Chapter 43
Puck's Dell, Stumblefrith Forest, Wealdshire. Thursday 28 May 1998
Andrew Starling was visiting his family. He visited every day — always at the time he had said he would come. He had brought a change of clothing for each of them and would take a bag of soiled clothes home to put in the washing machine.
'Keep the whites and coloureds separate,' Penelope reminded him.
'I will, I will,' Andrew assured her. He looked round to check that he couldn't be overheard. 'I'm on my way to a meeting. It could be very useful. If things go my way, I'll have a solution to this little financial problem of ours. I know I haven't told you much about why Josie was kidnapped and who the kidnappers were but, if I can let them have their money back — and maybe a bit extra — I think they'll leave us alone and you and the children will be able to go home.' While he hadn't expected his wife to turn somersaults, dance a jig, or scream ecstatically, he had thought she would show a bit more enthusiasm about leaving the camp. 'You don't look particularly excited about going home — or is it that you don't think I can pull this off?'
'Andrew. Don't do anything hasty. We can stick it out here a bit longer. Obviously I'd love to be back home but — you know — we all have to make sacrifices.'
Make sacrifices? Andrew pondered. When did she ever make a sacrifice. She's up to something. But I'm damned if I can think what it is.
'I'll be on my way then,' he said. 'I'll see you tomorrow at three.'
'Righty-ho. Take care.'
Penelope watched her husband leave and wondered what he was up to. It was true what she'd told him — she would like to be at home — but what she hadn't mentioned was that she would miss being at Puck's Dell. Every night she lay awake thinking about why she felt at home here. It certainly didn't make any sense. She'd sort of mentioned it to Misty — but she'd rabbited on about tree sprites and magic influences and pixie power and all sorts of paranormal nonsense. Martha had probably come closest to providing an explanation for the way she felt. She'd said that at Puck's Dell you could be yourself. You didn't have to pretend to be someone else all the time. There was no need to disguise your face with make-up or your body with fashionable clothes. No one cared a hoot what you looked like. No-one judged you by the size of your house or the age of your car. If you told anyone that you had a BMW they'd shrug their shoulders and wonder why you were telling them. What mattered — and all that mattered — was the sort of person you were. Penelope had been a cow. She knew that. But the people here — the pixies as they called themselves — just seemed to accept that if Penelope had to be a cow to be happy — then a cow she'd have to be. But she wasn't happy being a cow. She felt much happier when people were being nice to her and she was being nice to them.
It took Penelope a long time to realise that the pixies were honest. They said what they meant. At the sort of dinner parties to which Penelope was frequently invited, if someone said the soup was 'very pleasant', what they actually meant was that it probably came out of a can from Sainsbury's and was nowhere near as good as the soup which they would serve at their next dinner party. In Penelope's circle, you swallowed a compliment at your peril — for there was every chance that beneath the sugar coating an arsenic capsule had been hidden. In Puck's Dell everything, not just compliments, was as it seemed. Gerard had noticed this as well. For days he'd been going on about how everything was 'wysiwyg'. Eventually, Penelope had asked him what the word meant, and he'd explained that it was a computer term meaning 'what you see is what you get'. Very perceptive of my son, she'd thought. Even Jaine-Marie, who could be more of a prize cow than her mother, seemed to be happy here. She's actually made friends, thought Penelope. In fact, so have I. Well, I don't know whether they're friends yet — but I feel a lot more comfortable with them than I do with my so- called friends in the Kingsbourne set.
Of all the things about Puck's Dell that surprised her, perhaps the most significant was the way people looked. Was it less than a week ago that she'd been horrified by Pepper's appearance? Now, Pepper looked perfectly normal. And Penelope really liked her. She'd almost wet herself when she'd asked Pepper how she'd got her name and was told, 'Assault — a policeman was running towards me and I thought he was having trouble stopping. So I held my hand up to stop him. Unfortunately, I forgot to keep my hand open and he hit my fist with his nose.' And when Penelope had asked if it did any damage, Pepper had said, 'Yeah. I had a huge bruise for ages.'
Penelope took the clean clothes to her bender. The old Penelope would have raced inside, stripped off all the clothes she was wearing, and dressed herself in fresh garments. The new Penelope raised her arm, lowered her head to sniff her armpit, and decided no action was necessary. Not too bad, she decided. These clothes will be okay for another day or two. I wonder what Andrew would have to say about it.
Blackfriars Wood, Wealdshire.
She's definitely up to something, Andrew Starling was still thinking as he parked his Scorpio and walked through Blackfriars Wood. She hates those people, has nothing in common with them, but seems unconcerned about being there. After all these years, she's still a complete mystery to me at times. Never mind. I've more important things to concern myself with right now. An answer to all my problems could be just around the corner. No — not around the corner. Security for my future could be waiting for me in the past.
Chris and Josie were already at the time gate. Andrew had phoned them the previous meeting, apologised profusely for the embarrassing episode when he'd got lost, and asked if they could meet him in the morning. He'd said it was very important and could be extremely valuable to all three of them. They had no idea what he had in mind.
'Good morning, Chris. Good morning, Josie,' he called as he approached them.
He seemed too friendly, too cheerful, too — confident. 'Good morning, Mr Starling,' the twins said. They weren't sure that they trusted this man.
'Let's forget all about yesterday's incident shall we?' he suggested. 'I'm sure you realise what a shock it was for me.' When there was no response, he wasn't sure what to say next. He decided to take the bull by the horns.
'I'd like to buy your bracelet, Josie? I'm sure we can decide on a price that's agreeable to both of us.'
Still no response.
'Well? What do you say?'
He waited for a while, unaware that the twins were too surprised to respond. They'd thought of a few reasons why Mr Starling might want to see them — but offering to buy the bracelet wasn't one of them.
'All right. I'll make you an offer, shall I? What about a hundred pounds? Does that sound reasonable?'
Silence.
'Two hundred pounds?'
Silence.
'Dear me. Kids today are so streetwise. Five hundred, then. I can't go any higher than that.'
Silence.
'Phew! You certainly know how to drive a hard bargain. A thousand. One thousand pounds for your little bracelet. Sounds like a really good offer to me. I don't know how you can turn it down. But I have a horrible feeling that you are. Okay. I won't suggest any more figures. You just tell me how much you want.'
Josie had stared unblinking at Mr Starling while he had been speaking. She hadn't been able to believe what she'd been hearing. 'It's not for sale,' she said.
'Oh Josie! Don't say that. Chris, talk to your sister. See if you can make her see sense. I'm offering her a huge sum of money for a silly little bracelet.'
'If it's so silly,' said Chris, 'How come you want to buy it?'
The look of anger which flashed across Starling's face was quickly replaced by a sickly smile. 'Well done, Chris. You caught me out there all right. Of course it's not a silly bracelet or, as you say, I wouldn't want to buy it. No — it's special. So special, in fact, that you ought to be paid a special price. How about five- thousand pounds?'
'No,' protested Josie. 'I'm not selling my bracelet for any amount of money. It's mine and I'm keeping it.'
Starling shuffled from one foot to the other. This wasn't going the way he had expected it to go. These twins were not only stubborn, but stupid. How could they turn down five-thousand pounds? An idea came to him. He didn't need to buy the bracelet.
'I've just thought of a much better idea. You can keep your bracelet. All I want to do is borrow it. How much would you want to let me hire the bracelet?'
'I'll have to chat to Chris about it,' Josie said.
Chris looked horrified. Starling looked like a cat that's had the cream. I'm getting there! he thought.
Josie pulled her brother onto the time gate.
'Come back!' called Starling as they vanished.
'What are you doing, Josie?' asked Chris crossly. 'You can't let him get his hands on the bracelet. You'd never see it again.'
'I know! I'm not completely stupid!' Josie retaliated. 'I have no intention of letting him have the bracelet, either permanently or temporarily.'
Chris looked relieved. 'Good. What do you think he wants it for?'
'Who knows? But whatever it is, I bet it's not so that he can rescue stable boys who have been wrongfully accused of stealing silver goblets.'
Chris screwed his eyes up. 'What are we going to do? He's gonna keep on and on and on until you give in.'
'I won't give in,' Josie insisted.
'No, I didn't mean that. He'll keep on and on until he has to do something drastic to get the bracelet.'
'That's what's worrying me. I don't fancy having my arm cut off. Maybe he's got a machete up his sleeve.'
Chris's face brightened — not at the thought of his sister being hacked to pieces but because he had an idea. 'We could say that we won't let him have the bracelet — but we'll take him to wherever he wants to go. That way we can find out what he's up to — and keep an eye on him.'
Josie didn't look convinced. 'What's to stop him suddenly attacking us in the past, grabbing the bracelet, and leaving us behind? I don't particularly want to be stuck permanently in medieval England — or wherever he wants to go.'
Chris's face had fallen. 'Heck, you're right. I hadn't thought of that.' It brightened again as he said, 'Hold on. We could say that we'll tell Shadow what we're doing so that, if anything happens to us, he won't be able to get away with it.'
'Okay,' Josie said with some reluctance. 'That might work.'
'Shall we go back and tell him?'
'I suppose so. I'm not looking forward to it, though. I wish we'd left him in 1959.'
'I wonder what he'll think of our idea?' Chris said, without much confidence.
Andrew Starling didn't think much of their idea. In fact, he didn't like it at all. But what option did he have? He certainly couldn't snatch the bracelet and abandon the kids in the past as too many people would assume he was responsible. He could do without any police enquiries or investigative journalism by newspapers or TV programme makers.
He agreed, reluctantly. 'All right. I suppose I'll have to be happy with that arrangement,' he said, although his face showed that he was far from happy. Now he had to find a way to persuade these uncooperative children to assist him in his bacon-saving enterprise.
'Before we finally agree,' Chris said, 'We'll need to know what you're planning to do in the past.'
Starling managed to switch off his gloomy face and force himself to sound cheerful. 'Certainly, my boy. I'm sure you'll be as enthusiastic as I am when you've heard the details. What I want to do is a spot of . . . um . . . well, let's call it treasure hunting.'
Chris's eyes lit up. 'I got a metal detector for my birthday. I haven't had much of a chance to use it yet, but I'd thought about taking it into the past and seeing what I could find.'
Starling tilted his head to one side to show that he was thinking. Metal detecting wasn't exactly what he had in mind, but it did give him a perfect opening. 'Yes, indeed. Excellent idea, Chris. That was just the sort of thing I was thinking of. If the three of us were to find some buried treasure, we could sell it and split the proceeds three ways.'
'Cool,' said Chris.
Some twins are supposed to be telepathic, thought Josie. I wish we were. Then I could tell Chris he's a prat to agree to sharing money three ways when we could look for treasure on our own. We don't need this slimy slug to help us.
Starling warmed to the theme of treasure hunting. 'If we could find out where valuables have been found near here, and when they were found — we could go back in time to before they were dug up and dig them up ourselves.'
'Great idea,' said Chris.
Pillock, thought Josie.
I hope she doesn't think I'm falling for all this crap, thought Chris.
'Just one thing, Mr Starling,' said Josie. 'I don't think that would work.'
Starling pretended to look crestfallen. 'Why ever not, Josie?'
'Something can't exist in two places at the same time. Let's say that someone had dug up a Saxon brooch and given it to Kingsbourne Museum. If we went back and dug it up ourselves, before it was actually dug up — well, I'm not sure what would happen. It might disappear from the museum. Or we might not be able to bring it back. We might not even be allowed to dig it up. When we were in 1517, a couple of people saw these strange characters dressed in black. They seemed to know who we were and what we were doing. I don't know who they were, but I've been thinking of them as sort of Time Guardians.'
Starling felt a shiver run up and down his spine. This was good news and bad news time. It was good news that the twins would probably agree that the idea of digging up treasure would have to be abandoned — but bad news that there might be mysterious Time Police looking out for violations of the laws of time travel. Bad news indeed. But, thought Starling, I expect these mysterious men in black are nothing more than the imaginings of a teenage girl.
'Now that leads to an interesting question,' Starling commented. 'If we did dig up the Saxon brooch, and it disappeared from the museum, would we be committing a crime?'
'Yes,' said Josie.
'No,' said Chris.
'You see,' Starling continued. 'Not clear cut, is it? Personally, I don't think it would be wrong. It certainly wouldn't be a crime because I'm quite sure there are no laws that say you can't go back in time and dig things up. And I don't think it would be wrong because we would be doing exactly what the original finders did, wouldn't—.'
Josie interrupted. 'And there would be nothing to stop me going back on my own, digging up the brooch the day before you got there, and giving it to the museum again.'
'Paradoxes,' said Chris.
The other two ignored him.
'Right then,' said Starling, happy that everyone seemed to be agreeing that treasure hunting was a no-no, 'perhaps we can think of something else. If digging up treasure isn't against the law — what about going back in time and borrowing something from someone?'
'What do you mean exactly?' asked Josie.
Starling had to tread carefully. 'Well, let's say that you went into someone's house in 1720 and took something — a coin, for example. Would that be a crime?'
'Yes,' said Josie.
'No,' said Chris.
Starling much preferred the boy's attitude. What a shame the bracelet wasn't his. 'Why do you say it wouldn't be a crime, Chris?'
Chris grinned. 'Like you said just now — there's no law against it.'
'Exactly! Not only is there no law against it — but there would be no scene of crime for the police to examine, and no victims to give evidence or even report that anything had gone missing. So, the only people who would know that anything had been taken would be us. And even if we told anyone — well, who would believe us?'
'Hold on!' Josie shouted. 'What about the people who were robbed? They'd know about it — and they probably wouldn't be very happy.'
Starling tried to look shocked. 'But my dear Josie, they would have been dead for a few centuries. They died without anything being stolen from them and they're lying happy in their coffins. If we take some of their belongings now, they aren't suddenly going to become unhappy corpses.'
'More paradoxes,' said Chris.
'What?' asked Starling.
'Nothing,' said Chris.
Starling gave one of his smarmiest smiles. 'I have a suggestion. Why don't you two go off again and have a chat about what I've suggested? Listen to your brother, Josie. He knows it wouldn't be wrong. The three of us could become rich — very rich. You think about it.'
Chris didn't have to think about it. When he and Josie had zoomed back a year or two to talk in private, he said, 'Don't shout at me, Josie. I'm in full agreement with you. I was only pretending to go along with him.'
'Oh good,' said Josie looking relieved. 'I hoped you weren't agreeing with him, but you were so convincing that I was getting worried.'
Chris rubbed his hands together. 'I've got a plan. As we're good at teaching thieves a lesson, I think we ought to . . .'
'Excellent!' announced Andrew Starling when he'd heard their plan — or that part of the plan which they were prepared to divulge. 'While you were gone I was having a little think. There's nothing to stop us going back to the same house every ten years or so. Tatscombe Hall would be perfect, especially as you know the layout and it's easy to get to. We could sneak in there in 1517, 1527, 1537 and so on.'
'Great idea, Mr Starling,' said Chris, hoping he wasn't sounding too much of a bootlicker.
Starling checked the time. 'I must go. They'll be wondering where I am back at the office.'
'Three o'clock tomorrow will be okay, will it?' Chris asked.
'Three o'clock will suit me fine. In fact, it will be a perfect time for me,' he said, tapping the side of his nose. 'You won't regret this, I promise you.'
No, but you will, thought Chris.
As Andrew Starling turned to walk back to his car, Josie called out to him, 'Oh, Mr Starling.'
'Yes?' he said, stopping but not turning back.
'There's just one other thing.'
He slowly turned, hoping that the 'one other thing' was a paltry request.
It wasn't.
'We want work on the bypass to be stopped.'
The twins thought Mr Starling was going to choke. His face lost all its colour and then changed to a shiny bright red so quickly that it looked as if his pores were oozing blood. His eyes narrowed — and then stared as if they were firing death rays. His lips tightened — curled into a sneer — and then relaxed.
He breathed in deeply through his nose, and narrowed his eyes again before speaking, obviously picking his words very carefully.
'I doubt . . . whether I can do anything . . . to stop the road being built. But — I promise you that if our little venture is as successful as I hope it will be — I will do all I can to get the work stopped.' He forced a smile that fooled no-one. 'But I think it would be a good idea if you kept this agreement to yourselves. We wouldn't want to raise anyone's hopes — only to dash them later.'
'Okay, Mr Starling,' Chris said. 'That'll be fine.'
'What a toad!' hissed Josie as Starling walked away.
'What a liar!' Chris snarled under his breath. 'You can't believe a word he says.'
Five minutes later, Starling was leaning against his car, a smug look on his face, and speaking into his mobile. 'Tell the Sheriff we move in tomorrow,' he ordered. 'At fifteen-hundred hours we evict the protesters from Stumblefrith Forest.'