The Thief of Time

by John Boyne

  ‘There’s nothing you can do to help him,’ she cried. ‘He’s made his own bed. And for God’s sake, keep your voice down. The last thing we need is for someone to come out here right now.’

  I was furious; I hated being in this position. ‘But what if I could help him?’ I asked her, my voice low now but filled with self-loathing; I didn’t want to have to make this decision myself. ‘What if I could use that money to get him out of there? What then? It is his, after all. He worked for it, not me, not you. Even if he stayed in jail for the next few years, it would still be there waiting for him when he came out. He’d have a chance to rebuild his life.’

  She put down her bowl of peas and stood up. Coming towards me she took my face in her hands and looked deep into my eyes. ‘Listen to me, Matthieu,’ she said, her voice able to maintain the steady equilibrium that my own could not. ‘You are not a child any more. You can make your own choices. But think of this: we have an opportunity here. You, me, Tomas. We have the chance we have always needed. We can do this. Jack is not your friend. You think he is, but he’s not. You owe him nothing.’

  I laughed. ‘That’s not true,’ I said. ‘He is my friend. Look at what he did for me. He put himself in jail to prevent me from going there. He wouldn’t have done that to Nat if he didn’t care about me.’

  ‘You think he was defending your honour?’ she asked me, her hands on her hips. Her mouth opened and shut a few times as she wondered whether or not to continue with this. ‘You think it was your honour, you fool? It was mine. It was my honour he was defending. Open your eyes, Matthieu.’

  I took a step back in surprise. I didn’t understand what she meant. ‘Your honour?’ I asked quietly, my brow furrowing as I tried to make sense of it. ‘I don’t ...’ Then it came to me and I looked at her in shock. ‘What are you saying?’ I asked her hesitantly. She said nothing for a time, simply looked down a little in shame and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Nothing ever happened, of course,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t let it. You know I love you, Matthieu.’

  My head spun with the possibilities and I thought about simply jumping on a horse and riding away, leaving them all, Jack, Dominique, the money, far behind me. ‘You’re lying,’ I said eventually, my voice cutting through the tension.

  ‘Whatever you want to believe is fine,’ she said casually. ‘The fact remains that Jack Holby is no more your friend than he is mine. And he has something that we can have. We can take it and we can leave. It’s up to you. Where is it, anyway?’

  I shook my head, dazed. ‘No,’ I said. ‘No, I want you to tell me what you mean by that. Why would he be defending your honour?’

  She sighed and looked around, drying her hands in the apron she wore. ‘It was nothing,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to get angry about it.’

  ‘Just tell me!’ I shouted.

  ‘It’s just that sometimes, when you would go home in the evenings, we would end up talking. We both live here after all. We see more of each other than you see of either of us.’

  ‘Tell me what happened,’ I insisted.

  ‘He liked me,’ she said simply. ‘He knew you weren’t my brother, he could tell that, he said as much to me himself and he asked me what had taken place between us. Whether we were lovers.’ My heart skipped a beat at the word and I stared at her, waiting for her to continue. ‘I told him we weren’t,’ she said. ‘There was nothing to be gained from it and it was not his business anyway. I said you had feelings towards me but, for me, this farce of being brother and sister was closer to the truth.’

  I swallowed hard and felt tears well behind my eyes. I was afraid to ask whether she thought that was actually the case or whether she had simply said it for Jack’s benefit. And somewhere deep inside, the childish, immature side of me wanted her to acknowledge the fact that we were lovers. For her to deny it to Jack wounded me and I knew not why.

  ‘So what did he do?’ I asked.

  ‘He tried to kiss me,’ she said. ‘But I told him no. It was too complicated. Besides, he’s just a boy.’

  I laughed, irritated by her arrogance. Jack was older than I was – and older than Dominique as well – and for her to dismiss him in such a way maddened me. My mind was spinning with possibilities. Was she telling the truth about Jack or lying? And what of Nat? He was older than us, and uglier, but richer. Far richer. I shook my head to expel all such thoughts for now and looked at her in bitterness.

  ‘I won’t tell you where the money is,’ I said. ‘But we will take it. We’ll take it tonight.’

  She smiled. ‘It’s for the best, Matthieu,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Just... shut up, Dominique,’ I said aggressively, my eyes closed as I battled between untrusting love and greed. ‘I’ll come here tonight. Around midnight. We’ll take the money then and we’ll leave then, all right?’

  ‘And Tomas?’

  ‘After we take it, we’ll stop off for him. I’ll speak to him this afternoon.’ I turned on my heel and prepared to walk away and she shouted something after me that I didn’t hear. I didn’t know what to believe. No – that’s not true. I did know. I knew she was lying. I knew by the way she had said it, when she had said it, that she was lying. Nothing untoward could ever have happened between them; Jack, for one, would never have allowed it. He was too good a friend for that. He would never have betrayed me. There was not a single doubt in my mind that she was lying and yet I chose to believe her anyway, because by doing so I could justify my actions.

  If I pretended to believe that Jack Holby had betrayed me, then I could betray him too. With a new resolve, I walked home quickly, determined now. I would take the money and run.

  Tomas was insistent; he didn’t want me to leave Cageley. More importantly, he didn’t want to have to leave either.

  ‘But think of the new life we’ll lead in London,’ I explained, doing my best to sound excited about it. ‘Remember we planned to go there in the first place.’

  ‘I remember you planning on going there,’ he said. ‘I don’t remember being consulted on it. You and Dominique were the ones who wanted to go there, not me. I’m happy where I am.’

  He sulked, considering tears, and I groaned in frustration. I had never counted on him finding a home here and it surprised me. For although I too had been reasonably happy in Cageley, it had never meant so much to me that I could not imagine leaving it some day. And I envied him for finding that which had proved so elusive to me all my life: a home.

  ‘Mrs Amberton ...’ I said, appealing to her for some help but she turned away from me with tears in her eyes.

  ‘No point looking to me,’ she said. ‘You know what I think on the matter.’

  ‘We can’t be separated,’ I said firmly, trying to take hold of my brother’s hand but he pulled away from me. ‘We’re a family, Tomas.’

  ‘We’re a family too,’ cried Mrs Amberton. ‘And didn’t we take you in, both of you, when you didn’t have a place to go? You were grateful enough to have us then.’

  ‘We’ve been through this,’ I said, exhausted by the amount of work which was going into making these simple plans. I was growing annoyed by her unwillingness to help me persuade Tomas to change his mind too; it never occurred to me that she loved the boy. ‘I’ve made my decision.’

  ‘When would we be leaving?’ asked Tomas, not caving in even slightly but anxious to know the timetable of these upcoming plans.

  I shrugged. ‘A couple of days,’ I said. ‘Maybe sooner.’

  His eyes opened wide and he looked at Mr and Mrs Amberton in horror, his lower lip trembling slightly as he tried not to cry. I could see that he wanted to say something, to protest at my decision, but he was at a loss for words.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘Trust me.’

  ‘It won’t be fine,’ he said, giving up now and letting the tears flow. ‘I don’t want to go!’

  I stood up furiously and looked around the room. Mr Amberton was sitting by the fire, for once in his life ignoring his whi
skey bottle which sat on the mantelpiece, while his wife and my brother hugged each other for support. It made me feel as if I was the cruellest man in the world when all I was trying to do was to keep my family together. It was too much.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry about it,’ I said angrily, leaving the room. ‘But that’s my decision and that’s what we’re doing. You’re coming whether you like it or not.’

  There was a full moon but thin, wispy clouds were drifting across it and I stood in the woods, surrounded by trees, the smell of the bark surrounding me as I shivered slightly from nervousness. It was after midnight and Dominique had already emerged from the house; she was standing in our usual spot near the stables but I wanted to watch her for a few moments before making my appearance. It had been one of the longest days of my life and here I was, needlessly dragging it into the next as I prepared to rob the friend who had sacrificed so much for me. I stared at my sometime lover, wondering how our lives would develop in London once we were wealthy, and despite the amount of time I had spent looking forward to such a day, I could not see it now. I was blinded by the money. Three hundred pounds. Enough to set us up comfortably, but a high price to pay for the loss of one’s honour.

  ‘There you are,’ she said, smiling in relief as she saw me emerge from my hiding place and come walking towards her. ‘I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.’

  ‘You knew I would,’ I said irritably. She reached across and rubbed my arm quickly.

  ‘You’re cold,’ she said. ‘It’ll be all right. I’ve left my things over there.’ She nodded towards the wall where one small case stood propped up against it. ‘I didn’t bring much,’ she added. ‘We can get new things once we get to London.’

  ‘I’ll go up and get the money,’ I muttered, not feeling much like small talk, particularly when it involved the spending of our ill-gotten gains. I began to walk towards the entrance but she came after me quickly.

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘There’s no point,’ I said. ‘I can get it myself

  ‘I want to,’ she replied, her voice filled with a false gaiety, as if this was some sort of great adventure we were on. ‘I’ll keep a watch out for you.’

  I paused and stared at her. The moonlight made her skin appear a bluish-white and she held my gaze steadily. ‘Keep a watch out for me or on me?’ I asked her. ‘What do you think I’m going to do? Run away with it myself?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she said, shaking her head. There was a long pause as she pursed her lips, trying to decipher my mood. ‘I’ll come with you,’ she repeated firmly, tugging at my shirt and this time I merely shrugged and continued to walk. Near the door I stopped, holding on to the series of spiked railings which cordoned off the basement washing room from my ground level and looked upwards towards the roof. It didn’t look so very high up from where I was standing but I knew from experience that the view was a lot more troublesome from the top. It was easily thirty feet in the air and yet from this place I felt I could scale the wall easily, like an eighteenth-century Romeo.

  ‘Come on,’ I said, opening the door and stepping through into the darkness. Inside, the kitchen was black and I made my way to the stairway which led to the servants’ quarters. With Dominique trailing me by a few feet I began to ascend them quietly and reached behind me to take her hand. At the next level up, a candle was burning on the windowsill and I stopped for a moment, considering whether I should take it with me, but decided against it. It threw a narrow corridor of light upwards and I could make out the steps without much difficulty. Unfortunately, Dominique stumbled and had I not been holding her hand she would have fallen and made some noise.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, biting her lip, and I stared at her. My stomach was churning with fear, not so much for any apparent danger, for in truth there was little, but for what I was about to do, and for what? For her? For us?

  ‘Be careful,’ I muttered, continuing to climb. ‘Go quietly.’ At the next level, I could see the doors which led to several rooms, one of which I knew to be Mary-Ann’s, one of which I knew to be Dominique’s. At the turn of the spiral, six steps up, was a door standing slightly ajar and I hesitated, looking back as if to acknowledge a respectful moment. It was the door to Jack’s room and something made me press against it lightly, causing it to open wider with the slightest groan which sounded to me as if it was echoing all across England. I drew in my breath, hesitating as I was sure that an alarm was about to be sounded, and as I stood there I glanced inside. A narrow bed, a wardrobe with one door hanging loose from a lower hinge. A rug on the floor, threadbare. A fireplace still filled with cinders. A shelf filled with books. A waterbowl; a jug. I had seen it before of course but it struck me as ghostly now, knowing where its occupant currently resided and where he was likely to remain. We continued upwards.

  A long corridor ended with a window, which in turn led out to the roof. I opened the window gently and stepped outside into the cold night air, reaching back to help Dominique step through as well. Her skirt was long and became briefly tangled on a splinter of wood extending from the lower frame but after tearing it loose we were out. We were standing on a flat platform, perhaps fifteen feet by ten, and to the right of us the slate roof extended upwards. I walked over to the edge and leaned slightly forward, looking down at the spiked railings below where I had been standing a few minutes earlier. I was transfixed by the height and felt my sense of balance begin to slip away from me as Dominique grabbed my arm and pulled me back towards her fiercely. We fell, pressed against the wall, our lips separated by no more than a hand, but she pushed me away, looking at me for all the world as if I was mad.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked angrily. ‘Do you want to fall off? You’d kill yourself if you fell from this height.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to fall,’ I protested. ‘I was just looking.’

  ‘Well, don’t look. Let’s just find this money and get out of here.’

  I nodded and looked about me. Jack had said that there was a covering which led to a drain and that was where he stored his wealth. I was still slightly disorientated but saw the drain running along the roof and followed it with my eyes until I spotted the square black panel at the side.

  ‘There,’ I said, pointing at it. ‘That’s it.’ I went over and knelt down beside it, attempting to prise it open, but the small circle from which one could access what lay beneath was too small for my fingers.

  ‘Here. Use this,’ said Dominique, handing me a hooked pin from her hair, which fell about her shoulders now. I stared at her for a moment before returning to the task at hand and lifted the cover effortlessly. Reaching in, I pulled out the box which lay below and we sat against the wall, staring at it in delight. That was the moment when I knew that I could take the money. I hadn’t seen it yet, I hadn’t been able to count it, I just knew that whatever lay inside that box I could take. I could steal it all.

  ‘Open it,’ said Dominique, her voice low and concentrated, and I did as she requested. It was a normal cigar box which he must have bought in the town or, more likely, stolen from a guestroom when he first began his savings. I opened it and we were greeted with a roll of banknotes and some coin. The musty smell of money filled my senses immediately and I laughed, amazed to see so much cash suddenly before me. I pulled out the enormous notes, which were held together by a clip, and marvelled at their size and thick texture. I had rarely held a note myself; my own small savings consisted of a bag of coins which had given me just as much enjoyment as I counted them in my room back at the Ambertons’. Flicking through this hoard, I could tell that there was just as much as Jack had said, potentially more.

  ‘Look at it,’ I said in awe. ‘It’s amazing.’

  ‘It’s our future,’ she replied, standing up and this time helping me to my feet. I put the notes back inside the box and closed it as I stood up, fastening the clip lest some God-delivered breeze whisked it from my hands and across the treetops of Cageley, scattering its contents down upon
the houses below. I was ready now to go through the window and get out of Cageley for ever, already seeing the good life as it stood like a mirage before me, complete with its fine clothes and food, a decent home, a job, more money. And love. Above all, love.

  We turned towards the window and I could not help but look back over my shoulder once. There are moments in life, simple still-framed scenes, that one can recall and, for me, this was one of them. Even after two hundred and fifty-six years on this earth, whenever I think of my youth, my childhood, the picture of my teenage self stopping before the window on the roof of Cageley House, and throwing one last look over my shoulder before I left, springs into my consciousness and my heart sinks with the conviction of my actions and the desolation which they caused me for so many years. For it was at that moment, between two blinks of my eyes, that I saw them across the courtyard down below: the stables. They were not directly in the path of the moonlight but I could make them out with no difficulty. I knew them so well by then, every inch of their flooring, every piece of wood in their walls, every horse contained within. I could hear them when I listened closely, one or two of the mares making whinnying sounds in their sleep. I saw the outside wall and the corner by the water pump where Jack and I always sat to drink a bottle of beer at the end of the day, the spot where the sun shone down best. I remembered the feeling of near hysterical delight it gave me to collapse there after nine or ten hours of work, knowing that the evening stretched before me like a long, lazy picture of possibility. I recalled how we would often sit there for hours, just talking, despite the fact that we had spent the entire day wishing we were elsewhere. I remembered jokes and laughter and insults and friendly mockery. And I knew that if I lived to be a hundred years old, I couldn’t live with what I was about to do.

  There was nowhere else for us to go and no one else to talk to. We were friends. I closed my eyes and thought of it. I did not know what it is to be hurt by those I thought to be my friends although I have felt it often enough since, and there I was, getting ready to do that very thing. All that money. He had worked for it. He had suffered, taken abuse, shovelled shit, brushed down horses ten thousand times; he had worked for it. And I was there to rob him. It was impossible.