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

by O. R. Simmonds

  Will stopped a sweet-looking elderly woman, one of the few who seemed to be alert to the world around her, and said, ‘Excuse me, ma’am, can I ask you something?’

  ‘Oh, well, yes I suppose so,’ the woman said, a little guarded.

  ‘What’s with the glowing lights in everyone’s hands?’

  ‘What? The phones? Always on their damned phones, these kids.’

  ‘These are mobile phones? Wow!’

  ‘Where are you from, young man?’

  ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, lady. Thanks.’

  Will walked on, feeling a little more at ease. And completely invisible.

  He felt safe from being discovered, for now at least, and turned his attention to finding Abigayle. He might not have long before they did find Cillian’s body and he wanted to be out of here before that happened.

  She’s here somewhere, she has to be.

  He headed west away from the Westminster Bridge towards Abigayle’s house in Holland Park. That was the last place he’d seen her and therefore the most logical place to start. He pressed his way through the crowds of people rushing this way and that. He bumped shoulders with one woman, who, much to his surprise, looked up from the device in her hand to throw a torrent of abuse at him.

  Will was no more than ten metres from the base of Elizabeth Tower when his heart stopped in his chest.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  May 19th, 1984, 11:58

  Detective Inspector Moss was sure he was getting closer to finally recapturing William Wells, but he also felt further than ever from understanding the facts of the case.

  After arriving at the home of Madame Izri earlier that morning, Moss had encountered a chaotic scene. The owner of the house was nowhere to be found. It was suspected that Madame Izri had been kidnapped and further investigations were underway.

  The front gates to the property were face down on the driveway. Black scorch marks were visible on the stone columns on either side. The working theory at this point was that a breaching charge had been used to disintegrate the substantial metal hinges. This detail alone didn’t seem to fit with everything he knew about the prime suspect, William Wells.

  Inside the house a man was found dead from multiple shrapnel wounds to his torso, as the result of another blast at the front doors to the house, and a close-range bullet to the head. It appeared that the killer had begun to clean up the scene, but the job hadn’t been completed. The body had been moved and the blood had only been partially wiped away.

  They were interrupted, Moss surmised.

  If this murder was committed by the same person or persons involved with the thrift-shop shooting, then they were getting sloppy. Moss was positive that the two scenes were connected and had personally recovered three shell casings from the gravel driveway. Each one was of the same calibre as the one he’d recovered from the thrift-shop murder scene.

  Despite the chaos, Moss did have one solid lead. Mapson had surprised him once more by discovering a concealed door leading to a basement-level dock. The dock had been empty, and a boat registered to Madame Izri had just been located several miles downriver, close to an equally suspicious house fire. The boat had been abandoned but contained two primary sets of fingerprints.

  The boat wasn’t the only place that fingerprints had been recovered, with multiple sets being found at the home of Madame Izri as well.

  Back at the station house, Mapson had spent the past ten minutes on the phone with the fingerprint lab and had been furiously taking notes. Without saying goodbye, he dropped the receiver in its cradle and approached Moss excitedly.

  Moss saw him coming. ‘Okay, what have you got for me, Mapson?’

  Mapson cleared his throat and flipped back to the front of his black leather-bound notepad. ‘Sir, there were positive matches on four of the seven clean sets of fingerprints found at the Izri scene. They’re still working on the three unidentified sets – no hits so far – but one of them likely belongs to Madame Izri. Of the four sets that returned matches, one set belonged to the victim, identified as Felix Tuchel. Tuchel, we now know, had worked as personal security and driver to Madame Izri for the past eleven years. Another set belonged to the housekeeper, Ms. Brockett. Ms. Brocket was the person who alerted us to the disturbance at the house and also to the sighting of William Wells. She has been taken in for further questioning.’

  ‘Good. What else?’

  ‘The third set is the clincher. They also match those found at the thrift-shop murder scene, inside the abandoned boat, as well as at Abigayle Ward’s apartment. They belong to William Wells,’ Mapson said, thoroughly enjoying himself.

  Although Wells hadn’t been formally processed at the police station, Interpol had, thankfully, provided his fingerprints after the substantial political pressure generated by the case landing in the international news spotlight.

  ‘And what about the fourth set, who do they belong to?’ Moss asked.

  Mapson hesitated a moment, then said, ‘The final set of prints was recovered from both the Izri residence crime scene and the abandoned boat. And, well –’

  ‘Spit it out, Mapson. What is it?’

  ‘Well, sir, the lab said that you’d asked that all prints recovered be cross-referenced with everything connected to the case.’

  ‘I did. And?’

  ‘They found a match. This set was a 99.8% match for prints found at the thrift-shop murder scene. They belong to someone who we have so far been unable to formally identify,’ Mapson said.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The elderly man. The victim of the shooting.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  December 18th, 2016, 08:17

  Though not a literal occurrence, Will always sensed that his heart skipped a beat whenever he saw her. Having faced the possibility that he may never see her again, the feeling was amplified a hundred-fold at that moment and his heart seemed to stop beating for a long second. Seeing her again was so overwhelming that he also forgot to breathe. When he regained his faculties, warmth rushed through his body on that chilly London morning and all seemed right with the world once again.

  He’d never been the most observant man in the world, but he could spot her face in a crowd of thousands. And could hear her voice over all others. Even more so when she spoke his name, just as she was doing now.

  Will had stopped dead in his tracks, not quite believing his eyes. Right there, rushing towards him through the crowds, shouting his name, was Abigayle. She looked panicked and he could hear the fear in her voice as she moved ever closer towards him. She was looking up to the top of Elizabeth Tower, wide-eyed. He could see the whites of her eyes and her clouded breath in the freezing air as she called his name.

  She was now no more than two metres away from him and closing. Still she looked up at the tower, oblivious to his presence. Will was so overcome with joy that it didn’t occur to him to call out to her, content to let her move ever closer. When she was in touching distance, he reached his arms out towards her tentatively, as if she might not be real and would pass right through him, as if he’d finally lost it and the whole thing was a hallucination.

  When he felt her body beneath his hands as they rested on her shoulders, his eyes began to well up. Abigayle was startled and let out the same high-pitched yelp she’d made the first time they’d met – or, rather, the first time he’d met her as he now knew.

  She turned to look at the figure who’d just laid his hands on her and it took her a moment to comprehend who she was looking at. When the realisation finally swept over her, tears streamed down her cheeks. Her lips were trembling as she attempted and failed to say Will’s name once more. The two of them smiled at each other, then began to laugh with uncontrolled ecstasy.

  In that moment she was somehow more beautiful than he’d remembered, and they embraced for what could have been an eternity. The river of people on the streets flowed around them like water rolling over a stubborn, immovable rock.

  Holding each ot
her with their eyes shut tight, they could have been anywhere, at any time. It didn’t matter a jot to either of them.

  Eventually Will whispered in her ear, ‘I can’t believe it. All this time I was looking for you, and it was you who found me.’

  Abigayle broke their embrace slightly, pulling her head away from his shoulder so that she could look him in the eyes. She placed a cold hand on Will’s cheek. She always had cold hands, but they were even more so now in the winter morning chill. She was still wearing clothes for a mild May day in 1984 and found herself unsuitably dressed for a winter’s morning, no matter the year.

  Will took his jacket off and threw it over her shoulders, holding her tight again. He could feel her shivering in his arms, though more from the adrenaline than the cold.

  ‘Oh Will, you’re alive! I was so worried about you.’

  ‘Worried about me?! You’re the one who up and vanished into thin air!’

  ‘I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.’

  ‘None of that matters now, okay?’ Will said. ‘All that matters is that we found each other.’

  She smiled at him again as a tear rolled over her perfect red cheek. He’d never seen her so vulnerable.

  ‘I know, I know,’ Abigayle said. ‘But I owe you an explanation.’

  ‘Yeah well, that can wait. We need to get back to where we belong,’ Will said, pulling up his sleeve and gently tapping the glowing, humming Timepiece strapped to his wrist.

  ‘How…?’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ Will said.

  ‘I suppose it’s a little late to ask if you know what that thing really is?’

  ‘You could say that, yeah.’

  ‘If we’re going to go back, we need to do it somewhere safe. I can’t think of anywhere safer than back home, can you?’

  ‘Yeah, makes sense. Let’s go.’

  ‘And we should hurry,’ Abigayle said. ‘There will be people who are looking for the Timepiece. I can’t explain now, but as long as it’s active, they’ll be able to find us.’

  ‘I know all about those guys. Don’t worry, I don’t think they’ll be bothering us anymore.’

  ‘Wait a sec, how long have I been gone? I’ve only been here for an hour or two.’

  ‘It’s hard to say. All the days have blurred together, but I think it’s been five or six days since you disappeared.’

  Abigayle stepped back, slipping her hands into Will’s, and looked at his soiled and tattered clothes. ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘Let’s talk about it later. Or earlier, I guess. When we get back.’

  The two of them walked in contented silence, arm in arm, westward through St. James’ Park and past Buckingham Palace. The rising sun warmed their backs and steam rose as it melted the early morning frost from the leafless trees that flanked them as they strolled along Constitution Hill. They then angled slightly northwest through Hyde Park and the gardens of Kensington Palace Gardens until they reached Holland Park.

  They’d been walking for a little over an hour by the time they turned onto Elsham Road. Will looked around the eerily familiar surroundings and felt compelled to break the silence by saying, ‘Isn’t it odd how so much of this future seems to have changed and yet so much looks just like it used to?’

  Abigayle smiled at this. ‘Yes, I know what you mean. I guess this isn’t exactly what either of us thought the future would look like.’

  ‘Yeah, I mean, where are all the flying cars? This is nothing like Blade Runner! The cars look like spaceships, I guess, but as far as I can tell, they’re still driving on asphalt and have wheels wrapped in rubber tyres. And they’re still running on gas. I thought they’d all be nuclear-powered by now for sure.’

  ‘London was always a busy place, but it feels so much more crowded here now,’ Abigayle added.

  ‘You know, I was worried that when I finally got to the future, I’d stand out and people would see that I wasn’t meant to be here. But it looks like ’80s fashion is still in fashion and nobody has even looked in my direction. It’s weird. I’m not sure I like this place so much.’

  ‘Well, you’re going to like it even less when you find out who the next US president is going to be.’

  ‘It can’t be any crazier than having a former B-movie actor in the White House.’

  Abigayle rolled her lips together playfully and said, ‘Can’t it?’

  The two of them stopped outside Abigayle’s apartment building. To Will’s astonishment, gone were the distinctive ebony bricks. Instead, the building had been painted an uninspiring pastel yellow. It still stood out from the sand-coloured brick of the neighbouring houses but seemed to have lost some of its charm.

  Abigayle could see his disappointment. ‘I know. You hate pastel colours. At least we can make sure this never happens.’

  The two of them climbed the steps and approached the door, which was left ajar. Sensing Will’s trepidation at the open door, Abigayle said, ‘I couldn’t find a key when I left the house earlier, so I left it open, just in case I needed to get back in.’

  ‘Does anybody live here?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so, but they haven’t been collecting their post: there’s a pile of letters behind the door. Whoever lives here, they’ve been gone for a few days. Probably away for Christmas.’

  Will stopped at the top of the steps and said, ‘People still use paper to send information? I was sure everything would be computerised by now.’

  The two of them stepped in through the door and closed it behind them.

  The living room was just as it had appeared when Abigayle had activated the Timepiece five days earlier. It had smooth white walls, solid oak floors and minimalist metal-and-glass furnishings. And now that he thought about it, no Christmas tree in sight. Will walked into the room and sat down on an uncomfortable-looking white leather sofa. He looked up at Abigayle, who frowned slightly, and said, ‘Before we go back, there’s something I need to know.’

  Abigayle stepped into the room and sat down on a matching white leather armless armchair opposite Will. She said, ‘Okay, what is it?’

  ‘Cillian Gander. How do you know him?’

  Abigayle lowered her head and rested her elbows on her knees. Hands clasped together loosely, she fidgeted with a ring on her index finger, something Will knew she did when she was nervous. Then she nodded, looked him in the eyes and said, ‘I work for him. Or used to, at least.’

  The words hung in the air like a foul smell. Will sat back in his seat, his arms dropping to his sides. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it didn’t come as a complete surprise. Eventually he said, ‘How could you, Abigayle? Didn’t you know what kind of man he was?’

  ‘Yes, I did, but I can explain.’

  ‘You knew he was a murderer. You knew he was obsessed with this thing on my wrist and that he was willing to do anything it took to get it back. And yet you still worked for him?’

  Abigayle shifted forwards on her chair, attempting to close the space that now existed between them. ‘Will, you have to believe me, it was all part of the plan.’

  ‘What plan?’

  ‘My plan. And Frenz’s. You met Frenz. He gave you the Timepiece, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, I know Frenz. How is it that you know him?’

  ‘You know that I’ve always loved horology. My father repaired and serviced watches, and I was always fascinated by them. One day my dad took me to Frenz’s shop, and I fell in love with the place. Turns out Frenz and my father had been good friends for years, but he’d never really mentioned his name to the rest of the family. He said he was an incredibly private man. After that, the two of us grew close and I kept coming back again and again. I spent many afternoons in that place, especially after my dad died. And the shop was always empty, it was like he hardly ever had customers, so most of the time it was just the two of us. Talking and examining his collection of timepieces.’

  Will interjected and asked, ‘When was this?’

  ‘This would have been si
x or seven years ago, before we’d met. Like I said, I spent a lot of time there over the years, but one day I went to the shop and it was closed. It was never closed. As I stood there wondering what to do, Frenz leaned out of a first-floor window and told me he would be down shortly. He took me to Norland Square Garden and showed me the broken lock on one of the gates.’

  ‘That’s how you found out about that?’ Will said.

  ‘Yes, although I’m not sure how he knew about it because he didn’t live nearby.’ Will averted his gaze and said nothing. Abigayle continued, ‘Anyway, we walked through the garden and sat down on that bench under the big willow tree. He told me that he was putting his life in my hands with what he was about to say. He told me that he was a time traveller. He told me about the Timepiece and The Office of Time Dissemination.’

  ‘The Time Travel Agency, you mean?’ Will interjected.

  ‘He never liked that name,’ she said, smiling. ‘He told me about Cillian Gander and Avy Stammers and the disappearance of Nestor Ordell. He told me how he stole the Timepiece back in ’67 and had escaped to 1940 with it. The whole story.’

  ‘And you believed him?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t! I thought my good friend was losing his mind. I didn’t go back to the shop for weeks after that. Then one day I received a package through the door with a strange clock icon on the front. It was a book called the Timekeeper’s Guidebook. It looked authentic enough and had all this detailed information about the Timepiece, exactly as Frenz had told me. There was also a photograph of Frenz with Avy and Nestor from the ’60s. It was clearly him, but there was no way he’d have looked that young in the ’60s given his age now. I was still sceptical, but I went back to the shop. After a long time, Frenz convinced me that it was real and one day he showed it to me, along with his ID card from the agency.’