Howzat!

by Brett Lee

  I stopped, frozen in terror. Suddenly the creatures were moving towards me. I gagged, my hand involuntarily covering my mouth as they swarmed around me.

  ‘Malchev!’ I cried.

  There was the sound of bat on ball again, and suddenly a chink of light appeared between the hooded creatures. I darted through, and saw Malchev striding back towards me.

  ‘I told you to stay close,’ he hissed.

  ‘Who are they?’ I asked, not daring to turn back to look.

  ‘Cricket watchers,’ he snapped. ‘That’s all you need to know.’

  I looked out to the oval. The two umpires, wearing long black gowns and white hats, were discussing something mid-pitch. ‘Are they real?’ I whispered, nodding towards them.

  ‘They are spirits. This is the timeless game. As long as this match is playing, cricket will be played in the real world.’

  The players were faint, ghost-like images, tall and dreamy. The game appeared to be playing in slow motion.

  ‘Where are we?’ I had my doubts that we were still even on planet Earth. ‘How long have they been playing?’

  ‘As long as cricket has been played,’ Malchev replied, then suddenly held up a hand. I followed his gaze.

  ‘It’s Georgie and Jay!’ I cried. Through the haze I could make out two small kids huddled together beneath an old wooden scorebox.

  ‘Shut up,’ Malchev scolded, glancing around. Some of the players and one of the umpires had turned to look at us. He squatted, turning away from the game, dragging me down with him. ‘Head down,’ he whispered. ‘You interfere with this game and you interfere with cricket.’

  We stayed there a few moments. I stole a couple of glances at the players. They were dressed like real cricketers, with heavy white jumpers and oldfashioned caps. Their whites were more a yellowycream colour. Some of them had big moustaches and long beards.

  ‘Are they players from the first Wisden?’ I asked.

  ‘No one knows. I’ve heard that each player is a mixture of the cricketing talent and the character of all the dead cricketers in the world. When the game pauses, that means another cricketer has died, and their spirit is absorbed into one of the players on the oval there.’

  It was the most Hugo Malchev had ever spoken, and I was surprised by the softness of his voice. He caught me staring at him.

  ‘I was a cricketer once and a great lover of the game,’ he said. ‘But someone tried to take that privilege away from me. When I sat dying in the Sanctum, I vowed that if I got out alive that person would pay dearly for their crime.’

  I turned back to the game. The cricketers shimmied and swayed in the mist, finally settling down as a bowler trundled in from a few paces to bowl a ball. Someone clapped his hands. The ball was delivered and pushed gently back down the wicket by the batter.

  ‘What’s the score?’ I whispered as Malchev slowly got to his feet.

  ‘You don’t want to know,’ he answered, hauling me up.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Knowing the score is like knowing the time of your death. It could be 9 for 343 in the second innings, with only one wicket to fall before the game ends.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘When this game ends, so does the game of cricket as we know it. Once I am the ultimate Cricket Lord, I will ensure that never happens.’

  ‘I can help you,’ I said desperately.

  Malchev looked at me and smiled. ‘Oh no, Toby Jones,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You are of no use to me. You have helped me enough. That’s the only reason I’m here trying to find your friends.’

  There was a shout from the oval. Terrified, I looked at the umpire. What if this was the end of the game? The umpire shook his head. The bowler smiled and walked slowly back to the top of his run.

  We raced around to the far side of the oval. ‘Georgie?’ I cried, rushing towards her.

  She looked up sleepily, nodded and then collapsed. Jay was lying next to her. There were a few spectators standing nearby, eyeing them warily.

  ‘Guys, I’m here!’ I said loudly.

  Malchev was looking about, his eyes darting from one curious onlooker to the next. ‘Someone has kept the watchers away from your friends,’ he muttered under his breath.

  I hauled Georgie to her feet. ‘C’mon, Georgie. We’re going home.’ She fell into me, all her weight against me. Staggering back, I grabbed her shoulders and held her away from me. I turned around to ask Malchev to help, but he had gone.

  The shrouded figures moved towards us. Lowering Georgie to the ground carefully, I called out softly, ‘Jay.’ He stirred briefly. The shadows moved in closer. ‘Grab my hands, quick, and hold on tight,’ I ordered.

  What wonders abound, dear boy, don’t fear

  These shimmering pages, never clear.

  The coldness pressed in close, smothering me with icy dampness. And then, suddenly, we were back inside the Sanctum. I repeated the lines. When I opened my eyes I saw Jimbo, his back to us, staring out of the window.

  ‘Jimbo!’ I gasped, suddenly feeling the warmth of the room surging through me.

  ‘Hey, Toby! You missed the best game. Hey, you guys okay?’

  ‘I’ve missed the whole game?’ I asked, surprised. Surely we’d only been gone twenty minutes or so?

  ‘I assume you left pretty well straightaway around lunchtime,’ Jimbo said. ‘Well, it’s now just after six. Rahul’s already gone home.’

  I turned to look at the others. They were pale and shivering, but smiling.

  ‘Boy, are we glad to see you, Jimbo Temple,’ Georgie said, slowly getting to her feet. ‘Where’s the nearest shower before I freeze to death?’ she asked.

  After a series of phone calls to organise for the guys to stay on later, Jimbo and I left to scrounge some food.

  By the time we got back, Georgie and Jay were looking better; still a bit frightened, but definitely less pale.

  I told them all as much of my conversation with Hugo Malchev as I could remember, as we devoured the hamburgers, toasted sandwiches, sausage rolls and cans of drink Jimbo and I had brought back.

  After an hour of eating and talking, there were still plenty of questions to answer.

  ‘Priority one is surely Jim, but where is he?’ Georgie said, leaning back against the bedhead and closing her eyes.

  I looked at my watch. We were supposed to be meeting her mum outside Gate 1 at nine o’clock. We still had forty minutes left together.

  ‘I’d like to know where that spooky swamp place was you sent us, Toby,’ Jay said.

  I glared at Jay. ‘I didn’t send you there.’

  ‘Then who did?’

  ‘As if Toby would send us to that place,’ Georgie said. ‘It must have been that Hugo Malchev guy. Then he gets the guilts and comes and rescues us.’

  ‘No, it was both of us,’ I said slowly. ‘I lost you in the travel back. Malchev was pulling me away from you. I reckon you ended up travelling in time without me and got lost. Maybe the swamp’s where you go if you’re disconnected during the travel.’

  ‘Or if you’re a dead cricketer?’ Jimbo looked at me doubtfully.

  ‘Well, that’s what Malchev said.’

  ‘Hey!’

  We all turned to look at Georgie. She’d opened her eyes again and was leaning forward. ‘There’s a Test match coming up, isn’t there? An Ashes Test match?’

  ‘Yeah. Boxing Day. What of it?’ Jay said.

  ‘Well, if this Hugo Malchev wants to keep on being the Cricket Lord, won’t he need to be in that Sanctum room at the start of the Test match? You know, to be voted in?’

  ‘But there’s no one to vote him in,’ Jimbo said. ‘They’re all dead.’

  ‘All except Jim,’ I said. ‘That’s Malchev’s plan. He’s going to convince Jim that by appointing him as the new Cricket Lord, Jim will be saving my life.’

  Jimbo interrupted the silence that followed.

  ‘That’s two Ashes Tests we’ve got to worry about.’ He took a long swig fr
om his can.

  ‘We?’ I asked.

  ‘That’s what I said. You’ve had other things on your mind, but I checked the team on the board.’ He was grinning at me.

  ‘I made it into the Australian side?’ I raced over to him.

  ‘Yeah, well, don’t kiss me or anything.’

  After some high-fives and hugs, Ally brought us back to reality.

  ‘So, Jim’s disappeared, Malchev has the scorecard and is killing off all the Cricket Lords, Phillip Smale thinks you’re dead, and you’ve just come back from some sort of cricket hell with ghosts and creepy weirdos. If it hadn’t been for the tall albino guy, you’d probably be dead now.’ Ally’s bottom lip was trembling. She stood up. ‘I’ve had enough. I’m out of here. Toby, if I see you again, it’ll be on a cricket field. Nowhere else, okay?’

  I nodded, wondering if I’d just lost a friend.

  ‘Yeah, I’m sort of with Ally on this one,’ Jay said, shaking his head. Jay would never have the guts to make the decision himself, but he was good at following. I didn’t say anything.

  ‘Georgie, you coming?’ Ally asked from the door.

  ‘Yep, hang on.’

  ‘I’ll walk you down,’ Jimbo said, and led the others out of the room.

  ‘You won’t lose me that quickly,’ Georgie said, taking my hand and smiling. We looked at each other.

  ‘What am I going to do?’ I asked.

  ‘What you always do, Toby. Come up with a stupid plan and somehow make it through.’

  We both laughed. With Georgie still holding my hand, we ran out into the corridor.

  ‘Are you with me?’ I whispered.

  She squeezed my hand. ‘I’ve always been with you. And right now I’m closer than ever. Come on!’

  16

  The Ashes

  Friday—morning

  There was a different feel around the place the next morning. All the players who hadn’t been chosen for the Australian team went home. The twelve of us who remained had a day ahead packed with meetings, training sessions, photos and quick breaks. There was a feeling of tension and expectation in the air. We were presented with our Australian uniforms and caps and a letter with all our names listed. I stared at the green and gold logo at the top of the page, then looked up and smiled. Scott Craven was glaring at me but even he couldn’t wipe the grin off my face.

  Everyone we saw during the day wished us luck for the game. Camera crews and reporters came to interview the coaches, and our captain and vicecaptain had to attend a media conference during the afternoon. There was no sign of Smale anywhere.

  I caught up with David in the library during lunch and filled him in. He was horrified to hear about my visit to the Dismal Swamp and the eternal cricket match, and curious about the secret door in the old library.

  ‘There must be some mistake,’ he laughed. ‘I know the MCG like my own backyard and I can assure you there’s no such room.’

  ‘If there were, where would it be?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, let me see. From your description, I’d say right about in the middle of the kitchen adjacent to the Members dining room,’ he laughed.

  ‘And is there a glass panel on the door to the kitchen?’

  David looked at me strangely. ‘Yes, of course. But that’s because people going out need to see if someone’s about to come in.’

  ‘Can you show me?’

  ‘Toby, you’re not supposed—’

  ‘For Jim’s sake?’

  David sighed. ‘All right. Come along.’

  ‘David, do you now who Father Time is?’

  ‘Father Time? Well, I don’t know if he’s anyone in particular.’

  ‘Well, I know there’s a weather vane on top of one of the grandstands at Lord’s and it’s in the shape of an old man with a beard leaning over a set of stumps putting a bail on…’

  David had stopped and was staring at me.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ he said, and started towards the Long Room again. But then he turned left and pushed open a door. ‘This is the Committee Room,’ he said. ‘I must tell you about the toilet.’

  ‘The toilet?’ I said, pretending not to know.

  ‘Or rather, the toilet window.’

  A bell started ringing. ‘That’s the sign for the meeting upstairs,’ I said.

  ‘Off you go,’ David said, smiling. ‘We’ll have a look for the glass-panelled door some other time.’

  By nine o’clock we were all ready for a good night’s sleep. I was to be first change bowler if we lost the toss. The pitch was a belter, and the word was that the winning captain would bat.

  When Jimbo and I got to our room, we looked out at where we’d be playing tomorrow.

  ‘Look,’ said Jimbo, pointing to the far corner of the ground. ‘It’s the English kids.’ They were playing a game of touch football.

  ‘Maybe they’ll all be too tired to play tomorrow,’ he laughed.

  ‘We wish!’

  Saturday—morning

  I woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. It was early morning, but still dark. I closed my eyes, so grateful that I’d only been dreaming. It had felt so real.

  I was back at the Dismal Swamp watching the timeless cricket match, and Jim was umpiring. After each ball he’d turn to me and point, saying, ‘You are the Cricket Lord, Toby. Out.’ Then he’d raise his finger in the air, dismissing the batsman. Every ball was the same. The game was getting closer and closer to finishing, and the look of anguish on Jim’s face as he turned to me, ball after ball, was the most frightening thing imaginable.

  After a long shower and a high-energy breakfast, the memories of last night’s dream finally began to disappear. I was ready to get stuck into what I loved more than anything—a game of cricket.

  During our warm-up I kept an eye on the people filling the seats in the Members area and the outer, hoping to see Georgie, Ally and the rest, as well as Mum and Dad. But I hadn’t recognised anyone by the time we came in from the field.

  Our captain, Sean, won the toss and elected to bat.

  Jimbo and I went into the inside net and I threw some balls at him for ten minutes. He was hitting them crisply and cleanly.

  ‘They’re coming off the bat beautifully,’ I said.

  Jimbo tossed back a couple of balls, barely acknowledging me. He had moved to another level of concentration, all his thoughts and energies focusing on his timing and footwork.

  ‘Thanks, Toby,’ he called suddenly, nodded once and headed back towards the viewing room to prepare himself.

  I joined him a few minutes later, taking a seat and watching the team get ready. I was batting at number 7. A few minutes later, as I was taking a bottle of water from the fridge, one of the umpires poked his head around the door and called, ‘Openers!’

  ‘Good luck, Jimbo!’ I called.

  ‘Heads down, guys,’ Sean said.

  Jimbo didn’t turn round.

  Scott Craven collapsed into a seat next to me, tossing a ball from hand to hand. ‘Yeah, big feller,’ he said, staring at Jimbo’s back. ‘After all, it’s only an Ashes Test match at the MCG.’

  I froze, then slowly turned to look at Scott, the water bottle still halfway to my mouth. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ he sneered.

  ‘Scott, we’re on the same cricket team for two days. Maybe we can work together just for this game?’ The words were there but my mind was elsewhere. Miles away.

  ‘Whatever.’ He got up and walked out.

  An Ashes cricket Test. At the MCG. Suddenly I was running. I looked at my watch: it was a couple of minutes before eleven. Pushing and bumping people on the escalator as I leapt two and three steps at a time, I stole a quick glance out at the ground before entering the long corridor that ran down to the box where Jimbo and I had been sleeping. The players were gathering in the middle of the ground. Was there enough time?

  I grabbed a Wisden from the shelf by the window. Looking out, I saw Jimbo t
aking his guard.

  ‘Take your time, Jimbo,’ I whispered, racing back out the door.

  There was no one in the Members dining room. Suddenly feeling stupid, I placed the Wisden up against the glass window on the door into the kitchen. A guy with a white hat stared at me. He opened the door.

  ‘You right, mate?’ he asked, wiping his hands on a tea towel.

  I charged past him into the kitchen, frantically searching for a door with a small glass window. ‘Hey!’ he called, throwing the tea towel down on the bench and heading towards me. And then I saw it. A small, square window stuck in the wall. But where was the door?

  ‘There’s a woman out there in the dining room doing crazy things,’ I said desperately. He frowned, then headed for the door.

  Surely this is it, I thought, placing the Wisden against the thick greenish glass.

  There was a grinding, crunching sound as a section of the wall moved slightly inwards. I pushed against the window. I’d opened a small trapdoor, about the size of a large-screen TV.

  Taking one last look around, I dived through, pushing the door closed behind me. I was back in the Sanctum. Immediately I noticed that there was only one stump lining the wall on the left. The smell of burning filled the otherwise stale air. I looked up quickly at the sound of voices coming from further down the room.

  Edging forwards carefully along the wall, I could soon make out what was being said.

  ‘They’ve all gone, old man.’

  My heart leaped. It was Malchev. Was he talking to Jim? They were hidden from view, just beyond where all the Wisdens glowed. I took another few tentative steps forwards. There was no glow coming from any of the Wisdens. No one was travelling.