The Turnarounders and the Arbuckle Rescue (6 page)

Ralf didn’t know which way to look. It wasn’t just the street, though this would have been amazing in itself, it was the crowds wandering around, the conversations they were having, their clothes – everything!

Valentina’s eyes were shining with excitement but her mouth dropped open as a fight broke out between two sets of men in short capes and plumed caps. Another man ran onto the scene and tried to beat down their swords with his own.

‘Put up your swords!’

But they didn’t get to see what happened next because suddenly everything was different again. They were in wartime London. There were long queues outside a butcher’s, its empty front window criss-crossed with tape. Uniformed men were everywhere, smoking on street corners or walking with women on their arms. Everyone wore hats and carried buff coloured gas mask boxes. Two men in checked suits with trilbies perched on the backs of their heads were watching an old organ grinder and his monkey. ‘Lummy! He joined up did he? Would you credit it?’ Ralf heard one of them say.

‘Keep running!’ Seth shouted. ‘Whatever you do, just keep running!’

But he needn’t have worried. At that moment, nothing in the world would have persuaded Ralf to stop. Though their lungs were burning, they ran as if their lives depended on it. If they stopped they wouldn’t reach The Hooded Man. If they stopped, this chaos might turn out to be real.

Abruptly, a deafening wail filled the air and the people looked fearfully skywards.

‘Air raid siren!’ Ralf gasped in disbelief.

There was a flurry of movement around them as the siren howled and people hurried inside or dashed towards shelters. Then there was another shimmer, a crackle of electricity in the air and the people changed again.

Now the women had floor length skirts and bustles, the men wore frock coats and boots. A horse cantered from a side street but reared suddenly as a street urchin in a bobble hat got under its hooves. The rider grappled with reigns and whip but lost his tall hat and then his seat in the process and thudded into a muddy puddle.

‘Confound it boy! What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ he roared. He made a wild grab but the grubby boy slithered like an eel from his grasp and streaked towards Ralf and the others. He swerved at the last moment to fall in step and then Ralf realised that Alfie was back with them.

‘Can you
see
?’ Alfie’s cry was high pitched and reedy. He pushed his hat back to wipe sweat from his forehead. ‘I short cut round the back of Parliament Square,’ he squeaked. ‘I ain’t even lying! A shimmer in the air and then I was face to face with about a hundred –’

‘ARRRCHERS!’ yelled Valentina.

The world shifted again and they were in a green meadow racing toward what seemed like about five hundred Saxons. Arrows buzzed over their heads to thump into the earth behind them. Ralf ducked instinctively and looked behind to see a line of advancing Normans coming up fast.

‘GO RIGHT!’ Alfie screamed. ‘Over there!’ he tugged Ralf by the arm in the direction of a stand of trees by the river, but before they’d run two steps the trees slipped away and modern London was back. They charged across Westminster Bridge. Half way across they skidded to a halt. Ralf doubled over to catch his breath.

‘Is it over?’ panted Valentina.

‘No! Wait!’ Leon rushed to the wall, his arm raised. He turned slowly, scanning the river. ‘There!’ There was a splash from the Thames and a wall of water. Something broke the surface. Vast jaws snapped on air then smashed below the waves.

‘It’s a chuffin’ dinosaur!’ shrieked Alfie.

There was a flick of a slick silver tail, then that too slithered into the depths and there was nothing to show the creature had been there at all, except for the ripples on the river and the water droplets in their hair. It was over.

The storm smell had gone. Modern London was back and people around them were going about their lives. Alfie rushed over to a rumpled looking businessman and grabbed at his arm.

‘Did you see that?’ he cried. ‘In the river?’

The man shook his head half-smiling. ‘Is this a joke?’

‘No! There
so
was a dinosaur in there, man!’

The smile died and the man now looked warily from Alfie to the others. He put a protective palm over the coffee cup he was holding, shrugged off Alfie’s hand and walked briskly on.

Had no one else seen anything? Alfie and the others exchanged looks. ‘What now?’ his whispered question spoke for all of them.

‘There!’ All eyes followed Leon’s outstretched arm. A staircase led down from the bridge to a wide path. The Hooded Man was on it, strolling towards what looked very much like a travelling circus.

They followed him past a green and white striped Big Top, emblazoned with the words
‘Swann’s Circus and Tremendous Travelling Show’
. They tailed him past numerous vintage vans and trailers and a number of smaller tents dotted in a rough circle around the edge of the field. They passed a ring of tiny Shetland ponies being put through their paces, trotting in circles, jumping and balancing their miniature hooves on specially made pony-sized platforms; past an acrobat flick-flacking back and forth and a cute dog act, in which a Yorkshire terrier walked about on its hind feet and howled in time to a crackling old record.

‘Is it a TV
show, do you think?’ Leon’s face was a picture of puzzlement as he ran. ‘Or a film set, maybe?’

‘An historical thing?’ said Valentina.

But Seth’s expression showed he’d already dismissed the idea. ‘Where are the cameras then?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Ralf. ‘But look!’ Just ahead,
The Hooded Man had gone inside a small dark red tent. There was a painted sign outside:

The Amazing, Astonishing Vitallian Ambrose –

Father of the Future, Telepath Extraordinaire!

‘Fancy getting your fortunes told?’ Ralf asked with a grim smile.

‘Definitely.’

As they jogged over, Big Ben struck noon. The first notes called faintly to them across the water. They were hesitating at the entrance to the tent, listening to the last echoes of the Westminster chimes when:

‘Come in, all of you,’ called a clear, strong voice from inside. ‘You’re right on time!’

CHAPTER FOUR

The Amazing, Astonishing Vitallian Ambrose

Ralf had the very clear sensation of someone ‘walking over his grave’ as he lifted the flap of the blood coloured tent and, flanked by Leon and Valentina, stepped inside. Seth and Alfie followed.

Inside it was pleasantly cool, despite the heat outside and the brazier in the centre of the earthen floor over which a kettle steamed. Richly embroidered cushions were heaped in piles and a pleasant spiced scent hung in the air, adding to the feeling of comfort. To the left, covering an entire wall, was a huge tapestry, an intricate stitched picture showing a coastal scene of blue sea, sandy beach, trees, birds and spring flowers. At the back, stood an enormous wooden table piled with books and papers and an ornate, but obviously defective hourglass (no sand was running down from the top section to the bottom), was at its centre. Behind the table sat The Hooded Man.

He stood as they came in and threw back his hood to reveal not a skeleton, as Ralf half expected, but a middle-aged man with startlingly, astonishingly blue eyes. Dressed entirely in black, he had a watch chain snaking into his buttoned waistcoat and, weirdly, an alarm clock hanging from his belt. He was tall, lean and graceful, with an hawk-like face, prominent nose, hooded eyes and silver hair cropped close to his domed head. He looked, Ralf thought, too splendid to be real; like an eagle at a birdbath.

There was a soft whimper to Ralf’s left. He turned to watch Leon take one look at the man then lose control of his legs. With a sigh that sounded like air escaping from a balloon, Leon’s knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed in an untidy heap on the floor.

Everyone surged towards him, but the man got there first. He scooped Leon effortlessly into his arms and plonked him on some cushions. As he did so, Ralf noticed the watches he wore on each wrist. This bloke must really be worried about being late, he thought. The man smiled at Ralf’s puzzled expression.

‘He’ll be fine in a minute or two. It’s the shock you see,’ he said reassuringly. ‘Tea anyone?’

Ralf gaped at him. Valentina and Seth were frozen to the spot but Alfie sank weakly onto another handy cushion. Unperturbed, the man rummaged in a large bag and started putting various packages on to the table. ‘Now, let’s see,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’ve everyone’s favourites. Fruitcake for you, Wolf – without marzipan – and sponge for Leo, though perhaps I’d best put it aside until he’s feeling better.’ The man, seemingly unable to contain himself any
longer, slapped Ralf on the back and flashed the group another huge grin. ‘Oh, it’s truly good to see you all together again!’

This was beyond weird. The old man was talking like they were mates or something. On top of that it was the second time today that someone had called him Wolf and Ralf didn’t much like it. His next words, therefore, came out a little more rudely than he intended. ‘The police think you’re dead. You are Vitallian Ambrose
, aren’t you?’

The man blinked in surprise. ‘Of course it’s me!’ He gave Ralf another friendly pat and then busied himself with crockery on the table. ‘Though, it must have been disconcerting for you, being told I was a goner like that.’ He chuckled and gave Ralf a mischievous wink. ‘As if, eh?’

Ralf blinked back at him.

Ambrose nodded. ‘I can understand you being put out, though. Jolly inconvenient to be taken in like that. Complete cock-up on my part, I’m afraid. Still, it worked quite well in getting us together, so we mustn’t grumble. How are you all, anyway?’

‘Confused,’ said Ralf honestly. ‘We’ve just spent the morning being questioned by a Detective who thinks the dead body they pulled out of the Thames was you!’

‘Ho! Ho! What fun!’

‘Fun?’ Valentina snapped. ‘Are you mad? Someone died!’

‘I know,’ said Ambrose, calmly spooning greenish tealeaves into a china teapot. ‘I was there.’

‘Serious?’ said Alfie looking grim amongst the cushions. ‘You never – er – never had anything to do with it, did you?’

Ambrose laughed so much he had to put down his spoon. He was scattering tealeaves all over the place. ‘You think I killed him!’

‘Well, did you?’ Ralf pressed.

‘Of course not! I don’t have anything to do with how things end. The poor man knew it was time, that’s all. I let him get on with it.’

‘And you didn’t try to stop him?’ Valentina gasped.

Ambrose patted her on the arm in a fatherly gesture. ‘I’m not allowed to interfere, Valen. You know that.’

This answer made no sense. ‘Had you told him his fortune then?’ Ralf asked, trying to understand.

‘Told his fortune?’ Ambrose frowned and then seemed to realise what Ralf was getting at.  ‘Oh all this, you mean?’ He waved his hand around at the tent. ‘No, I just brought the circus here so we’d have somewhere quiet to talk. I’ll put it back in an hour. No one will notice.’

‘You’ll put it back?’ Ralf was now certain he’d been wrong before. Vitallian Ambrose was not just eccentric. He was clearly as nutty as the fruitcake he was now slicing. It was odd, though, Ralf thought as he accepted a plate and rested it on his knee, that he had a strange desire to stay. Why was that? Alarm bells ought to be ringing. His parents had taught him better than this! He should be running for the door. Yet, here he was, in a weird circus tent, accepting food and drink from a complete stranger. The others seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to do in situations like this too because, apart from Leon who was breathing deeply with his head in his hands, they all seemed rapt.

‘But the dead man,’ Seth prompted. ‘Who was he?’

‘A poor homeless fellow to whom I gave an old coat. I shouldn’t have done it really and I certainly should have checked the pockets.’ Ambrose shook his head. ‘I’d forgotten I’d written all your details down, an elementary mistake. I was quite annoyed about that at the time but it’s not surprising I’m overlooking things, considering the circumstances.’ Ambrose said all this rapidly, hardly pausing for breath. ‘But, enough of that, I think there’s trouble.’

There was a second’s silence, then a dam seemed to burst and everyone was talking at once.

‘Trouble?’

‘You’re not kidding!’

‘Shouldn’t you go to the police?’

‘Burrowes would be well chuffed to see you!’ Alfie’s nervous laugh carried over the others.

‘Burrowes, eh?’ Ambrose snorted, cutting through the clamour. ‘This is getting better and better. No, I think it would be best if we all stayed away from the police. They do tend to leap to the wrong conclusions, don’t they, Alfie?’

‘True,’ Alfie agreed. ‘It’s not the Feds I’m worried about, though. It’s the stuff we saw on the way here.’

‘That’s right,’ said Ralf. ‘You had something to do with that didn’t you? And all the stuff that’s happened before?’

‘That’s it!’ cried Valen, staring at Ralf in sudden understanding. ‘It’s happened to all of us, hasn’t it, Wolf? We’ve known about things before they’ve happened.’

Great. Now Valentina was calling him Wolf too. And Ambrose was calling her Valen and Leon, Leo. The shortened versions of their names seemed more natural, somehow, like he’d used them before. Ralf pushed the thought aside. Why was he getting hung up on names at a time like this? He tried to focus on what she’d just said. The Knowing had happened to her as well and to Seth. Leon too, judging by the way he was nodding queasily, his face a nasty shade of green-grey.

‘Alf?’

‘Yep. It’s been bare hype,’ said Alfie, matter-of-factly. ‘And this guy’s always there when something dark happens.’

Ralf tried to focus and turned back to Ambrose. ‘What’s going on? Why do you keep on popping up? And why did you have our names and addresses written down, anyway?’

‘So I knew where to find you, obviously!’ the man exclaimed. ‘It’s time, I’m afraid.’ Ambrose was now busy serving tea and moved in long strides with a kind of pent up energy that threatened to bubble over into a leap or run at any moment. He poured without accident though, and Ralf accepted a cup of pale green, earthy smelling liquid and held it gingerly.

‘Time?’ Ralf asked. ‘For what?’

Ambrose paused mid-pour and glanced at the broken hourglass. ‘Gosh, I really thought that with all your memories returning, this conversation would progress more quickly. But –’

‘But we could have been having this whole conversation half an hour ago, if you’d stopped when we called you!’ spat Seth.

‘Half an hour ago we wouldn’t have been having this conversation, Seth, we’d have been having an entirely different one, which wouldn’t do at all! You, of all people must remember that. You can’t step –’

‘…into the same river twice,’ Seth finished for him. ‘That’s – that’s just what I’m talking about!’ he cried. ‘How did you know I was thinking of Heraclitus? How do you know so much?’ He was pointing now and flapping his arms like a madman. ‘Our names? The things we know? What – what –’ he pointed to their plates as he stuttered, ‘– what kind of cake we like, for goodness sake!

‘Because I know you all so well, Seth. You and I once had a very memorable conversation about the ancient Greek philosophers. I’m surprised you don’t remember, actually.’ Ambrose handed him a cup of tea. ‘Do have a pastry. They were baked this morning’

‘Enough with the pastries!’ snapped Seth, frustrated. ‘You can start by telling us who you really are. Because I for one don’t buy any of this fortune-teller nonsense! Even your hourglass is rubbish.’

‘Honestly,’ said Ambrose, ‘I really didn’t think it was going to be this difficult. I mean, I know it’s been a while, but –’ He scratched his bald head. ‘Ah! I’ve got an idea.’ He strode to the back of the tent and bent to retrieve something from behind the desk. Then, throwing his hood over his head, he stood, holding the hourglass in his bony right hand and an eight-foot scythe in his left.

‘Ta Daa!’ sang the ominous black figure, mischievously. ‘How about now? Anything coming back?

‘Is that supposed to be funny?’ Valen’s shout was pure frustration. ‘This is ridiculous!’ she yelled. ‘There’s proper freaky stuff going on here and you’re playing charades, talking about dead Greek blokes and dishing out cake! There was a sword fight on the way here! An air raid siren! A dinosaur in the river! And we got shot at, by Saxons – with really sharp arrows!’

Ambrose scratched his head and looked at them searchingly. ‘You’re not joshing? Don’t you know what’s going on?’

‘To be honest, we’re not really in the mood for jokes,’ said Seth.

‘I think, maybe, you must be mistaking us for someone else,’ said Ralf.

There was a horrid, horrified silence and Ambrose pinched the bridge of his nose in consternation. ‘You really have no idea who I am?’

‘Finally, he gets it!’ Valen cried.

‘
Should
we know you?’ Ralf asked.

‘Well – yes!’ cried Ambrose, appalled. ‘Quite frankly, you should!’

‘Oh! Oh!’ Alfie yelled suddenly. ‘I know!’

Ambrose’s face brightened but fell again when he saw Alfie’s expression change from excitement to horror. ‘I get it! He’s Death, man! He’s the Grim Reaper! We’re all gonna die, innit!’

‘Death!’ Ambrose propped the scythe against the wall and slammed the hourglass back on the desk. ‘Death!’ he repeated. He paced up and down, grumbling into the folds of his hood. ‘This always happens! I blame Homer. He always did have ideas above his station. There is no such person as the Grim Reaper. It was all a huge misunderstanding!’

Alfie started to speak but Ambrose cut him off. ‘Death is just the end of life! It’s an abstract idea. It’s not something that can be seen!’ He stared at their blank faces then slumped against the side of the desk. ‘Quite extraordinary!’ He scratched his head.  ‘I knew there might be gaps in your memories. You might be a bit hazy but I wasn’t expecting this. The problem is if I just came out and told you, you’d never believe me. Probably think I was some crazed old loon!’

‘Perish the thought!’ sneered Seth.

‘Exactly,’ said Ambrose. ‘Ah ha! I’ve got it!’ He leapt up again as an idea came to him. ‘Prompts!’

‘Eh?’ said Alfie.

‘I need to find something to prompt you. Get those memories clicking into gear. Let’s start with me!’ Ambrose extracted a thick encyclopaedia from the mess of other books and papers on the table. ‘Here. Look at this!’ He gestured to an entry at the bottom of the page. It was a dark, Victorian illustration of an old hooded man carrying an hourglass in one hand and a scythe in the other. The caption beneath it read:
Detail of Old Father Time in pen and ink drawing by William Smith (1856).
It took a second for Ralf to see it, the man in the picture had longer hair and a beard, but the similarity between him and the man next to him was striking.

‘It’s you!’ Valen exclaimed.

‘They never get my good side,’ Ambrose said gloomily.

‘You’re kidding me!’ Ralf’s eyes darted back and forth between the picture and the man as if he was at a tennis match. ‘You’re Old Father Time!’

‘The word ‘Old’ is a bit redundant in my line of work.’

This time nobody spoke. The five just looked at him in confusion.

‘Okay. I get that Death isn’t a person, yeah,’ said Alfie, eventually finding his voice. ‘I’ve seen him in films and stuff but he’s made up. But I still don’t get who you are. How can you be Time? I mean that’s a – an abstract idea thingy too, innit?’