The Witches of Chiswick (25 page)

“Because it’s not what happens. It’s not what is written in
The Book Of Rune
. The Promised One returns to the past and thwarts the schemes of the evil witches. But he does not return to glory in the future. He dies in the past. Dies in an act of supreme heroism. Gives up his life for the cause of mankind. There’s no going back to the future for either of us. We die here.”

“We
what
?”

“Die,” said the other Will. “Not much of a future, is it?”

“But,” said Tim McGregor. “I mean – Well, die in the past? I mean, you’re here now. You didn’t die in the past, did you? I mean—”

Tim was sitting in the very place that the other Will had been sitting, three centuries before. It was even the same chair. Will had sat him down there on purpose, of course. Same chair. Same table. Same pub. Same part-time barman actually, but we’ll have to get to
that
at some other time.

“Pretty complicated stuff, eh?” said Will. “Which is why I wanted to go on to drinking halves. I was involved in all this, and
I
have a problem following the plot.”

“Tell me about the chaps at the police station,” said Tim. “Constable Tenpole Tudor, and Policewoman Higgins and Chief Inspector Sam Maggott. They were from here, right? From now. What were they doing back there?”

“I’ll get to that at some other time.” Will chewed upon Tim’s pork scratchings. “These taste exactly the same,” he said. “But listen, you can imagine my dilemma, can’t you? What was I to do? I was sworn to hunt down Rune’s murderer—”

“I assume that
wasn’t
your other self. He wasn’t Jack the Ripper.”

“No,” said Will. “He wasn’t. But, you see, I’d now got myself in pretty deep. Obviously I would do things that would change the future. Obviously, because there was my other self sitting right where you’re sitting now. But I wanted to do things of my own free will. Be in charge of my own destiny. Be in control.”

“But hold on,” said Tim. “Surely the future didn’t get changed. I’ve never seen a copy of
The Book Of Rune
. There’s been no war with Mars, or the British Empire ruling the world. Nothing has changed. But, fair dos, you’re trying your best to explain it all. So what happened next, and what
had
happened to your other self in the past?”

“Well, what happened next wasn’t too much fun and what had happened to him was no laughing matter at all. You see he’d travelled to the past and—”

“They were waiting for me,” said the other Will. “The witches. They’d read
The Book Of Rune
too, hadn’t they? They knew exactly when I’d arrive. And where. In a rented room in Miller’s Court. The room rented by Hugo Rune. He was supposed to be waiting for me there, with a bottle of champagne to toast my safe arrival. But he wasn’t there.”

“No,” said Will, “he was out buying the champagne, or at least
acquiring
champagne. I doubt that he actually paid for it. I met him outside in the street. That’s where I appeared.”

“Yes,” said the other Will. “That would be it.
You
would be the one who met him and was taught by him.”

“Please go on with your story,” said Will. “There may be a way out of this for both of us.”

“There’s no way out. We’re doomed.”

“Not necessarily so.”

“That’s what I thought. I had a plan you see. When they escorted me to the time machine to send me off to save the world and die in the process, I didn’t struggle, I didn’t try to escape. I behaved with dignity, because I had a plan.”

“Go on,” said Will.

“Escape,” said the other Will. “Escape from them. My watchers and my protectors and the witch assassins who were constantly trying to kill me. I planned to escape from them all. I couldn’t do it there in the future, but I reasoned that I could in the past. I’d let them send me. I couldn’t stop them. But once I was here, I figured that I’d do things my way. I wouldn’t play their games. I’d play
my
games. I’d just vanish. No heroics and no death for me. I’d get myself a quiet little job, settle down and marry a nice Victorian girl. Have some kids; maybe they would be my own great- great- great- and-whatever-grandparents. But I wouldn’t get involved in any world-savings.”

Will shrugged and smiled a little too. “That’s probably what I would have done,” said he.

“That’s exactly what you would have done, chief,” said Barry.

“So what happened?” Will asked.

“I’ve told you what happened, they were waiting for me. The moment I appeared in the time machine they grabbed me and the time machine.”

“Hang about,” said Will. “The witches captured you and they captured the time machine. When I first met Rune and he took me to his lodgings, his room was a mess, he said the witches had been there. They captured you there, did they?”

“That’s what happened,” said the other Will.

“So the witches then had their own time machine?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously,” said Will with some degree of thoughtfulness. “Except that I have been told another story entirely. All about a time machine that was built here in the Victorian era and then was stolen. All sorts of things in fact.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the other Will. “There’s only
one
time machine.”

“Then I have been lied to,” Will wiggled his finger into his right ear. “In fact I’ve been told a right pack of lies.”

“No, come on, chief, it’s not what you think.”

Will turned his face away from his other self. “It’s exactly what I think,” he said. “You lied to me, Barry. All that talk about you being fitted into Mr Wells’ time machine.”

“I was,” said Barry. “Well, for a bit anyway, so Mr Wells could have a little test of it himself. Rune knew he wouldn’t be able to resist it and Rune wanted to borrow some more money from him.”

“So
you
never travelled into
my
future? It wasn’t
you
who brought me here?”

“No, chief. The witches sent their terminators in your other self’s time machine.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me this?”

“Because, chief, I was hoping that you’d never bump into your other self. He’s just complicating the issue.”

“So you knew he was here all the time?”

“I might have, chief.”

“
You might have
?”

“You’re at it again,” said Will’s other self. “Conversing with your demon.”

“I’m
not
conversing with a demon!” Will turned back to his other self. “It’s not like that. Although,” and he said these words to himself, “
I’m beginning to wonder
.”

“I heard that, chief. And it’s not true. I’m one of the good guys. I’m just trying to protect you.”

“Perhaps,” said Will and he turned back to face his other self. “Please tell me,” said Will, “what happened to you, after you arrived in this time? These witches, they captured you?”

“Yes, that’s what they did. They were waiting for me in Rune’s lodgings. They grabbed
me
and they took the time machine. I was captured. I was helpless.”

“So why didn’t they just kill you and have done with it?” Will asked.

“Good question, chief.”

“Good question,” said the other Will.

“So what’s the answer?”

“I’m the answer,” said the other Will. “I told them the truth. That I didn’t want to be any Messiah. That I just wanted to be left alone. I was terrified by them. They’re horrible. Fearful. They couldn’t understand that. They were expecting some kind of fearless superhero. And they kept asking me about a painting, called
The Fairy Feller’s Masterstroke
. It’s mentioned in
The Book of Rune
. But I told them I’d never heard of, nor seen, such a picture, because I haven’t. So they sent a robot into the future in the time machine. But the time machine returned without it, so they sent another one and the time machine never returned. But it did return, didn’t it, and you were in it.”

Will nodded, thoughtfully. This
did
seem to tie up a lot of loose ends. “So then they just kept you imprisoned,” he said.

The other Will nodded, glumly. “They tormented me, forced me to stitch Chiswick Townswomen’s Guild needlepoint cushions for them, and stuff lavender bags. They even made me judge the most-blackest black cat competition.”

“Doesn’t sound all that bad,” said Will.

“And they kept me in a cage and fed me on rats.”

“Rats?”

“And worms,” said the other Will.

“Nasty,” said Will.

“Very nasty,” said the other Will. “For months and months and months in a filthy cellar. In a cage. I planned my escape. Rats’ jaws I used. To saw through the bars. Hundreds of rats’ jaws. It took me over a year, but I finally escaped.”

“That’s dreadful,” said Will. “Really dreadful.”

“And it’s all
your
fault.”

“It’s not
my
fault. But how did you come to be covered in blood and arrested as being Jack the Ripper?”

“I didn’t know what to do. The only thing I could think of was to find Hugo Rune. Try and reason with him. I was pretty messed up. I
am
pretty messed up.”

“I see,” said Will. “And after the witches discovered that you’d escaped, they went looking for you and I suppose that eventually they came to the conclusion that you’d go looking for Hugo Rune, which is why they sent one of their robots to Rune’s room, which was where
I
was. Which is when I met Barry.”

“Barry, your demon?”

“He’s
not
my demon. But you were arrested, covered in blood. What happened to you?”

“I saw it,” said the other Will. “I was hiding in an alleyway. I saw it all. I was out of my mind. I’d been imprisoned, tortured, fed on rats and worms, but I’d escaped and then I saw
that
.”

“What did you see?” Will asked.

“I saw
it
. The thing that killed those women. I saw it kill Hugo Rune. I saw it. I saw it kill and I was showered with the blood of its killing.”

“It?” said Will. “A robot, was it?”

“Not a robot. Not a person. Something far worse. Something utterly monstrous. I saw it. And then I blacked out. I don’t know what happened after that. Days must have passed, and the next thing I knew I was being hauled into the Whitechapel police station, accused of being Jack the Ripper. I even thought I was, when they arrested me.”

“And then I rescued you from the cell.”

The other Will hung his head. “That’s it,” he said. “That’s what happened.”

“But what was this thing? This thing that killed those women and killed Hugo Rune. If it wasn’t a robot and wasn’t a man?”

“What was it?” the other Will stared at Will with wide mad eyes. “What do you think it was? What is it that witches worship? What is it that seeks to control this world? Reorder history so that
it
is in control? Not any man and not any robot. That thing I saw was the devil himself, Will.

“That thing was Satan.”

“Satan,” said Will, and he sighed. It was a long sigh, a deep sigh, a heartfelt sigh. It was the sigh of one who had had quite enough. “I’ve had quite enough,” said Will.

His other self looked on. Somewhat bitterly, Will felt. Somewhat accusingly.

“Listen,” said Will. “It’s not my fault. Do you understand this?
It’s not my fault
.”

“It
is
your fault,” said the other Will. “You got me into this mess and you have to get me out.”

“Why
me
?” Will threw up his hands, spilling his drink all over himself. “Damn,” he continued, “look at what you’ve made me do, all over my expensive suit.”

“Expensive suit? My clothes are in tatters, covered in blood and you have the nerve to—”

“Stop,” said Will. “Just stop. It’s clear that you’ve been through terrible times. The rats and the worms and everything.”

“And the needlepoint,” said the other Will. “And having to stuff those lavender bags.”

“All right, you suffered dreadful privations. But
I
wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for
you
. It was
your
time machine that brought
me
here. If anything, it’s all
your
fault.”

“I don’t really think that follows, chief. If it’s anyone’s fault then the blame must lie with—”

“Shut up!” shouted Will. “It’s not
my
fault and it’s not
your
fault. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s Hugo Rune’s fault.”

“The Master was faultless,” said the other Will. “It says so in Scripture.”

“But he wrote the Scripture!”

“Then it must be true, mustn’t it? Scripture doesn’t lie.”

Will dusted beer froth from his shirt front. “Scripture doesn’t lie, eh?” he said thoughtfully. “And your entire future society is based upon this Scripture, is it?”

“It brought peace to the world.”

“It brought you here to die.”

“That’s all
your
fault.”

“Turn it in,” said Will. “This is getting us nowhere.”

“Perhaps you should just put him out of his misery, chief. Get someone to employ the Dimac Death Touch for you. It’s being cruel to be kind.”

Will thought the words “SHUT UP!” as loudly as he could.

“Wah!” went Barry. “Don’t do that, chief. It gives me a headache and as I’m all head, that’s a lot of ache.”

“I don’t mean you any harm,” said Will to his other self. “In fact, quite the reverse. I don’t want you to die here. I don’t want anyone to die.”

“I want plenty of people to die,” said the other Will. “All those witches that tormented me. I want them to die. I’ll kill the lot of them if I get the chance.”

“Really?” said Will. “You’d do that, would you?”

“Slow down, chief. I know what you’re thinking.”

“I’d kill them all,” said the other Will.

“Then maybe I can help you out of this. I have something in my head.”

“An idea?” said the other Will.

“Not as such.”

“Forget it, chief. I’m not going into his bonce, it’s already occupied and anyway, he’s stone bonker.”

“Do you have a long, sharp pencil about your person?” Will asked.

“No, chief, let’s be reasonable about this.”

“But you both share the same goal,” Will whispered into his hand. “You could train him up, Barry. He is
me
, isn’t he?”

“No, chief. We’re a team, you and me. You can’t break up a team. It’s like Marks and Spencer, or Burke and Hare, or even Jekyll and Hyde, who live just around the corner; we—”

“SILENCE!” Will thought. “All right,” he said to his other self. “We will speak more of these things. For now I can say only this, trust me. I am you and you are me and there is no point in us arguing. I suggest we return to my hotel room.”

“Why?” asked the other Will.

“So you can take a bath, have a shave, eat a splendid lunch and so that
I
can have a flick through
The Book Of Rune
. It does tell exactly how
you
thwart the witches, doesn’t it?”

“It tells exactly how
you
thwart them,” said the other Will.

To add an extra something to the drive back, Will steered Silver the horse around the Borough of Brentford first, to take in more of its beauty. And as both Wills still felt somewhat dry of throat, they also took in some of Brentford’s other drinking houses. Although not any of those that the part-time barman of the Flying Swan had mentioned. They visited the Four Horsemen, the Shrunken Head and the Princess Royal.

They ran their way through the fine and hand-drawn ales of Brentford, savouring each and every drop that they didn’t spill down themselves. And as the hours passed and the glasses emptied, talk became merrier and the many troubles the two of them shared were pushed somewhat to the side, although Will remained ever at arm’s length of his other self, for fear of the terrible
Time Cop
/David Warner consequences that might occur should they actually touch each other.

“Chiesh,” went Barry. “I’m somewhat schoozled here, shouldn’t we be getting back?”

“So, I was doing
The Times
crossword, the other day,” said Will. He and his other self now sat in the Hands of Orloc, which is in Greendragon Lane, on Brentford’s east side. “And I managed to answer every single clue, except one.”

“And what was that?” The other Will quaffed further ale. He had a healthier pallor now, which is one more reason for drinking beer, as if one more should be needed.

“Overloaded postman,” said Will.

“Overloaded postman?” The other Will stroked at his chin and missed. “Overloaded postman? How many letters?”

“Thousands!” Will spluttered laughter into his beer. “That was why he was so overloaded.”

“Thousands,” said the other Will. “It must have been a very large crossword.”

“No,” said Will. “It was a joke. Overloaded postman. Thousand of letters. Get it?”

“What is a postman?” asked the other Will. “A man who sells posts, would it be?”

“It’s a joke.” Will wiped beer froth from his mouth. “A joke. Surely you know what a joke is.”

“I don’t feel quite right,” said the other Will. “Is there something wrong with this cordial we’ve been drinking?”

“It’s beer,” said Will. “You’re getting drunk, that’s all”

“Drunk?” said the other Will. “What is drunk?”

“What is drunk? Don’t they have booze in your world?”

“Booze? There is
no
booze in my world. Booze is evil. There has been no booze since the mid two-thousands. Is that what we’ve been drinking?
Booze
?”

“No booze?” Will said back in his chair. “You come from a world without booze?”

“Booze is forbidden. It says so in Scripture. The Master foreswore all hard liquor. He lived upon dry bread and water all his life, and only the occasional sprout to give him iron.”

“What wash that?” slurred Barry.

“Foreswore hard liquor?” Will laughed heartily. “That’s a joke if ever I heard one. And what about the bottle of champagne he was going to greet you with?”

“I don’t understand. Although I feel, I don’t know, I feel—”

“Happy?” Will asked.

“Yes, that’s it. That must be it. I’ve heard of happy, but I’ve never experienced it before.”

“
Never
?” Will’s face fell. “You’ve never been
happy
?”

“I’ve seen people laughing. Lots of times. But I never knew why they laughed. They never laughed when they were with me. They always had grave expressions.”

“Now
that
is evil.”

“But I do feel it. I feel – happy. Can I have some more of this booze?”

“But it’s against Scripture.”

“Stuff Scripture!” said the other Will. “Stuff everything. I won’t play by the rules of Scripture. I’ll be free of Scripture. I’ll be free of everything.”

“Once you’ve thwarted the witches,” said Will.

“Once
you’ve
thwarted the witches. Tell me another joke. I don’t want to think about witches. We weren’t thinking about witches, were we? We were thinking about being happy.”

“We were,” said Will. “I’ll get us in another drink.”

And he rose unsteadily and went off to do so.

The other Will sat staring dreamily into space.

“I think things are going rather well, squire,” said a voice in his head. “I think we can pull this thing off and come up trumps all round.”

“Who said that?” The other Will’s eyes widened and he stared all around and about.

“It’s me, squire. Larry, your Holy Guardian sprout. I’ve been trying to get through to you for ages. The beer has eased the passage, as it were.”

“Who’s saying this?” The other Will’s head turned this way and that.

“Me, Larry, Barry’s brother. They thought I was done for in the Great Fire of London, but I wasn’t and now I’m in your head. I’m your protector. We can beat this other schmuck, we have him eating right out of our hands. Well
your
hands; I don’t have any.”

The other Will clutched at his head. “I am possessed!” he howled, which drew the attention of several other patrons of the Hands of Orloc, amongst them a big bargee and his smaller counterpart, who had stopped off for the night in Brentford (which is upon Thames), and a lady in a straw hat, who was hawking copies of the
War Cry
.

“Great scabs of scurvy!” said the big bargee. “Tell me, Charlie; ain’t that the bloke we had a punch-up with the other day?”

“The undertaker’s lad, with the parsnip up his bum?” said his smaller companion. “I do believe it is.”

“Get out of my head!” cried the other Will, beating at his temples with his fists.

“Don’t go all stone bonker, squire,” said Larry. “I’m one of the good guys, I’m here to help.”

“I am cursed.” The other Will beat some more at his temples.

“Definitely the same geezer,” said the small bargee. “Must tread the boards. Seems to have only the one act.”

Will eased himself between big bargee and small. “Excuse me gents,” he said. “Beer coming through.”

“Gawd damn my eyes,” said the big bargee. “It’s another of them and just the same.”

Will glanced up at the big bargee.

“Oh,” said he. “It’s you.”

“Can I interest you in a copy of the
War Cry
?” asked the lady in the straw hat to Will. “It’s to help our missionaries save the savages of darkest Africa. I’m hoping they’ll save a couple for me.”

“What?” said Will.

“Get out of my head!” shouted the other Will.

“Here,” said a gatherer of the pure who had wandered far from home upon this day in search of the white stuff,
[19]
“I recognise that voice.”

“I saw him first,” said the big bargee.

“And me second,” said his smaller counterpart.

“I know
you
,” said the lady in the straw hat to Will.

“Chiesh,” said Barry. “I think I’ll take my nap now.”

“Squire,” said Larry. “Stop beating at your temples. It’s rocking me all about.”

“Aaaaagh!” went the other Will.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” said Will.

And then as surely as night follows day, or seagulls follow a mackerel boat, or the dustcart follows the Lord Mayor’s show, or drunken girls wearing halos and angels wings and enjoying a hen night in Brighton sing “follow the leader, leader, leader,” before getting ruthlessly shagged by young men who have been following
them
from bar to bar all evening, a bit of a fight got started.

And things got somewhat out of hand.

And.

“Lord Peter Whimsy,” said the presiding magistrate, Mr Justice Doveston, at the Brentford Magistrate’s court, as this was the name Will had given to the police who had arrested him. “You are charged with the following crimes. That you and your twin brother entered the local hostelry known as the Hands of Orloc in Greendragon lane, in or about the time of eight thirty yesterday evening, in a state of advanced inebriation and did there cause a common affray. That you did employ Dimac, the deadliest of all the martial arts, whereby a fingertip’s pressure can maim and disfigure, upon Mr Michael Mugwump, otherwise known as the big bargee; Mr Charles Windsor, otherwise known as his smaller counterpart, constables Norman Meek and Reginald Mild. Mrs—”

A cough from the gallery was silenced by an usher of the court.

“—otherwise known as the lady in the straw hat, Mr Nigel Dempster, society columnist for
The Brentford Mercury
newspaper—”

“Eh?” said Will. He sat as far as he could from his other self upon a bench in the dock, flanked by burly police constables; burly police constables who sported bandaged heads and bruised chins; burly police constables named Meek and Mild.

“—the cast of the musical
Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat
, which is presently enjoying its first run in the West End, and sundry others—”

“I never hit anyone called Sundry Others,” said Will.

The magistrate consulted his notes. “Ah no,” he said. “It’s not ‘sundry others’, it’s Mr Montague Summers, historian and occultist.”

“He had it coming,” said Will. “He hit me with his rhythm stick.”

“Three fat persons, click, click, click,” sang Barry.
[20]

“And ‘a wandering-minstrel-I-a-thing-of-heirs-and-braces’,” said the magistrate. “Who is a dyslexic”

“He hit me first,” said Will. “With his janbo.”

“And so, how do you plead?”

“Innocent,” said Will. “My brother and I were set upon by ruffians; we were only defending ourselves.”

“And the two policemen, constables Meek and Mild, whom you laid unconscious when they arrived upon the scene of the disturbance?”

“I did no such thing,” said Will.

“A bystander says that a friend of his saw you.”

“That’s hearsay,” said Will.

“No,” said the magistrate, “Hearsay was a short-lived, manufactured vocal harmony group. You are, however also accused of assaulting Little Tich, the popular music hall entertainer.”

“He stood upon one of my big boots,” said Little Tich, poking his nose over the gallery rail.

“Never laid a foot on him,” said Will. “This is all a case of mistaken identity.”