by Emily Rodda
Claire shook her hair back again, and stamped her foot. “Well, don’t say thanks or anything! One minute you’re trying to get everyone to take you to stupid Chestnut Tree Village, and the next minute you act like you’re doing a person a favour by going there. Make up your mind!” She flounced out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Patrick sat frozen at his desk. Chestnut Tree Village! Yes! The only way to get in touch with Max now was the way he’d got in touch with him the very first time. Through the TV set in the department store at Chestnut Tree Village. That was where the link with the Finders Keepers program had been set up. And for three weeks in a row he’d gone to that one particular TV set, at ten o’clock on Saturday morning, and tuned to Channel 8. That had opened the way to the other side.
But would it still work? Last Saturday he’d played the game for the last time. On Monday he’d got his prize computer. That was supposed to be his only link with the other side from now on. Max wouldn’t be expecting him to make contact through the TV set again.
Still, with a bit of luck Max and the others might be wondering why he hadn’t called them, and might suspect something had happened to the disk. Then they might very well tune the Finders Keepers computer on to the Chestnut Tree Village TV set again, just in case.
Patrick crossed his fingers. He knew it was a long shot. But he had to try. And tomorrow was Saturday, and Claire had offered to take him to Chestnut Tree Village. What a bit of luck! Shame he had been so ungrateful about it. If he wasn’t careful, she’d change her mind.
“Danny, bath time, quickly!” His mother’s voice floated up outside his window.
“Aw, Mu-um!” whinged Danny below.
Patrick glanced at his watch in surprise, then looked out the window. Sure enough the slanting rays of sunlight had disappeared. Already it was getting dark. The afternoon had flown by while he was puzzling over his problem.
But at least he’d made a plan. And that had made him feel better. Now there was only one thing more to do.
He switched off the computer, put his sweetest little-brother smile on his face, and went looking for Claire.
3
Three’s a Crowd
“I want to go too!” Danny turned down the corners of his mouth and gazed at their mother, Judith, with mournful puppy-dog eyes. He waved his spoon despairingly. “I want to go to Chestnut Tree Village too.” Cereal and milk dripped on to his sleeve, and he sucked at it absentmindedly.
“Danny! Don’t do that!” sighed Judith, looking at him over the top of the newspaper. She reached for her mug of tea.
“Why?”
“Because it’s disgusting, that’s why,” said Claire, chewing toast.
“Mum, Claire teased me!”
“Claire!”
“I didn’t tease him, Mum. I just said he was disgusting.”
“Mum, Claire teased me again!”
“For goodness’ sake! Could we have some peace, please? Claire, just leave him alone, will you? Danny, eat up, go on now, or your Rice Bubbles will get soggy.”
“Anyway, it’s not fair. I want to go to Chestnut Tree Village too,” whimpered Danny. “I want to see the clock and win a prize on Finders Keepers like Patrick.”
“The game’s over now, Danny. And anyway, you’re too young to play,” said Patrick firmly. “And you can’t come to the shops with us.”
“Why?”
“Because you can’t. You’re too young.”
“Mum, Patrick teased me!”
“Patrick!”
“I didn’t tease him, Mum. I just said he was too young to …”
“Mum, Patrick teased …”
“That’s enough!” Judith tore off her glasses and stumbled furiously from her chair, her red dressing-gown tangling around her legs. She shook her fist at them. Her hair stuck up on end and her eyes flashed. The children regarded her curiously.
“You look like that sea witch in Ardon’s Quest, Mum,” Danny remarked.
There was a short pause. Claire snorted with laughter. Judith stared at her reproachfully, then stalked from the room.
The three children looked at one another.
“What’s wrong with Mum?” asked Danny. “Why didn’t she say anything?”
“I don’t think you should have said that about Ardon’s Quest, Dan,” Patrick explained carefully.
“Why?”
“I don’t think Mum wants to look like a sea witch.”
“Oh.” Danny thought about that for a moment, then went back to his breakfast.
Patrick looked at his watch, jumped, and nudged Claire. “We’d better hurry!” he said in a low voice. “It’s already half-past eight!”
Claire frowned. “It can’t be! Oh, so it is – well, nearly. Your watch is a bit fast. Oh, well –”
“Finish your breakfast, Claire. We’ve got to get dressed and get going. We’ll be late!” Patrick urged, still in a whisper. He didn’t want to start Danny off again. Arguing with him would use up even more time.
“Late for what? The shops are open all day. There’s no rush.” Claire yawned.
Patrick didn’t dare say any more. He glanced at the kitchen clock and moved the minute hand of his watch back three minutes to the correct time. He jiggled in his chair as Claire began buttering another piece of toast with agonising slowness. Only an hour and a half to ten o’clock, and the bus took ages. Please hurry, Claire, he begged her silently.
“Hello, kids.” Their father, Paul, wandered in and switched on the kettle. He looked around vaguely. “Where’s Mum?”
“She got sad and went out,” Danny explained, pointing with his spoon.
“Oh. Right.” Paul nodded, and turned back to his tea-making. “Now look, kids, you’ll have to be good and quiet this morning, all right? I’ve got work to do, and …”
“We’ll be quiet. We won’t be here. We’re going to the shops, so I can get a prize,” Danny piped up confidently.
“That’s good,” said Paul, brightening up. “I mean, you know, that’s nice for you.” He began hunting around the kitchen bench. “Anyone seen the teapot lid?”
“Danny, we told you. You can’t come!” exploded Patrick. “We told you!”
Danny drew breath, his bottom lip trembling.
“Listen, Danny, you’ll have a lovely time here with Mum and Dad. Someone’s got to look after them,” soothed Claire.
“You just don’t want me to come with you, Claire. That’s why you’re saying that,” Danny quavered. “You don’t care about me!” His eyes filled with tears.
Paul had been thinking quickly. “I don’t see why Danny shouldn’t go with you, Claire. If you’re old enough to babysit for half the neighbourhood you’re old enough to look after your own brother for a couple of hours, surely.” He gave up the search for the teapot lid and put a saucer on top of the pot instead.
“Dad …”
“Tell you what – if you take Danny I’ll drive you to the shops. How about that? That’ll save some time, won’t it? And he’ll be good, won’t you, Dan?”
Danny nodded vehemently. “I’ll be good! I’ll be good!” he shouted.
“OK, Claire?” beamed Paul.
Claire made a face, and gave up. “OK,” she shrugged. “As long as he does what I say.”
“Yay!” squeaked Danny. “Thanks, Dad!” He gazed at his father adoringly.
Patrick groaned. Now he’d have Danny hanging around his neck, and it would be much harder to slip away to the TV set in the department store and try to contact Max. How unfair! He looked at the clock and jumped.
“It’s nine o’clock!” he exclaimed. “Dad! It’s nine o’clock! And you’re not even dressed yet. If we go with you we’ll be late!”
“Late for what?”
Patrick felt his face go hot. “I’ve got to be there by ten o’clock,” he said. “I’ve got to. I … um … want to hear the clock strike ten. It’s just … an experiment.”
“For school?” Paul began pouring out tea, holdi
ng the saucer in place with one hand. Steam blew back and scalded his fingers. “Ouch!”
“Sort of.” Patrick fiddled with his spoon.
“Oh, I know what he’s on about,” said Claire. She stood up, carried her plate to the sink and turned to grin at Patrick. “It’s because of last Saturday, isn’t it? When the clock struck ten twice? Patrick, there’s no reason why it should do it again this Saturday. That’s silly!”
“That’s not the reason,” said Patrick with dignity. “I didn’t even know it did strike ten twice last week.” I had other things on my mind at the time, he thought. Like pulling Estelle back through the Barrier with me, for example. But come to think of it, that caused a real mess-up over on the other side. Shook up the whole TV station. And the Finders Keepers computer. And the Barrier. Maybe it messed up things on our side as well. Made the clock go funny, for instance.
Danny was leaping and bounding like a puppy. “Dad, Dad, can we? Can we get there to hear the clock strike ten two times? Can we? Ple-ease?”
“Danny, it won’t …” began Claire.
“Danny, you don’t …” began Patrick.
“Danny, it’s not …” began their father.
Danny’s face crumpled. “Mum!” he called. He trailed from the room. They heard his voice echoing in the hall. “Mum, Mum, Claire-and-Patrick-and-Dad te-eased me!”
Paul sighed, rolled his eyes and began swallowing tea, fast. “Come on, kids,” he said. “Let’s get this show on the road. I’ll get dressed now and …” He noticed the teapot lid, lying on the kitchen bench by the stove. He shook his head. “That wasn’t there before, you know,” he said, almost to himself. “Definitely. Sometimes I wonder –”
“You’re getting old, father,” drawled Claire. “Face facts.”
Patrick grinned. He knew where the teapot lid had been. Through the Barrier, and then, courtesy of some efficient Barrier Guard, back again. His time on the other side had solved the little mystery of where lost things disappeared to, once and for all. He knew now that there was an invisible Barrier between the two worlds. And he knew that the Barrier sometimes tore, so that objects fell through from one side to another.
With his own eyes he’d seen the Barrier Guards on the other side pushing things like the teapot lid, and car keys, books, and even dogs’ bowls, back where they belonged. He’d seen the Barrier Works Squad teams sewing up the tears so things would stop falling through.
They were well-organised over there. There were even people called Barrier-combers who made a living out of picking up the things the Barrier Guards missed, and selling them on little stalls.
His friends over there, like Max and Boopie, couldn’t understand why on Patrick’s side people didn’t even know the Barrier existed. But it was all very well for them. On their side the Barrier was easy to see – like a big, shining wall. And you could see the cracks and tears, and the things falling through, quite clearly.
But over here the Barrier couldn’t be seen at all – it was too broken up and hazy on this side for anyone to notice. Patrick had thought of trying to explain it to his family – of course he had. But somehow he knew they wouldn’t believe him. Well, Danny might. But Danny would believe anything. He didn’t count.
Thinking of Danny brought Patrick back to the present. Just for once Danny had been quite useful. Thanks to him, things were at last going Patrick’s way. He’d be at the TV set in Chestnut Tree Village by ten o’clock now for sure. And then – well, only time would tell what would happen next.
4
Contact
As soon as Paul dropped them off, Patrick could see that he wasn’t the only one in a hurry at Chestnut Tree Village. On the ground floor, where they went in, it was very busy indeed. People were bustling around, pushing their way around the queues that had formed in front of the food counters, while the shop assistants rushed to and fro pushing things into bags, grabbing money and thrusting back the change.
“Aren’t they slow? And I’m that late! I don’t know where the time’s gone this morning!” they heard an old woman complain to the man next to her.
“You and me both,” he grunted, pulling at his moustache and looking off into the distance.
“It’s been like it all week, really,” the old lady chatted on. “It’s flown! It’ll be Christmas before we know it. I was saying to my husband only yesterday, it’ll be Christmas …”
Patrick and Claire made for the escalators. “Claire, wait!” Danny’s voice wailed faintly behind them. “Claire!” Claire looked around, exclaimed, and plunged back into the small crowd milling in front of a fruit counter. She emerged dragging a pink-faced Danny by the hand. “Keep up,” she scolded.
“I dropped my golf ball,” he explained, showing her. “And you didn’t wait!”
Patrick sighed. “I told you not to bring that, Danny. I told you! You’ll just lose it. Put it back in your pocket.” He glanced at his watch. A quarter to ten. “Come on!” he shouted.
The escalators were crowded with people. The children stood hemmed in as they moved slowly up to the next level.
“We’ll miss the clock,” worried Danny, jiggling impatiently. “We’ll miss it going twice!”
Patrick saw the woman on the step below them smile. “Sshh!” he hissed, embarrassed. “We’ve got plenty of time. It’ll be all right.” I hope, he thought, gritting his teeth.
They reached the top level at last. Danny bolted for the clock, which stood in the centre of the floor surrounded by its little white fence and a neat row of bushes in pots. Patrick followed with Claire, trying not to look too eager. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes to ten. The escalators really had been slow. But still, as he’d said to Danny, there was plenty of time. His heart was thumping. In fact, he had to kill time, he decided, until Claire was firmly trapped with Danny at the clock and he could get away.
He left her side and strolled over to the antique shop window, pretending to look at the display. But his eyes flicked around, barely noticing the shining silver, the painted ornaments and the brightly coloured hummingbirds in their glass case. Claire was staring at him. He could feel it. He resisted the urge to look at his watch again and pretended instead to read the gold lettering at the bottom of the shop window. “A.V. Varga, Proprietor.” He nodded as if this was important.
“Come on, Patrick,” Claire called from across the plaza. Reluctantly he wandered over to join her.
As usual a small crowd had gathered by the fence to watch the clock strike. Small children and their parents, talking, pointing, and excited; interested adults, and kids as old as Patrick or older, pretending they just happened to be passing. In a few minutes the blacksmith would begin to swing his hammer to strike the hour on his anvil. Then the little birds would pop out of holes in the chestnut tree’s branches, the painted, smiling sun would rise behind the leaves, and a squirrel would peep out of the tree trunk. It was an extraordinary clock, all right. Patrick wondered who had made it.
He reached the fence and watched Danny wriggle into place right under the front of the clock where he could clearly see the hands. Soon he would have to make some excuse to wander off to the department store and get to the TV set that was his contact point with Max.
“You know, they should look after this thing better,” said Claire disapprovingly, coming up behind him. “Look, the paint’s peeling off and everything.”
Patrick looked, and frowned in surprise. Claire was right. Spots of paint had come off some of the green leaves. And the blacksmith’s carved arm had a crack in it. He hadn’t noticed that before. He leaned over the fence to look more closely, pushing aside the branches of one of the potplants as he did so. And then he saw. The paint wasn’t peeling. It had been chipped off. And the crack in the blacksmith’s arm looked very new.
“Patrick, for heaven’s sake, get out of there,” said Claire, pulling at his arm. “You’ll wreck the plant!” She began fussing with the floppy, bent branches, and then stopped and stared. “Oh, look at this!” She p
ushed him out of the way and plunged her hand into the flower pot, bringing up a blue-and-yellow object that had lain hidden there.
“It’s one of the birds off the clock.” She held it out for him to see. “It must have fallen off into the pot.” She looked up, pointing. “Yes, it must have come out of the hole up there. Gosh, it’s heavy – it’s made of china or something. Lucky it didn’t break. Poor little bird. Isn’t that awful?”
“Let me see!” Patrick held out his hand, but Claire’s fingers closed protectively over her find.
“I’ll hand it in on the way out,” she said, pushing the bird into her shoulder bag. “You better not touch it. You might break it.”
“Claire, don’t be …”
“Claire – Patrick – quick, quick! Look!” Danny was jumping up and down, shouting at them from his place in front of the clock. “It’s going to go!”
“Not for a little while, Danny,” called Claire. She glanced at her watch. “Seven minutes to wait!”
“No, no,” called Danny. “Look! Look, Claire!” He pointed urgently.
Claire and Patrick glanced at each other, sighed, and shook their heads. Kids! They walked around the fence till they stood by Danny’s side, facing the clock.
“See!” he chortled triumphantly, grabbing Claire’s hand. “I told you, Claire!”
“It’s fast!” exclaimed Claire in astonishment. “How about that!”
It was true. The hands of the clock were pointing at two minutes to ten. Claire and Patrick looked at their watches and then at each other. Patrick’s stomach turned over. The Chestnut Tree Village clock was never ever wrong. But today it was. It was five minutes fast. No doubt about it. He thought quickly. What did this mean? Would the Finders Keepers channel open when the clock chimed, as it had before? Or at the real ten o’clock? He didn’t know, and he couldn’t risk a mistake. He’d have to get to the TV set now.
“Told you!” repeated Danny. He tightened his grip on Claire’s hand and, with a sigh of satisfaction, leaned on the fence, his eyes fixed on the place where the squirrel usually appeared.
