Really Weird Removals.com

by Daniela Sacerdoti

  “I know. Anyway, I Saw them, and then something pulled me towards them… I was going to fall in…”

  “Fall in? What do you mean?” asks Camilla.

  “I’m not sure. Something was dragging me towards them. Like a really strong wind… no, like a current. I had to open my eyes and pull back, or I think I would have ended up…”

  “…one of them.” Valentina finishes the sentence for me.

  “Yes. I would have ended up not here anymore, but there with them.” I shiver. “And who knows if there’s a way back from there…”

  “What if that’s what happened to Uncle Alistair? What if he got dragged… somewhere else?”

  My mind is racing. The Viking helmet… the broken clocks… the way I was pulled in… If I manage to put the pieces together the right way, the picture will be complete…

  And suddenly a light bulb goes on in my head, and something makes sense.

  “Time! It all has to do with time! The musicians… they’re not ghosts, they’re in another time. The stuff that Uncle Alistair was hiding – the helmet, the shield – that came from another time too. And that’s why the clocks stopped when he disappeared. He was…”

  “…time travelling!” Again, Valentina finishes the sentence for me.

  “Exactly! He’s not somewhere else… he’s some time else! And if that… current thing pulled him in, he’ll be stuck there. Like the stone fairies, remember? The way they were all sucked away… they disappeared, and they never came back.” I hear Mary gasping softly. “But Uncle Alistair will come back. We’ll get him back. I promise.” I hasten to reassure her. She nods, and my stomach knots up – will I be able to fulfil that promise?

  I’m going to have to try.

  “Luca, I think it’s getting late. We’re due home, or we’ll be grounded. We don’t want to have to explain where we’ve been since shinty practice finished,” Valentina reminds me.

  “Yes, ok. Mary, we’ll be back tomorrow. I need to put ‘time travelling’ into the database. I’ll see whether there’s anything about time folds. That’s what Uncle Alistair said he used when he got rid of the stone fairies.”

  “Tomorrow,” says Valentina, and gives hugs to Mary and Camilla.

  We run home, and we go through the motions: dinner, a bit of TV with Mum and Aunt Shuna, and then a sleepless night.

  I see dawn breaking from my window, spreading light on the day I plan to step into a time fold. Who knows whether I’ll be able to return.

  ***

  The next day after school, Valentina, Camilla and I sit at Alistair’s computer once again, consulting the Paranormal Database. Adil is covering for us – I said to Mum we might drop in at his house. We’ll have to rely on him, even if he is the worst liar in the world.

  Mary stands behind our chairs – she’s very pale, her skin even whiter than usual. I bet that, like me, she hasn’t slept a wink.

  “I better log in.” The database can be consulted without logging in, but then you can’t use the forums, and we might need to. “Username… A-l-i-s-t-a-i-r G-r-a-n-t… password… R-W-R. There.”

  Suddenly, in a heartbeat, the webpage melts. It blurs and dissolves, its colours blending together in a slow-moving spiral.

  “What’s happening?”

  “I have no idea!” I lift my hands off the keyboard.

  The computer has gone crazy. The multicoloured spiral spins for a few seconds, and then a box appears: INSERT PASSWORD.

  “Insert password?” Valentina looks at me. “We just did. RWR…”

  I shrug my shoulders, and type “R-W-R” in again.

  PASSWORD INCORRECT.

  “What’s that? Why?” asks Valentina. I shake my head. I have no idea.

  “What could the password be?” Camilla twirls towards the ceiling, thinking hard.

  “I’ll try ‘Alistair’.” I type it in, but the same message comes up: PASSWORD INCORRECT.

  “Alistairgrant?”

  “Grant?”

  “Grantalistair?”

  “Loch Glas?”

  “Troll?”

  “Kelpie?”

  “Sausage?”

  “Beans?”

  “No, no no no.” I weave my fingers in my hair. “Not working!”

  “Children.” It’s Mary’s soft voice. I turn towards her.

  “Any ideas, Mary?”

  “Try ‘August’.”

  We type in A-U-G-U-S-T.

  PASSWORD CORRECT.

  “How did you know?” I ask her, amazed.

  “Wait here.” She goes down the hallway, and reappears a moment later holding a piece of paper. “Alistair told me a few days ago that he was leaving something under the red plant pot in the kitchen that might be useful in an emergency. I looked there last night and it was just a note that didn’t make sense.” I take the paper from her hand. It’s a pencil drawing: sea waves, and a seal sticking out of them, with a black nose and whiskers. Over the seal, a speech balloon:

  Tell the children: it’s the month Mary came ashore.

  “Uncle Alistair realised we might need to come looking for an explanation in the database…” I whisper. I’m astonished.

  “But why did it not appear yesterday?” Valentina ponders.

  “Because I hadn’t logged in. Uncle Alistair made sure only we would have access… look!”

  The Paranormal Database is back on the screen, but it’s… different. It’s another website entirely. A heading across the top says TOP SECRET, and just below it, there’s a disclaimer:

  DANGER: For Paranormal Association Net ONLY.

  Do not read unless you are part of the Paranormal Association Net. If this warning is ignored, we can hold no responsibility for possible injuries, death and/or temporary/irreversible madness.

  “Wow!” whispers Valentina. “Did you read that?”

  “Yes. Let me see. Search box. What shall we search for?”

  “Try ‘fold in time’.” Camilla suggests. I type the words in.

  Fold in time. 1340 matches.

  “This will take hours.”

  “I’ll get you some juice and sandwiches,” offers Mary.

  ***

  Two hours later, we’re still scrolling down, sifting through a sea of information. Valentina’s eyes are crossing, Camilla is lying on the sofa, and I have a terrible headache. But we keep going.

  “Wait… look at this… Time folds can take the shape of time bubbles. Inside a time bubble, time is suspended. People stuck in a time bubble will repeat the same moment of action over and over again, like eating a meal, holding a conversation”…

  I think this is something for you to do, Luca. I think Uncle Alistair might be using the music to call you. To call you for help.”

  My heart skips a beat. I know that Valentina is right.

  A wave of determination fills me.

  Yes. This is my mission.

  “Ok. I’m going to try,” I say, more assuredly than I really feel. I stand up, run out of the room and out of the house, into Osprey Road, followed by Valentina and Camilla.

  “Luca, wait!”

  “I need to do this now!” I call, and run faster. I need to be home, in our living room, where the musicians stood when I saw them. I need to call the music again, and this time, I won’t pull back.

  26. WHERE THINGS HAPPEN THAT ARE HARD TO BELIEVE

  Alistair Grant’s Scottish Paranormal Database

  Entry Number 25: Aviation ghosts

  Type: Post-mortem manifestation/ time fold (disputed)

  Location: Glen Avich and surrounding areas, Aberdeenshire

  Date: 1919 – present

  Details: There have been a few reports of sightings of WW1 planes flying over Glen Avich, Kinnear and the surrounding areas. Disputes continue as to whether these are ghostly manifestations of pilots who fought in WW1, or a time fold causing the planes to cross over from their time to ours. This author is inclined to believe the second explanation.

  Mum and Aunt Shuna aren’t home.
Dad is in his study, up in the attic, unaware of anything that goes on in the house. Perfect timing.

  I stand with both hands on the piano, my eyes closed. The music is soft and low at first, and then it intensifies, as if someone was turning up the volume of an invisible stereo. I focus on it, with all my might – trying to zone out anything else.

  Music in my head. In my heart. In my lungs. Running in my veins, mixed with my blood. Only music, nothing else exists…

  Soon it’s in full blow.

  “I can hear it!” shouts Valentina over the din.

  “Me too! You did it, Luca! You called the music here, into the present!” Camilla is tapping her feet. Valentina is looking at me expectantly, waiting for the next step.

  I don’t know what to do.

  I don’t know what to do!

  Focus. Focus.

  I close my eyes again, and I feel tingly all over, just like I felt that night in the wood when Uncle Alistair opened the time fold. An electric current is running through me – my thoughts are all jumbled up, but I still realise what’s happening: time is opening up.

  I’m going to fall into it! Get stuck there forever!

  I panic – my heart is racing.

  I can’t do this. I can’t!

  I grit my teeth. I mustn’t give in now. Uncle Alistair needs me.

  Slowly, nearly against my will, I concentrate again, my eyes tightly shut… My head starts spinning and spinning, like the ceiling is falling on me and the floor is rising up. The electric current is now painful through my veins, through my muscles…

  I hear Valentina and Camilla gasp.

  Something has happened. I open my eyes slowly, trying to steady myself.

  “Luca…” Valentina’s voice sounds strangled, like she can barely speak.

  I turn around, and there, in the middle of the room, are couples dancing. We’re in it, and we’re in our everyday living room, at the same time. There’s people twirling all around us, but they’re blurred, and I can barely make out their shapes.

  And I see the musicians: there’s a woman sitting at our piano. There’s a fiddle player beside her. They’re not blurred now; I can see them clearly, as clearly as I see Valentina.

  They’re smiling, they seem happy.

  Happy in their bubble of time, forever playing the same tune. I look at their faces, and I realise I know them. I know who they are.

  They’re my grandparents. It’s the night that photograph was taken, the one my mum keeps on the mantelpiece – the Grants of Eilean ceilidh band playing here, in our house, for my dad’s graduation.

  Valentina is frozen, staring at them.

  Staring at him.

  Another fiddler, standing on the other side of the piano. His bow is dancing, fast as a whip – he’s playing like there’s no tomorrow. Fast and loud. He straightens himself, and he’s looking over to me, still playing. He’s tall, he has a mane of blond-red hair, and a long, straight nose.

  It’s Uncle Alistair.

  “Uncle Alistair!” I try and scream, but no sound comes out.

  My head is spinning, the whole room is twirling, and the blurry figures are dancing all around me. I feel that if I try to take a step, I’ll fall. I can hardly make out up from down, left from right. I’m rooted to the spot.

  And then I realise that the scene is beginning to fade. The music is getting softer, the dancing figures more blurred. Uncle Alistair and my grandparents are beginning to look less defined… They’re going!

  I’ve got to do this. I’ve got to.

  It’s like when you’re in a nightmare, you try and run, but your legs refuse to move. I lift my arms up, trying to reach my grandparents and Uncle Alistair. The music is fading, and so are they… I take a small step, and another, and another… until my hand rests on Alistair’s shoulder. He looks me straight in the face. His eyes are full of relief. His fiddle falls on the floor as he grabs my grandmother’s jumper. She looks at him, surprised, and mouths: “What are you doing?”

  He signals for her to reach for my grandfather.

  With a huge effort, I manage to turn around and, keeping a hand on Alistair’s shoulder, I can grab Valentina’s arm. She covers my hand with hers, keeping me anchored.

  We’re all linked in now, joined in a chain of five: my grandparents and Alistair in the time bubble, Valentina in the present, and me, between two worlds. I’m holding onto Uncle Alistair with all my might, but the force pulling them away is as strong as the tide. I close my eyes in the effort of not letting them go… If only I can manage to hang on until the current stops… It’s so strong, so strong…

  My fingers are losing their grip… I’m losing them…

  In an instant, just as we are about to slip apart completely, the current stops.

  Everything is still.

  I fall on the floor, panting.

  My grandparents are looking at us, wide-eyed, astonished. The bubble has burst! Time is flowing again. I put it right. Alistair’s terrible mistake, all those years ago, I put it right!

  “Who are you?” says Granny.

  “I KNEW YOU’D MAKE IT!” booms Uncle Alistair.

  Their voices come to me from far, far away…

  “You’re back…” I manage to whisper, before a swarm of little lights appear in front of my eyes, like multicoloured stars, and then it’s all dark.

  ***

  “We didn’t know.” Someone is saying, “We thought it was… well, we thought everything was normal. We were just playing away. It felt like a few minutes… Then Alistair turned up, telling us to play very loud.”

  “You didn’t notice you were stuck in time?” Valentina’s voice.

  “No. We had no idea. How many years did you say have passed?”

  “Fifteen,” says Uncle Alistair.

  “Fifteen years… I just can’t believe it. All the things that must have happened during this time…” This must be Papa speaking.

  “Oh, William!” says Granny, holding his hand. “We’ve missed fifteen years of our children’s lives!”

  “We’re here now, Beth. We’re back.”

  “I can’t get my head around it… Fifteen years playing the same tune… and we’re not a day older. Oh, he’s waking!”

  I open my eyes. My grandparents, Uncle Alistair, Valentina and Camilla are crowding around me. Valentina is holding my hand.

  “I did it…”

  “Yes!” smiles Valentina. Uncle Alistair hugs me tight.

  “And you’re here again!” I hug him back.

  “Thank goodness it worked, Luca. I knew I could depend on you!” Uncle Alistair is beaming at me.

  “So this is what you were doing! When you kept saying you were trying to put it right… to make it up to Dad…”

  “Yes. I was looking for my mum and dad. I just didn’t know where to find them. The places I’ve been… some nicer than others, believe me!”

  “I knew it! We worked it out – that you were time travelling! All those things you turned up with… the Viking helmet, and those furs…”

  “And the slime! What was the slime, Uncle Alistair?”

  “Dinosaur vomit. But let’s not talk about that.”

  “And the parcels you got in the post? What were they?”

  “Stuff for my survival kit. I needed a new one. You know, a rope, a mosquito net, paracetamol, a couple of cans of beans, a compass, clean socks, my Doctor Who comic in case I got bored. A little centurion guy stole the lot. They’re small, those Romans, but quick fingered, I’m telling you!” Granny and Papa are looking at us with eyes as big as saucers. “By the way, how long was I away for? Stuck in time, I mean.”

  “Three years,” says Valentina.

  “Three… OH YOU.” He laughs his booming laugh. “Seriously, how long?”

  “It was two days,” I say.

  “Wow. It felt like a few minutes. Time to play a reel… But I also knew I was stuck, and I might not ever stop playing.”

  “How did you find Granny and Papa in t
he end?”

  “It was you who gave me the idea. Whistling that tune. I thought, well, what I have to do is listen. Open a time fold, focus, and see where it takes me. When I finally listened hard enough, the time fold I opened took me there, to the ceilidh in this house fifteen years ago.”

  “And then you were stuck too!” Camilla chips in. All along, she’s been hanging onto Uncle Alistair’s arm. She can’t let him go, as though she’s worried he’ll disappear again.

  “Yes, but I knew that Luca was listening too. I was confident that he’d bring us back!”

  “Were you? Were you confident I would?”

  “Well, let’s say I hoped so. Actually, I was scared out of my head.”

  “Oh.”

  “Still, you did it! I wanted to explain everything before I went. Give you the right instructions in case I got stuck in time somewhere. But it was all so sudden. I was terribly upset after Duncan and Isabella found out about the RWR… I just started opening time fold after time fold, looking for Mum and Dad, and I always made it back. Until I suddenly opened the right one at last. I had known it might happen abruptly. I left a clue for you when I was adding to the database a few days ago – the note I told Mary about – so if I wasn’t there to explain things there would be a way you might find out. Thank goodness I did that. Because when I stepped into the fold… something weird happened. I got stuck. It was a time bubble. Time bubbles can’t be opened from the inside, you see. It has to be someone from the outside, opening it and pulling its prisoners out.”

  “Who’s Mary? Alistair, do you have something to tell us?” says Granny, her eyes twinkling.

  “Beth, I think we have more pressing questions, here. Like, who are these children. Are they yours, Alistair?” asks Papa.

  “Alistair is our uncle, and Duncan our dad. Isabella is our mum,” explains Valentina.

  “Ooooh! Duncan and Isabella’s children! I always knew he was serious with that Italian girl, did I not tell you, William? A lovely girl she was, if a bit eccentric…”

  “I’m not sure she’s the eccentric one, Mum…” smiles Uncle Alistair.

  “Well, a great cook anyway. And what lovely children you are!” exclaims Granny happily. “And you, Alistair? What did you do all this time?”