The Reluctant Time Traveller

by Janis Mackay

  “They’re for Elsie,” Agnes said, “because she needs lots of vitamin C.” Frank stared at her blankly. Vitamins, I found out later, hadn’t been discovered yet. But suddenly Frank cheered up, like he’d remembered good news. “The police said they never did trust Gaunt. They said soon as they have despatched the suspected enemy alien to headquarters, it will be their great pleasure to bring Mr Gaunt in for questioning.” Frank plonked himself down by the river and continued chucking stones in. “But I think his majesty’s gone for good.” He hurled another stone. “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

  “How come?” I said, sitting down beside him on the grass.

  “I was up early saddling his horse.” Frank hurled another stone into the river. “He was all on edge, and kept telling me to get a move on. He had a wad of money stuffed in his inside pocket. I could see it alright. What a fortune. And I was thinking of all the long hours I worked myself to the bone for him, and I thought about poor Elsie, up day and night to clean for him and the paltry wages we get. Scraps instead of proper food and hardly a day off. No wonder she’s ill.” He threw another stone hard. “I wanted to knock him off his horse, but I kept myself under control. I heaved up his bag and strapped it to the saddle and right away felt something small and hard in the pocket of the bag.” Frank smiled then lobbed another stone. “I know precious jewels when I feel them,” he said slipping his hand into his jacket pocket. “If you think oranges is treasure – have a keek at this.” Slowly he uncurled his fist and there it was, glinting in the morning sunshine: my mum’s wedding ring! “My wages,” he said and held it up to examine it. “Pure gold.” Next thing he popped it in his mouth!

  “Don’t swallow it,” I yelled.

  He took it out his mouth, rubbed it on his jacket then turned it around. “Keep yer hat on mister. That’s how you know it’s fir real. You taste it, see. Pure Scottish gold!”

  There was no easy way to say this, and I hated to disappoint him, but, “Um… Frank,” I had to. “Sorry to do this to you pal, but that’s actually my ring. Or, I mean, it’s my mum’s. Gaunt nicked it off me. And I really need it back!”

  I could feel Agnes giving me her what-you-on-about look. So much had happened. I had never quite got round to telling her about my time-travelling false start. While Frank went on examining the ring and dealing with the fact that it wasn’t his wages after all, Agnes tapped me on the shoulder. “But, Saul, I’ve got the ring,” she said, showing me the ring on her finger.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled, “I know that, but…”

  “But what?”

  Frank was staring at us. He joined in. “But – whit?”

  I had a bit of explaining to do. “Ok,” I began, “it didn’t work. I mean, for you, Agnes, obviously it did. Because you really, really wanted it.”

  “Wanted… whit?” Frank came closer. By this point I was hemmed in with Frank on one side and Agnes on the other. The river swished in front of me.

  “To time travel back to 1914,” Agnes told him, leaning across me. “You see, Frank, it was my idea. Saul was reluctant.”

  “Not totally reluctant,” I chipped in. “Sure, I wanted to save the den. I mean, I am the gang leader. It just seemed – extreme!”

  “Then I thought,” Agnes went on, all matter of fact, “that while we were here in 1914 searching for the deeds of the house so that we could save the den, we could also learn a bit about the First World War.”

  “Oh,” Frank said.

  “I did actually try and tell you before,” I said to him. “And anyway, you have to have gold.”

  “Gold?” said Frank.

  “Yeah, and because Agnes was more focussed she went, and I got left behind.” Now it was Agnes’s turn to gape.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah! I’m trying to tell you. Then I thought you would need me, so I ran home and borrowed…” I looked meaningfully at Frank, “…my mum’s wedding ring. Then sped back to the yew tree. The vapours were still going, and then the time travel worked.”

  Agnes gaped at me. “You sang?”

  “Sure I sang. D’you think I barked or something?”

  Agnes giggled then reached over and squeezed my hand. “Oh Saul, thank you so much. It would have been really hard to be here without you. I did wonder why I was in the bath for so long.”

  Frank scratched his nose, shook his head then went back to examining my mum’s wedding ring. As if he was talking to it, he said, “You truly mean to say, with your hand on your hearts, that you… em…”

  “Travelled here from a hundred years in the future.” Agnes helped him out, with her hand on her heart.

  “It’s true, Frank,” I said, hand on my heart too. “We know this ancient formula.”

  “To do with the elements vibrating in harmony.” Agnes smiled at Frank who was looking pretty freaked out. “And the sun, and an antique song. Then of course there’s the yew tree. It’s associated with time.”

  “It’s kind of… complicated,” I said. “But believe it or not, it worked.”

  Agnes patted Frank on the knee. “And I would say to you, Frank, not to go getting involved in this war. We know what happens in this war. It’s going to be terrible. It is not a sweet and lovely thing to die for your country. The poor soldiers are gassed. And shot and shelled. So many die. Really. Millions. And it is going to go on for four years. It’s an awful thing. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

  Frank shrugged. The reservists were queuing up over on the green. Union Jacks were flying and war fever was in the air.

  “In a hundred years, Frank, life is all really different. We’ve got computers, and mobile phones, and… and microwaves.” I was trying to change the subject but Frank didn’t seem too interested in my list of technology. “And a hundred years from now, some people still have horses, and stables. And we make fires. Mostly for fun though. And we eat porridge.” I wanted him to know that we weren’t freaks, or aliens. We might have some newer stuff, but basically we were like him. We understood him. “Frank.” I looked at him and smiled. “Thanks a lot for helping us. You’ve been great, really.” The ring lay in his open palm. “Hey, I am so sorry about my mum’s ring, because the truth is Frank, you deserve proper wages.”

  “And a good comfy bed,” Agnes added.

  “And tasty food,” I said.

  “And with Jean,” Agnes nodded enthusiastically, “You’ll get real comforts, and Elsie will too.”

  Frank handed me the ring. We were all silent for a moment then Frank started to laugh. There was something catching about Frank’s laugh, because the next thing I started laughing. So did Agnes. Once we started we couldn’t stop. We laughed so much we had tears streaming down our cheeks and we were rolling about on the grass holding our sides. Until some gentleman strode by, tapped his walking cane on the ground and roared, “Show some respect, young ’uns! Don’t you know there’s a war on?”

  Well, the war would be on for a very long time. And here was some old guy in a bowler hat telling us to stop being happy. Frank deserved a good laugh, that was for sure. What did this old guy in a bowler hat know? Could he see the future?

  When he’d strutted on, I rolled over on the grass feeling hot and sticky. It seemed forever I’d been in these clothes, working, sleeping. “I know a deep pool further up the river towards Neidpath castle,” I said. “Can you swim, Frank?”

  Frank grinned. “Like a dog,” he boasted, and we all laughed again.

  “Well – let’s do it,” Agnes said.

  And even though there was a war on, or maybe because of it, we all jumped up and ran along the riverbank. We didn’t stop running till we reached the swimming spot called the black pool.

  34

  “I heard about this place,” Frank said, looking around the black pool and pulling off his jacket and trousers and shirt till he stood, thin and pale, in greyish saggy underwear. I saw how wiry and muscly he was. I tore off my old clothes but kept my boxers on. Frank did a double take at Homer Simpson but d
idn’t say anything. Agnes flung her shawl onto the ground and started wriggling out of her maid’s outfit. Under that long dress and apron she still had on her cut-off shorts and T-shirt. Frank made a big deal of not looking at Agnes.

  “Is she going to swim?” he asked me.

  “Of course,” I said and poor Frank just shook his head in astonishment.

  “Girls do all kinds of stuff in the future,” Agnes yelled and she was the first – show-off – to run and jump into the black pool. Then she was kicking about in the water and waving wildly for me and Frank to come on in.

  “You ready?” I said to Frank. He was taking deep breaths and looking down nervously. It was quite a long drop. He nodded then held out his hand. I took it and we both stepped to the edge. “One,” we both yelled, “two… jump!”

  And me from 2014 and Frank from 1914 jumped into the River Tweed together. Frank was right about swimming like a dog. He did the doggy paddle, with his hands clawing at the water and him not getting anywhere fast. But we had a great time, splashing and yelling and spraying each other with water. I showed Frank how to do the front crawl and he picked it up no bother. “Frank,” Agnes cheered, “you swim like a fish.”

  “I’m a free lad,” he yelled and threw up a fountain of sparkling water. He cheered like he just won a gold medal. “I’m free!”

  The three of us walked back up the lane to Gaunt House; Agnes nudged me as we passed the log pile. Frank was a few steps ahead, happy, not noticing us.

  “Have a look,” she whispered, “they might still be there.”

  I tried like mad to remember which log I hid the trainers behind. One stuck out more than the rest. I slipped that one out and sure enough, there they were: my expensive, new, oh-so-comfy and very clean twenty-first-century trainers. “Yesssss!” I whispered, and hid them under my baggy jacket.

  We were laughing and joking as we walked, especially Frank. “Whit’s black, white and red all over?” he asked us.

  I was so stunned that that joke had been on the go for one hundred years, I forgot the answer.

  “A newspaper, that’s whit!” he yelled.

  “Knock-knock,” I said, wondering if that joke had also been around for a century.

  “Come in,” said Frank, and me and Agnes creased ourselves laughing.

  It was only when we approached the big house that the jokes dried up and we fell silent. “I hope she’s rested,” Frank said. His voice, that had been bawling and cheering was now all hushed. As we went through the gates and walked up the gravel driveway, the front door swung open and Mrs Buchan stepped out. She had her long brown coat on, a straw hat on her head, and she was holding a suitcase. She trotted down the steps, swinging the bag and looking well pleased with herself.

  “I’ll have you know,” she said, as she marched towards us, “the woman you see before you will no longer stoop to dust skirting boards, run when a bell summons her, nor instruct maids in carrying chamber pots to the midden. Oh no. Mrs Buchan here has received a favourable reply. Mrs Buchan, a servant no more, is off to take up a well-paid job, supervising in the munitions factory.” She strode past us, then a moment later called over her shoulder, “And do inform Mr Gaunt that he can find himself another housekeeper: one fool enough to work for pennies!” And with that she strode through the gates that Frank had left open, and marched off into the big wide world.

  “We will enter through the front doors, for once in our lives,” Frank said, and that’s what we did. Gaunt House felt even stranger than usual. It was eerily quiet.

  “Our American guest has gone,” Agnes whispered as we crossed the large empty entrance hall and gazed up the stairway.

  “He wasn’t American,” I reminded her, “and he wasn’t a proper guest either.”

  We passed the famous coat stand. Gaunt had left his precious cape behind. “The owner’s gone too,” Agnes whispered and before I could say anything she said, “who wasn’t even the proper owner.”

  Frank called out, “Elsie! Elsie!”

  We practically fell into the kitchen, panting and puffing, and there was Elsie up at the table wrapped in a tartan shawl, chopping onions. “Lord above!” she cried out, dropping her knife. “What took you? They’ll be crying out for hen broth I’m sure and you’ve all been gallivanting, leaving poor Elsie to all the chores. What’s Gaunt going to say, eh? When there is no broth made?” She sunk down onto a wooden chair with a great sigh, as if the effort of speaking was all too much.

  “We brought you oranges,” Agnes said, placing hers on the table. I set mine next to it.

  “Lord above, it’s Christmas!” Elsie murmured, and burst into tears.

  “It is like Christmas,” Agnes said, putting an arm around her shoulder. “Dear Elsie, you must pack your bags because as soon as you and Frank have your things ready, we can go. Jean is waiting for you. She’ll give you a good home and make you better. Don’t cry, Elsie.”

  While Frank comforted his sister and set about packing up their few belongings, Agnes and I slipped outside. It was time to have a good look at the yew tree.

  35

  We circled the yew tree, trying to see where the grass might have been dug, or maybe stones loosened, or some kind of marking to show where the deeds might be hidden. There was a small patch where the grass was a slightly lighter green. This would turn mossy a hundred years from now.

  Agnes sunk to her knees and patted the hard ground. Gnarled roots from the tree bumped up round the trunk.

  “The grass is different here,” I said, sinking to my knees and patting the spot. ‘The roots of the yew hold fast’ the newspaper article had said. I stroked the knotted roots, pretty certain that the deeds of this land were hidden just below. Agnes patted them too.

  We looked at each other.

  “Uh huh,” said Agnes. “I think we’ve found everything we needed to find in 1914.”

  Then she winked at me, whipped the key from her pocket and scaled the tree like an acrobat. Moments later she was back, panting and flushed-looking. “So my great-great-great grandfather hid the deeds under the tree. I’ve hidden the key in the branches.” We left the tree and ran together back up to the house. “You never know,” she said, laughing, “but it just might come in handy!”

  Frank and Elsie didn’t have much to pack. We said we’d walk them down to the gates.

  “I won’t miss this big gloomy house one bit,” Elsie said as we stepped through the front door. “I won’t even look back.”

  “Quite right,” Frank said. Elsie was wearing a long brown dress – her Sunday best, she told us and Frank was in a black jacket. Elsie hadn’t coughed once. Maybe the two days in bed had done her some good.

  “I don’t care if the house crumbles to the ground,” Frank said and just to help it along he slammed the huge wooden door. I heard something inside fall – the coat stand! Then I imagined how wallpaper would peel. Damp would eat into everything. Oak beams would crack and, stone by stone, this mansion house would fall to the ground.

  “Right then,” Frank said, beaming at us, and he marched off down the drive. “I said my farewells,” he called over his shoulder, “to the gardener and Trickster. The gardener says how he’s going to stay on, living in his hut, tending the garden, so long as no one throws him out. He’ll take care of Trickster too.”

  “I don’t think anyone will throw him out. No one can,” Agnes said.

  “I heard from the farmer who brings the milk that the police are looking for Gaunt. I don’t think he’ll be back, and if he’s stupid enough to come creeping around, they’ll be ready for him. He’s been harbouring a German spy. I told you, didn’t I? I said he’d get his comeuppance. Come on, Saul and Agnes, keep up!”

  We had stopped to look back. All those clean windows and no one watching us go. “Shame, isn’t it?” Agnes said, “That Yew Tree House is going to crumble and fall.”

  “But lucky for us,” I said, “the hut will stay, and so will the yew tree.”

  Frank and Elsie were w
aiting at the gates. “Reckon they’ll smelt this lot down into rifles,” Frank said, tapping one of the iron bars.

  “I reckon you’re right, Frank,” I said, “because I can tell you, the gates didn’t make it into the future.”

  Elsie gazed up at me, wide-eyed. “Gosh, Frank told me. All I can say is… it’s a miracle.”

  “You’re right,” Agnes said, stepping across to an oak tree by the wall. “Time travel is a miracle.” She climbed up that tree and was down a minute later with her trusty rucksack. “And soon,” she announced, “the time travellers are going home.” She hoisted the rucksack onto her back.

  Everything was beginning to feel like a dream. It was as if things were already fading, like when you see people leave on a boat, and they get smaller and smaller. That was how it felt. Frank was talking about going past the railway station on their way to Jean’s, so they could see all the soldiers in brown uniforms and women waving hankies, and they could join in the cheering. He was marching back and forth with their old suitcase: left-right, left-right. Stopping to salute and marching again.

  Agnes put an arm around Elsie’s shoulder. “You can take it easy, Elsie. Jean will care for you.” Then Agnes called out to Frank, “You don’t have to march, Frank. Come and say goodbye.”

  He stopped and swung round. “You dinnae understand, Agnes. If it’s true whit you say, and you really do come from the future, there are some things you just dinnae understand. I do have to march.” He practised again, swinging his arms, holding his head up high. As I watched him, left-right, left-right, marching towards us, I knew he was right. There were things about really living in 1914 that we just didn’t understand.

  Agnes gave Elsie a hug. Frank and me glanced across at each other and it struck me how this was goodbye, and how I would miss him. He nodded, like he was thinking the same. “Yea’ve been a great friend, Saul,” he said. “Brave and good fun. We worked well together, you and me. I want tae thank yea for whit yea’ve done for us.”