by carl ashmore
Becky wasn’t convinced. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes … I’m sure. I have no idea what he’s up to.’
‘Okay, then,’ Becky said. ‘Why has he circled some numbers in green and the rest in red?’
Turning the ticket over, Uncle Percy took forever to reply. ‘Who knows what’s going through that maniac’s head? But what I will say is that anything he’s touched deserves this fate...’ Without warning, he tore the ticket into tiny bits. Then he marched over to a wicker bin and threw the bits inside. ‘And that’s the end of it.’
‘But that’s not end of it,’ Becky said. ‘He put the ticket there for a reason, and I want to know what –’
Fury spread across Uncle Percy’s face. ‘Drake is playing mind games!’ he shouted. ‘And I’ll hear no more about the matter!’
With his words still ringing through the room, Becky stared at him, dismayed.
‘I – I’m very sorry,’ Uncle Percy said, his anger subsiding. ‘It’s just … I loathe that man. And I loathe what he’s trying to do to us.’
Becky didn’t respond immediately. ‘That’s okay,’ she said finally. ‘But he must’ve meant something by it.’
‘I think he’s just messing with our heads. Perhaps to stop us focussing on what is really important.’
‘The date on the ticket is for next week’s lottery,’ Becky pointed out. ‘He could’ve come back from next week, from the future to deliver it.’
‘The future could have been a second from when he travelled back. Or yes, he could have travelled from a temporal point some time away. However, as far as I know you can purchase lottery tickets in advance so we can’t pinpoint precisely when he’s travelled from. The date doesn’t help us at all in this case.’ He returned to the table and collapsed into his chair.
‘So what do we do now?’ Joe asked.
‘This doesn’t change anything,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘We get a good night’s sleep, continue with our research and perhaps make a trip in the near future.’
‘What about Will?’ Joe asked. ‘Will he mind if we go?’
‘He’ll know the right thing to do,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘But I do think you should go to bed now and try and get a good night’s sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a very emotional day.’
Becky stared into Uncle Percy’s eyes to see they were lifeless, blank, bereft of any of his usual vigour. ‘I think it’s you that needs a good night’s sleep,’ she said softly.
Uncle Percy sighed heavily. ‘I agree. I’m going to finish up here and hit the hay.’ He managed a smile. ‘Goodnight.’
Becky climbed into bed at midnight. She felt nauseous, bewildered, and wondered if she would ever sleep. But, in time, she did. She awoke to the sound of a bird calling from deep in Bowen forest. Thin strips of hazy sunlight filtered in from a gap in her curtains. She opened her eyes and turned to her bedside clock. 6.30 am. She pulled herself up and yawned. Straight away, her blurry eyes were drawn to a scarlet envelope that had been slid beneath the door. Her heart stopped. She jumped out of bed and raced over to the letter, snatching it up and seeing it was addressed to her. Tearing it open, her blood pumping, she pulled out a sheet of cream paper and began to read.
Dearest Becky,
I know this will upset you to the very core, but Will and I have gone to Medieval England. I understand you’ll be furious with me, and confused that I have come to this decision, but after long consideration I think it’s best we embark on this trip alone. I am aware that you (and Joe) are as much a part of the Eden Relic quest as anyone, but you must trust me that this is for the best for everyone concerned. I shall see you upon our return and am aware, quite rightly, that you will vent your anger in the most vocal of ways. I am deeply sorry, but on this occasion this is the way it has to be.
All my love,
UP
Becky couldn’t tear her eyes from the page. She felt like she’d been jabbed with a cattle prod. Rage grew within her, misting the words. Uncle Percy and Will had left for Medieval England without her and Joe.
They had been left behind.
Chapter 12
Numbing Numbers
Enraged, Becky threw on her dressing gown, hurled open her bedroom door, and marched to Joe’s bedroom, the letter gripped tightly in her balled fist. She pounded at Joe’s door with such force it rattled its hinges. A second later, she heard a groggy voice shout ‘Come in’. She flung open the door, scooped up an identical scarlet envelope off the floor, and stomped over to Joe’s bed.
‘What time is it?’ Joe croaked, rubbing his eyes.
‘Daytime,’ Becky replied. “Now get up!’
‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘This.’ Becky waved Joe’s letter angrily. ‘Uncle Percy and Will have gone to Medieval England without us.’
Joe bolted upright. ‘What?’
‘They’ve left. At some time in the night.’
Joe snatched the envelope from Becky’s hand, ripped it open and began to read. As he did, his eyes bulged wide and he swore loudly. Crushing the letter into a ball, he pitched it to the floor and swore again. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘What can we do?’
Joe thought for a moment. ‘We can go after them.’
‘And how exactly can we do that?’
‘I dunno,’ Joe replied. ‘But we can’t let them do this. We can’t just sit here and do nowt.’ He shook his head with frustration. ‘I can’t believe them. We’re not just passengers on this thing. If it wasn’t for us we wouldn’t have got the Golden Fleece, Pandora’s Box or the Spear of Fate.’ He leapt to the floor and kicked the bed leg hard. Trying to act like it hadn’t hurt his foot, he grimaced, ‘We need a time machine, and we need some coordinates to take us to Medieval England.’ He hesitated, before his face flashed with an idea. ‘Barbie … she’s also a time machine. We’ll get her to take us.’
‘She’s not here,’ Becky replied. ‘And I doubt she’d take us even if she were. She’s a right goody two shoes.’
Joe fell silent again. ‘Then we’ll contact GITT headquarters, get them to put us in touch with Bruce Westbrook. I bet he’d take us in a heartbeat.’
‘And where would we get the number? I don’t think time travelling organisations are listed in the Yellow Pages next to truck hire. And I’m damn sure they don’t have a Twitter page.’
Joe frowned at her. ‘I bet you Maria or Jacob have a contact number somewhere.’
‘Maria hates us travelling. There’s no way she’d give us the number, even if she had one.’
Joe paced the room. His face ignited with another brainwave. ‘What about the Magpie Inn?’
‘What about it?’
‘Reg Muckle was a time traveller.’
‘He’s dead. I doubt he’ll be able to help us much.’
Joe ignored her sarcasm. ‘I know, but what if we go to the Magpie Inn, break in and see if he’s left a time machine or a portravella lying around somewhere?’
‘Uncle Percy told me Reg’s nephew’s cleaned all his stuff out and sold the Magpie Inn. It’s probably a Wacky Warehouse now. And it’s not just about getting hold of a time machine, is it?’
Joe sank on to the bed. ‘Then what d’you suggest?’
Becky exhaled deeply. ‘I don’t think there’s anything we can do.’
‘There has to be,’ Joe replied desperately.
Just as Becky was about to suggest they think on it for a few hours, she remembered something from the night before. ‘There are portravellas in the library. I saw a bunch of them on the writing desk.’
‘Then what are we waiting for?’ Joe said. ‘Let’s go and check them out.’
Within ten minutes they had washed, dressed and were powering up the stairs to the top floor. Reaching the landing, Becky strode up to the library door and turned the handle. It didn’t budge. ‘It’s locked.’
‘Damn,’ Joe said.
Becky dropped to her knees and examined the keyhole. ‘It’s lo
cked from the inside. The key’s still in the lock.’
‘Then how did he get out?’
‘He’s a time traveller, you div,’ Becky said dismissively. ‘He could’ve used one of those portravellas.’
Joe thought for a second. ‘Can you blow the door off its hinges?’
‘What?’
‘Use your telekinesis. Hit it with a brain zap! Blow it off its hinges.’
‘You have all the finesse of a burp.’
‘Go on,’ Joe urged. ‘It’s worth a try.’
‘Uncle Percy would kill me.’
‘Well he isn’t here to kill anyone,’ Joe snorted. ‘He ran out on us … remember.’
But Joe had given Becky an idea. Crouching down again, her gaze found the key. She concentrated as hard as she could. Almost immediately, she felt the peculiar sensation of trickling water brush the crown of her head. The key quivered in the lock. Knowing she had full control of it, she rotated it three sixty degrees. Click! It had worked. She stood up, turned the handle and opened the door, before glancing back at an open-mouthed Joe. ‘Now that’s finesse,’ she said.
‘You could make a mint as a robber,’ he said appreciatively.
Hesitantly, knowing full well Uncle Percy would be furious if he knew what she’d done, Becky entered Bowen library. She marched over to the writing desk, and saw the portravellas had gone. Her eyes found the desk drawer. She pulled its handle to find it locked.
‘Do you reckon they’re in there? Joe asked.
‘Dunno.’ Becky inhaled a deep breath. After a few seconds of thinking about what to do, she said in a gloomy voice, ‘I really hope this isn’t some priceless antique … but let’s face it, we both know it probably is.’ She closed her eyes and focused on the drawer. The watery sensation returned. She concentrated harder. At once, the drawer began to tremble violently. The table legs rattled the floor. Then– crack - the lock shattered and the drawer shot open. Opening her eyes, she scanned its contents: a stack of letter headed writing paper, a quill, a small bottle of peacock blue ink, and a portravella. Ignoring Joe’s gasp of approval, she reached inside and extracted the portravella. She’d never seen one up close before. Made from some kind of heavy plastic, it resembled a giant calculator with a wrist strap and a small LED display at the top, beneath which were a succession of keys displaying the numbers zero through to nine.
Rotating it in her fingers, she saw four coloured buttons in green, red, blue and orange on the side. She pressed the green button. The LED display illuminated, revealing six blank boxes and the words Destination Code. A small bar, like a battery symbol on a mobile phone, flashed amber in the bottom right hand corner.
‘It seems pretty straightforward,’ Joe asked. ‘We just need the six digit code.’
‘I suppose,’ Becky replied. ‘But where are we going to get that?’ She studied the portravella for a moment and then said, ‘Joe, what are we doing?’
‘We’re up to no good,’ Joe replied, grinning.
‘Maybe we should just put it back.’
‘Don’t bottle it now,’ Joe said. ‘What if Will and Uncle Percy are in trouble and need our help? What if, even as we speak, Uncle Percy is strapped to some medieval torture device and getting his toes yanked off?’
‘Err, shut up!’
‘Seriously, could you sleep knowing they were hurt and you could’ve done something about it? Even worse, what if they never came back? What if you never saw Uncle Percy again? What if the Sheriff of Nottingham had his head impaled on a spike at Nottingham Castle?’
‘I’ll impale your head on a spike if you don’t pack it in.’
But Joe’s words had struck a chord. Becky’s imagination went into overdrive; her imagination was assaulted with sickening images of an injured Uncle Percy and Will, each one more alarming than the last. ‘How will we get the destination code then?’
‘I dunno yet,’ Joe said, surveying the bookshelves, each heaving with countless books, parchments and manuscripts. ‘Maybe there’s something here?’ Maybe there’s a time travelling manual or summat with the codes in?’
‘You mean like a Time Travel for Dummies? That’d suit you.’
‘Summat like that.’
Although Becky was highly sceptical they would have any success, she and Joe spent the next hour combing the library’s vast collection. There were books on every conceivable subject, in numerous languages and dating from every imaginable era, but there was nothing that resembled a time travelling manual. As the hour passed, she couldn’t help but feel they were on a wild goose chase.
Even Joe had lost all his enthusiasm and slumped on to a chair, head in hands. ‘Okay, this is getting us nowhere,’ he said miserably. ‘What about Uncle Percy’s safe?’
‘What about it?’
‘Well we know it’s in the library, and he must keep something important in it. Maybe there’s summat in there that can help us?’
Becky recalled the two occasions they had witnessed Uncle Percy open the library’s wall safe. ‘I’m not going to bust that open, too,’ she said firmly. ‘No, we should go and look for Barbie, she might be home now, and explain what’s happened. Even if she won’t take us, she might give us the destination code … I doubt it, but she might.’
At that moment, Joe leapt from the chair. ‘I’ve got it!’
‘Got what?’
Joe charged across the library floor and stopped abruptly at the bin. He sank to his knees and reached inside, groping around eagerly for something Becky couldn’t see.
‘What’re you doing?’ Becky asked, perplexed.
‘Thank God Maria’s isn’t allowed in here to tidy up.’
‘Seriously, why are you rooting through the bin? Are you hungry?’
‘The lottery ticket,’ Joe replied breathlessly. ‘Three numbers were circled in green.’ He extracted the shreds of ticket and began to reassemble them. Moments later, all the pieces were back in place, fashioning a coherent whole.
‘13 – 19 – 39,’ Joe said triumphantly. ‘Six digits. It’s got to be worth a try!’
Becky’s heart leapt. Almost immediately, however, her delight turned into despair. ‘Joe, we can’t do this...’
‘Why?’
‘Because Emerson Drake gave us that ticket.’
‘So?’ Joe shrugged.
‘So ask yourself - why would he do that? If you’re right, if this is the destination code and not some phone number for his favourite curry house, then he would’ve only given it to us if he wants us there, at that time period. And if that’s what he wants then you can be damn sure it can only be bad for everyone else. He’s not exactly in the habit of doing us favours, that’s for sure.’
‘But –’
‘We can’t do what that nutter wants, Joe,’ Becky said glumly. ‘Maybe Drake has seen the future? Maybe he knew Uncle Percy wouldn’t take us to Medieval England and he planted the ticket so we could get there without him? Either way, it doesn’t matter. Doing what Drake wants would be wrong. It’s as simple as that. And if it’s good for Drake, if he’s gone to so much trouble to make it happen, then you can be bloody sure it’ll be disastrous for the rest of us.’
A fierce internal battle appeared to rage in Joe’s head. ‘I don’t care. Even if Drake thinks he’s seen the future, that doesn’t mean it can’t be changed. We should be going on this trip. At the end of the day, we’re a part of this. And we might be able to help. Again, what if something bad happens to Uncle Percy or Will, something we could have prevented if we were there? Also, we might be wrong … maybe this isn’t the destination code? Who knows unless we try? Either way, it’s worth the risk…’
Becky’s head felt like a punch bag. On one level, she agreed with Joe. Despite Uncle Percy’s intellectual brilliance, Will’s fighting skills, there were things only she could do, things that had saved them from certain death in the past. But she still couldn’t shake the feeling that following Drake’s wishes, whatever they were, could have devastating consequences for all
of them.
Joe, however, didn’t appear to have any such reservations. ‘Tell you what … we leave Barbie a letter … we tell her what we’ve done, where we’ve gone. If this isn’t the destination code, if we end up in Ancient Rome or Cretaceous Crewe or somewhere equally off the mark, she can come and get us. No harm, no foul. Uncle Percy may not even have to know. What d’you reckon?’
It took some time before Becky found a reply. ‘Okay,’ she responded quietly. ‘But if we’re about to make the biggest mistake of all time, then all of this is on your head. You’re getting the blame. All of it.’
‘I can live with that,’ Joe said.
‘Let’s just hope you don’t die with it.’
Chapter 13
Destination Unknown
With each passing second, Becky felt ever more conflicted. One moment she was convinced she and Joe were doing the right thing - the next, they were embarking on the most foolhardy trip imaginable. There was, however, one thing she had no doubt about: Uncle Percy would be furious with them, regardless of how they tried to justify their actions or whatever the outcome. They had broken into his library, damaged his drawer, stolen his portravella, and were defying his express wishes by travelling to Medieval England using coordinates provided by Emerson Drake.
The more she thought about it, the more preposterous it seemed.
They couldn’t even be certain they were coordinates at all.
Despite these concerns, Becky agreed to Joe’s suggestion they leave at eleven that morning. They went down to breakfast to find Maria in a particularly breezy mood, humming cheerily as she served them scrambled eggs and hot buttered muffins. Becky was relieved to discover Maria and Jacob were leaving Bowen Hall for a day out with the Addlebury Townswomen’s Guild, and, throughout breakfast, acted as naturally as she could, at pains to make sure that Maria – who seemed to have a sixth sense for detecting mischief – didn’t discover their plans.
After breakfast, Becky and Joe hurried to the library, took some writing paper from the desk and composed a letter.
