[Time Hunters 01.0] The Time Hunters Page 3

‘My angels,’ Maria gushed, just managing to stop herself before slamming into Becky. ‘My little darlings… look at you both! You must be Miss Becky?’ Maria cupped Becky’s astonished face in her sausage-like fingers. ‘Look at your pretty face and your lovely long hair. Isn’t she beautiful, Jacob?’

  Jacob joined them at the car. ‘She is very beautiful,’ he said in a soft voice that shared the same clipped accent as his wife.

  Becky blushed and returned Maria’s smile. ‘Thank you. You’re Maria, right?’

  ‘Yes, indeed, Maria, that is me. And this is my husband, Jacob. We are so pleased to meet you finally.’

  Jacob bowed. ‘It is my great honour, Miss.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Jacob,’ Becky said.

  Maria turned slowly to Joe. Then she pounced, grabbing him with the force of a wrestler. ‘And you must be Master Joe? You are such a good-looking boy, too. You will be a strong man, one day, as strong as a lion. I know these things.’

  Joe’s face reddened. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘The bags, Jacob. Get their bags!’ Maria ordered in a way that suggested refusal would be punishable by death. ‘These children must be fed. They are far too thin.’

  Jacob nodded and grabbed the cases.

  ‘No, let me take those, Jacob,’ Uncle Percy said, moving to the rear of the car. ‘They’re heavy.’

  Scowling, Maria blocked his path, arms folded. ‘You will do no such thing. Jacob, take the luggage to their rooms at once.’

  ‘No, Maria, really… I want - ’

  Maria shot him a ferocious glare. ‘Do not dare! That is my husband’s job. You try, and I jolly well kick your rump for you. You are the master - ’

  ‘I’m really not!’ Uncle Percy muttered awkwardly.

  ‘Jacob. Do as I say,’ Maria yelled. ‘NOW!’

  Jacob bowed and limped off dutifully in the direction of the Hall. Satisfied, Maria turned to Uncle Percy and smiled sweetly. ‘Now, sir, I have prepared -’

  ‘How many times, Maria, must I ask you to call me Percy?’

  ‘I will do no such thing, sir,’ Maria replied. ‘Now you will be shutting your mouth.’ She grabbed Uncle Percy’s head roughly and planted a wet kiss on his forehead. ‘This is a happy, happy day. The children are here.’

  Uncle Percy looked at Becky and shrugged. It was clear this was a battle he’d fought and lost many times before.

  ‘Now, please,’ Maria said to Becky and Joe. ‘You must be following me, and I will be showing you to your rooms.’ She led them up the steps, and through the open door.

  It took a moment for Becky’s eyes to adjust from the daylight, but when they did she found herself in a gigantic entrance hall with a patterned marble floor. There were eight closed doors and, on the left-hand wall, a stone fireplace with a coat of arms bearing the inscription ‘Tempus omnia sed memorias privat’ carved into the chimneypiece. A number of stone busts of very serious looking bearded men lined the walls. Portraits of all shapes and sizes filled every inch of wall space. However, the most impressive object stood in the center of the room - a life-sized bronze statue of a Roman centurion wielding a sword.

  ‘Cool,’ Joe said, his eyes glued to the sword.

  ‘Very,’ Becky replied, facing a grand staircase that divided into two curving flights and led to a balcony above.

  ‘Come, come… I will show you to your rooms, my angels,’ Maria said, guiding them up the left flight.

  Becky followed Maria as she passed through an archway into a narrow corridor lined with doors, more portraits, and wall lights that shed a homely auburn glow.

  Stopping at the end of the corridor, Maria took a heavy set of keys from her waistband. ‘Miss Becky, this is your room.’ She unlocked a thickset oak door and pushed it open. ‘I hope you will be happy here, if not you will tell me at once. There are seventy two others from which to choose.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s fine, Maria,’ Becky said, surprised to find she felt suddenly nervous. She took a hesitant step into the room.

  ‘We have all been looking forward to you being here, Miss Becky…’ Maria said softly. ‘Your uncle, especially.’ Before Becky had a chance to thank her, Maria had gone.

  Becky stood there in a rapt silence. The room was enchanting. Scarlet and gold tapestries tumbled from the ceiling and a huge four-poster bed with silk hangings tied back with silver ribbon stood on the right hand wall. A mahogany dressing table with an ornate copper framed mirror rested beneath a window, a yellow cushioned stool tucked neatly between its legs.

  Becky was about to unpack when the door burst open and Joe raced in.

  ‘This place is amazing, isn’t it?’ Joe panted.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Becky said softly.

  ‘Do you still think Uncle Percy’s a loon?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Becky replied warmly. ‘In the best possible way…’

  Together, and for what felt like hours, Becky and Joe sat silently on the bed, neither of them daring to close their eyes for fear of waking up from the most delicious dream. A sharp knock at the door brought them back to reality. ‘Err, come in,’ Becky said.

  The door opened to reveal Jacob, wearing a black double-breasted tailcoat. ‘Would you care to take lunch in the morning room, Miss Becky, Master Joe?’

  Following Jacob, Becky and Joe walked through the archway and down the right-hand staircase. At the bottom, they bore right through a side door into the morning room and saw Uncle Percy sitting at a wide bay window, reading a book entitled The Myths of Stonehenge: Fact and Fiction. He lowered the book and beckoned Becky and Joe to join him, smiling all the time. ‘First things first, are your rooms to your liking? You must say if they’re not, we do have plenty of others. You can even have mine if you’d like.’’

  ‘They’re terrific,’ Joe said.

  ‘Really great,’ Becky said sincerely and, as her eyes met his, something quite unexpected happened. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her memory something stirred. She did recognise him. She couldn’t pinpoint the time or place but she felt certain he represented something good, something significant. ‘Uncle Percy, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how can we be related to you? I mean, you’re like royalty, and we’re just - well, we’re ordinary -’

  ‘Gosh, I’m not royalty. Between you and me, I’m not exactly a royalist. And you - you are far from ordinary.’ A glint flickered in his eye. ‘You see, I was your late grandfather’s cousin. God rest his soul. And I did know your father very well. We were -’ he fell silent for a second, ‘- we were close friends. No, if truth be told, you are my only true family. There’s Maria, Jacob and Will, of course, but - ’

  ‘You don’t have any other relatives?’ Becky interrupted.

  ‘I’m afraid not. My parents died many years ago,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘I’ve never been married and have no children.’

  ‘What about brothers or sisters?’ Becky asked.

  ‘I had a younger brother, Myron.’ Uncle Percy looked away. ‘But sadly he passed away many years ago.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Becky said sympathetically.

  ‘No matter,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Fate is a peculiar bedfellow, and, sometimes, what is meant to be is not always what will be. Anyway -’

  Before Uncle Percy could continue, the door opened and Maria and Jacob each pushing a trolley brimming with food: an enormous roast chicken, freshly baked crusty bread, an assortment of hot and cold pies, various cheeses, and a colossal strawberry trifle laden with fresh cream and chocolate.

  ‘Thank you so much, Maria, Jacob,’ Uncle Percy said as they made to leave. ‘Please, won’t you join us? There’s plenty for everyone.’

  ‘No, thank you, sir,’ Maria said. ‘We will eat in the kitchens, where we belong.’

  ‘I’ve told you a thousand times you don’t belong -’ Uncle Percy said, but Maria and Jacob had left the room. He shook his head and sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter what I say. They just won’t listen to me. Anyway, tuck in then.’

  Becky and Joe needed no furth
er encouragement and piled into the feast, filling their plates as high as they could.

  ‘How long have Maria and Jacob lived here?’ Becky asked.

  ‘About eight years. The place really wouldn’t be the same without them.’

  ‘What about their family?’ Becky said. ‘Do they have children?’

  ‘No. I don’t believe they do,’ Uncle Percy said as though keen to drop the subject. ‘Anyway, tell me more about the two of you. Joe, how are you doing at school?’

  But Joe had stopped listening, his gaze transfixed on something outside.

  Becky looked out of the window and saw a man riding a horse at speed in a distant meadow. ‘Who’s that?’

  Uncle Percy retrieved a pair of glasses from a silver case and fixed them to the tip of his nose. ‘Oh, that’s Will.’

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Joe asked, captivated.

  ‘Practicing his archery, I suppose. He’s a remarkable bowman – never misses a shot.’

  Then Becky took a sharp intake of breath. ‘Is he – is he standing on the horse’s back?’

  ‘Probably. He likes a challenge,’ Uncle Percy said casually. ‘Would you like to meet him?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ Joe said without hesitation.

  ‘Well, finish up your lunch then,’ Uncle Percy said, looking at Joe. ‘He’s most keen to meet you…’

  - Chapter 5 -

  The Discovery

  A short while later, Becky followed Uncle Percy and Joe, a half-eaten apple in his mouth, through the kitchen door, across the terrace and on to the path that divided the rear lawns. Dawdling at the back, she enjoyed watching her uncle walk. Although a very graceful man, his walk had a definite air of the ridiculous about it. His back seemed stiff as though his spine had been replaced with a cricket bat, yet his legs seemed unusually bendy as if they contained very few bones at all.

  ‘What’s that building?’ Becky said, pointing to a windowless outbuilding to the side of the Hall.

  ‘That’s the one place that’s out of bounds,’ Uncle Percy said in an uncharacteristically serious manner. ‘That’s my laboratory and I must insist you don’t make any attempts to explore it or you’ll blow us all to bits and probably take the North West of England out, too. Is that okay?’

  ‘Err, sure,’ Becky replied hesitantly.

  After negotiating a cluster of trees, they entered the field to see Will sitting astride a magnificent ebony horse, a bow in his hand and a leather quiver slung over his broad shoulders. Steering the horse by its mane, he trotted over then dismounted. About thirty, he was tall, powerfully built, with chestnut brown hair that fell down his back.

  Becky’s jaw dropped. He was gorgeous.

  ‘A fine day to you all,’ Will said in a soft, mellifluous tone. ‘I am Will Shakelock.’ He faced Joe and extended his hand. ‘Hello.’

  Becky noticed he wore a large gold signet ring on his index finger with a white pouncing lion engraved on the bezel.

  ‘Hi,’ Joe replied, shaking Will’s hand.

  ‘And you must be Miss Becky?’

  Becky’s hand shot up and covered the spot on her forehead. ‘Yes,’ she squeaked in a trill voice that didn’t appear to come from her at all.

  Joe gazed at the ten straw targets on the field. Each had an arrow embedded dead center. ‘You’re ace with the bow and arrow.’

  ‘I thank you,’ Will replied. ‘Where I hail from we’re taught archery at an early age.’

  ‘Are you?’ Joe said enviously. ‘We’re just taught rubbish, like maths.’

  Uncle Percy frowned and opened his mouth to challenge when Joe continued, ‘Where are you from?’

  ‘Nottingham.’

  ‘I - I’ve got a Facebook friend in Nottingham,’ Becky blustered. ‘Anna Perkins. Do you know her?’ Before the words left her mouth she knew how foolish she must have sounded.

  ‘I do not, miss,’ Will said kindly.

  Becky decided to keep her mouth shut from now on.

  ‘I’ve been watching a TV series about Nottingham,’ Joe said, ignoring his sister. ‘The Tales of Robin Hood. Have you seen it?’

  ‘No, Will replied, ‘but it’s a most celebrated tale.’

  ‘It’s pretty good,’ Joe added. ‘But Robin’s not my favourite character.’

  ‘And who may that be?’

  ‘Little John.’

  ‘Ah, John Little was a good man.’

  ‘And Friar Tuck,’ Joe said. ‘He’s well funny.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Will hesitated. ‘And there’s Will Scarlet, of course, a fine and noble character.’

  Joe paused for a moment. ‘Nah, I don’t like him. He’s a pansy.’

  Will’s expression turned from interest to disappointment. Suddenly, Uncle Percy gave a rather loud cough. A cough that for a fleeting moment, Becky thought was a laugh.

  Joe didn’t notice. ‘Would you fire an arrow for me?’

  ‘Indeed,’ Will said. ‘And what should the target be?’

  ‘What about the apple?’ Uncle Percy said, pointing. ‘Have you finished with that, Joe?’ Joe nodded and passed it over. ‘Ready, Will?’

  Will drew an arrow from his quiver. Then Uncle Percy pitched the apple into the air with all the strength he could muster.

  In a flash, Will took aim and fired. The arrow sliced the air and with a dull thump, struck the apple through its core.

  Joe panted with disbelief. ‘Whoa!’ He turned excitedly to Will. ‘Would you teach me? Archery, I mean.’

  ‘I would enjoy that.’

  ‘Can we start now?’

  Will smiled warmly. ‘Unfortunately, for now I must feed Epona.’ He stroked the horse’s shaggy mane. ‘Perhaps we could begin on the morrow?’

  ‘Great,’ Joe said. ‘I’ll try really hard.’

  ‘Of that I am certain.’

  ‘You must come for dinner, William,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Maria is preparing something of a treat in honour of our guests. I think she’s hoping you may join us.’

  ‘Maria is far too formidable a lady to disappoint. Please inform her I accept. Farewell to you all.’ Will offered a parting nod, and guided Epona into the forest.

  As he strode away, Becky felt sure she heard him mutter something about flowers.

  *

  The weather remained glorious throughout Becky and Joe’s first week. Uncle Percy ensured their every moment was filled with fun. Each morning, he would escort them to the lake, where they would swim in the shallow black water or take a rowing boat to the center and enjoy a light breakfast beneath the early morning sun. Will kept his promise and spent hours teaching Joe archery. He was a patient teacher and Joe an eager pupil. Will gave him an exact replica of his own bow, if slightly smaller, and Joe cherished it. Indeed, Will was impressed with Joe’s natural ability as an archer and Joe was delighted with his tutor’s encouragement.

  Uncle Percy had decided that, whether she liked it or not, Becky should learn to ride and would take her every afternoon to the musty stone stables that bordered the lake. At first, Becky was hesitant, particularly when she saw the horse he had selected for her - a decrepit, grey horse with a white streak on its nose and bandy legs that he referred to as ‘Charger’. In her opinion, the only way it could charge anywhere would be strapped to a short-range missile. Nevertheless, she felt satisfied Charger looked far too old, bored and generally worn out to cause her any serious damage. Each afternoon they would traverse the grounds and Uncle Percy would explain about the history of Bowen Hall.

  ‘It was originally built in 1632 by an architect called William Pumpkin. And it remained with the Pumpkin family for over a hundred and fifty years until his great grandson, an idiot of a man named Jedidiah Pumpkin, lost it in a game of cards. Of course, Jedidiah was furious and insulted his opponent, insisting on a duel the following morning. Alas, Jedidiah was such a buffoon he shot himself in the head loading his dueling pistol. Anyway, his opponent was my distant ancestor, Herbert George Halifax, and it’s been with our family ever since.’


  Becky smiled as Uncle Percy recounted the tale. She enjoyed listening to him tell such richly detailed stories, particularly about history, and felt ashamed she once thought such dreadful things about him.

  And when Mrs Mellor came to visit at the weekend, Uncle Percy arranged a black tie banquet in her honour and spent her entire stay showering her with luxuries at every possible opportunity. As the weekend drew to a close, Mrs Mellor found it almost impossible to leave. Delighted that Becky and Joe were having such a lovely time, she promised to return the following weekend.

  *

  By Tuesday of the second week the weather had turned. A ferocious storm battered the Hall, shaking its very foundations and an angry wind wailed like a siren. It was two in the morning when Becky was jolted from a deep sleep by a forceful shove to her ribs.

  ‘Get up!’ Joe said, struggling to catch his breath.

  Becky turned away, pulled her duvet close and mumbled, ‘Bog off.’

  Joe pushed her again. ‘Will you get up!’

  ‘What is it?’ Becky growled, refusing to open her eyes.

  ‘Come with me,’ Joe said urgently. ‘You must see this. It’s unbelievable.’

  ‘I’ll see it in the morn -’

  ‘It has to be now!’ Joe bellowed. He switched on the bedside light. ‘Come on. You’ll never believe me. You have to see it for yourself.’

  Becky forced her eyes open. Joe stood in front of her, sopping wet and shivering. ‘Have you been swimming?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ Joe replied, wringing water from the cuffs of his dressing gown.

  ‘So why are you wet?’

  ‘You’ll see. Now, come on.’

  Becky yawned. ‘It had better be good.’

  ‘Oh, it is,’ Joe breathed. ‘It’s very good...’

  Two minutes later, Becky followed Joe out of her bedroom and up the corridor, a thick overcoat covering her pajamas. Although it was a warm, airless night there was something about the Hall at this hour that sent a sharp chill through her bones. By day, it was such a cheerful place, quite befitting the people who lived there, but at night it seemed to adopt a new personality entirely. Eerie. Mysterious. Disquieting. The walls groaned and creaked as if scolding them for being out of bed at this time of night; the portraits appeared to come to life, their empty, soulless eyes seemed to trail their every step.