Gideon 02 -The Time Thief

by Linda Buckley-Archer

  “I know exactly where I am,” said Peter. “And I know how to get to Hawthorn Cottage from here.”

  “Gideon’s house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you hear what Lord Luxon said about Gideon and the Tar Man?”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “Neither do I.”

  With difficulty Kate managed to undo Peter’s bonds. They walked over the empty countryside too stunned and upset to want to talk, even though both had a lot that they wanted to say. Sheep roamed the hillsides and thistledown floated by, glistening in the afternoon sunshine. Kate asked Peter only one question:

  “Did my dad tell you the security code for the other machine?”

  “I saw him key it in—but I didn’t pay any attention to what numbers he was pressing,” he replied.

  “Oh. Shame.”

  “But at least the Tar Man doesn’t know it either.”

  In return, Peter asked Kate just one question.

  “You know what Dr. Pirretti said—about seeing a worrying change in you. You don’t think you’ve started to look … kind of faded, do you?”

  Kate looked aghast. “Faded!”

  “It’s probably just the light,” Peter said hurriedly.

  “No, I don’t think I look faded!”

  “She probably only said it to get the Tar Man to change his mind….”

  “Well, it didn’t work, did it?” snapped Kate. “We’re back where we started.”

  Kate walked on ahead by herself but kept holding out her arms and looking at them. She did know what Peter meant, though. Deep down she had known for a while. The change was subtle but she wasn’t the same girl who had arrived in 1763 that first time. And back then she had understood neither what they were up against nor the nature of their journey. Now she did. And she was aware that something had altered during the course of this journey back to the past—although she could not put her finger on exactly what it was. The mellow sun shone down on them, but a growing sense of dread made Kate feel cold and empty and numb.

  Following on behind, Peter looked at Kate’s back and watched her hair, scraped back in a ponytail, swing from side to side. There was no spring in her step and her shoulders were hunched. A flock of crows flew, cawing, overhead and Kate looked back at him briefly, almost as if she were seeking reassurance. It made him wonder how the alternative, grown-up version of himself had behaved toward Kate. Peter saw the fatigue and despair in her pale face, and all he knew was that he had to get her to Gideon and Hawthorn Cottage. For the first time in his life Peter felt responsible for someone, and it helped him to master his own fears.

  “It’s not so bad in 1763,” he called out to her. “And we’ll work out a way of getting home…. And even if we don’t, your dad and Dr. Pirretti will build another antigravity machine. It’s not like they’d just abandon us!”

  Kate merely nodded and trudged on, her eyes squinting in the strong light. Peter jogged forward a few paces to catch up with her. He half expected her to be crying, but when she stopped and turned sadly toward him, no tear rolled down her freckled cheeks. Peter looked at her and, as she stood silhouetted against the luminous Derbyshire landscape, so vibrant with the rich hues of late summer, he realized that there was no denying that Kate appeared diminished. As if she were no longer firmly rooted in this world. As if the tides of time were washing the life out of her. He hesitated momentarily, for such gestures did not come easily to him, and then he put one arm around her. For some time Kate allowed herself to rest her head on his shoulder and they watched the warm wind blow ripples through the dry grass thick with crickets and wildflowers. Then Kate pulled away from him and strode doggedly onward.

  “It’ll be all right, Kate!” he called, but she did not answer.

  When Hawthorn Cottage came into view at last, Peter felt almost like he was coming home, and he started to run down the hill with giant strides. But it was at that very moment that Kate cried out as if in pain. When Peter looked over his shoulder at her, he saw that she had sunk to her knees and was clutching at her chest. Her eyes were round and staring and there was a look of something close to terror on her face.

  Alarmed, Peter hurried back to her, scanning the landscape as he did so for any clues as to the cause of Kate’s distress. But he saw nothing. He heard nothing—apart from the wind whistling through the gorse. He knelt down in front of her. Kate must be ill—but what could be wrong with her that could affect her so badly and so suddenly? Surely she was too young to be having a heart attack….

  “Can’t you feel it?” she gasped. “It’s like I’m being torn apart!”

  “What are you talking about? I can’t feel anything!”

  “But you must!” Kate practically shouted “And it’s getting nearer….”

  “Come on,” urged Peter, getting to his feet and trying to haul her up. “Hawthorn Cottage is only a couple of minutes away.”

  But Kate wriggled out of his grasp and flung herself down on the ground and crossed her arms over her head. Peter grabbed hold of her clenched fists and pulled her to her feet.

  “Cut it out!” he shouted. “Are you trying to be scary? Whatever it is, we’ll be better off inside even if Gideon isn’t there….”

  Peter half dragged and half carried Kate the short distance to Hawthorn Cottage, and at the sound of the gate creaking open, the blond head of Gideon Seymour appeared at the window. A wave of concern passed over his features as he looked down the path at his visitors. He did not need to be told that something was badly wrong. Kate was still struggling feebly. Gideon ran out of the front door and bounded toward them.

  “Do my eyes deceive me?” he exclaimed. “I had thought never to see you again!”

  Panting with the effort of keeping hold of Kate, Peter finally let go of her and she slid to the ground, where she held her head in her hands as if her skull were about to implode.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” Peter gasped. “I don’t know what’s up with Kate—I think she’s ill.”

  Gideon crouched down next to her. “Mistress Kate,” he said softly. “What ails thee?”

  Kate looked up at him and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

  “Forgive me, Mistress Kate. There will be time enough for explanations—let me take you inside.”

  Gideon scooped her up in his arms and stood up, but as he took a step toward the cottage, Kate suddenly screamed.

  “It’s here!” she cried in abject terror and tried to hide her face in Gideon’s neck.

  Gideon and Peter exchanged anxious glances and looked around the sunny garden full of flowers and bees. What could she possibly be seeing?

  But a moment later they knew. There was a great roaring, an apocalyptic tremor, an invisible force that took their breath away. They saw worlds within worlds, they saw people—alive or dead they did not know—staring back at them. It was as if ghosts from all ages were seeping through the walls of time like blood soaking through a linen shirt.

  “Hold on to me!” Peter heard Gideon cry. “We must get inside the cottage!”

  Peter grabbed hold of Gideon’s elbow, and step by step, eyes closed tight against the nightmarish phantasms that surrounded them, they edged blindly toward the front door. Gideon kicked it open and they both fell inside the dark interior. Then Gideon lowered Kate gently onto a chair and ran back to bolt the door as if against a storm. Kate was gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. She was staring straight ahead, her eyes wide open. Peter turned to look in the same direction, and what he saw made him sink to his knees in shock and wonder. The walls of the house were melting away and it was through their shimmering remains that he saw the valley and its surrounding hills that he had grown to know so well. Except that the familiar Derbyshire landscape was duplicating itself, like two mirrors reflecting each other into infinity, creating a never-ending spiral of landscapes which appeared to stretch out into the farthest reaches of space. Peter clamped his hands to h
is ears in an effort to blot out the deafening roar. He feared that he was not made of strong enough stuff to withstand the mighty force that surged all around him. He felt as if he stood at the top of a vertiginous precipice, and that he was going to fall, fall, and never cease falling…. But then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Kate slumped forward like a rag doll released from a giant’s invisible grip. When she sat up again, Peter could see that the pain had vanished from her face. It was over. The bare stone walls seemed to grow back up around them as if by magic, and soon they found themselves once more in the shelter of Hawthorn Cottage.

  Gideon walked toward the front door, slid open the bolt, and pushed it gingerly open. He stepped outside. Kate lifted herself up out of her chair and staggered toward the light. Peter took her arm and all three stood on the doorstep staring out. Gideon put an arm around both their shoulders. All three clung together and Peter realized that he was not the only one to be shaking. They looked around them at Hawthorn Cottage, at the garden with its spreading oak tree, at the field beyond the gate, at the rosehips and the butterflies and the fluffy white clouds in the deep blue sky. Everything appeared normal and yet something was not right. It felt like returning home to a house that has been broken into.

  “Is this the end of the world?” asked Peter.

  “Or the end of all possible worlds … ,” said Kate.

  Overhead, a lark resumed its song.

  “It seems that the very foundations of time do tremble,” said Gideon, “and yet, still we live and the sun does shine.”

  “But for how long?” said Kate abruptly.

  Peter turned around to look at his friend, and all at once she seemed far older than her years. Her heart-shaped face was strained and pinched. He wanted to comfort her but did not know how. Peter glanced up at Gideon, and could not read the expression in his blue eyes, but he felt him squeeze his shoulder.

  “You can’t seriously think it’s over?” Kate continued.

  “You are overwrought, Mistress Kate, but you must not despair,” said Gideon. “It is not for us to know what will come to pass—”

  “But you don’t know what I’ve seen,” interrupted Kate. “This storm has moved on, but another one will come. I can sense it. This is only the beginning!”

  Gideon chose not to reply but instead ushered the children into the house and closed the door behind him. He would think about what to do for the best when a new day dawned, as he hoped it would.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I wrote The Time Thief primarily to entertain rather than inform; nevertheless, one of the joys of writing it has been the research. It has allowed me to become acquainted, either in person, or through the printed word, with all manner of individuals whose specialist knowledge has been invaluable as I have planned these novels. I should like to thank, in particular, Catherine Pappo-Musard, in whose wild, Mediterranean garden the revolutionary elements of the story took shape and where the character of Le Marquis de Montfaron came into existence. It was during a conversation with Vikki Woods, of Historic Royal Palaces, that I learned, firstly, about the introduction of kangaroos to Kew in 1792 and, secondly, about the imminent publication of Susanne Groom and Lee Prosser’s book, Kew Palace: The Official Illustrated History (published to coincide with the opening to the public of this magnificently restored royal residence in 2006). I am grateful to Jane Monahan of the Sir John Soane’s Museum for telling me about the great man’s building projects in Lincoln’s Inn Fields and for bringing to life the history of that most beautiful of London squares. It was in Professor Peter Linebaugh’s fascinating work, The London Hanged, that I came across the old highwayman’s ballad which, a little homesick for their own times, the Tar Man and Tom sing on the balcony of their twenty-first-century loft. The ballad first appeared in Villainy Exploded, 1728, by Anon, and I am grateful to Professor Linebaugh for giving me his permission to use it. Finally, I hope that the Spanish producers of that most delicious red wine, Vega Riaza, will not take it amiss that my fictional thief stole its name for his own purposes.

  To all at Simon & Schuster, on both sides of the Atlantic, who have shown such commitment to this project and, in particular, to my patient, thorough, and encouraging editors, Venetia Gosling in London and Elizabeth Law in New York, my heartfelt thanks.

  My grateful thanks to my inimitable literary agents at A P Watt, whose support and company have made this project even more of a pleasure. A special thank-you to Caradoc King, Christine Glover, Linda Shaughnessy, Teresa Nicholls, and, for her invaluable literary eye, Judith Evans.

  My thanks, also, to all at the Department of Comparative Literature at Goldsmiths College: to Maria MacDonald; to fellow writers Emma Darwin and Ben Felsenburg; to Professors Chris Baldick, Peter Dunwoodie, and Blake Morrison, and, in particular, to Maura Dooley for her insight and encouragement (not to mention a big thank-you to young Imelda for her timely critique!).

  Thank you to Phil Perry and Middleton Mann for introducing the trilogy in such an entertaining way; to Rachel Walsh and Heather Swain for reading the manuscript, and to all, as ever, at G.W., for their support and writerly expertise: Jacqui Hazell, Stephanie Chilman, Kate Harrison, Louise Voss, and Jacqui Lofthouse.

  Finally, and above all, thank you Russell, Louis, and Isabella. I would not even have started the Gideon Trilogy without you.

  L. B.-A.

  Table of Contents

  THE TIME THIEF

  CONTENTS

  TO THE READER

  ONE OXFORD STREET In which the Tar Man has his first encounter with the twenty-first century, and Kate and Dr. Dyer agree to conceal the truth from the police

  TWO THE FALL OF SNOWFLAKES In which Mrs. Dyer sees something alarming, the Tar Man finds what he is looking for, and Kate contacts Peter’s father

  THREE ANJALI In which the Tar Man shows what he is made of, and Kate and Mr. Schock break the law in Middle Harpenden

  FOUR THE OBSERVER In which a gentleman takes a keen interest in an article on cricket

  FIVE ALTERED SKYLINES In which Kate and Mr. Schock make a surprising entrance into the eighteenth century, Peter steals a can of Coca-Cola, and the Tar Man makes a useful discovery

  SIX VEGA RIAZA In which Hannah speaks her mind, the Tar Man gets a new name, and Kate gives Augusta a fright

  SEVEN KANGAROOS AT KEW In which Queen Charlotte offers her friendship to Peter, and Kate and Mr. Schock hear some distressing news

  EIGHT INSPECTOR WHEELER’S CHINESE TAKEOUT In which Inspector Wheeler congratulates himself on a successful hunch and enjoys a celebratory meal

  NINE DR. PIRRETTI’S BOTTOM LINE In which Mr. Schock gets on Kate’s nerves and Dr. Pirretti surprises Dr. Dyer

  TEN THE SWING OF A CHANDELIER In which Kate takes a dislike to the Marquise de Montfaron and the party makes the acquaintance of Louis-Philippe

  ELEVEN CUPID’S ARROW In which a chance encounter delights the Tar Man and Anjali sees more than she bargained for

  TWELVE GHOST FROM THE FUTURE In which the Tar Man confides in Tom, discovers the joys of haunting, and clears up an unresolved matter with Lord Luxon

  THIRTEEN THE SIX CONSPIRATORS In which the six conspirators make plans in the Derbyshire farmhouse and Dr. Pirretti makes a confession

  FOURTEEN PETER’S NOSE In which Mr. Schock gets a close shave, the party encounters a traffic jam, and Kate becomes suspicious

  FIFTEEN THE DOVER PACKET In which a supporter of the revolution flees the country and receives a hero’s welcome, Kate confronts Peter, and the party arrives on French shores

  SIXTEEN THE SCENT OF BLOOD In which Kate and Louis-Philippe meet a fugitive from Paris and Peter loses his temper

  SEVENTEEN THE QUEEN’S BALCONY In which the Tar Man displays his talents and Inspector Wheeler becomes obsessed with a new master criminal

  EIGHTEEN HELICOPTER! In which the Tar Man sends his calling card, Detective Inspector Wheeler finally learns the truth, and the Tar Man tries out his new toy

  NINETEEN THE LIGHTNI
NG CONDUCTOR In which the town of Arras suffers a violent thunderstorm and the party reaches its destination

  TWENTY LE MARQUIS DE MONTFARON In which the party finds itself on the receiving end of the Marquis de Montfaron’s hospitality, Kate’s grip on time is diminished, and Mr. Schock predicts the future

  TWENTY-ONE DUST AND ASHES In which Tom shows his mettle, Anjali has cause to regret her actions, and Lord Luxon plants an idea in the Tar Man’s mind

  TWENTY-TWO THE CHALK MINES OF ARRAS In which the party finds itself in a difficult situation

  TWENTY-THREE A BARGAIN, A GIFT, AND A REQUEST In which the Marquis de Montfaron strikes a bargain with the party, Peter sends a gift to the future, and the Tar Man requests Lord Luxon’s help

  TWENTY-FOUR THE HARVEST BALL In which Peter attempts eighteenth-century dancing and Gideon finds that someone has been sleeping in his bed

  TWENTY-FIVE DINNER OF THE CENTURIES In which the party has much cause to celebrate, Dr. Pirretti makes an impression, and Sergeant Chadwick takes Molly for a walk

  TWENTY-SIX TIMEQUAKE In which Kate and Peter renew an old acquaintance and this story comes to an end

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS