by Julia Watts
Cumpston pursed fleshy lips and clasped his hands behind his back. “And you don’t entertain the possibility that he could be right?”
Maskelyne roared, “Well of course not, man, because that would imply I’m wrong!” The multicolored menace crouched, with shoulders hunched and tailfeathers twitching.
Cumpston pulled his hands to the front and studied the lace on his cuffs. “I can see that you really dislike this clockmaker.”
“Dislike? Is that what you call it?” The astonomer spluttered, “I detest him, I despise him, I loathe him! He is vermin in my eyes. He is a carbuncle on my backside. He. . .Oh, words fail me to express my disdain for him.”
Cumpston continued smoothly, “Yes, yes, I can see how unnerving it might be—someone working tirelessly, inventing things you could only dream of making, capturing His Majesty’s attention and finally getting part of the reward he was promised— it all makes you look bad.”
Maskelyne made a slight choking sound, which Cumpston ignored.
“I could take care of it for you, ensure that he goes away and never comes back. People will forget about him.” He looked at Maskelyne and laughed. “Oh, squeamish, are we? Afraid to take that bold step and—”
Liv gasped as McGinty took perfect aim and dived from his branch straight to Cumpston’s head, grabbing pink skin in a three-pronged attack of beak and claws and not letting go.
“Ah-hh!” Cumpston danced around, batting at McGinty and screaming. “Get it off me! Get it off me!” His attacker parried each swat with a vicious peck.
“I’m trying! Can’t you see I’m trying?” Maskelyne waved half-heartedly at McGinty, clearly not anxious to dislodge him and become the next victim. He stopped suddenly and turned his head toward the Dutch Garden. “What on Earth?”
McGinty grew tired of the game and flew in the direction of Maskelyne’s gaze. Maskelyne ignored the parrot, shaded his eyes with one hand, and squinted. “Who is that? Young boys playing some kind of prank? Trespassing on His Majesty’s property?” He ventured no further and turned on his heel to address Cumpston, who was busy blotting drops of blood from his pate with the handkerchief.
McGinty quietly returned to Frederica as if nothing had happened. Liv was taking no chances. She plucked him from Frederica’s shoulder and held him close, one hand around his beak. The three remained hidden.
“When you’ve finished nursing your wounds, go around the back and get the guard dogs’ handler. Tell him to turn them loose over there. I must be going—I’ve an appointment to keep.”
Liv held her breath as Maskelyne strode past Cumpston, oblivious to the little brown box lying by a tree trunk, and to the look of contempt in Cumpston’s eyes. He banged on a side door of the palace, and a uniformed servant opened it, nodding in deference.
The girls jumped as Cumpston spoke, the sneer on his face creeping into his voice. “Well, Sir Nevil Maskelyne, Astronomer Royal and esteemed scientist, the price of getting rid of your rival has just doubled.” He folded his silk square and replaced it in the pocket of his embroidered coat. “Oh, that’s right—you didn’t ask me to get rid of him—you were horrified at the suggestion. Too bad.”
He turned in the direction of Liv’s and Frederica’s hiding place and narrowed his eyes. “Hmm. . .perhaps I can flush those two out and save myself the trouble of fetching the dog man.” He walked along the path, slowly at first, looking all around and stopping every few steps to listen.
Frederica whispered, “We can move over there—in the Dutch Garden. You go get the box. I’ll meet you at the end opposite the palace.”
Liv looked at the green water in the garden’s man-made pond and shuddered. “It’s too far—we might not make it, and we’d be trapped with no way out if he saw us. Let’s get behind those rosebushes.” She pointed to a row full of deep red and golden yellow blooms, tantalizingly close to the box. A ten-yard sprint, and she could get it. If they stayed quiet for a few minutes, maybe Cumpston would give up and go away.
Liv relaxed her hold on McGinty, and he flapped his wings and opened his beak. She sucked in her breath, fearing Cumpston had heard the flaps, and surprised herself by thumping the parrot on the head. He couldn’t change his expression, but he cowered. She felt guilty, but hissed, “Shut up, birdbrain—I’m trying to save your life.” She crouched lower, hoping the riot of colors in the flowers would make the macaw’s brilliance less noticeable. Somehow, McGinty seemed to understand the seriousness of the situation and remained perfectly still.
Frederica was deathly pale, looking like she might throw up or faint. Liv reached for her arm and squeezed it, careful to aim high enough to avoid the new cuts.
Their pursuer walked right past them and disappeared around the corner of the palace. Liv counted to ten and readied herself to spring into action. Then her heart sank as she heard voices.
Here came Cumpston, this time with another man and two huge hounds. Liv couldn’t understand what they were saying, but he gestured in their direction and the dog handler nodded. His charges were attached to thin leather leads, stretched even thinner as their quivering bodies lunged again and again. The man strained to keep them from breaking free for now, but Liv didn’t have much confidence he would deny them the pleasure of attacking when they found the girls.
From the front of the great house emerged the perfect distraction. A beautifully dressed lady glided down the path, cooing and talking baby talk. Maybe she’ll ask the guy to call off the dogs if she sees them eating us.
Liv squinted and saw a tiny dog in the lady’s arms, its glossy dark coat brushed to perfection and a pink ribbon tied around its neck. The giants had something else to think about for a minute, and they sniffed and jerked their heads around to follow the scent.
That was enough for the lapdog. It yapped ferociously from the security of its mistress’s arms, and the curious brutes bolted, dragging their handler and nearly wrenching his arms out of their sockets. In a blur, the girls took it all in: the shrieks, the shouts, the frantic waving. The lady moved fast for someone with such elaborate long skirts, but she couldn’t outrun the hounds. One dog bit the hem of her dress and pulled while the other stood up on his hind legs, paws on her shoulders.
She struggled, and kept both her balance and her dog. But her powdered wig, a work of art nearly a foot tall with sausage curls trailing down her silk-clad shoulders, flew off and onto the path.
Now the dogs had a new prize, better than the yapping thing. They snatched it together and tumbled over each other, pawing and growling. Only when they had ripped it in two were they satisfied, taking off and escaping into the woods beyond the palace, their leashes trailing behind them.
The two men looked at the lady, gazed with longing at the woods where the dogs had escaped, and slunk toward her with bowed heads, their apologies drowned out by her angry screams and the never-ending barking of the furball who had started it all.
“Maybe they’re in enough trouble to forget about us for a few minutes,” whispered Liv as the unhappy threesome made their way to a door and disappeared inside the palace. “We need to get out of here. You stay—I’ll be right back.”
She darted across the path, holding McGinty tighter than ever, praying that the hounds wouldn’t get tired of the wig and come back for them. Just a few more steps. There—she had it. She crouched and froze as she felt the wind shift.
Trying not to exude the smell of fear, Liv took a few steps and hid behind a tree. Then the inevitable happened. Their scent reached the dogs again, and the baying was furious.
Not caring if they could see her, she ran back to Frederica and knelt to adjust the drawers of the box to take them back to the present. Frederica sucked in her breath. “Listen! They’re coming back. Can’t you hurry?”
There was no time to reply or do anything except will her sweaty, trembling fingers to find the correct notches and pull the drawers out. The shouts were coming closer by the second. “Hold on to me!” she screamed, and they were gone.
> “Hahh!” Frederica threw back her head and laughed. She stuck out both arms and spun around twice, then landed on the grass and lay there, looking up at the sky and smiling. Liv held McGinty and said nothing.
At last, Frederica sat up and leaned back on her elbows. “I’ve never felt so alive before—so absolutely exhilarated! We time-traveled, didn’t we? I don’t care if you glare at me, silent as a statue. I know it’s what we did, and it was fantastic! I have thousands of questions, but never mind right now. I just want to do it again!”
Liv felt too angry to speak,but forced herself to look Frederica straight in the eye. “No. It wasn’t fantastic.”
She tucked the box under her arm and adjusted her grip on McGinty. “And I promise you, you’ll never do it again. Try it— tell people about it. I’ll make sure you sound like a crazy person. You have no idea what you just did, or how people could have been hurt by it.”
She left Frederica sitting in the grass of Kensington Park and began the walk back to the Havards’ flat. She had a bird to deliver and a backpack to pick up. The tube ride home to her family’s apartment wouldn’t be pleasant. Liv would be alone with herself—someone she didn’t like very much right now.
Chapter Fifteen
It was Saturday morning, and the Wescott parents and Anna were out for an early morning stroll. At least, the parents would be strolling. Anna was probably riding high in a backpack, pulling on her father’s ears and giving the top of his head slobbery kisses.
Liv looked around the quiet sitting room. The boys had been last in the bathroom, and in a minute they’d be ready to talk about what to do today. Liv hadn’t yet confessed to them what had happened in Kensington Gardens with Frederica, and she sat in an armchair, working up her nerve.
The bathroom door opened and out came Anthony, followed by a wave of shower humidity. “I need to talk to you two about something,” she said.
“Sure, Sis. Cal’s on his way.” He pulled a banana from a fruit bowl on the dining table and sat on the sitting room sofa that he and Cal pulled open each night for sleeping. It surprised her that he’d said yes so quickly. If she didn’t have bigger things to worry about, she’d speculate that something was up and try to pry it out of him.
Cal emerged from the bathroom, looked from Anthony’s face to Liv’s, and blurted, “I guess Anthony’s explaining it to you. We have a problem. Morehouse’s partners are serious criminals— killers!” His voice had the high pitch it often took on in times of stress.
Anthony threw up his hands. “Way to go! I thought we agreed to break it to her gently.” He rose from the sofa and went to sit on the arm of Liv’s chair. He stared meaningfully at Cal, who mouthed sorry with a shrug.
Liv gazed out the ten-foot-tall windows at the busy street. “Morehouse could be in real trouble, couldn’t he? And I started it.”
“It’s not your fault, sis. You saw the Cumpston guy, then Cal said a few things to Morehouse, and I said a few things. . .” His voice trailed off.
“Maybe we could just go back,” she muttered.
“What? Wait—you haven’t heard the rest.
“I Googled the company Morehouse told us about— Cumpston, Pridgeon, and McKnickel. They’ve been sued a lot, but the plaintiffs always drop the charges before things get very far.”
Liv lifted one shoulder. “So? Maybe they offer refunds. Their customers are probably super-rich, hard to please.”
Anthony shook his head. “Uh-uh. Here’s how the scam works, according to the complaints.” He stepped to the mantel, selected a small crystal vase, and held it up for display.
“Say you’re a person with something to sell, and you advertise it on the Internet for five hundred dollars. Someone offers to buy it. Great, you say. Their check comes in the mail, but it’s for more money than you agreed on, maybe eight hundred.” He looked at the vase. “You still have the object, and now you have this guy’s check, so no problem, you think. You call him up, tell him about the mistake. He apologizes and asks you to just send the difference along with the item. Maybe he offers to come to you and pick up the cash along with the thing he bought.”
He put the vase behind his back, out of sight. “He does all this really fast—before you find out that his check hasn’t cleared at the bank. By then, you’ve sent him the item and some of your money, and he’s vanished. Cumpston, Pridgeon and McKnickel have never been convicted of any crimes, but a lot of people think they’re guilty.”
“It sounds bad,” agreed Liv. Her mind wandered back to the problem of Maskelyne and the other Cumpston. She wished she could do some research of her own to see if she needed to be worried about that or not.
Anthony interrupted her thoughts. “It gets worse. These guys buy apartment buildings and say that people on government assistance are living in them. They keep the government checks and rent out the places to other people. They’ve made a fortune at it.”
He rubbed his face with his hand. “It’s called housing benefit fraud, and it caught my eye because I’ve heard Dad say it a couple of times before we came here. I think it’s something he’s working on, either learning about it so he can help fight it back home or helping someone here. Either way, it could give Morehouse’s partners another reason not to like us.”
He set the vase back on the mantel, and Cal took over. “It seems Cumpston stays busy now convincing witnesses not to testify against the firm. A few must not’ve been so easy to convince.” He cleared his throat. “They disappeared.”
There were voices at the door and the keypad beeped. In came Mr. and Mrs. Wescott with Anna, sound asleep on her father’s shoulder. “We wore her out,” Mrs. Wescott gasped, collapsing into a chair and leaning back, eyes closed.
“Good thing I don’t have to work today,” whispered Mr. Wescott. “I’ll put her in her crib and lie down on the floor if I can’t make it to the bed. Give us a couple of hours and we’ll be good as new.”
He stopped in the bedroom doorway and turned around. “The Havards called my mobile. They’re having a party tonight and we’re all invited—even Anna. We won’t stay long, but be ready to leave here at seven.” He disappeared into the bedroom.
Mrs. Wescott rose from her chair and waved the boys away from the sofa. “Let me have a fifteen-minute power nap and I’ll take you to Madame Tussaud’s or the Tower of London— your choice, kids.” Before Liv or the boys could reply, she was stretched out, snoring softly.
The scene looked peaceful, normal. Maybe they didn’t need to worry about Morehouse or his sleazy colleagues.
And what if she just forgot about the incident with Frederica? No, she couldn’t do that, and she couldn’t forget about what Frederica was doing to herself.
When she’d had a chance to check historical records and see if anything important had changed because of her trip with Frederica, she’d tell the boys all about it. And maybe she could think of a way to help her. The girl was providing all the bother of having a friend with none of the benefits.
She checked her pocket for her keycard and beckoned to the boys. “Let’s go kick the soccer ball around in the alley and give Mom a half hour to sleep. Then I bet she’ll take us to Madame Tussaud’s and the Tower.”
Chapter Sixteen
Liv stayed quiet and kept up her guard. Since the moment they’d arrived at the Havards’ party, Frederica had been unnaturally cordial. McGinty treated Liv with newfound respect, bowing his head and avoiding eye contact. Animals were honest. She could mark McGinty off her “enemies” list. But not Frederica—not yet.
Jazz poured from the reception room. Friends of Mrs. Havard had improvised an impromptu concert that blended with the laughter and conversation of the party. Having piled their small plates as high as possible with hors d’oeuvres, Anthony and Cal accepted happily when Frederica invited the three of them to her room.
Only Liv hung back, frowning. Anthony handed her a cup of punch and spoke quietly into her ear. “What’s wrong with you, Sis? There’s plenty of food, the bi
rd’s behaving itself and Frederica can’t get near a piano to torture us with her playing. Enjoy it!” Liv sighed and followed the boys down the hall.
Frederica stood by her dresser, a smug expression blanketing her face. It was the look of someone who had the upper hand.
“What do you want?” Liv asked bluntly.
“You know perfectly well,” she replied. “I told you I want to do it again, and I meant it.” She looked at the boys, who had stopped chewing to stare at her.
“Why?” asked Liv.
“Because it’s fun, in spite of what you say.” She rolled her eyes at Liv. “And I’m curious—who wouldn’t be?” She kicked off her shoes and sat down on her bed, legs crisscrossed. “It’s the ultimate escape—like jumping live into the middle of a fantastic computer game. It’s someone else’s reality.”
Cal and Anthony exchanged stunned looks. “It’s obvious you’ve time-traveled somehow,” began Anthony, “and we didn’t know about it. But—”
“You don’t know how it works,” interrupted Liv, avoiding Anthony’s glare. “What’s to keep us from leaving you?”
Frederica smirked. “Oh, let me count the ways. . .First, you’d never do that—you’re all such rule-followers.” She turned to Anthony. “Second,it’s that same ‘we have to be so-o-o responsible’ mindset that’s going to make you go back and correct the little problem your sister and I accidentally caused the other day.”
She watched the boys’ faces and her smile broadened. “Oh, she didn’t tell you? We got somebody killed.”
“What?” Anthony jumped to his feet and ran to his sister’s side. “What’s she talking about?” Cal sat frozen upright in his place at the window seat.
“I don’t know,” said Liv miserably. “This part is new.”
Frederica continued, “We didn’t really change anything important. You’d never have known if I hadn’t told you. I’d never have known if I hadn’t happened to go on a school field trip to Greenwich Observatory last year.”