‘White Hart, Mile End Road,’ Jen called out and we were off.
Was George going to stay with us? It didn’t seem a bad idea, he probably lived in London and maybe he could help.
It wasn’t long before we made it back. George came into our room; moved into organisation mode. He made them light a fire in our grate, not using the mattress this time. And fixed for us to have a bath, only one. I would have been last but Demelza was still only just awake so she took the last turn, with Jenna cleaning her up and from the yells she didn’t do it too gently.
The four of us ended up in our room with George persuading the landlord to find us dry clothes and demanding drinks to be brought up.
‘Any chance of a hot chocolate?’ asked Jenna. ‘With whipped cream and sprinkles,’ she added.
George gave her a strange look, ‘Sprinkles?’
Jenna said nothing. This was going to get complicated. Herbert kept persuading us to use his real name, I suggested Herbie which he didn’t like but which sort of stuck. He didn’t show any sign of leaving.
‘Haven’t you got a home?’ Jen asked after we’d drunk his drinks. I wondered who was paying.
‘Can’t go there tonight, said I’d be away.’ Herbie hung his head.
I laughed. Whatever story he had told at home meant he was expected not to go home before the next day. He had obviously been planning to stay at the brothel all night.
‘Bit too hot for you to go home?’ Jenna actually poked him. He didn’t look used to being poked, certainly not by Jenna and he looked embarrassed, maybe not embarrassed enough for Jenna who poked him again. ‘Go there a lot do you?’
Herbie changed the subject quickly. ‘You said you’d tell me what that girl,’ he pointed at Demelza, ‘what she meant with those strange words.’
‘Why are you so interested?’ I asked, strange words were the last thing on my mind after this night of flames and near death.
‘I’m a writer,’ he said. ‘I like new ideas, new things, I write about them.’
‘Any good?’ Jen sounded cynical.
‘People tell me so,’ he sniffed. ‘Some people say my writing is a bit strange.’
‘What name do you use?’ Jenna probably thought he was making it all up.
‘Wells, Herbert George Wells – HG Wells is the name on my books.’
‘Never heard of you,’ Jenna and I replied. I didn’t think it was likely that we’d know of someone writing a hundred years before our real time at home.
But a slurred voice came from the floor where we’d left snoring Demelza, ‘He wrote the time thingy.’
‘The what?’ came three voices.
‘You know, the story about the time machine,’ and Demelza slumped back with a noise like a foghorn.
The Writer
-7-
We slept that night together in our one room. Herbie seemed to feel he was old enough and important enough to have the bed. Demelza was crashed out and she got the floor. Jenna said she wasn’t going to get anywhere near Herbie which meant that I had half the bed.
‘Watch him,’ Jenna said, before taking a duvet-like thing to lie on. Herbie said it was an eiderdown and with that gone we didn’t have much to cover us. ‘Cosy up?’ Jenna laughed and that made me move nearer to the edge – I certainly didn’t want Herbie snuggling up to me in the night.
Jen positioned herself so that Herbie would have to wake her if he had any more ideas about Demelza. Jen’s like that – protecting and hating at the same time.
In the early light the street noises were loud enough to wake us.
‘I’m hungry,’ Demelza wailed, throwing her arms wide. ‘Where ….’ She stopped and looked around. ‘What happened?’
Jenna gave her the full story. I guess she hoped it would shame Herbie but he seemed quite at home about the idea of molesting someone half conscious and probably half his age. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with a smile on his face.
‘It’s not legal,’ Jenna pushed him away.
‘She’s over thirteen,’ Herbie sounded hurt.
‘Thirteen?’ Jenna raised her voice.
It turned out that thirteen was the age of consent in the 1880s. Demelza gave a smirk and a pout at Herbie who nearly leapt at her before Jenna slapped him down. ‘Not a chance, Grandpa.’
‘I’m still hungry,’ Demelza whined again.
Herbie offered to take us out. ‘To one of the coffee houses.’
We left the inn. Herbie stopped. ‘Can’t go anywhere looking like this.’ The clothes the landlord had found us were more usual for us – working smocks, but not for Herbie. We ended up waiting for a shop to open before he went in and bought a complete outfit – waistcoat, jacket, tie, and of course a hat. I asked him if it was expensive.
‘Expensive?’ Herbie sounded puzzled. ‘Oh, I put it on account.’
I thought we should have gone into the shop with him, but probably the three of us looked too dodgy to get credit.
A short walk took us to Warren’s House of Coffee. A tall building on the corner of two streets. It looked a bit like an old bank to me. Outside, posters under large arched wooden windows told how their coffee would make us into supermen. Inside the place was busy, smoky and full of noise. Long tables crowded with men, not many women except those running around serving coffee in tall jugs and getting abuse. Everyone shouting to get heard over the noise.
This was to be a place they came to talk about money and business – lots of yelling and arguing about boats and cargo from all over the world. It felt quite modern and the sewers must have been working because it didn’t smell so bad.
Herbie was known here. I hoped he was only known for being a writer, not in his ‘George’ disguise. It meant we had a table to ourselves. Bacon and sausages too.
‘So, now you’ve got to tell me about those strange things you were talking about – phones, sprinkles and things,’ Herbie said, when we’d eaten nearly everything they sold.
Before we could answer someone started singing in the street, a hymn, I think. Two people in uniform came charging in, beaming faces as they handed out pamphlets telling us of the dangers of drink.
‘Salvation Army.’ Herbie told them to push off which started an argument made worse by Jenna suggesting Herbie was an ideal person to go to one of their meetings.
Herbie returned to his questions.
Demelza stepped in: ‘We’re from the future, well, actually, you’re from the past,’ she jumped as Jenna gave her a kick.
‘Why shouldn’t I tell him that?’ Demelza sounded cross. ‘Herbie writes about time travel so it shouldn’t be a problem.’
‘Look,’ Herbie had a sharp tone to his voice and appeared recovered from the near death fire last night. ‘Look if you aren’t going to use a proper name could you at least call me HG.’
‘HG it is,’ said Jenna.
The previous night had left us all more than a bit strange. Near death experiences might be getting a bit common for us but that didn’t mean we weren’t shaken. I still hadn’t worked out why Demelza had been kidnapped or who had done the kidnapping.
Jenna and I were sitting at the end of the table and started talking as quietly as we could, difficult in this place. ‘She must have done it,’ Jenna suggested that Miss Tregarthur must have been involved.
‘How did she even know we were here?’ I said.
‘Maybe when you asked questions about Masterson, when you went to the city,’ Jenna said, as another pot of coffee landed in front of us. Herbie took it and was going to pinch the waitress before Jen smacked his hand away.
Jenna’s suggestion seemed possible, there were a lot of people on the streets and someone rich like Masterson could easily get information, probably people selling it to him. Jenna and I carried on talking and forgot about Demelza who had moved in on Herbie and was telling him all about our time travelling. Not really a great idea.
Herbie jumped to his feet, slammed the table. ‘You’ve been sent to make a fool of me, ha
ven’t you?’ he cried out. ‘That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?’ He turned to each of us, looking for confirmation. ‘Who paid you? What ….’ He trailed off and sat down again. That might have caused a problem in Costa but there was so much shouting in here that no one noticed.
‘OK, I … err … it’s...’ I was trying to come up with some sort of explanation.
‘Okay? What’s that mean?’ HG butted in.
‘We need help,’ Jenna shifted the conversation. ‘There’s this mad woman and she’s up to something. We need to find out what it is, so we can get back home.’
‘To the future,’ HG laughed.
Jenna looked at me, I wasn’t sure what she wanted.
‘Or at least to Dartmoor.’ I hoped that this would be a simpler problem for HG to deal with.
‘Why should I help?’ It was obvious that HG felt we were a load of hoaxers and probably after his money.
‘We could tell your family about George.’ I might not be after his money but a bit of blackmail seemed reasonable.
‘Don’t think they’d care, it’s not a crime,’ HG smiled. ‘You’ll have to try harder than that.’
‘How about an idea for a new book?’ Demelza had finished three cups of chocolate and some of her old self had returned. That wasn’t all good. I didn’t remember anything positive about her when we’d been at school.
‘I’ve got ideas,’ Herbie said, in a dreamy and uncertain voice.
‘Like what?’ Demelza was good at picking up on uncertainty.
‘Like …’
‘Like writing about a time machine to take you into the future?’
‘Maybe,’ Herbie looked at her. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Come on Herbie, help us and we’ll tell you how to write a real best-seller.’ Demelza gave him a smile which was definitely over the age of consent and we watched the man melt. Demelza might not be a good person but she might be useful. Not sure that was an idea I wanted to share with Jenna.
‘Ummm … I’m already...’ HG stopped and looked a bit shocked but it looked like he was interested.
Demelza turned to me and whispered, ‘I saw the film.’
‘Film? Is that another future thing?’ HG had heard her words.
‘I’ll tell you all about it after you’ve helped us.’ Demelza was good at manipulation. Even Jenna looked impressed. I had a nasty feeling that HG was going to want more than a story from Demelza but we’d have to deal with that later.
‘What sort of help?’ he asked looking at Demelza but she passed over to Jen to explain.
‘It’s about this man Masterson …’ Jenna started.
‘Masterson,’ HG interrupted. ‘Everyone’s talking about him.’ He waved his hand around the room. ‘Everyone.’
I thought I had heard his name mentioned by a group when we first came in here.
‘He’s buying all sorts of things,’ HG sounded envious.
‘Including that park.’ I wondered what he knew.
‘Doubt he’ll get that,’ HG said. ‘There will be a great deal of opposition, but he is definitely after some of the land up there. Don’t know why, it’s a swamp. But what do you want with him?’ HG looked at us as though it was improbable that three strange, young and probably penniless people could have anything sensible to do with the rich and powerful.
‘That’s because of … the woman I was talking about,’ Jenna said, and I thought she was right not to give away too much.
‘There’s talk about a strange looking wild woman going around with him. Some people are saying he’s taken up with witchcraft,’ HG said.
‘Miss Tregarthur’s more than a witch,’ Demelza chipped in not caring about what she said. ‘We’ve got to get the crystal back from … Ow!’ She shrieked at the kick from Jenna. But it didn’t stop her. ‘No point in not telling him the whole story and don’t kick me again. HG here won’t do anything to help unless I ask him. Will you Herbie?’
I didn’t like to imagine what was going on in HG’s mind, but Demelza did have a point. Winding people around her finger was one of her best skills. A skill that had almost killed us.
I could see Jenna really wasn’t happy. ‘We don’t have to go into all the detail.’ Jenna looked ready to kick again. ‘But it’s true. We need to get this crystal so that we can go home.’
‘Crystals, the moor and the future?’ HG sneered.
‘Yes,’ all three of us said at the same time.
‘And she won’t give it to you easily, I expect?’ HG could already see problems even if he didn’t believe us. ‘Have you asked her?’
All sorts of ideas of what I’d like to do to Miss Tregarthur had sat in my mind since the death of my mother, asking her anything came low down on the list. ‘You’d have to do more than ask,’ I said.
‘Masterson has a house not far from here,’ HG went on. ‘Why don’t I just go round there and see what’s happening?’
‘You could do that?’ It didn’t sound possible to me. I was remembering the men guarding his other houses.
I suppose we were lucky that he was a writer and fiction was something he knew. Jumping out of burning buildings and talk of time travel could well feature in one of his books.
‘Being a writer has certain … advantages … people do things for you.’ He looked at Demelza.
‘Stop looking at her like that you perv,’ Jenna said loudly and gave HG one of her pokes which got another ‘Ow’ and I suspected a kick might have been sent under the table but must have missed because Demelza followed HG’s earlier sneer with a smirk of her own.
‘You can just turn up at his house and ask him?’
‘Absolutely.’ I thought I heard a tiny touch of anxiety in HG’s voice. ‘You stay here and I’ll come back and tell you what he says. You just have to tell me a bit more.’
I didn’t know what to say. I looked at Jenna and she didn’t say anything.
‘Um,’ was all I managed.
‘Just tell him,’ Demelza raised her voice. ‘Tell Herbie all about her or he won’t know what to ask.’
With neither of us speaking Demelza went on: ‘Miss Tregarthur is weird …’
‘Weird?’ HG interrupted her. ‘She controls destiny?’
‘Eh?’ Demelza was thrown by the question. ‘I suppose she does, in a way.’
It seemed that the word “weird” had a different meaning in those days.
‘Anyway she’s weird,’ Demelza started again. I wasn’t sure if Jenna felt this was any sort of good idea – letting Demelza babble on. I waited to see what she said. We might learn something.
‘She took us on this walk,’ Demelza did her babbling on. ‘Then there was this earthquake and we ended up in this weird place.’
‘Weird place? Weird person, weird place. Interesting use of words.’ HG pulled a notebook and pencil out of his new coat pocket and scribbled in it, I suppose words were really important to him as a writer. I think he was more interested in the words than in listening to Demelza. Possibly he believed he should be the expert and not us. I wondered how he’d got the notebook.
Demelza was still going on and I’d forgotten just how annoying she really was; her voice was more of a whine than a babble. ‘Weird, strange, odd, bizarre,’ Demelza puffed. ‘And stop interrupting, Herbie.’
‘Anyway Alvin here tried to take charge and …’ Demelza stopped.
‘Ah, yes, Demelza,’ Jenna said. ‘Why don’t you tell us all what happened?’
Demelza went into a sulky silence.
‘Miss Tregarthur – the weird one,’ Jenna took over. ‘She’s …’
‘The one from the future,’ HG laughed.
‘Stop interrupting!’ the three of us said together.
‘Yes, she’s from your future, not ours, she’s from our time.’ Jenna’s words stopped HG. ‘She has been wandering through time, mostly trying to get us killed. I mean me and Alvin, not Demelza, she has been helping her.’
Demelza’s mouth opened and closed, she had not
hing to say.
Jenna went on: ‘This time I didn’t think she knew we were here, although …’ Jenna shot me a look. ‘Whatever she’s doing it won’t be good. She’s up to something with this Masterson man. We need to find out more and we need to stop her.’
‘We have to get the crystal,’ Demelza chipped in. I could see she wanted to make herself more important, but was that a good idea? Telling HG about the crystal? Well, she’d done it now.
‘You don’t need to ask Masterson about the crystal,’ Jenna snapped. ‘She won’t have told him about that.’
‘Why not?’ Demelza whined.
‘Need to find out what other weird things Masterson is doing at Hampstead, what other plans he has.’ I wanted to get him away from talking about the crystal and I threw in another ‘weird’ as bait. We had no idea if we could trust him. If he got hold of the crystal he might not give it to us, he might have other ideas, I would. It had to be valuable even if it wasn’t any use.
‘How many meanings has this word?’ HG took the bait.
Jenna went on to give him a bit more information, leaving out other places and times we’d been to. ‘We have to find her,’ she finished.
‘To get the crystal?’ HG hadn’t been entirely diverted.
We all nodded.
‘I see you don’t want to tell me everything,’ HG almost smiled. ‘Doesn’t matter. I’ll go and see him, I want to find out more weird things. You can stay here until I return.’
A Visit
-8-
Although it would have been possible to stay in this coffee house for as long as we wanted, Jenna decided we should go with him. At least we would know where Masterson lived. HG put the bill on another tab or whatever they called it, didn’t seem any likelihood of it being paid to me but apparently the owner liked to tell everyone that the famous writer drank coffee here.
We set off on foot. HG knew the streets and only had to ask directions a couple of times. HG was whistling as we walked, not a wonderful sound. I think it was about confidence, he wanted us to believe he could carry this off but wasn’t so sure himself.
Tregarthur's Crystal: Book 4 (The Tregarthur's Series) Page 7
