by Emily Rodda
“It’s very hush hush,” murmured the man. “So don’t repeat it. But, see, in those days they didn’t know about TBE …”
Patrick almost jumped out of his chair. TBE again. What was TBE?
“… Trans Barrier Effect,” the man was continuing. “You know, the thing Finders get if they stay on this side too long?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard about it,” said the other man. “Lose their memories or something, don’t they?”
“And the rest!” whispered his friend. “Stay here too long and they’re history, mate. Just get more and more faded … no memory … no colour …” He paused. Patrick clutched the edge of the table. “In the end,” the man muttered, “they just fade away to nothing – disappear, mate. That’s what happens to them, poor sods.”
The first man dropped the last of his pie on to his plate, uneaten. He looked sick.
Patrick leaned back in his chair, horrified. No wonder Boopie Cupid was so worried about keeping to time, avoiding delays. No wonder she was frightened and worried when the computer broke down. When they were in the computer room, she’d nearly told him about the danger he was in. But Max had stopped her.
Patrick felt very small and alone. They weren’t being honest with him. They wanted him to go on with the game, whatever the danger. That was why Boopie had suggested the computer as an extra prize. She’d thought he might drop out. He’d thought she really cared about him, but she was just trying to make sure he’d go on playing. And her plan had worked!
Well, now at least he knew the score. They’d bribed him with the computer. They thought they had him now. Well, maybe they did and maybe they didn’t. He’d decide for himself. If he did go on, it’d be because he wanted to, understanding all the risks, not because they were fooling him.
Patrick squared his shoulders. He was angry, and somehow he didn’t feel so scared any more. He looked up just in time to see Wendy Minelli walk through the door. She waved at him and came over to his table.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be talking to you, really,” she said. “But it can’t hurt as long as we don’t talk about – about my clue or anything, can it?
Patrick shrugged. He wasn’t going to worry about their rules any more. He didn’t owe them anything.
“To tell you the truth,” said Wendy, pulling out a chair, “I was awfully glad when they said I could get out of the studio for a while. That Eleanor Doon woman isn’t very talkative. And apparently we’ve got ages to wait. There’s something wrong with the computer, they said. Is that what you heard?”
“Yeah,” said Patrick gloomily. “They’re fixing it now. I hope they hurry up.”
She hesitated a moment, then put out her hand and patted his arm. “You’re pretty young to be doing this, aren’t you?” she murmured. “It must be hard.”
He looked at her gratefully. Her freckled face was friendly, and her rough-skinned hand warm. “It is hard,” he began, “especially because, you know, I don’t really understand – all this. All about the Barrier, and everything. If it’s really true.” He looked at her sideways.
She laughed. “Oh, it’s true, all right. Only too true. In fact, you just come with me and I’ll show you. Come on – it’ll only take ten minutes!”
She hustled Patrick over to the door, and led him down a passage. “I just can’t understand why you haven’t caught on to it, over on your side,” she said. “I mean, you lose so many things through Barrier breaks. The Guards throw them back, of course – well, most of the time – but still …” She pushed open a little door marked EXIT, and led Patrick into the open air. He blinked in the sunlight and looked around curiously.
Outside the high wire fence that surrounded the TV station there was a grass strip and a road that climbed up a small hill. Perfectly normal-looking houses lined the road. Everything looked perfectly ordinary – so ordinary that Patrick was suddenly overwhelmed by the suspicion that after all this must be just a complicated joke, like Candid Camera, and that all this talk about Barriers and neighbouring time streams was just to see how far he could be fooled. Maybe TV cameras were filming him right now. He glanced over his shoulder nervously.
“Just up the hill and round behind those trees, Patrick,” said Wendy, leading the way energetically. As she walked, she went on talking. “Surely people notice how often things get lost, over on your side?” she said. “And even if they don’t, you’d think they would take notice when something just disappears and the next minute comes back again! I mean, surely once that had happened to you, you’d start to wonder?”
Patrick wrinkled his forehead. “Well, I don’t know,” he panted, struggling to keep up with her. “At home … it doesn’t seem like that. I mean, if someone loses something, or can’t see it, and then it turns up, they just think they’ve made a mistake, or not looked properly, or something. They say things like ‘It wasn’t there a minute ago’, but they don’t really mean it. They’re just joking. And, you know, I’ve been thinking, at home it doesn’t just happen outside, you know. It happens inside, too. In kitchens and bedrooms, and places like that.”
“My old dad reckons the Barrier must be all broken up and jagged on your side, instead of being smooth and flat like it is on ours,” Wendy said. “You can tell from the things that come through, he says, that it’s in amongst everything over there. Maybe he’s right. It stands to reason that it must be different on your side, or your people would have noticed it. I mean – look at that! You couldn’t miss that, could you? At least when the sun’s shining.” She pointed.
The Barrier rose before them, higher than the eye could see, shimmering in the sun, like heat waves rising from a hot road. It had no colour. It was just a glimmer in the air. But you couldn’t see through it, and it stretched both ways to the horizon. Dotted along its length were little red houses like tall dog kennels, and groups of tables and stalls, like the cake stalls people set up sometimes on the footpaths outside Chestnut Tree Village.
“What are they?” asked Patrick, fascinated, pointing at the red houses.
“Oh, well, they’re the Barrier Guard sentry boxes, Patrick,” said Wendy. “See? There’s a Guard walking along back to hers now. She’s been inspecting her section of the Barrier. Now she’s going to have a rest.”
Sure enough, a woman in a smart red uniform with brass buttons and a matching cap was marching briskly along the Barrier towards one of the sentry boxes.
“Nice uniform, isn’t it?” said Wendy, and sighed. “I used to be a Barrier Guard, you know,” she added unexpectedly.
Patrick turned to her, amazed. “Were you?” he exclaimed, sounding far more surprised than he had meant.
She smiled at him, and ran her hand through her red curls, but her eyes were rather sad. “You can’t imagine it, I suppose. Well, it’s true. I was a good one, too, if I do say so myself. That was my sentry box – the one that Guard’s got now. I had it done up really nicely inside – pictures and flowers and everything. Oh, well.” She sighed again.
“What happened?” Patrick blurted out, and then he realised he was being rude, and bit his lip. “Oh, sorry,” he said. “You don’t – I mean, don’t tell me if you don’t want to.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” said Wendy Minelli. “But I think it’d be best if I didn’t talk about it really. Not yet. Not–”
Suddenly she stopped. Her eyes were fixed on the tall figure of the Guard down by the Barrier. She grabbed Patrick’s arm. “Look at that!” she cried excitedly. “Now, there you are, Patrick. Look!”
Patrick stared at the Guard, who had stopped and seemed to be shouting into a radio with a long aerial. She kept looking anxiously over her shoulder.
“Look at the Barrier!” hissed Wendy, jiggling his arm and pointing.
Patrick looked. Behind the Guard a black crack had appeared on the shining surface of the Barrier As he watched, it began to widen and creep towards the ground. The Barrier Guard glanced at it again and shrieked into her radio, shaking her fist. Other red-coated Guards beg
an to run from their own sentry boxes up and down the lines towards her.
“It’s quite a big one!” breathed Wendy in Patrick’s ear. “Quite a big one. I hope they can handle it.”
13
Lost and Found
The crack was widening. The Guards were shouting at each other as they ran towards it, and the people from the little stalls dotted between the sentry boxes had abandoned their tables and were also hurrying to the spot. They were a rather strange-looking group, dressed in a weird array of tattered clothing in all sizes and colours.
“Let’s go closer,” urged Patrick, tugging at Wendy’s arm.
“Oh, we really shouldn’t,” she murmured uneasily. “You aren’t supposed to.” Then she shook her head. “Oh, why not!” she said. “What harm can it do? Come on!”
They ran down the hill towards the Barrier. As they drew closer, they could hear the Guards shouting to one another. A tall woman with gold stripes on the arm of her jacket was blowing a whistle and trying to get them organised.
“Listen to them,” said Wendy scornfully. “Panicking. That’s what happens when you put inexperienced people in charge of weak spots. The Barrier’s always breaking round here. They should have their best Guards on duty.”
“Were you one of their best people?” asked Patrick.
She looked confused. “Well, put it this way, I’ve been … I had been, I should say, a Guard ever since I left school. It was all I ever wanted to be. Fifteen years, I’d worked on the Barrier when – when I made the mistake that cost me my job. Fifteen years! At least I knew what was what. And I didn’t panic, no matter what happened.”
“So –” Patrick began, but she caught his arm.
“Watch,” she said. “It’s starting.”
A glint of silver shone through the crack in the Barrier. The crack widened. With a rush and a clatter two forks and a dog’s bowl shot through the crack and fell to the ground on to a Guard’s foot. He kicked out angrily. Another Guard picked up the bowl and began trying to shove it back where it had come from.
“Too rough,” said Wendy Minelli, shaking her head.
Sure enough, there was a hissing, tearing sound, and two more long black cracks appeared on the Barrier surface, running sideways from the main hole down to ground level. A football sock began to ooze through one, like a striped snake. Two tennis balls popped through the other, followed by some gardening gloves and a baby’s dummy. The watching stall-holders cheered.
“You idiot, Peabody!” roared the tall Guard with the whistle. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, gently, gently! Look what you’ve done!”
Now more and more objects were popping through the holes in the Barrier. A saucepan, spoons, sunglasses, a radio, a stuffed toy, an umbrella, boxes of matches, knives, tins of food, a bar of chocolate, letters, newspapers, books … they fell and lay in heaps on the ground, and still more came.
“Where are those Department of Works fools?” raged the tall Guard, shaking her fists at the empty air. “Get that stuff back, Peabody, Moore, Nghi! Come on! The rest of you, hold back the scavengers. Hold them!” A half-eaten ham sandwich shot through the crack above her head and landed on her cap. The stall-holders, held back by a row of embarrassed-looking Guards, roared with joy.
“Who are those people?” Patrick asked Wendy, who was sniggering happily as she watched the tall Guard find the ham sandwich and throw it on the ground in disgust. “Those people she called the scavengers?”
“They’re the Barrier-combers,” Wendy answered. “They’re like beach-combers, who collect things washed up on beaches. You have them on your side, don’t you? Well, the Barrier-combers go along the Barrier picking up the things the Guards don’t throw back. Then they sell them at those little stalls. You always find lots of them clustered near weak spots on the Barrier, where there are more breaks, and more things to pick up. That’s why there are so many just here.” She looked rather affectionately at the raggedy group before them.
“They really don’t do any harm, you know,” she went on, smiling tolerantly. “It’s only that they get a bit eager, sometimes, and some of them do try to get in under the Guards’ noses and take things that really should go back. And it has been known for one or two of the old-timers to give a weak place a bit of a knock to get a Barrier break going, if things have been quiet. Very naughty. But you can understand it, I suppose, in one way. It’s not much of a living, selling stuff like second-hand single socks, is it? You can understand them trying for a few things that might bring in a bit of real money. Oh dear, look at that!”
The miserable Peabody, Moore and Nghi were definitely losing the battle with the Barrier. They were up to their knees in household goods, food, toys and garden tools, and had by now given up even trying to put things back, concentrating all their efforts on not getting hit by the things still falling down on their heads and bouncing through the Barrier at knee-level.
“You’re on report, Peabody!” roared the tall Guard with the whistle. “You hopeless fool! Raymond, Watkins, get in there and help them!”
“It’s her fault,” said Patrick indignantly. “She should’ve put more of them on to help in the first place. It was too much for three people. Why blame poor Mr Peabody?”
Wendy shrugged. “That’s Annie Fields all over,” she muttered. “Worst Section Head we’ve ever had. Blames everybody except herself when things go wrong.” She looked at Patrick. “She’s the one who gave me the sack,” she said. “One little mistake, I made. One mistake in fifteen years, and she gave me the sack.” She tightened her lips and gave herself a little shake. “Oh rats, I shouldn’t be telling you all this. It’s my problem, love. Forget it.”
“Oi, Wendy! Wendy Minelli!” One of the Barrier-combers was staring and waving. She began climbing towards them, her wild white hair and tattered purple dress fluttering in the breeze. Over her dress she wore a green cardigan, and under it long striped socks, one red and blue, the other green and gold. Patrick looked at the green-and-gold one enviously. Except that the colours were pale, it would make a good pair with the only football sock he had left after last winter. He looked more closely. In fact, it was very like one he’d lost last winter. Could it possibly be …?
“Ruby!” called Wendy. “How are you?”
“Not bad!” wheezed the old woman as she came up to them, grinning. “Not bad at all, Wendy. Can’t growl. What about yourself? How’re you getting on?”
“Oh, fine,” nodded Wendy, smiling unconvincingly. “Ruby, this is –”
“Don’t give me that!” sniffed Ruby. “You’d never be happy off the Barrier. I know you.” She turned in Patrick’s direction and started. “Where did you spring from?” she demanded.
“This is Patrick, Ruby. A friend of mine,” said Wendy patiently.
Ruby nodded to him. “G’day,” she said. “Didn’t see you there.” She jerked her head towards Wendy. “You know it’s rot what she says about being fine, don’t you?”
“Ruby …” Wendy protested, but the old woman ignored her. She put a grimy hand on Patrick’s arm and leaned towards him. “It’s in her blood,” she said loudly. “Just like it’s in mine. And that’s the truth. She’d never be happy off the Barrier.”
“Look, Ruby …” Wendy began again. But Ruby shook her head firmly.
“Annie Fields had no right to push you out, just because you made an honest mistake. It was her fault, anyway. What’s she doing carrying a stupid toy round with her? She must be barmy.”
“She’s had it since she was a baby. She thinks it brings her good luck, or something,” said Wendy. “She went crazy when she found out what I’d done with it. Now, no more, Ruby, please!” Wendy put up her hand desperately. “Not in front of Patrick.”
“Why not?” grumbled Ruby defiantly. “Boy’s not a baby, is he? Think it’ll upset him, do you?” She peered at Patrick with watery blue eyes. “Does look a bit pale, I must say,” she pronounced. “Washed out. You been sick, love? Here, ha
ve a sweetie.” She dug in the pocket of her dress, pulled out a handful of small objects, and selected from the collection something round, striped, sticky and covered in fluff. Patrick accepted it gingerly. There was no way he was going to eat that. He turned away slightly and when Ruby switched her attention to Wendy, shoved the revolting thing deep into his pocket.
“I just don’t want to talk about it, that’s all, Ruby,” Wendy said, glancing at Patrick.
The old woman flapped her hands. “All right, all right, don’t carry on. I just don’t like to see that woman getting away with it, that’s all. I mean, if she’s going to drop something right under a Barrier break where you’re working, surely it stands to reason that you’re going to think it came from the other side and push it through. I mean, it’s your job, isn’t it, Wendy? Or was,” she added thoughtfully.
Wendy cast up her eyes in frustration. Patrick looked at Ruby, willing her to go on.
“The worst of it is, boy,” she muttered to him, “that Wendy was the best Barrier Guard we ever had round here. The best. Like her father before her, and her grandma before that. I knew them both.” She turned to Wendy, who was now staring sadly at the Barrier. “Must’ve given your dad a bit of a knock, Wendy, when you got drummed out,” she said.
“Yes,” Wendy answered flatly. Patrick touched her hand awkwardly.
Ruby seemed to sense that she’d gone too far. “Well,” she muttered, shuffling her feet, “I’d better get back and see what I can pick up. The mob from Barrier Works will be here any second. Good to see you, Wendy!” Her brown, wrinkled face looked sad and uncertain.
There was a short silence, then Wendy turned and threw her arms around the old woman, hugging her tightly. “Goodbye, Ruby,” she whispered. “I miss you all so much.”
“And we miss you, love.” Ruby’s eyes were warm. “And I want to tell you, Wendy,” she went on rapidly, “we’re looking for it. All of us. The whole section, Guards and combers both. If it comes through we’ll get it. Annie Fields said if she got it back she’d forgive and forget, didn’t she? She said she’d take you back on straight away. Well, she might think that’s a bit of a joke, but if we do find it she’ll have to stick to her word, won’t she? And you never know, Wendy, do you? It might come back through. Stranger things have happened.”
