by Brett Lee
‘Yeah, and you don’t really feel anything. It must happen really slowly,’ Rahul added.
‘How long over the two hours were you?’ I asked.
‘I reckon it must have been about three, maybe four hours by then—yeah, Rahul? So he says, “Get back now. You’re wasting your time here. And tell your friend it’s time our paths crossed again. Tell him, bring a 1984 Wisden and find me if he doesn’t want to end up like me.” Then he keeps walking, right through the back of the bus.’
‘And then we came straight back,’ Rahul said, breathlessly.
‘God, what does all that mean?’ Georgie asked.
I looked at her. ‘I’ve gotta do this, Georgie. Or else I’ll never travel again. And there’s one more place I want to go.’
‘1930?’ she asked. I nodded. ‘And I’m coming too,’ she added.
‘Georgie, I don’t think—’
‘Toby, there’s no way you’re not letting me go back to that place in England. Anyway, you need me there.’
‘We could all—’
‘NO!’ we both yelled at Jay.
‘No, guess not.’
‘I’m going to the library to look up fashion in the 1930s in England,’ said Georgie. ‘Anyone want to come?’
We shook our heads.
‘Not this time, Georgie,’ I said.
Friday—evening
I sat on my bed staring at the front cover of the 2001 Wisden. I’d met the ghostly hooded figure in many places, but somehow the Test match in Hobart made me feel more secure and at home than the other places I’d visited.
I leaned over to turn the music up a bit louder, grabbed hold of Dad’s 1984 Wisden, then opened the 2001 edition to the page with the picture of Adam Gilchrist, his fist clenched and raised, with Justin Langer alongside him.
I wanted the last day. I knew the date: 22 November. The numbers and letters on the page drifted and swirled but I quickly latched onto a sequence of numbers. I focused on the right side of the page, just beneath the picture where the last number should be. Gradually the 2s materialised. The music faded as other noises took over.
I sat alone on a patch of grass at the Bellerive Cricket Oval, watching Gilchrist and Langer batting together on that last day in the 1999 Test match. I’d tried to arrive earlier than last time, but I couldn’t help looking up into the stand every now and then to see if I could catch a glimpse of a group of kids being chased by a hooded ghost.
One minute I was alone, the next I knew he was nearby. I didn’t turn my head. I stared out at the oval, reassured by the cricket and everyone’s rapt attention. I didn’t even jump when I heard him speak.
‘We have to travel again. Listen carefully to me now.’
His voice was low and calm. I didn’t look at him. I knew no one else could see him. I took comfort in watching Adam Gilchrist and Justin Langer pound the attack and tried to concentrate on what they were doing.
‘Have you got the Wisden?’
I nodded.
‘Give it to me.’ I put the Wisden on the grass next to me. ‘1982,’ he breathed, the pages of the Wisden flapping open. He was just behind me. ‘Melbourne. The Melbourne Cricket Ground. 30 December. The final day.’
I closed my eyes. Allan Border and Geoff Thompson. The day Dad, and plenty of other Australians, cried. One of the greatest Test matches played between Australia and England.
‘You must arrive before 11 a.m., before play starts. I will show you which word to focus on. As soon as you arrive, you must walk away from the ground and towards the station that runs parallel to Wellington Road. Do you know it?’
I nodded.
‘Look for me. I will be wearing black trousers and a grey shirt. I am tall and thin. I am nothing like what I am now. You will not find it difficult to recognise me, but you must find me. The station will be crowded, but only after a train arrives.’
‘But it’ll be impossible to find you,’ I said, listening to the polite applause around me as Justin Langer clipped a ball down to fine leg for a single.
‘No, it won’t.’
‘Why?’
‘Nearly all the people will be getting off the train to go to the cricket. I will be getting on the train.’
‘Why? Why were you leaving the cricket?’
‘Greed.’
I waited for him to continue. Maybe there was a curse on the poem. If you did non-cricket things, maybe it somehow made fate go against you.
‘What happened?’ For the first time I turned to look at him. But he continued to stare out at the game, his face hidden by the cloak.
‘Someone or something—some force—pushed me onto the train tracks and I was crushed by the train that was supposed to take me to the racecourse.’
‘So you died?’
‘Yes…and no.’
I swallowed.
‘A time traveller who dies out of time does not die a mortal death. I am a spirit in a decaying body. My world is timeless; my future is endless. I am invisible to the real worlds I travel in. But I am visible to you, another time traveller.’
All the anger and hatred had gone out of his voice. I felt sorry for him, even though he repulsed me with his injuries, his black cloak and the hood. My body relaxed slightly and I half turned again to face him.
‘Then what happened?’
‘Enough.’ His impatience had returned. ‘It will not be easy. But somehow you must prevent this accident from happening.’
‘Sounds like it wasn’t an accident.’
He passed me the Wisden, open at the right page.
‘If we never meet again, you’ll know that you’ve achieved your task.’
I felt like saying that if I’d achieved my task, then maybe I should never have met him anyway. But the whole time thing was now so confusing that I didn’t know what was or was not possible.
‘Wait,’ I called, wondering if anyone had heard me. But the cricket had everyone’s attention.
‘Can I travel from here?’ I asked.
‘Yes, but remember your two hours,’ he called, drifting away.
‘What happens if I go over time?’ I knew part of the answer but I was desperate for more information. He stopped and turned to face me.
‘Look at me,’ he said darkly. ‘This is what happens.’
I took a last look at the cricket. Gilchrist and Langer were only 10 runs shy of the target. Langer would soon go out, but I kept that little piece of knowledge to myself. I stood up and headed towards the rear of the ground.
I found a quiet spot by a fence and opened the Wisden at the page the ghost had marked. I felt with my finger to the spot at the bottom of the page where the number 15 swam about, scattered like bits of dirt. I focused on the time of day and closed my eyes as the tug and pull took hold and the rushing noise started somewhere in my head.
He was right. Crowds of people were streaming towards the ground. White floppy hats, yellow T-shirts, enormous eskies and lots of bare skin surged past me as I started jogging away from the concrete stand I had arrived outside.
I quickly recognised where I was and darted towards the station. It was the same station where Jay and I had made our ‘escape’ from the security guards, a few days before—or about 22 years later.
The car park was full as I walked towards the station. I looked closely at as many people as I could before I remembered that the man would be heading in the same direction as me. I turned to look back, but no one else was going in my direction. There weren’t many people at the station: only an old lady, maybe going to the city to do some shopping, a family, a couple of young guys and a group of men who stood waiting near the exit. Maybe they were meeting people coming in on the next train.
I edged closer to the track and looked down the line. I heard the tingling of the rails and saw the front of the train at the same time. I moved back, turning to see if there’d been any new arrivals. There hadn’t.
The train let off so many passengers that suddenly the station was filled with people stream
ing towards the exit. I moved back and watched them disappear. The train departed and in no time the platform had emptied. Only one man was left.
‘Excuse me, do you have the time?’ I asked him.
‘Ten to 11,’ he answered, glancing at his watch. ‘Another couple of minutes, mate.’ He was obviously talking about when the next train was due in.
I waited nervously for some minutes, looking closely at the people who were drifting into the station or were visible just outside it.
Then I saw him. He was looking nervously up and down the platform. I hadn’t thought about how to convince him not to get on the train, to get him to move away from the edge of the platform.
Tentatively, I approached him.
‘Excuse me, but you shouldn’t get on the next train.’
He looked down at me, frowned, then looked back up the line.
‘Excuse me—’
‘Are you talking to me?’
‘Yes. You told me to—’
‘Listen, little feller. I don’t know who you are or what you’re playing at but just stop it, okay?’
Just as I heard the next train approaching, he moved away, walking slowly down the platform. I didn’t know what to do. In a moment there would be a crush of people and this guy was going to end up on the tracks.
‘You’ve got to leave—now!’ I yelled, dashing up to him.
‘Shove off!’ he snarled, pushing me away. We both turned together as two kids ran towards us.
‘Watch it!’ someone called as they pushed their way through.
I could hear the train roaring towards the station. It didn’t sound like it was going to stop. I backed away, fearful. The man looked confused.
‘Hey, mister!’ I shrieked, desperate now.
He turned to face me and made a threatening step towards me. Suddenly his face changed and he moved towards the edge of the platform, as if someone was calling to him.
The two kids careered past in front of us, one bumping the man so that he stumbled and fell to the ground. I threw myself forwards and grabbed his leg, but still he moved towards the platform edge. I held on grimly, feeling myself being dragged towards the approaching train with him.
My shoes scraped the concrete as I tried desperately to get some sort of grip. I yelled in terror as the wind from the rushing train whipped my hair and clothes. I squeezed my eyes shut and suddenly everything went into slow motion.
We toppled over the edge of the platform. My head landed on the track. I heard and felt the ringing vibration of the train through the rails as it disappeared out of the station. Arms reached over and hauled the two of us back onto the platform.
‘Bloody idiots!’ someone yelled at the two kids who’d bumped into us.
The man was brushing himself down, looking embarrassed and confused.
‘You okay?’ someone asked him.
He nodded, avoiding eye contact with everyone. I sidled away, then jogged to the back of the station, fearful of any more attention.
A few minutes later another train arrived. This one stopped and let off another horde of people. For a moment I lost the guy I’d just saved. Then I saw him stepping onto the train and taking a seat by the window in an almost empty carriage.
As the train eased out of the station, our eyes met. I waved, then looked away quickly, thinking what a dumb thing it had been to do.
17 Georgie’s Surprise
Saturday—morning
JONO threw me the new ball and for the first time in my life I wished he’d thrown it to someone else. I felt tired and lethargic. I was bruised and sore from the train station fall and hadn’t slept well. Even Dad had noticed, asking me if I was sick as we were driving to the game.
I was opening the bowling against TCC. It was the second half of our game and we were defending 256 runs.
After three overs I’d got no wickets and had been hit for 13 runs. Not a disaster, but Jono must have realised I didn’t have my usual pace and zip running in to bowl. (See Tip 1.)
‘I’ll hold you back till later when we might need some tight bowling against the lower order,’ he said. ‘Take slips, I’ll go out.’ Normally I fielded at mid-off and then third man or fine leg so that I didn’t have to jog too far between overs. (See Tip 21.)
It was a slow morning. The TCC batters were solid. They had good defence but weren’t scoring quickly.
‘They won’t make 257, will they?’ Ally said to me between deliveries after the first drinks break.
‘No way. They’ll struggle to get to 150 at this rate.’
‘You’d think they’d be going all out for as many batting points as possible.’
The next ball from Rahul zipped through and Ally took it cleanly before tossing it over to me. I threw it long to Jono at mid-off.
‘Is Martian going to have a keep?’
‘Yep, Mr Pasquali told us to swap after 20 overs. I think he’s looking forward to it.’
The next ball was pushed back to the bowler.
‘Toby?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Is Georgie your girlfriend?’ asked Ally.
I looked at her, but she was staring down the pitch, already crouching and waiting for the next delivery. I bent over myself, but kept my hands on my knees.
‘Um, no. We’re just really good friends.’
The next ball was a repeat of the previous one.
‘C’mon, James!’ someone yelled from the boundary.
‘Yeah, I know, I was just wondering whether there was anything more to it. You don’t see many boys whose best mates are girls, that’s all.’
‘Who says she’s my best mate?’ I asked. I had never thought of Georgie in terms of ‘best friends’. She was just a great friend, like Rahul and Jay.
James took a swing at the next ball. It caught the edge of his bat and flew towards my face. More out of self-defence than an attempt to catch it, I threw one hand up in front of my eyes. The ball struck the base of my thumb and popped up into the air.
I spun round, desperate to make amends and catch it. It had bobbled out to my left, but I was too late. By the time I saw it, the ball was on its way down. But just before it hit the ground a pair of gloves came swooping from nowhere and grabbed the ball just centimetres from the grass. Ally. (See Tip 24.)
Everyone rushed in to celebrate the wicket.
‘Looked like you were dozing there, Toby,’ Jono said.
‘Chatting up Ally, more like it,’ Scott sneered.
‘Nice teamwork, you two,’ Georgie called, slapping us both on the back. I felt myself go red.
I came on for a bowl and picked up two wickets late in the game. Scott bowled out his eight overs during the middle part of the innings and picked up three. We won by 84 runs in the end.
‘Well bowled, Rahul,’ I said as we all left the ground. ‘I rate those medium pacers of yours.’
‘Yeah? Thanks, Tobes. Actually, you know, you did well to get a hand onto that. It was flying.’
‘I’m not sure I was concentrating as hard as I should have been.’
‘Yeah, if I was fielding in first slip next to Ally, I reckon I’d struggle too,’ joked Jay, who had joined us.
‘Good work, Martian!’ I called, watching him carefully packing away his wicket-keeping gloves.
He smiled. ‘Gee, it was good to be out there again. You reckon I’ll get picked for the semis next week?’
‘Who knows?’ said Jay, shrugging.
Ally and Georgie joined us and we all sat on the grass enjoying the sunshine and the sandwiches, drinks and ice-creams that our parents had provided. Jimbo’s dad had brought an Esky full of food and no one seemed too keen to leave.
‘Toby!’ whispered Georgie, as the others became involved in an argument about whether you scored two runs or nothing if you were run out taking a third run. She jerked her head quickly to one side. I moved over to the Esky by Jimbo’s dad’s car and pulled out another drink from the ice.
‘Hey, I’ve got two awesome outfits!’
I had no idea what she was talking about.
She noticed my blank look and went on, ‘I went to the fancy dress shop yesterday. You know—the 1930s look? You want to check them out?’
‘They’re here?’
‘Yep. Hang on.’ She came back a moment later with a bag, but just as she was opening it, Ally came over to say that she was going.
‘What are you two up to this arvo?’ she asked.
Georgie shrugged. ‘Nothing much. You?’
‘Same.’
I wanted to say something but took a swig of my drink instead.
‘Oh, okay, well, I guess I’ll be seeing you,’ she said, moving off.
‘Yeah. Hey, Ally, I’ll call you tonight, okay?’
‘No worries.’
Georgie reached into the bag and pulled out some of the clothes.
‘Who gets to wear the cute cap?’ I asked.
‘We both do.’
‘Yeah, well, you don’t have to get it all out now,’ I said, looking around nervously. ‘You coming to check out the Scorpions?’
‘You mean, see if we can get any dirt on Mr Smale?’
‘Yep. I wouldn’t mind finding out if he really is involved with them.’
James Anderson, playing for England against Australia in a Twenty20 match at Sydney in 2007, conceded a whopping 64 runs off his four overs. His economy rate (average amount of runs hit off each over) was 16.
18 Caught!
Saturday—afternoon
THE Scorpions’ home ground was only about a ten-minute walk from my place. I hadn’t ever been inside their clubrooms. I wasn’t exactly sure what we’d find, if anything, but it was something to do.
I picked up Georgie on the way. She still had the bag of clothes with her.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I know we’re not going for a while. I’ve got a few other things in here I thought I’d show you.’
‘Like?’
‘Like…Hey, look. Isn’t that Scott and Gavin?’
Two kids were skate-boarding in the car park on the other side of the ground.
