Hat Trick! (16 page)

‘
TOBY
?’ Georgie’s voice sounded in my head. I opened my eyes and made a quick survey of the scene around me.

‘Come on!’ I said, hauling her to her feet.

‘Toby? What happened?’ She turned to look at the crowd behind us. ‘Why is everyone…’ Her voice trailed away.

We were standing next to a square brick building that looked like a shelter. Everyone was crammed in, their backs to us, facing the oval. And suddenly I realised why.

‘Georgie, it’ll be Don Bradman out there.’

‘Good. Can you wake me up now?’

I grabbed her by the arms and turned her to face me.

‘Listen, Georgie. We’ve done what I’ve been telling you about for the last five weeks. We’ve just travelled
back in time. Back to a cricket match. I just happened to be holding the 1931
Wisden
.’

A bit of colour was coming back to her face. She still clutched the diary to her chest.

‘Georgie? It’s okay. We can’t go back now. Smale will be waiting for us. C’mon.’

Georgie tucked the diary under her T-shirt and followed me into the crowd. The spectators were packed in close and spilling out onto the oval itself, where hordes of people sat in the bright sunshine enjoying the cricket. There wasn’t the usual noise of a modern Test match. It was quieter, with lots of chatter rather than shouts and chants.

‘Toby, look at us!’

‘What?’

‘What we’re wearing.’

I noticed a guy with a cloth cap and waistcoat, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, looking at me.

‘Where’s tha been? A fancy dress party, eh?’

‘Yes,’ Georgie said, her head lowered. ‘Very fancy dress.’

‘’Ere, Eddy,’ the man went on. ‘You think our John down at the mill would like a look at this get-up?’

I looked at Georgie. She smiled and shrugged.

‘Well, we’d better be going,’ I told the man, trying to sound English.

‘Aye, that’s a right queer accent too,’ he chuckled.

We both pushed into the crowd. I was desperate to get a look at Don Bradman. What would Jim say when I told him
this
?

‘Toby, I don’t think this is a good idea,’ Georgie whispered as I squeezed myself into a small gap between two kids. They were giving us strange looks.

‘How much is he?’ I asked the kid next to me. He was wearing long shorts, socks and a cap. He looked like he’d walked straight out of school.

‘Tha what?’

He also talked in a funny way.

‘D-o-n B-r-a-d-m-a-n.’ I spoke the two words slowly.

‘Look at the scoreboard,’ he said, nodding to his left, still staring at me. I went to tuck in my T-shirt but I couldn’t cover the words ‘Go Aussies’ splashed across the front in green and gold.

There was a buzz of noise, then a ripple of applause. It didn’t last long. One of the batters had just smacked a four.

‘Was that Bradman?’ I asked.

‘Aye,’ the kid nodded.

Georgie was looking more relaxed now. The whisper was going round a portion of the crowd nearby that we were just back from some fancy dress party.

‘We’ll give it three overs then head back,’ I murmured to Georgie. ‘We can’t be away forever.’

‘But won’t that guy at the library be waiting for us?’

‘Probably. And he’s got all night, but we haven’t. We’re going to have to chance it. Whatever happens, we can’t stay here for long. We’ll get stuck, like that hooded guy I told you about.’

There was another rise in crowd noise, though people didn’t shout, they just clapped then started talking again. I looked at the scoreboard. It was a big wooden box. Bradman had scored 81 and the other batter, Woodfull, was on 18.

Bradman was awesome. He was so quick to move, dancing down to make a half volley or stepping back to cut a ball for four. He didn’t seem to hit the ball hard, but worked the ball around. He must have had really strong wrists.

I think Georgie had finally realised where she was, though she couldn’t decide between looking at the cricket and staring at the faces around us. There were plenty of fairly grim-looking people, but they seemed engrossed in the cricket. Maybe they were looking glum because of Don Bradman.

‘C’mon,’ I said to her, starting to move away.

‘Is tha comin’ back?’ the boy asked me.

‘Probably not for a while.’

He was holding something out to me.

‘They’re boiled lollies,’ Georgie whispered. ‘Take one.’

He offered them to Georgie too. She reached into her pocket and pulled out something.

‘Georgie, no, you can’t!’

‘What’s it matter?’ She had a packet of pink fluoro bubble gum. She unwrapped one, popped it in her mouth then passed the packet to the boy. He took it, but looked nervous.

‘Georgie,
no
!’

She blew an enormous bubble. It splashed back onto her face, covering her nose and mouth. Everyone around was watching. Georgie grinned. ‘See you later, guys!’ she called.

We weaved a path back through the crowd of people, all dressed in browns and blacks, with the odd splash of white, until we reached the edge.

‘Be ready, okay?’

‘Ready to what?’ she asked.

‘I dunno. Just be ready.’

I grabbed her hand and said aloud the first two lines of the poem.

At once the sound of clapping was drowned out by a whooshing sensation that raced up my body, finishing in my head.

Instinctively I ducked as we found ourselves on the carpet of the library. Georgie scrambled behind me. We held our breath. Everything was silent. I looked around the room. The
Wisden
was still lying on the floor, where it had fallen when we travelled.

‘It’s clear,’ I whispered.

‘Just wait a few moments.’

‘No! Let’s get out of here.’

‘What’s the time?’

‘Ten to six. C’mon.’

I got up and crept over to the door, waving at Georgie to follow. We heard the knock at the same time and darted back to the table.

‘No, over here!’ I whispered, urging Georgie over
to a trolley stacked with books. We crouched behind it as the door opened.

‘Toby?’

‘Dad?’

‘I guess I’m too—’

‘Hi, Mr Jones,’ called Georgie, getting up.

‘Not interrupting anything, am I?’ he asked, looking at us oddly.

‘Boy, are we glad to see you!’ I cried. I rushed over to him. ‘Did you see him anywhere? The guy who gave you the invitation?’

‘Who? No, I haven’t seen anyone up here. Has he left already? You in some sort of strife?’ Dad must have sensed my panicky voice.

‘Don’t worry, Mr Jones. Toby’s pretending we’re in this big crime thingo. That’s why we were hiding. You see, there’s this guy who’s out to get us. But then you arrived.’

‘Okay. I get it,’ Dad said thoughtfully. ‘So, how did the presentation go?’

‘Well—’

‘It was great! He got this!’ Georgie pulled out the diary from under her shirt.

‘Wow, that looks impressive,’ said Dad, as Georgie placed it on the table in front of him. ‘Oh, I’m with you now. The baddy was after this. So that’s why you were hiding?’

‘Exactly!’ we said simultaneously. I looked at Georgie, who smiled.

‘Can we go home now? I’m starving,’ I said, picking up my ‘prize’ from the table.

‘Good idea. Everyone left pretty quickly then?’ Dad asked as we headed off down the stairs. ‘I didn’t think I was going to be that late.’

I didn’t answer. I was too busy peering around, expecting someone to jump me at each corner.

‘Tobes, you can probably stop acting now,’ Dad suggested as I took a last quick look around before getting into the car.

‘Yeah, I think we’ve won, Toby. Your Dad saved the day.’ Georgie gave me a thump in the ribs as we settled into the back seat.

When we got home Dad went straight over to the site of the burnt-out garage and Georgie and I walked slowly towards the front door.

‘Hey, Georgie, what exactly
are
mills? You know, that pommy guy said something about a mill?’

‘I think it’s where they make clothes. They’d probably never seen anything like our clothes before. And maybe in 1930 no one wore these colours,’ she said, pulling at her shirt, which was a hot pink. ‘We’ll have to make sure we dress less conspicuously next time.’

‘What do you mean, next time?’

‘Well, we have to go back.’

Oh, no. I thought of Rahul and his urge to return to India.

‘Why?’

‘Are you kidding? We’ve got to see Don Bradman
again. And Jim too. We can take him with us. He’d be rapt!’

I was getting worried by all the ‘we’ talk. But she was so excited, I let it ride. ‘You going to tell anyone?’ I asked.

‘Der! Why do you think I got you out of trouble when you were about to blab to your dad?’

‘So why did you go all asthmatic with Smale? I thought you were going to spew or faint or…or something!’

‘Geez, Tobes. That was a put-on, to distract him, and so I could get a bit of time travel myself. It worked, huh?’

I nodded. ‘That guy was weird.’

‘No, he’s just greedy. He doesn’t know us from squat.’

But that’s where Georgie was wrong. I sensed that Smale knew a lot about me.

Only once has a player bowled two maiden overs in an innings—that is, bowling an over without having runs scored. Dewald Nel, playing for Scotland against Bermuda, had bowling figures of 4 overs, 3 maidens, 2 wickets for 12 runs.

Tuesday—afternoon

TUESDAY
. My birthday. It was pretty low-key. I got to jump into Mum’s and Dad’s bed in the morning to open my presents.

Dad gave me a copy of the 2001
Wisden
.

‘You remember Hobart?’ Dad said, opening the book. ‘When we sat downstairs and watched Gilchrist and Langer put on that huge partnership to win the game? All
you
wanted to do was go and play cricket.’

I had a vague recollection, and I’d certainly read heaps about that partnership. I nodded, said my thank yous and turned to look at my other presents.

‘Found it, Tobes! Look!’ Dad had the
Wisden
open and was shoving it under my eyes.

‘Excellent!’ I said, nodding again.

‘Can Toby open mine now?’ Nat asked.

‘Good idea. Come on, you’ve got the rest of your life to look at that book. And judging by the thickness of it, you’ll need it too,’ Mum laughed.

I turned my attention to Nat’s present, which turned out to be a 12-coloured pen with a light at the top that glowed the colour you were using. It was just the distraction I needed. ‘Awesome, Nat, that’s the best,’ I told her, flicking buttons to make the light change colour.

To celebrate my birthday, all the guys were coming around later for some cricket, takeaway food and a couple of DVDs. We Joneses were going to go out to the movies as a family on the weekend.

We left Dad in bed reading about the Hobart Test and got ready for school.

Mr Pasquali always started the Tuesday training session with an update of the weekend’s matches, even though he said that our destiny was in our own hands and that he, personally, wasn’t that interested in the results of the other matches.

‘But I acknowledge that you are all
very
interested and, of course, you can never really find out until the following Friday. So, no surprises that the Scorpions were comfortable winners at home to St Mary’s: 213 to 7 for 106.

‘Wow, a hammering!’ Jay said.

‘A pasting!’

‘A shellacking!’

‘Yes. As I said, a comfortable win. One piece of news though—the Scorpions’ opening bowler has broken down and won’t be playing for the rest of the season.’

There were a few low whistles at that little bombshell. I’d heard that one of their bowlers was
playing senior cricket in the afternoons. Maybe he was bowling too much.

‘And our nearest rival, Motherwell State, beat TCC. I’m not sure of the scores, I just know the result.’

A few kids started chatting, but Mr Pasquali broke it up. We were soon toiling away in the nets. I noticed Mr Pasquali take Scott into the far net for some batting coaching. Scott was lunging forwards and blocking each ball thrown at him by Mr Pasquali, who was standing about five metres away from him. Maybe he was teaching him about defensive strokes.

Jay and I were bowling to Jimbo. He was being very polite, gently stroking our deliveries back to us or just occasionally letting them go through.

‘He should be smacking us all over the place,’ Jay said as he walked back to his mark. Jay was a good player, but he didn’t really star as a batter or a bowler. He wasn’t as passionate about it as a few of us were.

‘Anyway, when’s it my turn?’ he asked me. He ran past and bowled a full toss at Jimbo, who punched it gently back to him. Jay fumbled the ball and I picked it up.

‘Your turn for what?’

‘You know. The
Wisden
thing. I reckon everyone else has been, haven’t they?’

Jay was right. He had a right to go, especially as he was one of the group, and now Georgie, as well as Rahul and Jimbo, had gone.

‘I thought you didn’t believe in all that stuff,’ I said, running in to bowl. It wasn’t a bad delivery, moving away, but just a little wide and Jimbo let it go.

‘Nice, Toby!’ he called, scooping the ball up and tossing it back.

‘Jimbo, have a dip!’ I yelled to him.

‘You reckon?’

‘I reckon.’

Jimbo smashed and crashed the ball into and over the nets for the next five minutes until Mr Pasquali put a stop to it by calling time.

‘Was that fun?’ I grinned at him as he strolled past a moment later.

‘Heck, yeah,’ he replied, taking off his helmet.

Jay and I threw a few low catches to each other while we waited for Cameron to face.

‘Well, I’ve thought about it a bit and I’m willing to give it a go,’ Jay said, scooping up a neat one-hander centimetres from the grass.

‘Jay, that’s hardly the point. I’m the one who’ll decide whether or not I take you. Or anyone else,’ I added. ‘You haven’t said anything to anyone, have you?’

‘Course not,’ he said indignantly, throwing the ball hard at my shins. I caught it in the ends of my fingers. ‘Trust me.’

We worked for an hour and a half in the nets, but the Esky of cold drinks Mr P had organised for us afterwards made up for it. Meanwhile, an idea had been forming in my head. There was a catch, but I
thought we could overcome it. I kept the plan to myself for now.

By six o’clock everyone had arrived for my birthday. We played a bit of backyard cricket, with Dad insisting that any shots into the studio building site were out, no questions asked. It cut down on offside play, but we adapted well enough.

After dinner we went upstairs to my room—Rahul, Georgie, Jay, Jimbo and me. Nat followed us.

‘Hey, Nat. We’re gonna come back down soon. Can you set up for corridor cricket? We’re going to play a Test match,’ I explained.

‘Me too?’

‘Of course. You’re opening the bowling!’

‘Cool.’ But she kept on following us.

‘Nat?’

‘I’m coming in to get all your socks.’

She gathered up an armful, dropped a few, which Jimbo picked up for her, and finally left us.

‘I’ve got a plan, but first I want to tell you something,’ I said to the others.

I spent the next 10 minutes explaining everything I could about Jim, the
Wisden
s, the weird hooded figure and the guy with glasses Georgie and I had encountered the day before at the MCG. No one interrupted. Although I’d told them some of it before, in the library with Jim, I didn’t think anyone knew just how monumental this whole time travel thing was.

‘I just reckoned it was time for all of you to know everything. That way you might be able to help me out.’

‘The gift mightn’t last forever, Toby. We’ve got to take advantage of it now,’ Rahul insisted.

‘I mightn’t last forever, you mean! There’s a disgusting creepy figure after me and now the guy in the library with the glasses—’

‘We don’t know about him,’ interrupted Georgie. ‘He’s probably harmless enough.’

‘How do you
know
that?’ I asked.

‘Well, he hasn’t pulled a knife on us or anything, has he? Anyway, what’s your plan?’

They all looked at me eagerly.

‘Hang on.’ I raced out and came back a moment later with the 2001
Wisden
, which Dad had left on his bedside table.

‘Beauty,’ Jimbo breathed as I settled down on the carpet. The others quickly joined me, Jay looking expectantly at me.

‘All of us?’ Rahul asked.

‘Why not?’

‘Toby, isn’t that a bit risky?’ said Georgie.

‘Well, I could just take Jay and you guys could cover for me.’

Rahul looked at Georgie and smiled. ‘Let’s give it a shot, eh?’ he suggested.

‘Ten or 15 minutes, tops. No more!’ Jimbo added.

‘Let’s do it!’ Georgie said, grabbing my hand. Jimbo raised his eyebrows.

‘Travel, you idiot!’ she retorted.

I got up and closed the door.

We linked arms in a circle on the floor. I laid the book open in front of me.

‘What does it say, Jimbo?’ I asked. ‘Just read a few words.’

‘
Hobart, November 18, 19
—’

‘Yep. Get to the bit about Langer and Gilchrist. Their partnership.’

‘Okay, got it.
They had been on the ropes at 126 for five, but Langer and Gilchrist
—’

‘Okay. Where does it say 126?’ I asked. ‘Point at it.’ This help was making it all happen much quicker. I followed Jimbo’s finger into the swirl. It was on the left-hand side. The top of the page was a mess. I’d never seen anything like it. I stayed focused on the writing.

‘What’s up the top?’ I whispered as the number ‘1’ appeared.

‘A picture of them both. Gilchrist pumping the air with his fist.’

‘Can’t he see it?’ Jay said. But their voices were like echoes now as the letters and numbers gathered and finally settled.

‘Got it,’ I breathed. I concentrated on the score. The whooshing sound rose up from nowhere and spread over me. I tried to keep my eyes open but I saw nothing but blackness.

‘Toby?’

‘
Nat
!’ I swung around. Nat was standing at the door, looking shocked.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Um, we’re—’

‘Playing truth or dare,’ said Georgie. ‘You want to play?’

‘No way. What about corridor cricket? It’s all ready.’

‘Yep, 15 minutes, okay?’ My head was thumping.

‘Yeah, and don’t come back ’cos Rahul might have his pants down,’ Jay called out for good measure.

‘You okay, Toby?’ Jimbo asked.

I rubbed the side of my head. ‘Yep. You guys?’ I asked, looking around. Everyone nodded. Maybe they hadn’t been pulled back halfway through.

‘Okay, point again, Jimbo.’

It didn’t take long at all. One moment we were sitting there in my bedroom, the next we were bundled into two rows of white seats in a big stand off to one side of the ground. A few people sat scattered about but it wasn’t a big crowd.

‘Oh, my God,’ Jay gasped, picking himself up. He’d landed on his back and tumbled into the back of the seat below him.

‘
Oh, my God
!’ he said again, looking around. I grinned at Georgie. She was still holding my hand.

‘Toby, you are the best, man.
The best
!’

‘Let’s just watch the cricket a bit, hey?’ Jimbo said, settling himself in. Australia were 5 for 312 and a spin bowler was about to bowl to Gilchrist. He pushed it out to mid-on. He did the same with the next ball, and then he drove the next through the off side for four.

‘Nice!’ I said, turning to look at the others. Except for Jay, they were all concentrating on the cricket. Jay
just sat there with his jaw slack and his eyes bulging. I guessed he would settle soon.

There was another burst of applause as Gilchrist belted another four through the off side.

‘How many do they need?’ Jimbo asked.

‘I think it was 369,’ I said.

‘Geez, not far to go then.’

Gilchrist hit a single off the last ball of the over.

‘Nope. Forty-eight’ll do it.’

I turned around to see what Jay was doing.

‘Oh, no! Jay!’ I shouted. He was talking to a kid a few rows away. ‘Jay!’ I yelled louder, racing over to him.

‘Toby, this is Jason. I’ve just been asking him who he reckons will win the Grand Final next year.’

‘Come on, Jay.’ I grabbed his arm hard and pulled him away. Jason was looking a bit bewildered.

‘Idiot!’ I hissed into Jay’s ear. ‘You can’t do that sort of stuff. You’ve just got to sit here, shut up and watch. That’s the point. This gift is for people who like cricket. Remind me to make you read the poem when we get back, okay?’

I was really angry and Jay looked shocked at my outburst.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘You can let go of me now. I’m not going to run away.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Jay, this is serious, man. Big time. If I take you, you can’t stuff up on me…’

‘What?’ Jay said.

‘Oh, God!’

‘What?’ he repeated.

‘Don’t turn round. C’mon!’ I grabbed his arm as he turned to look at what I’d just seen. I pulled him back to the others. The hooded figure stood tall and silent, only six or seven rows down from us. It wasn’t moving, which somehow made it even more sinister.

‘Grab on, quick!’ I yelled, clutching at Georgie and saying words from the poem at the same time. ‘Rahul, hurry!’ He and Jimbo both grabbed for my hand.

‘Then find yourself a quiet place…’

Now the figure was moving towards us.

‘Wh-what is it?’ Jay gasped.

‘Hold on!’ Jimbo screamed at him.

‘Where shadows lurk—’

As the last word left my lips, Georgie screamed and was yanked away from me.

‘Hold on, Georgie!’ I shouted, clutching for her hand. I leaned over, crashing my other hand down on the figure’s bony arm. There was a cracking sound, a hissing, then silence.

From miles away I heard someone clapping. Why was everyone in the crowd so oblivious to what was happening? Why weren’t they rushing towards us? I raced through the two lines as quickly as I could:

‘Then find yourself a quiet place

Where shadows lurk, to hide your trace.’