The Turnarounders and the Arbuckle Rescue (24 page)

Niall drew Ralf to one side and nodded towards their sister who was talking to the station
master. ‘Keep your wits about you, alright?’ He looked at Ralf searchingly. ‘Someone’s up to no good. All those lights and noises up at the Sedleys', the dolls and now this business with the boats. It’s getting worse and it’s dangerous. If I had longer, perhaps I’d be able to make sense of it but...’ He shook his head. ‘Anyway, you can trust the Arbuckles, the Sedleys, Gordon Kemp and even Frank Duke for that matter. If there’s any more trouble I want you to go to one of them.’

Ralf nodded quickly. ‘I will.’

The train let off steam behind them and Hilda flinched.

Niall gave her a reassuring hug. There was a lump in Ralf’s throat too. The time had gone too quickly. It wasn’t fair. He’d had an older brother in his life for three days and now he was leaving again, going in to terrible danger in France and he didn’t know when or if he’d see him again.

The station clock struck nine.

‘You don’t need to wait for the train,’ said Niall suddenly in an odd voice.

‘Don’t be silly…’ Hilda began but then her eyes travelled up the platform and she cracked a half smile. ‘Heavens! Is that the time? I really must go – or – um, I’ll be late.’ She pecked Niall on the cheek once more and he hugged her. ‘Come along Ralf.’

‘It’s all right. I’ll wait –’

Niall’s grin was huge. ‘Make yourself scarce for a bit, will you lad?’ he said through his teeth.

‘Wha –?’ Ralf looked after Hilda who had scuttled down the platform and then he understood. By the waiting room, in the shadow of the clock stood a tall young woman in a stylish dark blue coat and hat. ‘Oh. Right. Yes, sorry. Well, good luck Niall.’

Niall’s eyes twinkled sadly. ‘Walk her back after, will you?’

Ralf nodded. There was a tingling feeling at the back of his nose that made it difficult for him to speak. He gasped as he shook his brother’s hand once more then rushed away. At the exit he turned for one last look. Niall and Gloria might have been the only two people in the world; fused together in a desperate, fierce embrace, they were statues in the milling crowd. The train whistle sounded and Ralf turned and stepped out into the light.

‘Hullo, Ralf,’ croaked Gloria a few minutes later as she joined him on the bench outside the station.

‘Hello.’ Ralf looked up at her. She tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace and her eyes were red. She was holding a portrait sized brown envelope and Ralf was fairly sure he knew what it contained. The vision of Niall’s photograph in Gloria’s locked room in the future was clear in his head and he suddenly felt immeasurably sorry for her.

‘Cup of tea?’ she asked shakily.

Ralf grinned. ‘That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it?’

‘Absolutely. But let’s get out of this ghastly place.’

Twenty minutes later they arrived back in King’s Hadow. The weather had changed overnight and the cold hit them as they left the small station. It seemed five or six degrees cooler than it had been in Dark Ferry and Gloria looked up at the sky with a frown.

‘Probably the sea wind that does it,’ she said, shivering despite her thick coat and gloves. Soon Ralf was frowning too. It was too cold, even for November and the change had been too sudden. The trees were white with frost and
the Village Green a carpet of ice. The wind whistled angrily down the hill and Ralf could feel its bite through his thin coat and scarf.  They set off at a brisk pace into the village but it was icy on the lane and they had to slow to a tentative walk when they reached the cobbles of the High Street.

Heads down against the wind, their side view blocked by shops and houses, neither Ralf or Gloria saw the Roman on horseback in the low hedged lane that ran behind the High Street. Marcus Junius, messenger from the Legio II Augusta, galloped frantically along it towards King’s Meadow. They heard the dull thump of hooves, like the echo of their own footsteps, but when they paused to listen closely the sound faded. They hurried on, far too busy thinking about Niall leaving to take much notice of a strange echo.

The church clock chimed ten as they reached the Post Office and they bundled gratefully inside. But before they’d had time to enjoy the sudden warmth they’d been barked at, twice: first, by Miss Brindle (for leaving the door open fractionally too long) and then by Astrid (no reason necessary). Ralf glanced round eagerly in the hopes of seeing Cabal, but he was not there.

Despite all the noise, they gave Hettie Timmins a start when they walked through to the c
afé and she scooped up a booklet she’d been reading and shoved it under the counter.

‘Aren’t you going to be in trouble for missing school?’ Gloria asked

‘I’m excused till lunchtime because of last night. Not that I did much,’ said Ralf, flushing. Will Tomkins had been conscious when they’d got back and even thanked him but Ralf still felt horribly guilty. He still couldn’t decide if it was because he felt bad about hitting him or not hitting him sooner.

‘You ought to get a medal, darling!’

‘I was useless. We both were. Everything we did was too late to make a difference.’

‘You and Leonard?’ Gloria asked. ‘I like that boy, you know. He has something about him. But why should you two have done anything? You talk as if you’re responsible. Lord!’ she gushed suddenly. ‘It wasn’t you, was it? Some kind of joke gone wrong?’

‘Of course not!’

Hettie brought their tea then and they stopped talking until she’d tiptoed away again.

‘So what was it then? And don’t say an accident because I simply won’t believe you.’

‘What did Niall say?’

‘He didn’t say anything. A freak wave. That’s all. Is that what you saw?’

‘Yes, but –’

‘But?’ Her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward across the small table.

‘But it wasn’t just that. The boats. The wave.
The Griffin
’s engine cutting out – did you know that it started again immediately after Michael had been hurt?’

‘It didn’t feel right?’ said Gloria, perceptively.

‘Exactly,’ said Ralf. ‘Something strange happened out there. Something not – not natural. The fishermen won’t talk about it.’

‘They’re afraid to, I suppose,’ she said. ‘Afraid that talking about it will make it more real. Silly really.’

That annoyed him a bit and he let it show. ‘Silly? Have you told Niall about your Spirit Guide?’ he countered.

She shook her head. ‘I will tell him, Ralf. One day.’ Ralf snorted but Gloria rushed on. ‘Please don’t think badly of me. It’s just that, just now, Niall’s got enough to worry about.’ She shook a lock of hair from her eyes and grinned. ‘Besides, he already thinks I’m a little bit cracked. I didn’t want to put him off entirely.’

Ralf’s anger evaporated. He had to smile. ‘A
little bit
cracked?’

‘You needn’t say it like that!’ They laughed together then Gloria’s face became serious again.

‘So,’ said Gloria, glancing up to make sure Hettie had scuttled back in to the kitchen. ‘Have you worked it out yet?’

For a second, Ralf honestly didn’t know what she was talking about. With everything that had happened since, it had slipped his mind entirely. He pulled her note out of his pocket. ‘This? I haven’t really had time to think about it.’

‘I hope I got it all right. I was in a fearful muddle writing it down. Latin isn’t really my strong suit and he kept fading in and out.’

Ralf coughed. ‘Why Latin do you think?’

‘Odd isn’t it? Especially when you consider who he is. I wouldn’t have thought his people have much call for Latin.’

His people? ‘Look, Gloria,’ Ralf said, firmly. ‘Who exactly is your Spirit Guide? What does he look like?’ He waited for a long description of a cloak and scythe. It had to be Ambrose. Who else could it be?

‘I don’t know his name, I’m afraid, but he’s a remarkable fellow. An Indian chap.’

Ralf felt like the floor had fallen out from under him. ‘An Indian?’ he spluttered eventually. ‘Are – are you sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure!

He couldn’t process that information. All he could think was that it wasn’t Ambrose. It wasn’t Ambrose! But if it wasn’t him, who was it?

‘Gloria, I am so confused!’ He took a deep breath and ran his hands over the soft bristles of his 1939 haircut. ‘I think you better start from the beginning.’

Gloria took a sip of tea. ‘It was two days before your evacuee friends arrived,’ she said. ‘I was sitting reading by the lake and when I looked up, there he was – a reflection on the water. It gave me such a start! He was right in front of me but when I turned to where he ought to have been standing, there was no one there. I felt a bit spooked at first. I don’t mind telling you.’

‘So how does it work, then? Have you got a way of calling him when you want to talk to him?’

‘He just turns up. I wouldn’t have thought he was the kind of person you could summon, he looks far too important to be treated like that. In any case, he’s never there for very long and always seems in a fearful hurry. He was quite frantic this time.’ She paused, considering. ‘Actually, now I come to think it, it seems as if he’s contacting me in secret. Often when he’s talking to me he’ll look over his shoulder as if he’s worried someone will catch him doing something he shouldn’t. Some kind of heavenly police force, do you think?’ She shook her head and then began attacking her currant bun. ‘Any clearer or are you still flummoxed?’

Ralf frowned. ‘I have no idea who he is and as to what he’s saying – well – it’s not very clear is it?’ He read from the note ‘
Of Righteous Echoes, King’s Hadow Born...
’

‘Yes, it is puzzling, isn’t it?’ Gloria mused. ‘I mean, how can an echo be righteous? It’s just a sound. I felt sure I’d translated wrong, but he gave me the word three times.’

Ralf wondered that too and looked up into his future aunt’s earnest eyes.

‘Maybe we should talk to Winters, he’s terribly good with puzzles,’ she offered.

That was it! Winters had lived more than once. He was an Echo. The first line of the rhyme was suddenly clear. An echo, a repetition of sound, couldn’t be righteous – but an ‘Echo’ could. The message only made sense if the echo it was talking about was actually an ‘Echo’ – a person!’

Ralf shifted in his seat, worried that this may be a step too far, even for Gloria. ‘Don’t think I’m mad, will you?’ he said. ‘But I think the word ‘Echo’ might mean people who have lived before.’

Gloria clapped her hands. ‘Yes!’ she cried. ‘It makes perfect sense, Ralf. You are clever!’

Of course Gloria was not phased by the idea of reincarnation. What had he been thinking? He grinned back at her.

‘If you read it like that, the message must be about people in the village who may be important for the future,’ he said.

‘A Righteous Echo! Yes, I see,’ said Gloria excitedly.

Ralf nodded. ‘And they have to weather a storm.’

‘Last night’s?’ said Gloria.

‘Maybe.’ Ralf scratched his head and studied the rest of the rhyme. ‘Maybe one of these Echoes is supposed to do something amazing but has been prevented somehow.’ An awful thought struck him. ‘Michael!’

‘Oh Lord!’ gasped Gloria. ‘You don’t think –?’

‘We’ve fouled up right from the start? Probably.’ Ralf pushed his cup away. That must have been it. Their chance was gone. ‘It’s over.’

‘No!’ Gloria cried. ‘No – wait –’

‘Don’t try and be nice Gloria. We screwed up.’

‘No, listen to me!’ Gloria insisted. ‘That can’t be it. Michael can’t be one of the people the rhyme’s talking about because he wasn’t born in the village!’

Ralf felt a surge of hope. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Absolutely!’ she whispered excitedly. ‘Michael was born in the ladies changing room of Hooper’s in Dark Ferry. After that Mrs Arbuckle got a discount on all her baby clothes, mother told me!’

‘And everyone else is fine!’

Gloria snatched her note from Ralf’s hand and studied the words again. ‘It seems too literal, anyway,’ she said. ‘Too easy really. It could just as easily mean ‘storm’ in a metaphorical sense – an upheaval of some sort.’

‘Agreed,’ said Ralf. ‘But what type of upheaval?’

‘I honestly haven’t a clue, Ralf. You and the chaps will just have to put your heads together,’ she said
, as she paid Hettie for the tea.

The church clock said ten past eleven as Ralf finally emerged from the café. He was about to go home and change for school when he saw Seth on the other side of the High Street. He was coming out of the newsagents with a bundle of newspapers under his arm.

Ralf called to him and walked over.

‘Why aren’t you at school?’ they asked together.

‘You first,’ said Seth.

He knew what had happened with the boats, of course, it was all over the village but Ralf filled him in on the details.

‘What about
The Lot's Lady
?’

Of all the questions Seth might have asked, Ralf hadn’t expected this. He shook his head, confused.