Howzat!

by Brett Lee

  ‘It’s hard to explain. It’s sort of a game.’

  ‘Cool, can I play?’

  ‘Yeah, sure. But first, where’s Jim?’ She looked at me oddly.

  ‘Silly, you were talking to him just a moment ago.’ Suddenly she spun around and ran towards the front of the house.

  ‘Natalie?’ I cried, wondering what had set her off like that. ‘Natalie?’ A wave of nausea spread up through my stomach. Stumbling forwards, I fell to my knees, clutching my sides…

  ‘Everything all right, Toby?’ Dad called. I opened my eyes. I was lying on my bed. He came into the room. ‘Toby?’

  ‘Yes,’ I croaked, relieved to be back in my own room. ‘Dad?’

  ‘Yes, Toby?’

  ‘The cricket camp was great.’ I watched his face nervously, but he merely smiled.

  ‘You were fantastic,’ he said. Letting out a long, thankful sigh, I rolled over, desperately hoping that there would be no more sudden travels.

  But only a few hours later it happened again.

  My mind flashed back to what Jim had said about Father Time and his ability to move people around from the present to the past; and possibly the future too. Was that what was happening to me? Had Father Time escaped his scoreboard prison?

  I found myself waking up in the front garden. Someone was calling my name. I almost answered, but stopped myself just in time as a young Toby came running around the corner and up the front steps. He stopped suddenly and turned to me. I froze.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked. My mouth went dry. I was looking at myself as a five- or six-year-old.

  ‘I’m Toby,’ I said. It was the first thing to come into my head. His face lit up.

  ‘Mum!’ he called.

  ‘No, wait!’ I said, reaching out a hand. He edged away from me. The door behind him opened. I swung around quickly and ran to the shed, then raced down the side before scrambling over the fence. Had Mum seen me? I slouched against the side of the fence, waiting for someone to arrive, but no one came.

  In spite of the warm sun I shivered, finally closing my eyes as I rested my head against the fence. When I woke I was lying in bed. I sat up quickly, turning to glance at the clock. 3.34 a.m.

  If I could just get through the night, I thought, switching on the light. Maybe if I could stay awake, I could also stay in my own time. I pulled down my album of cricket and football cards and grabbed a couple of magazines and the novel I was reading.

  Slowly I worked my way through the album of cards, trying to memorise the players and their numbers. My eyes felt heavy as I turned another page.

  ‘Ricky Ponting,’ I muttered, yawning. ‘Number 4. Michael Clarke, number 5.’ The cards blurred. ‘Michael Hussey…’

  I woke up with the card album lying across my chest. I looked at the clock. 8.45 a.m. ‘Yes!’ I shouted, pushing the album aside and jumping out of bed. I raced down to the kitchen.

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘In here.’ His voice was tense. ‘Hurry!’ I walked quickly into the living room.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Mum exclaimed, resting a hand on Dad’s shoulder. ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘What is it?’ I cried, sitting down in front of the television.

  Dad held up a hand for me to be quiet. I turned to the television.

  ‘He was just sitting in the meeting here. In this chair,’ a woman was saying. She paused, stifling a sob. ‘Then he simply disappeared. I saw it. I mean I saw him go. I don’t think anyone else did.’

  A narrator’s voice took over.

  ‘All over the world, similar stories are unfolding. Contact is desperately being sought with any Test cricketer, but at this stage none have been found. The same terrible fate appears to have beset female Test cricketers. Reports from New Zealand, where the women’s Test team was practising for their upcoming tour of India, suggest that most of the training squad has disappeared. Melanie Riley has more.’

  I slumped down in the chair in shock as the reporter’s face filled the screen.

  ‘It appears that only the squad members who have actually played Test cricket have disappeared,’ she said, breathlessly. ‘Although none of the remaining players or officials would speak to us, it would seem that there is no indication of a kidnapping or ransom situation.’

  ‘Good God,’ Dad sighed, shaking his head.

  ‘Dad?’

  He turned to look at me. ‘Every person who has ever played Test cricket has vanished,’ he said.

  ‘Vanished?’ I asked.

  He rubbed his eyes wearily. ‘I’ve been watching since just after six this morning. Gone. Every one of them.’ His voice was choked and I thought he was going to cry.

  ‘But how? Where? Where have they gone to?’

  He shook his head again. ‘No one knows. Every Test cricketer, past and present,’ he mumbled. I froze. Past and present. And future? Jimbo! I almost said his name aloud. ‘He’ll play Test cricket one day.’ Wasn’t that what one of the coaches had said about him?

  ‘Scott,’ I muttered, rushing to the phone. Was he gone too? And Cam? And yet I was still here? Did that mean that I wasn’t going to play Test cricket?

  Frantically, I searched the phone book for Scott’s number. There were only three Cravens. I dialled, not sure whether I wanted him to be there or not. The phone was engaged. I tried again a few minutes later.

  ‘Hello?’ a tired voice said.

  ‘Is Scott there?’

  ‘Who is this?’ the woman said, suddenly alert.

  ‘Sorry, it’s Toby. Toby Jones. I was wondering if I could speak to Scott.’

  ‘You haven’t heard?’ Her voice was flat. I felt my skin prickle. So Scott had gone too. A future Test cricketer. But gone where?

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Craven. I didn’t know.’

  ‘No, well we haven’t heard from him since last night. He wasn’t in any sort of trouble, was he?’

  ‘Trouble?’

  ‘At the camp. Did he upset someone? I know he’s not the most easily managed boy, and he does have a very short fuse.’

  I apologised again, adding that if I heard anything I’d ring her straight away. Mrs Craven gave me her mobile number and I jotted it down.

  ‘I’ll come back for breakfast in a minute, Mum,’ I yelled. I headed back to my bedroom and got dressed, checking that the scorecard and cricket ball were safely tucked away in a pocket of my shorts, and then sat down on my bed. Jimbo. Scott. Who else had gone? Right across Australia kids would be missing. Babies? Was there a baby only just born, a future Test cricketer, who had recently vanished?

  A sick feeling swept through me. Had I somehow caused all this? Burying my head in the pillow, I screwed my eyes shut, willing it all to be just some horrible nightmare.

  ‘Aren’t you a bit young to be here?’ said a voice. I looked up. A tall boy wearing a black suit stared down at me. I was in some sort of hall, surrounded by streamers and balloons and senior kids talking and dancing. I scanned the faces, searching for someone I recognised. Then I froze.

  On the far side of the hall, standing talking to a girl I recognised, was myself—but older; maybe three or four years older. I was in the future. For the first time ever I had travelled forwards. Jim had told me that this would never happen, and yet I was certain that I was staring at an older me. And the girl I was with was Lisa. Lisa! A nice enough girl who I’d known since Year 2, but had never really spoken to in all that time. Why her? What about Georgie? Or Ally?

  I moved into the main part of the hall, searching for more kids I could recognise. Many of the faces were new to me. Maybe I’d changed schools? Maybe I was living in a different town? A different country?

  And then I saw Ally, dancing closely with a guy I didn’t recognise. She looked beautiful. She was wearing a long, shiny red dress.

  ‘Ally?’ I said, moving closer. She maintained her close hold on the boy but turned her eyes towards me. I sensed her stiffen. She whispered something to the boy, who shrugged and moved away quickly. ‘Ally, it’s me. Toby.’


  She glanced nervously across the room. I followed her gaze to the older me.

  ‘Toby?’ she whispered. ‘But…but…’ Her voice faded.

  ‘I’ve come forwards in time. From our time.’

  ‘What do you mean, our time? This is my time.’

  I shook my head, confused. I didn’t want this conversation. ‘Ally, what happened? What happened to all the Test cricketers? Did they return?’ I held my breath, dreading her reply. She stared at me sadly. My heart plummeted.

  ‘No. They were never found. Not one.’

  ‘And Jimbo?’ She shook her head.

  ‘But you know all this, Toby. You’re standing over there. You—’

  ‘No! Don’t tell me anything,’ I said quickly. I didn’t want to hear any more. Not about me. But I had to ask about Jim. I felt in my pocket for the scorecard. It was still there. ‘Ally?’ I whispered. She leaned forwards to hear. ‘What about Jim?’ I could tell straight away from the grim expression on her face that the news wasn’t good. I turned away, conscious of the tears welling up.

  ‘Toby, what will you do?’ she asked.

  I took a deep breath. ‘I have to get to the MCG and place the scorecard in the first Wisden.’

  ‘Now?’

  I nodded. Ally noticed me staring at Lisa and my older self.

  ‘You changed so much,’ she said softly. Suddenly she grabbed me by the shoulders. ‘Hey, it seems okay that the two of you are in the room together.’

  ‘Yeah, so?’

  ‘Well, the big Toby over there can drive you to the MCG!’ she squealed, clapping her hands together.

  ‘No, wait!’ I called, but Ally had already left me. I edged back towards a table covered in drinks and watched Ally talking with Toby. Lisa was not looking happy. For a moment I thought my older self wouldn’t even come. He appeared reluctant, even after glancing in my direction. Finally he ambled over, a few steps behind Ally.

  ‘Toby, meet, um, Toby,’ Ally said. I stared at my older self as he stared at me, his face slowly turning white.

  ‘Oh my God,’ he whispered finally. ‘It’s happened.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Have you got the scorecard?’ he asked, pulling out a bunch of keys from his trouser pocket. I nodded.

  ‘We need to get—’ we both said simultaneously. I smiled, reaching out a hand, but Toby flinched.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not too close. Let’s go.’

  ‘I’m coming too,’ Ally cried, running after us. ‘Oh, you were so cute,’ I heard her say quietly to Toby. He screwed up his face but didn’t reply.

  ‘Is this your car?’ I asked, staring at the shiny red hatch. I had a hundred questions to ask, but I sensed that the older Toby wasn’t going to be telling me much.

  ‘Not exactly,’ he said, unlocking the doors. While Toby concentrated on the drive through the city to the MCG, I stared out the window, sitting perfectly still and praying that I wouldn’t suddenly disappear back to my own time.

  ‘You got a plan for getting in?’ Toby asked, turning around while we waited at a set of red lights.

  ‘David?’ I suggested. ‘Can we ring him? I know he lives close by.’

  ‘He’ll never get there by himself,’ Toby muttered, taking a mobile phone out of his jacket pocket. ‘Number’s in there.’ He passed it to me. I found the number and dialled.

  ‘Why won’t he meet us there? This is really important.’

  ‘Toby, David’s in a wheelchair. He’s paralysed,’ said Ally. ‘There was an accident.’

  ‘What? How?’ I gasped. Suddenly I could hear David talking on the phone.

  ‘Hello, David Howie?’

  ‘David, what happened?’ I said.

  ‘I beg your pardon? Who is this?’

  ‘It’s Toby Jones. Remember?’

  ‘Here, give that to me.’ Toby snatched the phone out of my hand.

  ‘David, sorry. Um, yeah it’s me. Toby. Something big has come up. We…I need to get into the library.’ I leaned forwards, trying to hear the conversation. ‘Frank?’ Toby said. He nodded a couple of times. ‘Yep.’ He turned to Ally. ‘Here, get this number down.’ Ally grabbed a piece of paper and pen from the glove box and wrote down the number Toby called out. ‘Okay, David. I’ll ring you in the morning.’ There was a pause. Toby was looking anxious. ‘Um, how are you anyway?’ he asked. ‘Oh, that’s good. Great.’ A moment later he rang off.

  ‘What happened to David?’ I asked. ‘Why is he in a wheelchair? You’ve got to tell me.’ I noticed the strained look on Toby’s face. Finally Ally turned around in her seat.

  ‘He had an accident. He slipped and fell down a flight of stairs.’

  ‘Where? How?’

  ‘Oh Jesus, does it matter?’ Toby snapped, thumping the steering wheel with his hands.

  ‘You did it,’ I said, slowly. ‘I did it!’

  ‘Yes. We did it. You know how he’s always rushing about that place, the library at the MCG…carrying things.’ Toby’s voice petered out.

  ‘When?’ I asked, an idea forming in my head.

  ‘Does it matter?’ he said, angrily.

  ‘Yes! It does,’ I shouted at the back of his head. I didn’t like the guy behind the wheel. Not one bit. And yet it was me. Ally reached out and clasped my wrist gently in her hand. She smiled, shaking her head briefly. Perhaps she would tell me later.

  We travelled in silence until Toby turned into a large car park behind the Members Stand. The MCG hadn’t changed much since my time, though it looked like some of the trees were missing from the grassy areas and more paths criss-crossed the car parks. While Toby spoke again into his mobile phone, I felt Ally’s hand briefly take mine. A piece of paper passed between us; I shoved it into my pocket and followed her to the entrance.

  ‘Toby Jones?’ a security guard called, suddenly appearing from our left.

  ‘Frank?’

  ‘Come on. I don’t know what you’re up to here with your girlfriend and little brother, but if it’s okay with David, then it’s okay with me.’

  We followed him through the eerie half light of the MCG, down corridors and up stairs.

  ‘Here,’ Ally whispered in my ear.

  ‘The accident?’ She nodded briefly then moved up alongside Toby, who flinched as she put her arm through his. ‘Idiot,’ I muttered. What had happened? Why was I with Lisa and not Ally?

  We arrived at the library doors. Frank looked at us suspiciously.

  ‘You really are Toby Jones, right?’ he said, looking doubtfully at Toby.

  ‘Yes, now can you hurry? We’re missing out on the Year 12 social.’ I kept my face down, as Frank grunted and unlocked the door.

  ‘Wait here while I turn off the alarm.’ The interior of the library was dark except for pale shafts of light coming from the windows to the right. I glanced along the glass cabinet, my eyes searching the spines of the Wisdens.

  ‘We need the keys for the Wisden cabinet,’ I said. Toby didn’t turn around.

  ‘All right,’ Frank called from inside.

  ‘Where are they?’ Toby said, stepping into the main section of the library. He whistled softly, looking around as if he hadn’t been here in ages. I ran my eyes along the Wisdens—2006, 2007, 2008, 2009…

  ‘It’s 2010,’ I breathed, shivering.

  ‘Did you hear me?’ Toby was staring at me.

  ‘Um, on his desk. Top drawer.’ Toby disappeared into David’s office, returning a moment later with a bunch of keys.

  ‘Here,’ he said. I took them from him, recognising the Wisden cabinet key straight away. There was a soft click as I turned it in the lock.

  ‘This will change everything,’ I whispered, relieved that the first Wisden was here. I pulled it down off the shelf carefully. Unlike the Wisdens I knew, this one was a papery edition; a sort of soft orangy pink, with lots of writing on its cover. It looked and felt old and valuable.

  I held the scorecard in one hand and slowly moved it towards the open book. I c
ould think of nothing to say. Ally hadn’t moved from the entrance. I looked up into Toby’s eyes. ‘Why are you with Lisa?’ I asked finally. The older Toby looked at me sadly.

  ‘If only you knew.’ There was a whooshing sound and I was gone.

  ‘Toby?’ My voice was lost in a frenzy of haze and mist. Some invisible force was pressing my body from all sides, squeezing me. Then just as suddenly the pressure was released and I felt myself floating down, down until, thankfully my head nestled into something soft. For a moment I lay there, too frightened to move. The familiar smell of bed had never seemed so good. My fingers were curled gently around the scorecard which was resting in my hand. It had travelled back with me.

  I lay awake in bed with the doona drawn tight over my shoulders, trembling despite the warm night.

  Somehow—perhaps because of the future travel and the fact that I was able to insert the scorecard into the first Wisden—my understanding of what had happened was becoming clearer. As night slowly turned to morning, it dawned on me that the man in the scoreboard I had been talking to wasn’t Jim; it was Father Time.

  What else had he said that sunny afternoon as we sat together at the MCG? Had it only been two days ago? The power of Father Time. Able to distort the time of anyone he comes into contact with? I had just been the autumn leaf—going forwards and backwards in time. How long might it have gone on for had Jim not told me to put the scorecard into the Wisden?

  I was surprised at how calmly I was taking on board this new knowledge. It was as if I was a watcher, not directly involved in proceedings. Was this another hidden talent possessed by Cricket Lords? Perhaps it was just tiredness, deadening my emotions and fears.

  What did Father Time need? The scorecard, a copy of the first Wisden?

  I must have drifted off to sleep again. I awoke to the gentle sound of someone tapping. There was only one person who knocked like that. I burst out of bed and rushed to the door, then froze. Jim or Father Time? My senses were alive and tingling. The calmness of earlier had vanished, replaced by a cold hard lump of jittery nerves, prodding me in the base of my stomach.

  ‘Who is it?’ I called, trying to make my voice sound steady.

  ‘Toby, my dear boy. It’s Jim.’