The Time Hunters (Book 1 of the acclaimed series for children of all ages) (4 page)

‘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 further 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.

By the time they had descended the stairs, Becky felt
thoroughly miserable. She looked ahead at Joe and silently plotted her revenge,
which involved his nose, four peanuts and a chopstick. Her heart sank further when
she saw him tiptoe silently towards the front door. ‘Where are you taking
-
’

‘Shhh,’ Joe said, inching the door open. ‘Now,
whatever you see, don’t - make - a – sound. That means no
screaming
! Okay?’

Screaming,
Becky thought.
What exactly would she see?
Following
Joe on to the porch, an icy blast of rain spattered her face.
Thanks a bunch,
Joe,
she thought.
I’m going to
get told off, sent back to Manchester, and catch pneumonia, all in one night.

‘This way,’ Joe said, and
he dashed off.

Becky pulled her coat tightly around her neck and
followed him to the side of the Hall. She watched horrified as he approached a
familiar outbuilding. Joining him, she shot him an angry look. ‘You haven’t
broken into Uncle Percy’s laboratory, have you? He said it was out of bounds.
If you have, I’ll thump your face so hard it swells like a - ’

‘Quiet,’ Joe barked. ‘Listen…’ He pressed a finger
to his lips.

For once, Becky did as she was told. The rain was
fading now and even through the moaning wind she could hear muffled voices. She
grew intrigued.

‘Look round the corner,’ Joe whispered, pointing to
the edge of the wall.

Becky hesitated. Slowly, suspiciously, she bent
forward and peered round.

‘Can you see? Are they still there?’

Becky didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Mesmerised by
the astonishing sight before her, she didn’t even hear his words.

Will was crouched on the waterlogged grass; beside
him, a large sandy-coloured animal was in a heavy sleep, its chest moving up
and down in a slow, consistent rhythm. Uncle Percy stood over them, soaked and
exhausted. He held a pair of pliers jubilantly in his hand. The pliers
contained a fat, yellowing tooth.

‘Good girl,’ Will breathed, softly patting the
creature’s back.

‘Milly should be out for about half an hour,’ Uncle
Percy said with a smile. ‘What do you say to a nice cup of tea, William? I
believe we’ve earned it.’

Will laid the animal’s head lightly on the grass. ‘I
deem we have.’

Becky’s head spun like a top. She felt confused,
bewildered, dazed. Not to see Uncle Percy up at this time of night - she
half-expected this would be when he did his inventing. No, looking at the
sleeping animal, she knew it shouldn’t be alive at all. She’d seen one before
at the Natural History Museum in London. But that was only a life-like
reconstruction and not the genuine article.

A Sabre-tooth tiger lay sedated on the lawn of Bowen
Hall - a very large, very
real
Sabre-tooth tiger.