The Turnarounders and the Arbuckle Rescue (9 page)

Gadd was not alone. Oyler Munton was a foot taller than his brother and was all knees, elbows and awkward corners. He looked, with his rosy cheeks and slicked back hair, like an overlarge puppet and Ralf knew who pulled his strings. How he had suddenly remembered about the Munton brothers, he didn’t know. But what he did know was that Oyler would do nothing without his elder brother’s say-so and this was just as well because although Oyler had what meagre looks were to be had in the Munton family, he’d been completely bypassed in the brains department.

‘What do you want?’ Ralf repeated, a lot more bravely than he felt.

‘A word in your ear, Osborne,’ said Gadd. He let go of Ralf’s shirt and tried to smooth him down in a friendly gesture, ruined only by the coldness of his look and the smear of dirt he left on Ralf’s collar.

‘A word…’ said Oyler.

Ralf took one look at Oyler’s vacant eyes and huge grin and decided to direct his conversation to Gadd.  ‘Yes?’

‘Just to say that with your brother gone an’ all, we’ll be needing the end spot.’

‘End spot…’ Oyler leered.

Brother? End spot? Ralf had no idea what they were talking about. ‘What?’

‘The mooring. It’s better for us out on the end there and you won’t be goin’ out as much, likely, so we’ve taken the liberty of moving
The Sara Luz
over. Best for everyone, as’ll sure you agree.’

Sara Luz? Who was Sara Luz? ‘Er…’

‘And another thing,’ said Gadd leaning forward and lowering his voice. ‘A bit of advice, like. It’d be best to steer clear of Tarzy Wood from now on.’

‘Tarzy Wood?’

Gadd placed his greasy hand back on Ralf’s shoulder and gave a little shake. ‘Chax Forest is out of bounds, but best stay away from the woods too, is my advice. Bullets have a way of straying, don’t they?’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Accidents happen.’

‘Accidents…’ Oyler sounded excited at the thought.

‘We wouldn’t want you to get hurt, now would we? What with yer brother gone an’ all.’

Ralf had no idea what to say. He knew this man and Gadd and Oyler appeared to know him, but his brain was such a jumble of thoughts he couldn’t order them. As he was wondering how to respond, Gadd’s dark eyes clouded and he looked guiltily over Ralf’s shoulder.

‘Push off Muntons,’ said an imperious voice. ‘We don’t like smugglers round here.’

Gadd and his brother backed off. ‘Smugglers, Master Julian?’ Gadd gave a nervous laugh. ‘You will have your jokes…’

Ralf turned and felt his heart skip a beat when he saw who was speaking. Julian Kingston-Hawke, the smug, snide, dark-haired boy who’d pushed him down the school stairs in his own time only the day before gave him a quick nod and then turned back to Gadd.

‘I’m not laughing, Munton,’ Julian said
, contemptuously. ‘And neither will you be if my father catches you. Now get out of this field, I want to be in it.’

Gadd nodded at Julian then turned to Ralf. ‘Remember what I said, Osborne,’ he said
, in a low voice.

‘Remember…’ breathed Oyler and then he tugged his forelock at Julian and skipped after his brother who had stalked towards the exit.

‘Awful rabble!’ Julian said and then grinned, taking in Ralf and the others grouped close by. ‘This lot with you are they?’

‘Er – Yes, I …’

The boy clapped Ralf on the back and nodded to each of the others in turn, his eyes widening slightly as they passed over Leo. He put his arm around Ralf’s shoulder and drew him to one side.

‘Showing evacuees round, eh?’ he asked. ‘How did you get lumbered with that?’

‘Well –’

‘Never mind. I’m not that interested. How soon can you get rid of them?’

‘Wh – what?’ Ralf could hardly talk he was so confused. He knew Julian in his own time but how could he have got here? And why was he talking as if meeting up was perfectly normal? He looked at the others but they just stared back hopelessly. Could it be that somehow he belonged in this time too? Was he actually friends with this boy?

It came in a sickening sort of rush. Yes, it could. In this time, not only were he and Julian Kingston-Hawke friends, they were best friends. They’d grown up together, went to school together and were practically inseparable. The idea made him queasy. ‘What did you say?’

Julian looked crestfallen. ‘I say, you aren’t still cheesed off about yesterday, are you? I didn’t mean to push you that hard. You gave me an awful fright when you knocked yourself out like that!’

So he’d done the same thing in this time had he? Ralf wasn’t surprised. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered and was immediately annoyed. Why was he apologising? And what kind of idiot mucked around pushing people on stairs anyway?

‘You’re all right then?’

‘Fine.’ Ralf looked at Julian critically. He was dressed very differently from Ralf in a white shirt, crisply ironed shorts and proper leather lace up shoes. He liked to be called ‘King’, Ralf remembered and instantly liked him even less because of it.

Leo and the others watched incredulously as King gave Ralf a playful punch on the shoulder and got back to the business at hand. ‘Looks like it’s going to be a scorcher,’ he said, the warm breeze ruffling his dark hair. ‘Tank’s coming over later. No, don’t look like that. I know you’re not wild about him, but he’s got these amazing wooden rifles; painted up perfectly, look as real as anything. We could have a wizard war game in the woods.’

Ralf grimaced. Even if he hadn’t got to find Ambrose and go back to his own time, he couldn’t imagine a worse activity than hanging round with this stuck up idiot and his friend. He had a strong suspicion that Tank Tatchell would turn out to be the same Gormless George crony that King had in the present. In this time too,
he feared Tank would be a thuggish idiot who ate his own bogies. Before Ralf could think of an excuse, though, King’s face changed. ‘Oh no!’ he groaned. ‘Sister alert!’

A tall girl of about eighteen appeared beside them. She had porcelain skin, a refined nose and striking auburn hair.

‘Hullo all!’ she said cheerfully. Then she caught sight of Ralf’s face. ‘What ever’s the matter, Ralf? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘You look – beautiful!’ Ralf blurted, before his brain could tell his mouth that this might not be such a good idea.

King doubled over with laughter. ‘I say, Ralf,’ he choked. ‘Are you sure your head is really all right? Beth? Beautiful? That’s a bit steep. It really is!’

The girl’s amber eyes flashed at her brother. ‘I’ve told you once, Jules, and I shan’t tell you again. You’re not to call me that anymore. I’m not answering to anything other than –’

‘Gloria.’ Ralf finished her sentence in a whisper. It was her. He didn’t know how it could be and, of course, she looked phenomenally different but it was unmistakably her. It was as if several hundred layers of wrinkled skin had been peeled away from her, like earth stripped off to reveal a buried gem. He thought again of the photograph he’d found in the library back at home. She had been here. And it wasn’t her in a previous life it was actually her. He couldn’t stop himself. ‘It’s you, Gloria!’

Her eyes turned from ice to warmth in an instant. ‘Yes it does suit me doesn’t it? Did he tell you?’

King’s laughter died. ‘No, I certainly did not,’ he said, his voice hard. ‘You can’t really be serious about making us all use that ghastly name. It really is too horrid. You’ll never stick with it.’

Gloria raised one finely plucked eyebrow. ‘Watch me.’

‘Ignore her. She’s been impossible ever since she came home from Switzerland.’ He gave his sister a sour look then turned back to Ralf. ‘Say goodbye and let’s go.’

‘Not likely, I’m afraid,’ said Gloria smiling sweetly. ‘Father wants you. You’re to meet the Captain at the station at ten and take him back to the house, show him his room, be hospitable and all that.’

King scowled. ‘Why does he have to stay with us, anyway? He’s always whistling.’

‘Because he needs looking after and his father is a friend of Father’s. So you’re going to have to put up with him. He shan’t bother you. Mother’s put him all the way down in the East Wing.’

‘How about you come along?’ He looked at Ralf hopefully. ‘This business with the Captain won’t take long and then we can go down to the lake?’

‘I can’t,’ Ralf said glancing nervously at Leo and the others who were watching the exchange with open-mouthed fascination.

‘Why ever not?’

‘For goodness sake, dry up Jules, you little tick,’ said Gloria. ‘He doesn’t want to go with you, damn it!’

‘You really are a beast, Beth,’ King whined. ‘And Mother would have a fit if she heard you swearing like that. What if I were to tell her, eh?’

‘If you tattle tale to Mater about me, I shall tell her exactly who it was who broke the glasshouse window. And I’ve told you,’ she said, tapping him lightly on the cheek, ‘the name’s Gloria.’ She turned to Ralf and winked, exactly as she would still do seventy-fou
r years later. ‘Now run along, dear, or you’ll be late.’

King’s eyes flashed but he said nothing more and strode towards the exit with his nose in the air.

Ralf smiled. It was rather nice being with Gloria when she had all her marbles.

‘So, where are you chaps off to?’

‘We want to find Vitallian Ambrose – Er, Father of the Future? Fortune Teller Extraordinaire?’ Ralf said, hopefully.

‘I’ll tag along,’ said Gloria, not waiting for him to agree. ‘I’ve just been to see Dorcas Noakes.’ She waved a hand in the direction of a gypsy caravan nearby. ‘Her Tarot is a lot better than her palm reading but she wasn’t quite what I was looking for. Actually,’ she said conspiratorially, ‘this Ambrose fellow sounds like just the chap I need. I’m hoping for a bit of advice...Oh, more tents! Let’s try over there.’ She linked arms with Ralf and set off at a brisk pace. ‘Chop, chop, the rest of you, we’ll never find him if you dally like that!’

‘But –’

‘So, Ralf’s been showing you round King’s Hadow, has he?’ she asked the others as they walked. ‘Must be dull as dishwater for all of you after London, I’m sure. Where are you from?’ She was looking expectantly at Leo and after glancing quickly at his label he found his voice.

‘Southwark,’ he said, rather apologetically.

Gloria wrinkled her nose. ‘Too awful for you.’

She spent the next ten minutes questioning them about themselves and rambling on about Kent country life, hardly pausing for breath. At the end of this time they had walked round three quarters of the circus field and had begun to realise they each had memories of life in this time and many of those memories were not good.

‘Your grandfather got you out of Germany just in time, I’d say.’ said Gloria to a bewildered looking Seth, who’d just given her a lot of detailed information he had no idea he knew. ‘Raus Ihre Eltern?’

Seth shook his head. No, his parents had not got out. He frowned in puzzlement. He could understand German?

Gloria patted his arm. ‘Too bad. Father says there’ll be no stopping that jumped up little Fuhrer now, especially with the Bolshies being so spineless. I must say, though,’ she said giving Seth a squeeze round the shoulders that made his face crimson, ‘your English is very good. He’s hardly got an accent at all has he, Ralf?’

‘Er, no.’ Come to think of it, though, Seth was beginning to speak with a bit of a German accent. He hadn’t when they first arrived, Ralf was sure of it. Seth gave him a look and Ralf stared back. They needed to talk about this.

There were a number of small tents behind the Big Top but apart from a stout Corporal standing by one, they looked deserted. As they trooped on a thud of hooves made them turn. Six plumed black horses cantered out of the back of the Big Top.

‘Cor! Last time I saw horses like that was at Uncle Mick’s funeral!’ Alfie exclaimed.

Ralf was going to say something too but then he noticed the girl. A slight figure in a feathered headdress sat astride the lead horse like a pink spangled statue. Suddenly the statue came to life as the girl reigned in. She slid to the ground in one fluid movement and started to loosen the animal’s girth.

‘You’re going to have to go out there, Karl!’ she called. ‘The Muntons are lurking at the gate flogging black market nylons. We’ll have the law on us if you don’t get rid of them!’

A sinewy, hugely moustachioed man in Cossack dress emerged from the caravan. ‘I’ll go,’ he said menacingly. ‘And I’ll take Boris.’

Ralf didn’t much like the look of Karl and suspected that Boris wouldn’t be any better but just as he was steering Gloria away the girl in pink noticed them.

‘Hullo! What you doing back here?’ she asked, slipping a rope over the head of the horse and leading him to a waiting trough of water.

‘We’re looking for Ambrose, the fortune teller – ‘

‘Not here,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Sorry.’

‘Not here?’ Ralf repeated weakly.

‘How can he not be here?’ Valen cried. ‘He’s supposed to be here!’

The spangled girl blanched at Valen’s reaction. ‘Gran’s the only fortune teller with us now,’ she said quietly, scratching the horse behind the ears.  ‘There was a man, a while back, I think his name was Ambrose –’