THE TIME THIEF

by Linda Buckley-Archer

  Mr. Schock’s mind was reeling. It was too much to take in, let alone believe.

  “So that office girl in Lincoln’s Inn Fields wasn’t kidding when she said that you were stuck in 1763!”

  “No.”

  “And you’re telling me that Peter is still in 1763 while there’s an eighteenth-century henchman on the loose in London?”

  “Yes.”

  Mr. Schock shook his head incredulously.

  “It’s too incredible….”

  “Well, it’s true. It is incredible but it’s also true. And if you don’t get me to the antigravity machine tonight, I shan’t be able to go back and rescue Peter, because either Tim Williamson will have stolen it or Dr. Pirretti will have destroyed it.”

  “But you can’t be expected to rescue him! You’re a child! I’m his father! It should be me who goes after him!”

  It should have been obvious to her, Kate thought, that Mr. Schock would want to come too, but she had not thought beyond getting to the antigravity machine.

  “I want to go back!” she cried. “We made a pact not to leave without each other. I have to go back…. And anyway, you don’t know about the antigravity machine and you wouldn’t know what Gideon looks like, or where Sir Richard’s house is, or anything! So, I’m going too, whether you like it or not!”

  Mr. Schock looked thoughtful for a moment and suddenly laughed. “You’re quite bossy for a twelve-year-old girl. I bet you kept Peter in his place.”

  Kate’s face fell.

  “Don’t call me that! My dad says that I know my own mind and I stick up for myself, and there’s nothing wrong with that. And if I wasn’t ‘bossy,’ you wouldn’t be here now on your way to rescue Peter.”

  “I’m sorry, Kate,” said Mr. Schock, surprised and contrite. “You’re quite right. I was out of order….”

  They fell silent for a while, and Kate calmed herself down by busying herself with the map, trying to work out which exit they should take for Middle Harpenden.

  Mr. Schock tried to break the ice: “It must be quite something to have a dad who invented a time machine….”

  “It wasn’t Dad. It was his colleague, Tim Williamson. And it’s an antigravity machine.”

  “I stand corrected.”

  “The time thing is an unexpected side effect and my dad reckons that something accelerated it—like oxygen making a fire burn stronger. Only he can’t figure out what it might be—yet …”

  “I see…. I think … I never was much good at science—but if you want to know about the rise of the French novel, I’m your man!”

  Kate wondered what earthly use that would be to anybody but smiled politely all the same.

  Then Mr. Schock asked, a little hesitantly: “Did Peter get along with this … cutpurse character, then?”

  “Yes—he really liked him. Well, he did save our lives. And he put his own life in danger to help us get back…. He taught Peter to ride and everything.”

  “Did you know that Peter and I had a terrible argument the day you both disappeared?”

  “He might have mentioned it,” answered Kate, tactfully.

  “The last thing he said to me was ‘I hate you.’ You don’t think Peter meant to stay behind in 1763, do you?”

  “Oh, you mustn’t think that,” said Kate hurriedly. “Anyway, you’ll be able to ask him yourself soon….”

  She changed the subject. “How is Mrs. Schock? Is she back in California? Peter said she was making a film.”

  “No, no—of course she didn’t go back to the States with Peter missing! They’ve replaced her. To be truthful, Kate, I didn’t tell her I was coming. Inspector Wheeler telephoned us to say that you had amnesia and could not give us any useful information. My wife felt that we should give you some breathing space. She said you must have been through enough without us badgering you.”

  Kate couldn’t help smiling. “But you came anyway….”

  “I couldn’t not come. I had to know…. I tend to think with my feet—I’m not always an easy person, I know that.”

  Mr. Schock did not seem to want to talk after that, and he put on some classical music, all cellos and harpsichords. Kate soon nodded off, moaning fitfully in her sleep as she lived through a series of vivid dreams in which she would find herself in different locations with her parents, but always at some kind of crossroads. They would want to go one way but she would pull against them in the opposite direction, and she always ended up falling, falling, falling into nothing….

  “Pick up! Pick up!” Mr. Schock muttered. He sounded exasperated.

  Kate woke up with a start to the sound of a ringtone on Mr. Schock’s car speakerphone.

  “Is everything okay?” asked Kate.

  “I think my wife must have switched the phone off—I’ll try her later. I’m sorry to wake you up….”

  Mr. Schock rubbed his eyes.

  “I wish I could get rid of that van. I swear he’s been behind me since we left Derbyshire. Some people do that at night. They’d rather follow right on someone’s tail than drive into the darkness. Its headlights need adjusting too; they’re dazzling.”

  “Van?” Kate turned around to look but immediately ducked down again. “It’s Tim Williamson!” she cried.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. How are we going to get to the antigravity machine before he does?”

  “That,” said Mr. Schock, “shouldn’t prove to be a problem.”

  He jammed his foot on the accelerator and they rocketed down the outside line with Kate gripping the seat and squeezing her eyelids shut. The van was soon left far behind, but Peter’s father did not slow down. The car flew underneath a bridge with a camera trained on the carriageway.

  “I’m sure the police will be understanding when I explain … ,” he said with a grin.

  Tiredness soon overcame Kate again and she started to nod off. Mr. Schock leaned over and pressed a button at the side of her leather seat. It started to glide into a reclining position. This car was so comfortable….

  Someone was prodding her arm. She stretched and sat up, stiff and cold and a little dazed. She felt the chair moving into an upright position again. They were no longer on the motorway but driving along a narrow country lane with tall hedges on both sides. There was no snow here. The headlights lit up an old black and white signpost.

  “Look,” said Mr. Schock.

  “Middle Harpenden, two miles!” read Kate, amazed.

  Soon they reached a village green and overlooking it they saw the small, red-brick terraced house, half-covered with the gnarled branches of an ancient wisteria, that served as Middle Harpenden’s post office. Mr. Schock pulled over under a willow tree at the edge of a duck pond and parked in such a way that the car could not be seen by passing traffic. It was misty here. It was half past ten and lights glowed behind red floral curtains on the upper floor.

  “This must be it,” said Mr. Schock, turning off the engine and grabbing Kate’s bundle. “Hurry—I don’t think there’s much more than ten minutes between us and that van.”

  They ran across the road and down a driveway at the side of the house. A security light clicked on, revealing a shabby-looking yard pitted with gravelly puddles, and a concrete garage. Mr. Schock caught hold of Kate’s hand and dragged her out of the pool of light and into the dark shadows at the side of the garage. When Kate found she was standing on a discarded to let sign she tugged at Mr. Schock’s sleeve and pointed—he nodded but put his finger to his lips.

  The air was freezing and damp and they could see their breath. They kept very still until the security light clicked off once more and then crept out to examine the garage door. Mr. Schock tugged at the handle. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. They heard a vehicle approaching and glanced toward the road anxiously. A car sailed past into the night. Mr. Schock rattled the handle furiously while Kate looked behind her, hoping that no one could hear him.

  “I fear there’s only one solution to our little dilemma: I’m going
to have to ram the garage door.”

  “You’re going to what?” exclaimed Kate, horrified.

  But Mr. Schock was already running toward his car, and moments later Kate found herself caught in the blinding glare of headlights. An electric window swooshed slowly down and Mr. Schock’s head appeared.

  “Er … you’d better move out of the way, Kate.”

  “But your car!”

  Mr. Schock revved the engine and Kate jumped out of the way. Peter’s father put the car into gear, adjusted his safety belt, then paused momentarily, it seemed to Kate, like an athlete preparing himself mentally before starting his run-up for the long jump. When he was ready, he stamped hard on the accelerator and aimed his car squarely at the up-and-over door. Kate winced and clapped her hands to her ears as the thunderous, metallic impact caused half the windows in Middle Harpenden to vibrate. Mr. Schock reversed to inspect the damage: The door now gaped open, having become detached from the frame on the left-hand side. He got out of the car, a large grin on his face.

  “That was fun….”

  Kate gawked at the damage. Behind him, the hood of his sleek, executive car had caved in; the license plate swung by a single screw. Lights appeared and curtains twitched in windows. The back door of the post office opened, a timid face peeped out, and it closed again. They heard the sound of keys in locks and bolts being drawn. Kate looked at Peter’s father. For a grown-up he was surprisingly reckless….

  “I wonder how long it will take the police to get here,” she said.

  “Just tell me that this is the right garage,” said Mr. Schock, “and I haven’t just written off my car for nothing.”

  Kate slipped through the gap in the door. A light went on inside and Mr. Schock heard her shout:

  “It’s here! It’s the antigravity machine!”

  Mr. Schock dived into the garage after Kate.

  “Oh no!” exclaimed Kate at the sound of a car engine. “It can’t be Tim Williamson already!”

  They heard a door slamming and fast-approaching footsteps. Mr. Schock pushed against the door to close the opening. It clanged shut but it was now impossible to lock it. An eye appeared in the crack.

  “Kate! It’s you! What do you think you’re doing? Open up!”

  Tim Williamson shouted and banged his fist on the door.

  “Temper, temper,” shouted Mr. Schock from within the garage.

  “And who exactly are you?” cried Tim.

  “Oh, just the father of the boy your machine sent skidding into another century, that’s all. We’re going to fetch him back if that’s all right with you.”

  “Ah. I’m sorry about your son…. But, you see, I can’t let you take it….”

  “You can make another machine—you can’t make me another son!”

  “Just think about what you’re doing for a moment! If anything happens to the machine, you can kiss good-bye to any hope of bringing your son back.”

  “Each of us has his own priorities, Dr. Williamson…. I’m going to get Peter back, with or without your help!”

  Tim Williamson kicked at the garage door. “Well, you asked for it….”

  Then came a barrage of blows as the scientist threw himself repeatedly at the door. Mr. Schock braced his back against the cold metal, bent his knees, and pushed as hard as he could with his feet in an attempt to keep the gap between door and frame as narrow as possible. Bam! He looked over at Kate, who was on her hands and knees in front of the antigravity machine peering at a couple of digital readouts, a frown etched onto her freckled forehead.

  “You’re going to have to start it up by yourself, Kate. I wouldn’t know how to help you even if our friend here would stop bugging me….”

  Bam! Bam!

  Mr. Schock looked over at the antigravity machine. It stood a little less than six feet high and was composed of a giant metal bulb, contained in a Perspex case, which rested on a dull gray metal box. There was a disappointing lack of flashing lights and shiny chrome fittings. “So this is it,” he panted. “It doesn’t look like it could make a cup of tea, let alone transport us back in time….”

  “It’s what’s underneath that counts,” said Kate.

  Bam! Bam!

  Increasingly giddy with all the awful banging, Kate looked in dismay at the antigravity machine. She realized that she had not paid enough attention to how her father had started it up on Hampstead Heath. What if I’m supposed to adjust the settings? she thought. Or do I just switch it on? What if we don’t go back to 1763 … ? What if … ? She had a vague recollection of her father changing the settings back in the laboratory before the accident. Would they have to be the same for the machine to work? All at once she was in a blind panic—it had all gone wrong! She hadn’t used her head, she had not been careful enough, and now Peter was going to be a refugee in another time forever!

  “I’m sorry! I can’t remember how to do it … ,” she wept.

  Bam! Spread-eagled against the back of the garage door as Tim’s violent blows juddered right through him, Mr. Schock met Kate’s desperate gaze. She watched him make an effort to smile encouragingly at her, but sensed his feeling of utter helplessness. It suddenly struck her that his family’s future happiness now lay on a knife edge—and it was all up to her.

  Bam! I will remember, she told herself. I can work out how to do it.

  “It’ll be okay, Kate,” Mr. Schock shouted. “I’m sure it will come back to you….”

  Kate rested her forehead on the cold metal and the machine shifted slightly.

  “Careful!” warned Mr. Schock. “Look, it’s caught on half a brick at the back—it’s not level.”

  Kate moved away to look but suddenly the banging stopped and in its place they heard the sounds of a scuffle. Mr. Schock peeped through the door.

  “It’s your dad! And a woman.”

  Kate’s heart leaped. She wanted to call out to him, but she bit her lip instead.

  “Let me talk to my daughter!”

  “Why should I let you talk to your daughter when you are prepared to let my son rot in 1763?”

  “It’s not like that … ,” started Dr. Dyer, but before he could finish, Kate peered through the gap between the frame and the door.

  “Dad, don’t try to stop us. If you’re not going to go after Peter, we are. It’s not like the universe is going to vanish in a puff of smoke because a few people have gone backward and forward in time.”

  “Kate, please, please, don’t do this! Your mother will be heartbroken! Not to mention Sam. I just don’t know how he would take it!”

  “Sam already knows. He helped me.”

  “Sam knows?”

  “Look, it’s not like I’m never coming back! Mum will understand. I thought you would, too…. And, anyway, if you’re worried about Tim going public about time travel, the machine will be a lot safer with us in the eighteenth century where no one can get their hands on it.”

  Dr. Dyer laughed despite the situation. Kate always had an answer for everything.

  Kate disappeared back inside the garage while Tim shoved Dr. Dyer out of the way in order to resume throwing himself at the garage door.

  “They are not going off with my machine!”

  “I think you’ll find that, strictly speaking, it’s NASA’s machine,” commented Dr. Pirretti.

  “We’ll have to agree to differ on that one,” said Tim, launching himself furiously at the door. Mr. Schock was taken by surprise and lost his balance, giving Tim enough time to force his head through the gap. Mr. Schock quickly recovered and threw himself at his opponent, shoving his face backward with the flat of his hand so that the scientist’s nose was squashed to one side. Crying out in pain, Tim momentarily withdrew, allowing Mr. Schock to take up his defensive position again.

  “The brick!” exclaimed Kate all of a sudden. “It’s because of the fail-safe device—the antigravity machine won’t work unless it’s on the level. All I’ve got to do is kick the brick away!”

  Bam! Bam!
>
  “Whatever you’re going to do, it’d be great if you’d do it quickly!” panted Mr. Schock.

  “Dad!” shouted Kate. “I’m starting up the machine now. If I need to adjust anything you’d better tell me now before it’s too late….”

  “No! Kate! … Don’t do it!”

  There was a pause. Kate waited for perhaps five seconds.

  “Okay, I’m going anyway,” she said, and kicked the brick away. “Good-bye, Dad!”

  Without her even having to switch it on, she immediately heard a low humming noise, rather like the sound of a fridge.

  “Wait!” shouted Mr. Schock, leaping toward her. He threw his arms around the base of the machine.

  With a final, violent blow, Tim smashed open the door and erupted into the garage. Dr. Dyer, with a father’s protective instinct, threw himself at his colleague’s legs, pinning him down. He looked up at his daughter. There was nothing he could do to stop her now; the machine was already liquefying around its edges. His eyes filled with tears. Tim’s jaw dropped in wonder.

  “Oh my … ,” murmured Dr. Pirretti.

  “Kate,” said Dr. Dyer as calmly as he could manage, “don’t alter anything. The bottom readout should be six point seven seven, but no one will have touched it….”

  Mr. Schock turned his head toward Dr. Dyer. “Tell my wife!”

  “I will.”

  “Make sure you do!”

  “And you—keep my daughter safe!”

  “I had to do it, Dad! Say you understand….”

  But before her father could answer, an ever-strengthening force began to repel the three scientists and they found themselves leaning forward as if walking into a strong wind. Kate looked down on them as if from a great distance. The edges of her vision became clothed in darkness, and the now-familiar spirals began to form somewhere above her, rising up into the never-ending reaches of space and time. And then, consciousness clicked off like a light switch and she knew no more.