Chapter 55
Tatscombe Hall, Wealdshire. 1517
Andrew Starling wasn't exactly delighted at the news that he was to sent to Australia, but he was relieved that he now had a future. He made a vow that he would face adversity with as much courage as he could muster, prove to himself that he could make a success of his life without harming others and, if possible, do what he could to compensate those he had wronged.
He had taken half an hour to write his letters and he now handed these to Josie. One was addressed to his wife, and the other to the Deputy Superintendent of Roads.
'When do we leave?' he asked.
'Whenever you like,' Josie told him. 'We have to talk to the magistrate again but, as you know, we can come back here at any time. Shall we arrange to come back in an hour's time?'
Andrew Starling looked a little uncomfortable. 'I was wondering if we could leave tomorrow and . . . in the meantime . . . I know I shouldn't be asking this, but I have a favour to ask.'
'What is it?' said Chris, sympathetically, now accustomed to asking favours of people himself.
'I'd like to get my hands on some books about Australian history — just so that I'll have some idea of what to expect when I get there. The more I know, the easier it will be for me to fit in.'
Chris nodded. 'I'll go to the library tomorrow and see what I can find. I'll bring them back later today.'
Starling looked baffled for a moment but then realised what Chris meant. 'Thanks,' he said. 'I do appreciate that.'
Chris returned an hour later although it was now Monday back at home. He had visited the library after school and found a few books that he thought Mr Starling might find useful. Although it took him a while to undertake the errand, he knew that if he was in Andrew Starling's position, he would hope that someone would be sufficiently compassionate to do the same for him. Before he and Josie left home they had listened to PM on Radio 4.
'We have received several messages from listeners today, the majority of which support the road protesters. Mr Anthony Clyde rang to say that he doesn't want to hear any more about Puck's Dell until the tunnellers have been removed. The Reverend Clive Forsyth, on the other hand, e-mailed us to say how refreshing it was to hear Misty speaking so passionately and with such conviction, and how different it was from the contributions of most politicians.'
They had also heard a short item reporting that there was some concern about the whereabouts of the Superintendent of Roads who had not been seen since the previous Friday.
While Starling leafed through the books, Chris and Josie went outside to chat in private.
'What do you think?' Chris asked. 'Should we tell him that his absence has been mentioned on the radio?'
'I don't think so. The poor man has got enough to worry about.'
'But what about if he asks us what is happening at home?'
'Let's say that we don't know.'
'Okay.'
They went back inside.
Andrew Starling looked delighted. 'These books are wonderful,' he said. 'By tomorrow morning I'll be an expert on nineteenth century Australia. It does sound a bit grim, though.' The look on his face reminded Chris of someone being told they're about to have an operation without anaesthetic. 'I just flicked through this book about convicts and, at first glance, I get the impression I'm going to have a bit of a rough ride.'
Before he could say any more, they heard a commotion at the door. Sir James appeared, closely followed by Sarah and a woman wrapped in an old woollen shawl. The twins recognised her immediately as Sarah's Aunt Alice. Sarah looked both surprised and embarrassed by her aunt's unexpected arrival.
'I must see this man,' she said in a croaky, yet authoritative, voice.
No-one moved as she walked up to Andrew Starling and studied him closely. The twins felt quite sorry for him as he looked so flustered at finding himself the subject of the old woman's scrutiny. They realised that he had no notion of who she was and even less idea of why she was here.
Her inspection completed, Aunt Alice stepped back and spoke — at first to herself.
'It is he. I am satisfied 'tis he.'
(There must be some mistake, thought Starling. Who is this woman? Who does she think I am?)
She then spoke directly to Starling.
'Thou art not an evil man, although it doth seem so to others. Thou art more fool than rogue.'
(That's true. I have been a fool but I'm not really a bad person.)
Alice reached beneath her shawl and removed an object which she held clutched in her hand. She spoke again.
'In my hand I hold a charm. It hath been in my family for generation after generation. Each woman was instructed to pass it on to her daughter until it reached she who hath no issue. I am she, for I have no children. I must give the charm to he who hath no past. And he must keep it until he meets the man who will grant him his future.'
She opened her hand and held out the object to Starling.
'Take this. Thou wilt know the man who grants thee thy future — for he will have nothing, yet have all.'
Alice laughed when she saw the incomprehension on Starling's face. 'I warrant thou dost regard me as a foolish old woman. Look into my eyes.'
Starling looked. He stared for what seemed an eternity. He felt as if he was being sucked into a whirlpool of light. When he eventually dropped his gaze, he whispered only, 'I understand.'
What he saw, he never told anyone, either in England or Australia but, whatever it was, it was sufficient to convince him that he was playing a role in a timeless ritual which would span both centuries and continents.
He took the charm from Alice's palm and held it tightly in his own hand. He did not need to examine it to know what it looked like. The image had been etched into his mind when he had looked into Alice's eyes. It was a smooth, perfectly-round stone with a sun-shaped, gold-filled carving on its surface. A golden sun. He knew it had significance — but he knew not what. He understood that he had to give it to the man who would provide him with a future, a man who has nothing yet everything.
No-one could remember seeing Aunt Alice leave. Time had seemed to stand still while she was talking to Andrew Starling, and no-one could recollect exactly what had happened. Neither did anyone feel inclined to talk about it. Whatever had happened had been part of an ancient and mysterious design in which only certain individuals had a predestined role. What they did know, however, was that Andrew Starling was a new man. His eyes gleamed, he held himself more erect, and he had the aura more of a man with a purpose than someone who had been condemned to a life of purgatory.
Chris went up to the new man and said, 'We ought to be going. We'll see you tomorrow.'
'Yes, you will,' Andrew Starling declared. 'But tomorrow you will not see Andrew Starling.' Tapping his chest, he proclaimed, 'For tomorrow — Jack Finch will be born.'