Inspector Kirby and Harold Longcoat

by Ian Martyn

  Harold stopped and turned but before he could say anything, Kirby was pushing him down the bus. ‘Come on, Grandad, let’s find a seat.’

  ‘A National Trust shop,’ Shirley said as they got off the bus at the car park. ‘I like a National Trust shop. Bought a Christmas prezzie for me mam in one last year and a brolly.’

  ‘Yes well, Constable, ‘Kirby said. ‘Just remember we’re still on duty.’ He looked down at his pink shirt. ‘Even if it doesn’t feel like it.’ He turned to Harold. ‘So what now?’

  Harold pointed to a gate at the far end. ‘If we follow the path that’ll take us around the back of the Whin Sill.’ He grinned. ‘Then the fun starts.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  They set off across the car park and through the gate. The path took them across a field where a small herd of cows paused momentarily in their chewing to stare at them before returning their attention to the more serious business of grazing. Harold led the way. Connie fell in beside Kirby and the two girls were chatting together behind them.

  ‘Shirley seems a bright, lively girl,’ Connie said.

  Kirby smiled.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s funny this morning, for the first time, I saw her as a “girl”, not much older than my daughter and not just a police officer. And yes, she is bright and a good officer. A bit too lively for some perhaps and she might need to watch that if she wants to get on.’

  Connie laughed.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, she’s not daft. I think she knows where and when to draw the line. She likes you, Jonah. Looks up to you. And admit it, you enjoy the banter as well. Perhaps you see something of your younger self in her.’

  Kirby raised an eyebrow. ‘Hmm, perhaps.’

  Harold stopped and pointed. ‘There.’

  All Kirby could see was the vertical striations of the rock face and the steep slope in front of it.

  Kirby peered again. ‘Where?’

  ‘There,’ Harold repeated. He strode across the field to the base of the slope and started to scramble up the grass and scree.

  At the top, Kirby paused to get his breath back. ‘Hell,’ he said. ‘I didn’t see that.’ In front of him was an opening about four feet wide and perhaps eight feet high. A cool breeze was coming from the gap, carrying with it a faint musty smell.

  ‘No, well,’ Harold said, ‘it wouldn’t do if anyone could just wander in.’

  ‘We’re going in?’

  Harold entered the cave and his voice echoed back. ‘That’s the idea.’

  With a sigh, Kirby followed him. After they’d gone a few yards, Harold stopped in front of a large wooden door. It looked old, but nothing special. Shirley came to stand beside Kirby.

  ‘Brrr.’ Shirley shivered in the cool dampness and rubbed her arms. ‘So is that a magic door?’

  In the dim light Harold frowned. ‘If you want to put it that way, yes.’

  Shirley’s eyes were wide with anticipation. ‘So how do you open it? Is there a magic word?’ she held out her hands, waggled her fingers and lowered her voice. ‘Open sesame.’

  Susie sniggered. Connie smiled and Kirby tutted.

  Harold reached forward and grabbed a large metal ring, turned it, then pushed. The door creaked.

  ‘Oh,’ said Shirley.

  Kirby watched Harold step through it as if it was just any ordinary door. Like Shirley, he was a little disappointed. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, a shimmer perhaps or at least a bit of a sizzle. But then that was TV, wasn’t it? Where magic had to announce itself or the audience might not get it. This was real. As the thought occurred to him, he let a nervous little laugh escape. He then wondered if, when you were starting to go mad, you knew you were starting to go mad.

  Harold glanced back. ‘You alright?’

  ‘As I’ll ever be.’

  Connie took Kirby’s arm, guiding him through. ‘Come on, it won’t harm you.’ Susie and Shirley followed.

  Kirby glanced back. ‘Er, do you think they should be coming?’

  Susie managed to look hurt. Shirley glared.

  Kirby held up a hand. ‘Listen, this is not a girl thing. It’s your safety I’m concerned about. And being a semi-senior police officer I feel responsible for it.’ As he spoke, he realised he had no idea what they were going to meet or what that meant for his own safety, which he also took seriously.

  ‘Come on, Jonah,’ Connie said. ‘We’ve had this conversation. You’ll just have to trust Harold and me on this one.’

  ‘Yes, sorry,’ Kirby muttered. ‘I keep making the mistake of thinking I’m in charge in some small way.’

  ‘If we’re quite ready?’ Harold said, pointing into the gloom before striding off ahead. Kirby followed Harold, who delved into his coat and produced his hat, which he proceeded to ram down on his head. Kirby hunched his shoulders in what he thought of as a posture of reluctant acceptance, balled his hands into fists and shoved them into the baggy pockets of his jacket, where they disturbed a layer of sweet wrappers and fluff. As he walked, he admitted to himself that he was so far out of his comfort zone he’d left it behind in the car park.

  He didn’t like it. He was used to being in charge and here they were being led God knows where, having gone through a door that wasn’t supposed to exist, by quite possibly the strangest man he’d ever met. And he’d met some pretty strange ones in his time in the force. What’s more, it also occurred to him that yesterday he’d been with another man whose companion was a talking rabbit. What worried him most was that it was all starting to seem normal.

  To think it had all started with an innocent pair of shoes left at the side of the road. As a detective you expected the unexpected, however this was somewhat extreme. He prided himself on being a good copper and how he always applied logic to a well-honed instinct. But now? On the one hand he seemed to have thrown away all logic and his instinct was away somewhere with its shoes and socks off, paddling in the surf and eating ice-cream. On the other hand, in the back of the coppering part of his mind, there was the feeling that there was a thread of sense to it all.

  Kirby huffed and tutted.

  ‘You alright, sir?’ Shirley asked.

  ‘Just dandy thank you, Constable.’ Now his coppering mind was raising the question of what the hell was he doing? After a moment or two he decided he was following his nose.

  ‘Yes,’ he said out loud, feeling that might make it more convincing.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Nothing, Shirley.’ That’s what he was doing, following his nose. Kirby straightened his back and lengthened his stride a little while holding on to that thought as if it was a lifeline back to sanity. His old boss Harry had said that’s what you did as a copper, when all else failed, you followed your nose. There again Harry had ended up in the funny farm, talking to the wall. He wondered if Harry had met Harold.

  Well he was here now and whatever was ahead was, well, ahead. He pushed the doubts down into his pockets with his fists to join the fluff. As the group shuffled along what seemed to be a dark, damp corridor, they had all stopped talking. The only sound was the echoing footfalls of Harold in front of Kirby and the others behind him. They’d been walking for what, a couple of minutes? It occurred to him that there was no obvious source of light yet there was just enough of the stuff to see by. Not enough to see more than a few feet, but enough. He studied the walls, old damp brick. However, just as he made that observation, they changed to large stone blocks, then a hundred yards or so further on, to rough uneven stones and then to a solid wall of rock. Now he noticed that the light level was increasing. He could see ahead of Harold. A few seconds later, it was obvious they were in some sort of cave that was much larger than the one they had entered by. They stopped.

  forty

  Harold had found a convenient ledge and was perched on it staring down the cave to a grey wall of mist which Kirby presumed was the entrance, to what? ‘So where the hell are we?’ he said out loud. Harold ignored him; he seemed t
o be waiting for something.

  Shirley entered the cave behind him. ‘I dunno, you’ve got to admit it’s a bit of an adventure.’

  Kirby looked back the way they’d come and could see nothing but a wall of rock. ‘Hmm, sometimes as a copper in Newcastle the most adventure I crave is trying the new guest ale in the local.’

  Shirley frowned in reply

  ‘Ssh,’ Harold said. ‘Stay there.’ He pulled his hat down a few more millimetres and crept towards the grey mist.

  A man-shaped silhouette appeared. As the silhouette solidified, Kirby noted the man was young. Also, he couldn’t help noticing that in his right hand was a seven-foot spear and a long bow was slung across his back and shoulder. This was not quite what you came across often in Newcastle, even in the Bigg Market on a Saturday night. Knives occasionally maybe, but spears and bows, no. Kirby pushed a reluctant Shirley behind him.

  ‘Goran,’ Harold called, striding across to meet the young man. They clasped arms in greeting. ‘Good to see you.’

  ‘I got the call,’ Goran said. On seeing Connie, he dropped to one knee.

  ‘Hello, Goran,’ Connie said. ‘You’ve grown.’ She put a hand on Susie’s arm. ‘This is my daughter Susie.’

  Now that Kirby could see him better, the young man was clad in tight leather and had a slim, athletic frame. Having risen off his knee, Goran aimed a broad and warm smile at Susie. Kirby noted she was smiling back in the same manner. ‘Heaven help us,’ he thought. Goran pointed at Kirby and Shirley with the spear.

  ‘The other-worlders,’ Harold said. ‘Jonah and Shirley.’ Goran nodded.

  ‘Other-worlders?’ Shirley whispered to Kirby.

  Kirby shrugged.

  ‘Mind you he’s a bit dishy, isn’t he? Bit young perhaps, but still...’

  ‘I wouldn’t know.’ He nodded towards Susie, who was still smiling. ‘It seems you’re not the only one to think so.’

  Harold turned back to them. ‘We need to go. And you lot need to change.’

  Kirby stared at Harold, while still keeping a wary eye on the albeit now more friendly-looking Goran.

  ‘Before that, perhaps you’d like to tell me exactly where we are, who this young man is and why did he drop to his knees at the sight of Connie here?’

  Connie smiled.

  ‘Also, why he’s carrying what where I come from might be classed as two very offensive weapons? Especially when you said we’d all be perfectly safe.’

  Harold glanced at Connie. ‘I’m not sure I used those exact words.’

  Kirby narrowed his eyes at Harold. ‘Alright, let’s put it like this, you and Connie led me to believe that before I agreed to Susie and Shirley coming along.’

  Harold nodded and puffed out his cheeks. ‘Well, Goran is er, let’s say, my nephew.’

  Goran grinned.

  Harold smiled and held his arms out. ‘And he and his weapons, among other things, are the reason why I suggested we’d be safe.’

  ‘Hmm… and Connie?’

  ‘Er, can we just say she’s special for now?’

  ‘OK… and back to where are we?’

  Harold grinned. ‘Oh, we’re in Northumberland.’

  Kirby frowned. ‘Yes, but I’m not exactly going to be able to catch the bus back to Embleton and walk into the pub for a pint, am I?’

  ‘No.’ Harold looked down at the floor and, finding a dry patch, sat down cross-legged. With a sigh, Kirby eased himself down too. Shirley sat beside him, eyes wide in anticipation. He could tell she was enjoying this. Connie and Susie stood behind them, Connie with an arm round Susie’s shoulders. ‘Well, as I’ve touched on before, this is not the Northumberland you know.’

  ‘I think I’d guessed that. So this is it, we’re now in that other alternative past? This cave, me, us?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Kirby nodded to himself for a second or two in an effort to let his brain accept that it might be true. It was one thing being told that such a place existed when you were sitting outside a pub in Jesmond eating crisps with a pint of IPA in your hand. It was quite another to actually find yourself there.

  ‘I’m still not sure I understand all this, Mother,’ Susie said.

  Harold’s gaze flicked from Kirby to Susie and then to Connie.

  Connie gave Susie a gentle squeeze. ‘That’s why you’re here, dear. It’s difficult to explain and I wanted you to see it.’

  ‘Come on then,’ Kirby said to Harold.

  Harold looked up at Connie who took a deep breath and nodded. Harold focused on Susie. ‘It’s where we, at least your mother and I, come from. As Jonah said, this is the past, but not your past, a sort of parallel past. To be more accurate, around what for your history is the sixth-century BC.’

  Susie glanced around the cave, then across to the entrance, where Kirby noticed she let her eyes dwell on Goran. ‘Cool,’ she said.

  ‘Mega-cool,’ said Shirley.

  Harold smiled and held out his hands. ‘That’s the young for you, adaptable.’

  Kirby shook his head. ‘Moving on. We need to get changed?’

  ‘I don’t want you to stick out.’

  ‘As in?’

  ‘Think of someone walking around Spanish City on a Saturday night in designer gear, wearing heaps of gold jewellery and bragging about how rich they are.’

  ‘As in not being a target?’

  Harold nodded. Kirby nodded along with him, as did Shirley.

  Harold patted Kirby on the shoulder, then rose and with Goran’s help dragged over three large chests. He pointed to two of them. ‘Men’s, women’s. Choose what you like that fits. Take one of the padded jackets as well, it could get cold.’

  ‘Fabulous,’ Jonah said as he pulled out several pairs of leather trousers. He chose the most battered ones he could find. At least they looked rugged rather than the fashionable sort he saw teetering down the high street at the weekend above high heels. After about five minutes, Shirley, Susie and Connie emerged from the back of the cave. Connie looked as if she had worn this type of clothing all her life, or at least a some of it, which she had of course. Shirley and Susie were admiring each other and themselves, obviously enjoying the experience. Then he reckoned you can get away with most things when you’re young. Both girls wore fetching calf-length boots and, tucked into them were leather trousers that hugged the legs. Over those, they wore short leather skirts. They were also wearing woollen shirts and soft leather padded jackets. It all looked as if it could have been made for them by some expensive fashion house. Jonah suspected he didn’t quite have the same impact. The trousers were comfortable rather than hugging, which he reckoned would be a blessing for the rest of the party. The shirt too was chosen more for comfort than looks. The waistcoat he liked. Lots of pockets in which he’d stuffed his various bits and pieces.

  Connie grinned at him.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing, just interesting to see you out of uniform.’

  ‘I don’t wear a uniform.’

  Connie laughed. ‘Yes you do. You just don’t call it that. But, believe me, you look every inch the policeman.’

  ‘Hmm, well, I’m not sure how this look would go down back at the station.’

  Harold looked them all and down while Goran looked Susie up and down. Harold frowned when he got to Kirby.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Boots,’ Harold said. Kirby was still wearing his brown brogues.

  ‘Really?’ Kirby said. ‘These are pretty sturdy.’

  Harold nodded. ‘You’ll thank me for them.’

  ‘Really,’ Kirby repeated, not convinced. He tutted as he unlaced his shoes; in for a penny and all that. He tried three pairs of boots before finding some that fitted. Standing up, he had to admit they did give him the feeling that they could tackle anything. They might draw a few strange looks in Newcastle, although only a few. He was just glad there wasn’t a mirror. He had the impression he looked as if was going to fancy dress party as a pirate; all he needed was the eye patch
and a parrot.

  Harold threw them each a small leather shoulder pack. ‘Select another shirt or two and some more under... things,’ he said, glancing at the girls.

  ‘What?’ Kirby said. ‘How long are we going to be away?’ Harold shrugged. ‘I have things to do. I’ll be missed.’

  Harold shook his head. ‘It doesn’t work like that.’

  Kirby waited. ‘What doesn’t?’

  ‘Time, how long you’re here compared to there.’

  ‘Thanks, that makes it all so clear.’ Kirby shook his head and decided not press it further on the grounds that he was here now and he guessed he wouldn’t understand anyway. He sighed and started to stuff some spare clothes into the bag. As did the others, although they were a bit more selective. Connie was ready first, and again she looked as if she was enjoying herself. She turned to help Shirley. As he pulled on his own pack, he watched Goran helping Susie into hers and taking great care over the length of the straps. No one offered to help him, he noted.

  ‘What about our own clothes?’ Shirley asked. ‘My mother knitted that cardy.’

  ‘They’ll be fine here,’ Harold said, at which Goran raised an eyebrow. ‘Alright, they will probably be fine here.’

  ‘Define probably, Harold,’ Kirby said.

  Harold shrugged. ‘Well, you do get the odd bear around here.’

  ‘Bear?’

  ‘Yes, bears and wolves. You used to have them too until you shot them all.’

  ‘Not personally.’

  Harold huffed as if he didn’t quite believe him.

  ‘Wonderful.’ Kirby had a vision of a bear wandering around in his favourite Loake’s brogues. ‘Bears,’ he grumbled. Before he could grumble any more, Goran interrupted them.

  ‘Harold, time to go.’

  Harold nodded.

  ‘You carrying?’

  Harold opened his coat. Inside was the small crossbow and three knives. Strapped to his waist was a scabbard. He pulled the sword part way out. It reflected the light with a reddish tinge. Goran grinned.

  ‘What the…?’ Kirby hesitated as Harold and Goran turned to him. ‘You mean… I asked you… in Alnwick as well.’