my hand to my wrist and activated the watch, but as I did so, I grabbed my father by the arm and we both travelled fifteen years into the past. He was furious, but I could see that it was really fear behind his eyes and his wavering words. Not quite so brave after all. I gave him one last look, right in the eyes to make sure he knew I had done this to him. I released my grip on his hand and deactivated the Mimic Watch.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  May 19th, 1984, 07:18

  With neither realising, both Will and Frenz had gradually edged forwards on their seats as Madame Izri told her story. Their teas were untouched and now cold. Will edged forwards farther still, now barely in contact with the firm sofa, and said, ‘So you just left him there in the past? Isn’t that a little dangerous? Couldn’t he have wandered into the house or something?’

  A satisfied smirk crept across her face. ‘Why of course, I was counting on that.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘The moment I returned from France and laid eyes on my father again after all those years, it triggered a memory I had of him from long ago. I realised that I had seen the old man my father had become once before, charging through the grounds towards our house when I was a child. I also remembered my father as a younger man, standing on the balcony with a rifle in his hand.’

  Will flung himself back in his seat with both hands on his head and said, ‘Holy shit! He shot himself! The homeless guy your father shot was your father, only older, right?’

  Madame Izri nodded slowly in return.

  Frenz looked across at Madame Izri with a newfound level of respect, as well as increased wariness, knowing what she was capable of. He always knew that she was an intelligent, resourceful woman and now he knew why. He then said, ‘You want to use the Timepiece to see your mother again?’

  Madame Izri looked over at him, shaking her head. ‘No, as much as I would love to, I would never be able to get close enough to her. After my father’s apparent disappearance, I took over at the agency as Section Head. I was the youngest there has ever been at only twenty-one. The official story of my father’s disappearance is that he stole a Mimic Watch to show off to his latest girlfriend and that the watch was lost with him. He is now listed as one of the many agents who have gone astray. But I kept that Mimic Watch and whenever an assignment was taking place at an appropriate period of time, I would use it to come back here, to this room, where I could see these paintings transformed to their original form. I would sit in front of each, as I had done as a child, and I would remember my mother. It’s one of the few things that brought me happiness and is something I’ve been unable to do for seventeen years thanks to you, Frenz. If you would allow me to see these paintings one last time, then the key is yours.’

  Frenz glanced across to Will and said, ‘This is your decision, William. If we do this, we not only endanger our own lives, but we also endanger any chance of bringing Abigayle back.’

  Will pondered for a moment, then said, ‘If we don’t do this, we’re done anyway. We need that key.’

  Frenz said in a hushed tone, ‘We could negotiate. We could offer to do this after we have Abigayle safely returned.’

  Will leaned in towards Frenz. ‘No, we owe this to her, Frenz. If we fail, she might never get this chance
again. It’s the right thing to do. It’s what Abigayle would do.’ He turned to Madame Izri and said, ‘We have an agreement, madame. Where to?’

  Madame Izri grinned a wide, toothy grin, then said, ‘September 7th, 1928. Just after noon, if you please. The light in this room was always at its best at that time.’

  ‘How much time will we have before the Timekeepers track us here, Frenz?’ Will asked.

  ‘It’s hard to say. Perhaps twenty minutes, maybe less. Then another twenty for them to get here.’

  ‘Okay, well, let’s do this. No time like the present. You ready, Madame Izri?’

  Madame Izri stood from her seat briskly, completely reinvigorated. She strode purposefully towards the doors at the end of the room, opened them and screamed into the hallway, ‘Ms. Brockett, you are dismissed. Please take the rest of the day off.’ She turned back to Will and said, ‘Okay, I’m ready. We were away in France on this day, so the house will be empty, do not worry.’

  ‘I will wait here and keep an eye out for unwelcome visitors,’ Frenz said.

  Madame Izri nodded and said to Will, ‘The furniture has changed position in this room, so you would be best to stand clear of it, lest you lose a leg. The floor in front of the paintings was always kept clear, so please take a position in front of one of your choice.’

  Will did as instructed. He raised his wrist and carefully entered the date, checking it a second and third time. He turned to Frenz and said, ‘Back in thirty minutes, okay?’

  ‘Better make it twenty-five. When you return, stand in the same place as you are now, just in case,’ Frenz said.

  Just as Will prepared to slide the Timepiece’s crown around the expertly engineered G-shaped track before activating it, a thought struck him. He snapped his head towards Madame Izri, who was standing too far away for him to hold hands with, as he had done with Frenz up until now. ‘Madame Izri, you need to –’

  Will’s words were halted when Madame Izri calmly slid back her sleeve, revealing a pristine Mimic Watch strapped to her wrist.

  With Will’s question answered before he had asked it, he activated the Timepiece once more. He was beginning to get the hang of time travel and found the idea of seeing the 1920s with his own eyes incredibly thrilling. He had travelled to London for the history of the city, but he never expected to experience history in quite this way.

  September 7th, 1928, 12:15

  The now-familiar pulse of warmth ran through his body and a sphere rippled outwards, transforming the room. The previously run-down study was now gleaming and clean and full of light. The painting in front of him transformed before his very eyes. In it, a stoic-looking man stood with one arm on the shoulder of a young girl of four or five. They had been standing unusually close to a large tree and the composition had bothered Will. As the ripple of energy expanded outwards, the tall painting was enveloped, and the oddly placed tree disappeared completely from the canvas, revealing a young woman, in a red dress, grinning the same toothy grin Will had seen on Madame Izri’s face moments ago. Will had to agree that she wasn’t a traditionally attractive woman, but that smile and the happiness that was radiating through the canvas was a more than worthy substitute.

  Will looked to his left and saw Madame Izri standing in front of another painting. She reached out a hand, stroking the canvas tenderly. She then fell to her knees. Tears of joy mixed with tears of grief streamed down her face as she looked up at the image of the mother, who had left such a hole in her life. Will allowed her a moment’s privacy and walked out of the room, down the polished wooden staircase and out the now perfectly aligned front door.

  He walked across the bright white gravel driveway, which seemed to glow under the midday sun. To his right, something metallic glistened and shot a hot flash of light in his direction. There, parked squarely alongside the west wing of the house, was a large, elegant-looking car. It was a pale yellow Rolls-Royce 1928 Phantom I, Sport Phaeton with a dual cowl and adorned with chrome polished to a mirror shine. It was a convertible with a cream soft-top, which was down, folded neatly and resting above the rear seats. A spare, white-walled wheel was sitting securely on each of the chrome wheel arches, which flowed along the car like a crest of a wave, frozen in time. He wasn’t an expert on cars, but he was sure that this was nearly identical to the car Robert Redford had driven in The Great Gatsby.

  Will ran his hand along the curves of the car gently. He checked over his shoulder for onlookers before gripping the door handle. The car was unlocked, and the door swung open silently. He slipped in behind the wheel, sliding over the smooth, white leather interior. He took the large steering wheel in his hand. Looking down, his face was reflected in the varnished wooden dashboard. He barely recognised the person staring back at him. He hadn’t shaved or washed for days and hadn’t had a decent meal since Avy’s house. He slouched back in the seat, which was far more comfortable than the sofas inside, and he closed his eyes, resting them for just a moment.

  Will hadn’t realised quite how exhausted he was, and he quickly drifted off into a deep sleep. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep when the sudden and violent crash in the distance jolted him awake. He opened his eyes, immediately alert when he heard another loud bang. He looked up into the sky and saw a small turboprop plane flying low overhead. The plane popped and spluttered through the air, but somehow avoided dropping out of the sky. Relieved, he made his way back into the house and up to the study, where he found Madame Izri.

  She was a woman transformed. Her skin seemed to have more colour and her eyes were alight. She smiled warmly at Will as he walked back into the room.

  She was about to open her mouth to say something when another loud bang rang out. The sound was different this time, however, and much closer. It sounded like a minor explosion followed by a metallic clang. Perhaps the aircraft he’d seen had crashed after all. He ran from the study, down the stairs and burst back out onto the driveway. It was quiet for a spell as he looked in the direction of the main gates that they’d passed through an hour earlier, when yet another explosion broke the silence and rattled through the ground. As the sound echoed and reverberated through the air, he saw the gates swing inwards and two men armed with shotguns striding through. It was Tyke and Wigmore. They began jogging down the driveway towards the house, some one-hundred metres away. Behind them, walking at a slow, even pace, was the pale, hunched figure of Cillian Gander.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  September 7th, 1928, 12:47

  Unlike his previous encounters with Tyke and Wigmore, Will didn’t hesitate; he sprinted back into the house, sending gravel spraying in all directions. He burst through the front door and looked around furtively for something to bar it. It took a moment for him to remember that there was no use barring the door in this time period as it would no longer be blocked once they returned to 1984. Admonishing himself, he then rushed upstairs and into the study. There he found Madame Izri on her feet and waiting for him, ‘I assume the disturbance outside is our cue to depart?’ she said, unable to mask the bitter disappointment in her voice.

  ‘Yeah, I’m afraid so. Cillian and his goons will be knocking at the door any minute now.’

  She quickly steeled herself, lifting her head, straightening her back, and said, ‘Thank you for this, William, I will never forget it.’

  Without another word they both took up their original places in front of the paintings, where Will deactivated the Timepiece. The two of them instantaneously reappeared in the room they had just left.

  May 19th, 1984, 07:55

  Frenz had been keeping watch at the front of the house for the moment Will deactivated the Timepiece. The instant he did, the three figures of Tyke, Wigmore and Cillian materialised in front of him without warning. He quickly turned and sprinted across the gravel driveway, spraying stones in his wake just as Will had done moments, or rather decades, earlier. He closed the large wooden doors behind him, bolting them. To the right of the door was a sturdy oak sideboard, which h
e just about managed to move on his own. He pushed it against the door, wedging it under the large brass door handle, preventing it from turning. He then raced upstairs and burst into the study, where he saw Madame Izri and Will waiting for him.

  ‘What the hell happened?’ Frenz bellowed. ‘You were supposed to return five minutes ago!’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry, I must have dozed off for a second there,’ Will said sheepishly.

  ‘Well, your little nap might get us killed. They’re already here,’ Frenz said sternly. Will had never seen him so indignant.

  ‘How did they find us so fast? I thought we had at least another ten or fifteen minutes.’

  ‘Someone must have tipped them off. There’s no way they would’ve made it here so quickly if they didn’t already know where we were.’ At that moment there was another explosion and a loud crash of splintered wood as the front doors gave way.

  ‘Madame Izri, is there another way out of here?’ Will asked.

  ‘Yes, the boatyard in the basement. Follow me.’

  The three of them hurried through the study, into the west wing of the house. They kept low as they skirted across the landing that overlooked the entrance hall of the property. Frenz and Madame Izri ducked into an adjoining hallway that led away from the front of the house just as a volley of shots rang out from the lower floors. Will crawled low towards the banisters and looked down at the scene below. One of the front doors lay flat on the marble floor, the other hung precariously from the splintered doorframe. The sideboard Frenz had moved to bar the door was split in two as it had taken the brunt of the explosion. On the floor, he could see Madame Izri’s driver, who only a few hours earlier had pulled a gun on him. He was lying prone, trying to stem the flow of blood seeping from a sizeable piece of wood shrapnel protruding from his stomach. A thin, frail-looking man in a tweed jacket walked through the open doorway – it was Cillian Gander. Seeing the man this close gave Will the chills. Cillian approached the driver, crouched down and began speaking to him. The driver spat at the ground in response. Cillian stood calmly, slipped his hand into his jacket and in one smooth motion pulled a gun and shot the man in the head. A fine spray of blood and brain matter streaked across the floor. He seemed to take no more trouble in shooting a man dead than wiping sweat from his brow. He replaced the gun in its holster, then began to look up. Will rolled away from the banisters, barely escaping being seen.