The Time Hunters and the Box of Eternity (The Time Hunters Saga Book 2)

by carl ashmore

  Becky nodded. ‘I can see that, but what did she mean about not living in the past?’

  Will’s expression darkened. ‘I did not hear that. And if I did, it would not be for me to comment.’ He picked up her suitcase. ‘Come … let us settle you in your chambers. These events will be all but forgotten in a short while.’

  But Becky didn’t want to forget anything. She wanted answers. And as she trailed Joe and Will up the left hand flight of stairs, a stubborn silence amplifying the howling wind that had picked up outside, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed her return to Bowen Hall wasn’t quite as magical as she’d hoped.

  *

  Minutes later, Becky stared out of her bedroom window at the angry sky, thinking about Uncle Percy and their eventful arrival at Bowen Hall; the feeling that something was deeply wrong clawed at her like a headache. She flung her suitcase on the four-poster bed and began to unpack, when her eyes were drawn to a folded newspaper on the writing table. Looking closely, she saw the banner The Travelling Times and below the masthead, a six-word headline that sent her head spinning. Dashing over, she picked it up and flattened it out on the bed.

  THE SEARCH FOR JOHN MELLOR CONTINUES …

  May I, in my position as Institute president, and on behalf of all members of the administration committee, thank the hundreds of you who continue to search so diligently for TT114 John Mellor. I have never known such a collective effort! Every single member of the organisation has submitted an exploration record looking for John and, to my knowledge, eighty two timelines and three hundred sectors have been eliminated from our investigations. Granted, we have had little success so far, but stay optimistic (as John always was) because your next trip could be the one that matters. However, the committee has asked me to remind you to stay vigilant. Emerson Drake (and please excuse my language) may be a snivelling bloody toe-rag, but he is a devious, deceitful, and highly dangerous snivelling bloody toe-rag. So if you see or hear of anything suspicious on your travels then please contact TT98, Percy Halifax or Tracker one, Charlie Millport, and they will take the necessary measures to investigate further.

  I would, however, like to draw your attention to some recent notable but amusing failures in our search for John. TT104 Keith Pickleton was convinced that John occupied a six by four cell at Alcatraz in 1936 under the alias, Freddy ‘The Toad’ Wiggoni. TT170, Mustapha Khan believed him to be imprisoned in Sitting Bull’s camp in South Dakota in 1869, under the assumed Native American name, Sunkmanitu Tanka Ob Waci. And my personal favourite was TT145 Phyllis Crawberry’s belief he was being held captive by the German monarch, King Charles the Fat in 885AD. Sadly, upon investigation, all of these theories were found to be utter twaddle. Still, one day we shall succeed and a good friend, devoted father and husband, and committed time traveller will be with us once more.

  Again, I thank every single one of you for your efforts.

  Timing out,

  TT86 Charles Butterby.

  Oh, and can I remind you that Annabel Mullins, our much loved daytime receptionist, has organised a Bring and Buy Sale at St Barnabus Church, Fudgington on the 11th December and would appreciate donations of prizes for the tombola (nothing pilfered, stolen, swiped or nicked from history, please.)

  Becky read the article again and again. After the fourth time, she folded up the newspaper carefully and held it to her chest. Her hands were trembling. Of course, Uncle Percy had mentioned that other travellers were searching for her dad, but seeing it in black and white, knowing that so many were involved made it all the more real. Surely, it had to be a matter of time before they had a breakthrough.

  Then the door burst open and Joe rushed in, panting, his face flushed cherry-red. ‘Have you seen this?’ He held up an identical copy of The Travelling Times.

  ‘It’s great, isn’t it?’ Becky said, and before she knew it, had raced into Joe’s arms and was giving him the strongest hug she could.

  Joe looked like he’d swallowed a wasp. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Hugging you.’

  ‘Well … don’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s disturbing.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We don’t do that. You hit me, you don’t hug me.’

  ‘But I don’t want to hit you. I’m happy.’

  ‘I thought hitting me made you happy.’

  ‘It does. But I’m not in a hitting mood.’

  ‘I prefer it when you are...’ But it was clear from Joe’s tone he didn’t mean it.

  Suddenly, a peculiar tapping sound followed by a loud squawk came from the corridor. She released Joe and glanced at the doorway. A stumpy grey bird with a very fat, green beak, a plume of snow-white feathers to its rear, and short, stubby wings, waddled into the room.

  Becky’s eyes nearly popped from their sockets.

  Joe moved to her right, puzzled. ‘What type of bird is that?’

  And for once, Becky knew. She’d been fascinated by them ever since her primary school teacher, Mrs Ebrey, had shown her pictures in a tattered history book. ‘It’s – it’s a dodo …’

  - Chapter Five -

  A Rose By Any Other Name

  ‘It certainly is, Becky.’ Uncle Percy appeared at the door. ‘Her name’s Deirdre.’ He looked drained, but an unmistakable spark had returned to his eyes.

  Utterly fearless, Deirdre brushed herself against Becky’s shin.

  Becky crouched down and ran her fingers over Deirdre’s curved beak. An enraptured smile crossed her lips. ‘Where’s she from?’

  ‘Mauritius … Fifteenth Century. I was there a month ago investigating a lead on your father. A predator must have attacked her. If I’d left her she would’ve died, so I brought her back and nursed her back to health. She’s made quite a home for herself down by the lake. I don’t think she’d let me take her back to her own time zone now if I wanted to.’

  Deirdre gave a tiny squawk as if to say she agreed.

  Joe waved the newspaper. ‘And thanks for this.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Becky said. ‘It’s brilliant. Really brilliant.’

  ‘I just wanted you to know that the travelling community is doing all it can to find John. And we won’t stop looking either. We will find him.’

  ‘We know.’

  Uncle Percy drew a deep breath. ‘Now, let me apologise for the earlier scenes with Maria. I’m sure you’re intrigued to know what it’s all about, but for once, would you do me the favour of not pursuing it. I think we should just put it behind us and have a wonderful week.’

  His words were so heartfelt Becky had no intention of challenging them. ‘Sure,’ she said, as Joe nodded his agreement.

  Uncle Percy smiled. ‘Thank you. Now why don’t we go downstairs and begin our holiday? Tonight, if you’ll indulge me, I thought we’d have a Victorian evening…’ And with a wide grin, he picked up Deirdre and left the room.

  The moment he disappeared from sight, Becky glanced at Joe and whispered, ‘Victorian evening? L-A-M-E …’

  *

  To her surprise, Becky found she enjoyed the night enormously. Will ensured the parlour’s stove blazed with kindling, while swapping stories with Jacob about their former lives; Maria appeared in fine spirits, her round face flushed from the swift consumption of two goblets of cowslip wine; and Uncle Percy seemed in a particularly mischievous mood, dressing Milly and Sabian in matching Deerstalker hats, and tying a lace bonnet to Deirdre’s head, as she toddled around the parlour feeling thoroughly self-important. When it came time for supper, Maria laid on Lemon cake, imperial gingerbread and soft crullers, washed down with ginger ale punch.

  It was halfway through her second helping of gingerbread, when Becky turned to Uncle Percy and said, ‘Is it okay if I take Peggy for a walk round the grounds tomorrow?’

  Maria giggled. ‘That is if her fancy fellow will allow it.’ She tottered precariously on her chair, before belching. ‘Verzeihung! You will be pardoning me, please.’ Amid the laughter, Becky and Joe swappe
d confused glances.

  ‘Fancy fellow?’ Becky asked.

  ‘I didn’t tell you, did I?’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Apparently, love is in the air at the Hall. Peggy appears to have found herself a boyfriend.’

  Becky looked shocked. ‘Who?’

  ‘I’ll give you a clue: four legs, thick, armour-plated hide, three horns, and a somewhat clumsy demeanor.’

  ‘Gump?’ Becky said.

  ‘Indeed.’ Uncle Percy grinned. ‘Our little Triceratops turns out to be quite the lothario. He sleeps next to her stable each night; they go out walking together during the day. He even leaves a mountain of grass outside her stable door for when she wakes up. It’s quite sweet really.’

  Becky broke into laughter. ‘Really?’

  ‘Go Gumpy!’ Joe said, clapping his hands.

  ‘Well,’ Becky said, feigning concern. ‘As I am officially her keeper then I might have to have a little word with him.’

  Uncle Percy smiled. ‘I do believe his intentions are entirely honourable.’

  ‘Let’s hope they don’t have kids,’ Joe quipped. ‘Just imagine a white Triceratops with wings...’

  *

  It was midnight when Becky flopped into bed. The wind had dropped leaving the Hall and grounds eerily quiet. For a moment, she just lay there thinking about the strange events of the day and then the scene changed. She was standing beside her mother on a twisting lane. Rain pelted down from a muddy sky, slashing her face. She pulled her scarf tight around her neck and looked up to see her mother smiling kindly back. Then, in the distance, two silvery eyes appeared in the distance; horrifying, wicked eyes. A spine-chilling roar shattered the night. The monster had found them.

  She seized her mother’s hand and ran, her heart hammering in her chest. But the monster was gaining; its poisonous breath filled her lungs. And, with a triumphant howl, the monster was upon them.

  Becky woke up with a start. The clock read 3 am. For the next twenty minutes, she tried to get back to sleep, but with no luck. Fully awake now, she decided to check her Facebook messages but had left her phone downstairs so she switched on her bedside lamp, threw on her dressing gown and left the room.

  Becky’s footsteps clacked against the Entrance Hall’s marbled floor as she entered the passageway that led to the kitchen. To her surprise, she saw an orange glow coming from the parlour and heard the crackle of the stove still burning away. Entering the parlour, she was surprised to see Uncle Percy staring blankly at the fire, a thick patchwork quilt stretched over his legs, a half-filled glass of whiskey in one hand and a photograph in the other.

  ‘Uncle Percy?’

  Uncle Percy jolted with a start. Looking flustered, he quickly slid the photograph beneath the quilt. ‘B-Becky? What are you doing up?’

  ‘I left my phone down here and -’ But she couldn’t finish the sentence. Staring into her uncle’s eyes, she saw they were bloodshot.

  She knew at once he’d been crying.

  *

  Becky’s head reeled. She didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t meant to interrupt this most personal of moments and felt like dashing back to her room, pretending she hadn’t seen a thing. At the same time, she wanted to comfort him, to discover why he was upset, to do what she knew he would do if the roles were reversed.

  Uncle Percy wiped his eyes. ‘Deary me. I must look quite a state.’

  Becky pulled a chair over and sat down. ‘What’s wrong, Uncle Percy … is it to do with that photograph you’re trying to hide?’

  Uncle Percy gave a sober chuckle, pulled the photograph into the light and passed it over to Becky. ‘You don’t miss a trick, do you?’

  Becky looked down to see an attractive young woman wearing a mauve dress that met her ankles, her long auburn hair curly and wild; her blue eyes shone like sapphires. ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Her name’s Stephanie Calloway.’

  ‘She’s beautiful.’

  ‘She was. I’m afraid she passed away a long time ago.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Uncle Percy drained his glass. ‘Yes, it was very sad.’ He stared at the picture. ‘She was one of those extraordinary people in that everything she touched was the better for her touching it.’

  ‘How did you know her?’ Becky asked.

  ‘We were students at Oxford together. She, along with Bernard Preston and Emerson Drake, were part of the time travelling society I told you about at Mammoth Gorge.’

  Becky cast her mind back. ‘The Otters.’

  ‘That’s right. Anyway, although I didn’t realise it at the time, she had something of a crush on me. Of course, I was too preoccupied with travelling to even notice.’ He gave a mirthless chuckle. ‘And besides, I always thought she would go for someone like Emerson. He was so confident, so self-assured, and believe it or not, so very handsome in those days. He also seemed quite keen on her.’ His tone grew bitter. ‘I find it difficult to talk about the two of them in the same sentence. Steffers was truly good, perfect in every way. And Emerson … well, it turns out he was the antithesis of everything she stood for, everything she believed in. Evil personified…’

  ‘Anyway, after university we began to spend an increasing amount of time together. She would stay at Bowen Hall, sometimes for weeks on end. It was then I realised I was falling in love with her. And, incredibly, she felt the same way. I’d never been so happy. Anyway, I decided to ask her to marry me. Can you guess where I popped the question?’

  Becky smiled. ‘Mammoth Gorge?’

  ‘Correct. Anyway, I asked and she said no. She then proceeded to tell me about her illness. I was confused, angry. The doctors told her she only had a matter of months to live.’ His voice cracked now. ‘I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. After that, I went off the rails. I even tried to do something I said I’d never do…’

  ‘And what was that?’

  Uncle Percy expression changed. Becky couldn’t tell if it was one of regret or shame. ‘I tried to build a time machine to take me into the future,’ he said. ‘I devoted all my time, my energies to it. I became obsessed. I thought if I could learn their medical advancements, I could cure Stephanie. I didn’t care about the potentially disastrous consequences of my actions. Anyway, I came close to achieving it, but just as I was about to make what I believe was the final breakthrough, I stopped my experiments and destroyed my research.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She asked me to,’ Uncle Percy said simply. ‘She said that if it was her time, then so be it. She had accepted death.’ He gave a tremulous sigh. ‘Therefore, reluctantly, I accepted it, too. I still wanted to marry her but she told me to wait, that one day I would find someone else and that if there was to be a wedding then that should be my first.’

  Becky fought back the tears. ‘I am so sorry.’

  ‘That’s quite all right, my dear. It’s important you know why Maria reacted in the way she did. You see, yesterday was the anniversary of Stephanie’s death. And each year, on that day, I return to Mammoth Gorge to spend time with her. I think that Maria thought perhaps I wouldn’t come back …’

  Silence descended over the room.

  Slowly, Becky leaned over and cupped her uncle’s face in her hands. ‘And I know you always will.’ Then she kissed him softly on the cheek, stood up and silently walked away.

  She never did get her phone.

  - Ch apter 6 -

  The Wild Wild Westbrook

  Becky tossed and turned for hours before falling into a restless sleep. It was nearly nine when an ear-splitting squawk sounded in her ear, followed by a familiar giggle. She shot up to see Joe fleeing the scene, a disgruntled dodo in his arms. Growling, she crawled out of bed, and jumped into the coldest shower she could bear. Ten minutes later, she entered the kitchen to see Uncle Percy, Jacob, Joe and Will sat at the kitchen table.

  ‘Good morning,’ Uncle Percy said.

  ‘Morning,’ Becky croaked back.

  Maria stepped away from the oven, waving a sizzling plate of
sausages in her gloved hands. ‘You be sitting down, please, Miss Becky. Maria wishes to feed you until you’re as large as a walrus.’

  Becky pulled out a chair, deliberately whacking Joe’s shin with the chair leg as revenge for his earlier prank.

  ‘Oww,’ Joe cried out.

  ‘Sorry,’ Becky mumbled.

  From then on, breakfast turned out to be quite pleasant. Uncle Percy, much to Becky’s relief, acted like the previous night’s conversation never happened, as he explained something called Heisenberg’s ‘Uncertainty Principle’ to Will, who appeared so bored he looked ready to eat his own face. Maria had never looked happier, barking orders at Jacob and skipping round the kitchen, replenishing empty plates with food time and time again. Milly and Sabian tucked hungrily into a towering stack of pork chops and Joe ate so eagerly that Becky thought he might finish his food and start eating the plates.

  ‘So are we going on a trip today, Uncle Percy?’ Joe asked, a half-eaten sausage dangling from his mouth.

  ‘I’m afraid not, Joe. I have some important work to finish in my laboratory today. Tomorrow, however, I think we shall certainly go somewhere. Where and when would you like to visit?’

  Joe thought hard for a moment. ‘You know where I’d really like to go - to the twelfth century, to Will’s time … Medieval England.’ He beamed at Will, whose face seemed impossible to read. ‘I want to see Sherwood Forest and meet the merry men.’

  ‘Medieval England?’ Uncle Percy said, turning up his nose. ‘I’ve never been that keen on Medieval England. No offence, Will.’

  ‘And none shall be taken. Twas a dangerous age, Joe. I would imagine you safer elsewhere.’

  Joe shrugged. ‘Every time period is dangerous, if you don’t treat it with the respect it deserves. Isn’t that what you’re always telling us, Uncle Percy?’

  ‘To some extent, yes,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘What about … erm …sixteenth century Florence, we could watch Leonardo Da Vinci paint the Mona Lisa, which I assure you is quite amusing as his model was a twenty stone man with a hair lip.’