The Timepiece and the Girl Who Went Astray: A thrilling new time travel adventure

by O. R. Simmonds

  ‘Noted. Let’s go.’

  They stepped carefully over the blackened obstacles in their way. Residual smoke, which was still quite thick even though the fire was long extinguished, caught in Will’s throat. They made it safely into the study, surrounded by charred remains of furniture, books and even a bathtub, which had presumably fallen from one of the floors above. Frenz glanced around once more to check that no one was approaching, then looked at Will and nodded. The two of them quickly discarded their borrowed gear. Will then rolled up his sleeve and began turning the dials on the Timepiece quickly and deliberately until he’d entered a time and date that he knew by heart.

  Will glanced at Frenz one more time, almost expecting him to change his mind, but instead found a stern, determined face staring back at him. Will took Frenz’s hand and activated the Timepiece.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  December 23rd, 1983, 04:41

  Will had almost gotten used to the overdose of visual stimulus that came with seeing the world around you melt and meld into something new. In this case, the effect was magnified as the charred ruins were replaced in such contrast by the bright, gleaming interior he now found himself in. But the thing that struck him most in this instance was the smell: gone was the near suffocating stench of burning wood, stone and metal, replaced instead with the far more welcoming aromas of pine, leather and tobacco smoke.

  Both Will and Frenz remained still for a moment, listening intently for sounds of activity in the house. The place was deathly silent. Frenz quietly scanned all of the downstairs rooms before he was satisfied that the house was indeed empty.

  The study was a place of ostentatious splendour. Cream silk curtains hung from decorative, gold-gilded rails. The ceiling was moulded with intricate plastered patterns. The walls were smooth, painted by Will’s own hands in rich green paint. The wide wooden planks of the floor were gleaming with a fresh coat of varnish. A high-backed reading chair sat to the right of a fireplace and a tobacco pipe rested on a small side table nearby. The bookcases on either side of the window were covered in neatly arranged, leather-bound volumes. It was a place that Will had spent many hours and the kind of place that he fantasised about one day owning himself as he painted its walls.

  Will approached a wood-panelled wall, placed his palm flat against it and pressed firmly. A large panel popped open, revealing a hidden bathroom. Will entered the room and washed the soot from his face and relieved himself in the toilet. When he was finished, he left the room and said, ‘Sorry, I couldn’t resist. When I was working here, they wouldn’t let me use the bathroom in the house. I had to walk half a mile down the road and use the public restroom.’

  After washing the soot from his own face, Frenz said, ‘Right, let’s get to work.’

  ‘Where do we start? Basement is through there.’ Will pointed back towards the entrance hall.

  ‘If it’s here, it has to be down there somewhere. Let’s go.’

  Will led Frenz back towards the front door of the house. The entrance hall was also brightly lit, with a wide grand staircase to one side. The floor was finished with elegant black and white tiles, which had been cleaned to a brilliant mirror finish. Will opened a door under the main staircase and said, ‘Here it is.’

  ‘Allow me to begin the search,’ Frenz said. ‘I have a clear idea of what I’m looking for. You should stay up here and keep a lookout just in case we get company.’

  ‘Yeah, sure. Good idea.’

  Frenz ducked through the low basement door and disappeared from sight.

  Will could hear his footfalls on the creaking steps fade off to near silence as he descended. Will returned to the study and made himself comfortable in the tan leather reading chair, propping his tired feet up on the matching and well-used footstool. He glanced around the room, trying to imagine what it must be like to be Cillian Gander. He scanned Cillian’s vast collection of books, wondering how many times each one had been read. He looked at the reading lamp, which had a decorative ring at the end of a silver chain. It was such a graceful thing to simply offer a little light to the room. His eyes then fell upon the tobacco pipe that lay on its side atop the antique side table beneath the lamp. He picked up the pipe and rolled it between his fingers. It was a beautiful piece: the bowl and shank had been carved from a single piece of briarwood and polished to a high shine. The base of the bowl had an intricate carving of the many-handed clockface adopted by The Office of Time Dissemination. A gold ring had then been embedded into the wood between the shank and the mouthpiece. The mouthpiece itself appeared to be made from amber.

  As Will studied the pipe, he paused when he thought he heard a faint sound coming from the entrance hall. He froze and concentrated his ears. His eyes darted around the study as if it may somehow aid his hearing.

  There it was again.

  He could hear a faint clinking of metal on metal. Will tiptoed hurriedly towards the study door, dropping the pipe delicately on the side table as he passed.

  Will reached the study doorway and peered out into the entrance hall towards the front door. He heard the sound once more, louder and more defined. The gentle metallic sound was followed by a solid clunk. The door handle then began to turn, and the door groaned open.

  A figure stepped through the door and Will pivoted backwards through the study doorway to avoid being spotted. He pressed his back against the wall and tried to control his breathing. He could hear a staccato click-clack of heeled shoes on the tiled floor approach ever closer. They grew louder and seemed almost upon him.

  Will closed his eyes and braced himself.

  Suddenly, he could feel the floor below him shudder and the high-pitched clatter diminished to the lower-pitched thud of shoes on wooden floors.

  He opened his eyes as the figure walked past him and into the study. The figure turned to the right and stopped in front of the desk, picked up a paper knife and began working the blade into one of the closed drawers in the desk.

  As the figure attempted to break into the drawer, their head turned slightly; without warning, a jolt of electricity surged along Will’s spine. He opened his mouth and attempted to speak her name, but his voice failed him. The rasped sound that arose from his mouth instead only startled her, and she let out a high-pitched scream followed by a series of profanities.

  Hearing Abigayle’s voice again made Will go weak at the knees. Even the tirade of obscenities pouring out of her mouth did nothing to dampen the joy he felt at seeing her again.

  As she laid eyes on the would-be intruder, she pointed the paper knife in his direction and said, ‘Who the bloody hell are you? What do you want?’

  The realisation that she didn’t recognise him jolted Will from his gooey-eyed stupor. It had barely been a week since Will had last seen her, but it was as if years had passed in that time. Looking at her now, it felt as if he was seeing her for the first time all over again. Abigayle, he realised, really was seeing him for the first time and her first impression of him wasn’t going well. She was pointing a knife at him and seemed ready to use it.

  When Will didn’t respond to her initial questioning, she spoke again, ‘Excuse me, sir? If you come any closer, I will cut that pretty little face of yours, so I suggest you leave immediately!’

  Will couldn’t help but smile. It was a side of her that he’d never seen before: afraid but fierce, like a cornered animal. ‘You really think I have a pretty face?’

  His retort caught her off guard. She took half a step back, frowned with slight irritation – something Will had seen a hundred times before – and said, ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I said, do you really think I have a pretty face? Because I’d always thought I had a disproportionately large nose. I get that from my father’s side of the family.’

  Abigayle’s stance softened slightly, then she said, ‘No, don’t say that, you have a quite lovely…’ She suddenly caught herself, shook her head before continuing, ‘Now wait just a minute! Why on earth are we talking about your
nose? You’re trespassing! Tell me what you’re doing here at once or I shall be forced to call the police.’

  ‘Right, right. I can explain. I think. Um…’

  ‘Come on, out with it,’ she said, taking a step forward with the knife still raised towards Will.

  ‘Okay, okay. I’m the painter.’

  ‘The painter?’

  ‘Yeah. The walls. I painted this room, as a matter of fact.’

  Abigayle tilted her head to one side, processing this information. ‘Let’s just assume I believe you, but that doesn’t explain why you’re inside this house.’

  ‘Well, see, the guy who owns this place, he didn’t pay me for the job, and he’s been ducking me for over a week. So, I thought I’d sneak in and confront him when he comes home and ask for an explanation face to face.’

  ‘There are so many reasons why that’s a bad idea, not to mention the fact that it’s illegal. And a little sinister. Perhaps I should call the police.’

  ‘Yes, I agree. Terrible idea. Which is why I’d changed my mind. I was just going to scrub his toilet with his toothbrush and then be on my way, honest.’

  This brought the tiniest smile to Abigayle’s face, which she did her best to hide. ‘That’s utterly vile! You were really going to do that?’

  Will had picked up on the smile and the change of tone in her voice. He grinned back a shock of white teeth and said, ‘Yeah, sure I was. My mother always told me to treat well those who have access to your toothbrush.’

  Abigayle’s smile grew wider. ‘Well, I’m afraid I simply can’t allow you to do that, sir. It wouldn’t be proper.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re probably right. Say, talking of proper, you mind telling me what you’re doing here?’

  ‘This is my employer’s home.’ Will’s stomach lurched and twisted at the news, something he’d hoped wasn’t true. She continued, ‘I have a key. I’m permitted to be here. Not that that’s any of your business.’

  Will motioned towards the desk. ‘The drawer. You were trying to jimmy it open with that knife in your hand.’

  Abigayle blushed, her cheeks suddenly awash with colour. She said, ‘What? No, I think you’re mistaken. I was just, um…’

  Will raised his hands defensively. ‘Hey, look, no need to explain. It doesn’t sound like either of us are here with completely honest intentions, am I right?’

  Abigayle said nothing and could only manage a shrug.

  Will said, ‘How about this: we both leave, one by one, and forget that any of this ever happened?’

  Abigayle nodded reluctantly. ‘Yes, fine. Let’s never talk about this again. To anyone. Agreed?’

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘We should probably go now,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, as unforgettable as this encounter has been, I think it’s time we go our separate ways. You go out the front, I’ll head out the back, the way I came in.’

  ‘Yes, okay. Well, it was nice meeting you.’

  ‘Yeah, it was. Maybe we’ll bump into each other again soon.’

  Abigayle smiled at Will, walked back into the entrance hall and opened the door. She gave him one last look, then waved and closed the door behind her.

  Will strode towards the door as it closed, rested his head against it and slid his hands along the coarse grain of the wood. He could feel Abigayle on the other side of the door as she slid the lock home. He was gripped with dread at the thought that the first time Abigayle spoke to him might be the last time he spoke to her.

  Will shuffled to his left and pulled back the lace curtain to the side of the door and looked out onto the street. He saw Abigayle reach the bottom of the steps before being startled by a familiar-looking man in dirty paint overalls. The two of them spoke hurriedly to each other. Will’s entire body shook when he saw himself, unintentionally disturbing the curtains in the process. He then saw his other self turn his head in his direction as the curtains moved. Will had an odd memory of this moment and so anticipated this and managed to duck out of sight just before making eye contact with the younger version of himself.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  December 23rd, 1983, 04:55

  Will was hunched over with his right shoulder pressed against the front door when he felt fingers close around his arm. He let out an unnatural squeal of fright, jumping a clear foot in the air, then turned to see Frenz standing close by, his hand outstretched and a look of bewilderment on his face. ‘Frenz! What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack or something?’

  Frenz took a step back and held his hands out to the side, palms forward in apology. ‘I’m sorry. Are you okay? You seem rather on edge.’

  ‘I’m just not used to breaking and entering, okay? I’m a little out of my comfort zone here, you know.’

  Frenz said, ‘Nonsense, we’ve broken nothing, but I do believe that we shall need to break out.’

  ‘What do you mean, break out?’

  ‘Come with me, I think I’ve found it.’

  Frenz led Will back through the entrance hall, through the basement door and down the steep cobweb-infested steps into the basement. The two of them skirted along a narrow red-brick passageway with a low ceiling. As they walked, they passed a series of smaller rooms with open doorways leading into them. One was being used as a wine cellar while another seemed to contain years’ and years’ worth of dried and tinned food. Another appeared to contain weapons crates, high explosives and chemicals all covered with terrifying looking warning labels. The only room that had a door hanging from the doorway was almost completely empty, save for a single chair that sat in the middle of the room. It had leather straps hanging from the front legs and armrests. It was bolted to the concrete floor, which was mottled with brown-red stains. Neither Will nor Frenz could bear to think of what horrors might have occurred in there.

  At the very end of the dimly lit passageway, Frenz darted left and down another set of concrete steps. The room they emerged into was far wider than the other rooms and at least four times longer. The floor was also lower and therefore had a higher ceiling. The floor itself was clean and fashioned from smooth, polished concrete.

  The far wall seemed to stretch far enough to be well beyond the footprint of the property above ground. The centre of the room was dominated by a series of heavy-duty metal storage units. The frames of these units appeared to be constructed from thick square bars of solid steel. There were eight units in total, each one with a slightly different configuration. Some were entirely comprised of closed storage compartments, with doors and drawers made from heavy steel sheets, the corners folded and riveted fast. Others were completely open shelves, stacked with large books, ledgers and files. Others still were a combination of the two, but all were tall, wide and substantial.

  Below the storage units and embedded in the concrete floor were rows of metal tracks. These too were extremely robust and resembled those used for trams or cable cars. There were four separate tracks that ran lengthways towards the far wall. At the base of each storage unit were sturdy metal wheels with durable plastic treads. Each wheel sat snuggly inside the tracks, and with a little effort the storage units could be slid from side to side to gain access to each. Attached to each of the wheels was a bulky square block that appeared to act as a dampener to prevent the storage units from gathering too much momentum and derailing. They were tuned to perfection: not so restrictive that sliding the units by hand was a chore, but restrictive enough that once on the move the units didn’t pick up speed. Instead, they glided to a gentle stop once released. It really was an ingenious bit of engineering that both Will and Frenz had to admire.

  After spending a few moments pushing the units back and forth, Will said, ‘These things are cool and everything, but how do these files help us, exactly? Is there a file in here somewhere with some secret blueprints or something?’

  ‘No, no. Nothing like that.’

  ‘Oh, thank god! There must be ten thousand pieces of paper here.’

  ‘It’s not the paper that
I’m interested in. Take a look at this wall. Do you notice anything odd about it?’

  Will walked over to the far side of the room where Frenz was standing. He examined the wall from top to bottom. It was constructed with red bricks like the rest. ‘I don’t get it. It’s a wall, same as…’

  Will didn’t finish the sentence, as something about the construction caught his eye. He walked to the corner of the room and examined where the two walls met, starting at the bottom and tracing his way up to the ceiling. On closer inspection he could see that although the colour of the bricks didn’t appear to vary a great deal, the size did. Will looked over his shoulder to Frenz and said, ‘The bricks on the far wall are smaller than all the other walls. They’re offset from one another.’ Will looked up to the top of the wall and pointed out the disparity. ‘The rows of bricks on this wall are pretty well aligned with the other wall at the bottom, but the farther up the wall you go, the bigger the disparity.’

  ‘Perhaps this far wall is newer and was therefore constructed with smaller bricks,’ Frenz said.

  Will clicked his fingers. ‘The metric system. The UK switched to metric in 1965. They must have made bricks a different size after that.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I remember the furore around the introduction of the metric system. Although many places weren’t properly incorporating it even by 1967. Whenever this wall was built, I’d wager that it was after that.’

  ‘Sure it was. And look’ – Will pointed to the base of the wall – ‘the tracks run right through the wall. It was built on top of them.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly. That’s why I brought you down here in the first place. I’d noticed that the tracks run under the wall, although I have to confess that I hadn’t noticed the misaligned bricks. You know, you’re beginning to get rather good at this,’ Frenz said with a proud grin.