Howzat! (19 page)

We had them rattled. Scott and I bowled without a break until tea, focusing on forcing them back and getting the batsmen in two minds. It worked a treat. Scott had their first drop caught top-edging a
mistimed pull, and I snared two more wickets; one with a change of pace, and the other with a nice outswinger. Ally took the catch comfortably in front of her face. They weren’t enjoying our aggressive approach and the sudden pace we were generating.

First slip had suddenly become the premium position on the field, but as captain I wasn’t letting anyone else take it.

‘What happened to Jimbo?’ I asked Ally as we walked off for tea.

‘Yeah, I dunno,’ she replied. ‘I was wondering why he didn’t show up again. He went looking for a pair of inners for me, but he never returned. I had the choice of either wearing Wesley’s blood or going without.’

‘Which did you choose?’

‘Neither.’ I stopped and watched as she removed the gloves. She was wearing an inner on her left hand but nothing on her right.

‘Fair enough,’ I laughed.

‘Four for not many, Toby Jones,’ Scott said, smacking me on the back as he passed me. ‘Game on, mate.’

‘Your new friend?’ asked Ally.

‘When you’re playing for Australia with a common goal, anything’s possible.’

We had them 4 for 55. The game was probably evenly balanced. Freddy was in and playing solidly.

Marty told us we had 10 minutes before he wanted to chat with us.

‘Where’s Jimbo?’ I asked him, helping myself to a sandwich.

‘That’s what I was about to ask you.’ He looked annoyed.

‘I’ll go upstairs and have a look.’

‘Back in 10, Toby. Jimbo or no Jimbo.’ I nodded in agreement. We had a big game to win, and if it had to be done without Jimbo then so be it.

Although I hadn’t seen any Grubbers on the field, an uneasiness had been gnawing away at me with every minute of Jimbo’s non-appearance and it only grew as I bounded up the escalators and ran along the corridor to the corporate box that we had called home this past week.

‘Jimbo?’ I called, flinging open the door. There was no answer. All his clothes and belongings were still lying haphazardly about the room, just as they had been that morning. I flung open cupboard doors, searched under the portable beds and poked my head into the bathroom further down the corridor. Nothing.

Something someone had said, some comment that had been made, was making me feel nervous, but for the life of me I couldn’t recall just what it was. Was it one of the coaches who had said something?

I returned to our room and gazed out over the ground. Marty and one of the other coaches were talking with two of our players down by the fence.

There was no way Jimbo would miss this match of his own choosing. Something or someone had taken
him. A Grubber? That was the only explanation. I looked at my watch. Two minutes.

‘I’ll find you, Jimbo,’ I muttered, closing the door gently. I wasn’t exactly sure how, but it was going to have to wait until after the last session of play. I knew Jimbo wouldn’t want me missing it.

Sunday—afternoon

‘Do you think they’ll go for the outright?’ I asked Marty.

‘I think they’ll try and not lose any wickets for the first half hour and just see where they stand. As I said to the team, Toby, the first eight overs are critical. If we can get a wicket, maybe two, we really have the upper hand. They’ve got a long tail. Attack, attack.’

‘And we can’t get an IIth player?’

Marty shook his head. ‘We’re lucky to have your friend Ally out there. It’s only that her father was here and was able to sign an indemnity form.’

‘Her dad’s here?’

‘He’s called Peter,’ he said, giving me a wink. ‘Looked a lot like your old man actually.’

‘You mean Dad—’

‘Keep your shirt on, Toby. We made all the phone calls. Now go and lead your team out onto the MCG
and don’t come back until we’ve scored a famous Ashes victory.’

I jogged down the steps, adjusting my green cap, Scott close behind me. Dad must have signed for Ally to make it legit for her to play, though I doubt he would have done it without her parents knowing.

‘How many more overs have you got in you, Scott?’

‘Plenty. Don’t take me off. I’ll bowl unchanged from the far end.’ A bank of dark clouds had moved over the ground; the air was thick and humid.

‘There might be some swing out here. Keep the ball off the ground and shiny,’ I called.

The first six overs were uneventful, with one half chance going just over second slip off a nice outswinger from Scott. The four that resulted hurt almost as much as the missed chance; it was their first boundary for ages.

‘We need to suck them in for easy runs,’ I said to Scott at the end of his over.

For my next over I had two slips, a gully, third man and a short straight mid-off on the off-side. I’d left a massive gap out through the covers—hopefully to tempt the batters to try and hit the ball out there but with an angled bat. On the on-side I had a fine leg, mid-wicket and mid-on. It was amazing how much you missed having the full team of 11 players to use.

The England batter played the first two balls crisply to Scott at short mid-off. I pitched the third
ball slightly wider. He couldn’t help himself; he swung wildly at it, carving the ball out past point for four.

I bowled the next ball slightly quicker, but on the same line as the previous ball. Again he went for it, but this time only managed to get a thick edge. I held my breath as the ball flew to Barton in the gully. He took the catch in front of his face and hurled the ball into the sky.

‘That’s the one,’ Scott yelled, as we came together to congratulate Barton. He’d taken a blinder.

I brought Jaimi from mid-wicket in to a bat pad position for the new batter. I sensed everyone on their toes as I charged in to bowl to the England keeper.

It was a short, rearing delivery. The keeper went to duck but left his bat dangling in the air. The ball crashed into the handle, lobbing towards Jaimi. He snatched at it, but only managed to flick the ball into the air. Before he could grab the rebound, the batter gave the ball a little flick with his bat, tapping it away from Jaimi’s outstretched fingers.

It was an instinctive reaction, but we all appealed. The umpire nodded his head then raised his finger in the air. You weren’t allowed to hit the ball twice, but worse, he had obstructed the fielder.

‘Do you get the wicket?’ Scott asked, as we came together again. I shrugged. I didn’t care.

‘Team hat-trick,’ I said. We watched the new batter walk slowly to the crease.

‘It’s that tall all-rounder. Give him another bouncer,’ Scott said.

‘I agree. Let’s crowd around him.’ Barton was rubbing his hands together in anticipation. But I had another plan.

‘Yorker,’ I whispered to Ally. Exactly the ball he hopefully wasn’t expecting. The last ball crashed into his feet then ricocheted onto the base of his offstump. For a ghastly moment I thought the bails weren’t coming off, but then one of them toppled over and fell to the ground.

‘Ball must have slipped,’ I grinned at Scott, who was staring at me in amazement.

‘Yeah, right. I would have gone the yorker too,’ he said, nodding his approval. We cleaned up the tail quickly, Scott bagging the last three wickets. The England players lined up and shook our hands as we left the ground.

There were speeches and presentations and it wasn’t until just after five that Ally, Rahul and I were finally able to get away.

‘So what’s going on?’ Ally asked, as they followed me upstairs to the corporate box. I was still on a high after the game and especially after receiving the small trophy for being nominated player of the match, but knew that some fast thinking had to be done. We were told that the ground would be closing in an hour and that all players, parents, friends and supporters had to be out by seven o’clock.

‘Georgie is with Jim at the Timeless Cricket Match,’ I said. ‘She was taken by a Grubber.’

‘A Grubber?’ Rahul looked confused. I explained
to them everything that had happened as I hurriedly packed my gear.

‘Is she safe?’ Ally asked.

‘She’s with Jim, so yes, she’s safe.’

‘Especially now that the Father Time guy has been stitched up,’ said Rahul. I glanced over at him. ‘What?’ he asked.

‘No,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘You’re right.’ I didn’t want to share my doubts about what had happened at the scoreboard. ‘She should be okay. It’s Jimbo that I’m worried about.’

‘What do we say to Georgie’s mum now?’ asked Ally, helping me with my cricket kit.

‘And Jimbo’s parents?’ Rahul added.

‘Come on, Rahul,’ Ally said, taking him by the arm. ‘I think Toby’s got enough problems to sort out. We’ll think of something.’

‘Thanks, guys.’ They paused at the door. ‘And thanks for helping out there.’ I jerked my thumb at the window to indicate the ground behind me.

‘Hey, well played yourself.’ Ally stepped forwards and gave me a quick hug. ‘You look worried, Toby. Relax, things will sort out. They always do with you and Jim.’

‘If only he was here,’ I muttered.

Sunday—evening

It was strange being home again after the enormous excitement of the cricket camp and Ashes Test at the MCG. I moped around the house, feeling removed; almost as if I wasn’t a part of the family.

Mum and Dad must have realised the huge letdown I was going through after such an exciting week and left me to myself. They didn’t even ask about Jim, assuming he was with friends. I’d mentioned that he’d met some at the library.

Finally I hauled myself off the bed, pushed aside the cricket magazine I’d been skimming through and went down to say goodnight to everyone.

‘Great news about the cricket camp,’ Mum beamed, dropping the tea towel she was holding and giving me a warm hug.

‘The cricket camp? You mean the award?’

‘What award, sweetie?’ she said. Dad looked up from the kitchen table. I felt my stomach lurch. The
clock on the kitchen wall told me that time had just gone backwards about three and a half hours.

‘But I’ve
been
to the cricket camp,’ I said slowly, looking from Mum to Dad.

‘In your dreams, Toby,’ Dad laughed as he stood up. ‘And I suppose you got to play on the MCG itself?’

I rushed out of the room, for some reason suddenly thinking about Jim and whether he would be alive right now. I stopped dead as soon as I entered the hall. Barely a metre away from me was myself, talking on the telephone! Hearing Dad follow me out into the corridor, I dashed into the laundry, gently closing the door. My heart was thumping. What was happening? I could hear myself talking to Jimbo. They were the exact words I’d used over a week ago.

I’d travelled back in time, but how? And why wasn’t I being forced into my other self? How long would I be here, a week behind my real self? I racked my brain, trying to recall whether I’d felt anything a week ago when I’d made the call to Jimbo, but there was nothing I could remember.

Then I realised that Jim would be here. I pressed my ear to the door, but could hear nothing. Easing the door open, I peered around the edge. There was no one in sight. Carefully I stepped into the corridor, looking left then right.

What would happen if Mum or Dad saw two Tobys?

‘Toby! You did it!’ Natalie screamed, rushing to hug me.

‘Hi, Nat,’ I said quietly. ‘Thanks.’

‘Why are you whispering?’ she asked, cocking her head to one side.

‘It’s hard to explain. It’s sort of a game.’

‘Cool, can I play?’

‘Yeah, sure. But first, where’s Jim?’ She looked at me oddly.

‘Silly, you were talking to him just a moment ago.’ Suddenly she spun around and ran towards the front of the house.

‘Natalie?’ I cried, wondering what had set her off like that. ‘Natalie?’ A wave of nausea spread up through my stomach. Stumbling forwards, I fell to my knees, clutching my sides…

‘Everything all right, Toby?’ Dad called. I opened my eyes. I was lying on my bed. He came into the room. ‘Toby?’

‘Yes,’ I croaked, relieved to be back in my own room. ‘Dad?’

‘Yes, Toby?’

‘The cricket camp was great.’ I watched his face nervously, but he merely smiled.

‘You were fantastic,’ he said. Letting out a long, thankful sigh, I rolled over, desperately hoping that there would be no more sudden travels.

But only a few hours later it happened again.

My mind flashed back to what Jim had said about Father Time and his ability to move people around from the present to the past; and possibly the future too. Was that what was happening to me? Had Father Time escaped his scoreboard prison?

I found myself waking up in the front garden. Someone was calling my name. I almost answered, but stopped myself just in time as a young Toby came running around the corner and up the front steps. He stopped suddenly and turned to me. I froze.

‘Who are you?’ he asked. My mouth went dry. I was looking at myself as a five- or six-year-old.

‘I’m Toby,’ I said. It was the first thing to come into my head. His face lit up.

‘Mum!’ he called.

‘No, wait!’ I said, reaching out a hand. He edged away from me. The door behind him opened. I swung around quickly and ran to the shed, then raced down the side before scrambling over the fence. Had Mum seen me? I slouched against the side of the fence, waiting for someone to arrive, but no one came.

In spite of the warm sun I shivered, finally closing my eyes as I rested my head against the fence. When I woke I was lying in bed. I sat up quickly, turning to glance at the clock. 3.34 a.m.

If I could just get through the night, I thought, switching on the light. Maybe if I could stay awake, I could also stay in my own time. I pulled down my album of cricket and football cards and grabbed a couple of magazines and the novel I was reading.

Slowly I worked my way through the album of cards, trying to memorise the players and their numbers. My eyes felt heavy as I turned another page.

‘Ricky Ponting,’ I muttered, yawning. ‘Number 4. Michael Clarke, number 5.’ The cards blurred. ‘Michael Hussey…’

I woke up with the card album lying across my chest. I looked at the clock. 8.45 a.m. ‘Yes!’ I shouted, pushing the album aside and jumping out of bed. I raced down to the kitchen.

‘Dad?’

‘In here.’ His voice was tense. ‘Hurry!’ I walked quickly into the living room.

‘Oh my God,’ Mum exclaimed, resting a hand on Dad’s shoulder. ‘I had no idea.’

‘What is it?’ I cried, sitting down in front of the television.

Dad held up a hand for me to be quiet. I turned to the television.

‘He was just sitting in the meeting here. In this chair,’ a woman was saying. She paused, stifling a sob. ‘Then he simply disappeared. I saw it. I mean I saw him go. I don’t think anyone else did.’

A narrator’s voice took over.

‘All over the world, similar stories are unfolding. Contact is desperately being sought with any Test cricketer, but at this stage none have been found. The same terrible fate appears to have beset female Test cricketers. Reports from New Zealand, where the women’s Test team was practising for their upcoming tour of India, suggest that most of the training squad has disappeared. Melanie Riley has more.’

I slumped down in the chair in shock as the reporter’s face filled the screen.

‘It appears that only the squad members who have actually played Test cricket have disappeared,’ she said, breathlessly. ‘Although none of the remaining players or officials would speak to us, it would seem that there is no indication of a kidnapping or ransom situation.’

‘Good God,’ Dad sighed, shaking his head.

‘Dad?’

He turned to look at me. ‘Every person who has ever played Test cricket has vanished,’ he said.

‘Vanished?’ I asked.

He rubbed his eyes wearily. ‘I’ve been watching since just after six this morning. Gone. Every one of them.’ His voice was choked and I thought he was going to cry.

‘But how? Where? Where have they gone to?’

He shook his head again. ‘No one knows. Every Test cricketer, past and present,’ he mumbled. I froze. Past and present. And future? Jimbo! I almost said his name aloud. ‘He’ll play Test cricket one day.’ Wasn’t that what one of the coaches had said about him?

‘Scott,’ I muttered, rushing to the phone. Was he gone too? And Cam? And yet I was still here? Did that mean that I wasn’t going to play Test cricket?

Frantically, I searched the phone book for Scott’s number. There were only three Cravens. I dialled, not sure whether I wanted him to be there or not. The phone was engaged. I tried again a few minutes later.

‘Hello?’ a tired voice said.

‘Is Scott there?’

‘Who is this?’ the woman said, suddenly alert.

‘Sorry, it’s Toby. Toby Jones. I was wondering if I could speak to Scott.’

‘You haven’t heard?’ Her voice was flat. I felt my skin prickle. So Scott had gone too. A future Test cricketer. But gone where?

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Craven. I didn’t know.’

‘No, well we haven’t heard from him since last night. He wasn’t in any sort of trouble, was he?’

‘Trouble?’

‘At the camp. Did he upset someone? I know he’s not the most easily managed boy, and he does have a very short fuse.’

I apologised again, adding that if I heard anything I’d ring her straight away. Mrs Craven gave me her mobile number and I jotted it down.

‘I’ll come back for breakfast in a minute, Mum,’ I yelled. I headed back to my bedroom and got dressed, checking that the scorecard and cricket ball were safely tucked away in a pocket of my shorts, and then sat down on my bed. Jimbo. Scott. Who else had gone? Right across Australia kids would be missing. Babies? Was there a baby only just born, a future Test cricketer, who had recently vanished?

A sick feeling swept through me. Had I somehow caused all this? Burying my head in the pillow, I screwed my eyes shut, willing it all to be just some horrible nightmare.

‘Aren’t you a bit young to be here?’ said a voice. I looked up. A tall boy wearing a black suit stared down at me. I was in some sort of hall, surrounded by streamers and balloons and senior kids talking and dancing. I scanned the faces, searching for someone I recognised. Then I froze.

On the far side of the hall, standing talking to a girl I recognised, was myself—but older; maybe three or four years older. I was in the future. For the first time ever I had travelled forwards. Jim had told me that this would never happen, and yet I was certain that I was staring at an older me. And the girl I was with was Lisa. Lisa! A nice enough girl who I’d known since Year 2, but had never really spoken to in all that time. Why her? What about Georgie? Or Ally?

I moved into the main part of the hall, searching for more kids I could recognise. Many of the faces were new to me. Maybe I’d changed schools? Maybe I was living in a different town? A different country?

And then I saw Ally, dancing closely with a guy I didn’t recognise. She looked beautiful. She was wearing a long, shiny red dress.

‘Ally?’ I said, moving closer. She maintained her close hold on the boy but turned her eyes towards me. I sensed her stiffen. She whispered something to the boy, who shrugged and moved away quickly. ‘Ally, it’s me. Toby.’

She glanced nervously across the room. I followed her gaze to the older me.

‘Toby?’ she whispered. ‘But…but…’ Her voice faded.

‘I’ve come forwards in time. From our time.’

‘What do you mean,
our
time? This is my time.’

I shook my head, confused. I didn’t want this conversation. ‘Ally, what happened? What happened to all the Test cricketers? Did they return?’ I held my breath, dreading her reply. She stared at me sadly. My heart plummeted.

‘No. They were never found. Not one.’

‘And Jimbo?’ She shook her head.

‘But you know all this, Toby. You’re standing over there. You—’

‘No! Don’t tell me anything,’ I said quickly. I didn’t want to hear any more. Not about me. But I had to ask about Jim. I felt in my pocket for the scorecard. It was still there. ‘Ally?’ I whispered. She leaned forwards to hear. ‘What about Jim?’ I could tell straight away from the grim expression on her face that the news wasn’t good. I turned away, conscious of the tears welling up.

‘Toby, what will you do?’ she asked.

I took a deep breath. ‘I have to get to the MCG and place the scorecard in the first
Wisden
.’

‘Now?’

I nodded. Ally noticed me staring at Lisa and my older self.

‘You changed so much,’ she said softly. Suddenly
she grabbed me by the shoulders. ‘Hey, it seems okay that the two of you are in the room together.’

‘Yeah, so?’

‘Well, the big Toby over there can drive you to the MCG!’ she squealed, clapping her hands together.

‘No, wait!’ I called, but Ally had already left me. I edged back towards a table covered in drinks and watched Ally talking with Toby. Lisa was not looking happy. For a moment I thought my older self wouldn’t even come. He appeared reluctant, even after glancing in my direction. Finally he ambled over, a few steps behind Ally.

‘Toby, meet, um, Toby,’ Ally said. I stared at my older self as he stared at me, his face slowly turning white.

‘Oh my God,’ he whispered finally. ‘It’s happened.’

‘What’s happened?’

‘Have you got the scorecard?’ he asked, pulling out a bunch of keys from his trouser pocket. I nodded.

‘We need to get—’ we both said simultaneously. I smiled, reaching out a hand, but Toby flinched.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Not too close. Let’s go.’

‘I’m coming too,’ Ally cried, running after us. ‘Oh, you were
so
cute,’ I heard her say quietly to Toby. He screwed up his face but didn’t reply.

‘Is this your car?’ I asked, staring at the shiny red hatch. I had a hundred questions to ask, but I sensed that the older Toby wasn’t going to be telling me much.

‘Not exactly,’ he said, unlocking the doors. While Toby concentrated on the drive through the city to the MCG, I stared out the window, sitting perfectly still and praying that I wouldn’t suddenly disappear back to my own time.

‘You got a plan for getting in?’ Toby asked, turning around while we waited at a set of red lights.

‘David?’ I suggested. ‘Can we ring him? I know he lives close by.’

‘He’ll never get there by himself,’ Toby muttered, taking a mobile phone out of his jacket pocket. ‘Number’s in there.’ He passed it to me. I found the number and dialled.

‘Why won’t he meet us there? This is really important.’

‘Toby, David’s in a wheelchair. He’s paralysed,’ said Ally. ‘There was an accident.’

‘What? How?’ I gasped. Suddenly I could hear David talking on the phone.

‘Hello, David Howie?’

‘David, what happened?’ I said.

‘I beg your pardon? Who is this?’

‘It’s Toby Jones. Remember?’

‘Here, give that to me.’ Toby snatched the phone out of my hand.

‘David, sorry. Um, yeah it’s me. Toby. Something big has come up. We…I need to get into the library.’ I leaned forwards, trying to hear the conversation. ‘Frank?’ Toby said. He nodded a couple of times. ‘Yep.’ He turned to Ally. ‘Here, get this number
down.’ Ally grabbed a piece of paper and pen from the glove box and wrote down the number Toby called out. ‘Okay, David. I’ll ring you in the morning.’ There was a pause. Toby was looking anxious. ‘Um, how are you anyway?’ he asked. ‘Oh, that’s good. Great.’ A moment later he rang off.