A Chase in Time Page 5

  Mary gripped her hat with her hand and said, “Atherton! Darling!”

  “What?” said Atherton, taking a corner at such speed that Alex had to duck to avoid an unexpected tree branch. Henry’s cousin’s straw hat flew off and landed in the grass at the side of the road. Ruby took off Dora’s hat and, very definitely, sat on it. “Too fast?”

  “Actually, it’s rather thrilling,” Mary said. Atherton took his eyes off the road long enough to kiss her. Alex shut his eyes tight and gripped the seat with both hands. Ruby squealed.

  “You are both insane!” she shouted.

  Besides the lack of tarmac (and other assorted usefulnesses, like cats’ eyes, road markings and speed-limit signs, not to mention things like pylons), the countryside they were driving through was different in lots of little ways. Instead of neat, regimented fields of potatoes and oilseed rape, the fields were full of wonderfully messy wheat of all different sizes. In amongst the wheat were flowers: poppies and tall daisies, and others that Alex didn’t recognise. There were more birds too. And a lot more insects – bees and butterflies in the hedgerows, and the windscreen as they drove was spattered with flies.

  And yet, at the same time, it was disorientingly familiar. People looked like people. Trees looked like trees. Grass looked like grass.

  “Who do you think this thief is then?” Mary said. “Do you have a whole set of mortal enemies you forgot to tell me about, along with all those relations?”

  “No,” said Atherton. The car bounced into a pothole and out again, rattling the whole vehicle (along with Alex and Ruby) and – Alex was sure – lifting them both several centimetres into the air and down again. Suspension was also something no one had got around to thinking about in 1912. “Just a chap I know with a habit of leaping before he looks. Which, if you think about it, is dashed obvious. It must have been someone who knew we owned those stables. And where we’d put those crates. And that I had the Cup, for that matter.”

  “He could have asked the boy, surely?” said Mary.

  “He could,” said Atherton. “But the boy didn’t know what was in the boxes. Why, even you didn’t know until I told you.”

  “I suppose I didn’t,” said Mary. She looked thoughtful. “Who did know?”

  “Well,” said Atherton. “It rather depends who Charlie Higgins told, doesn’t it? But going by that description…”

  He swerved to avoid a farmer, who had appeared rather suddenly out of a gate. The farmer leapt back, looking startled. Atherton gave him a cheery wave and honked on the horn.

  “Atherton,” said Mary accusingly. “I do believe you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “Darling,” said Atherton. “I believe you are too. Did I mention recently how much I love you?”

  “Ass,” said Mary. She sat back in her seat, looking pleased with herself. “And for God’s sake, mind that cow!”

  Alex had just about decided that being driven about the countryside by Atherton was only bearable if he kept his eyes clenched shut, held on very tight to the seat and thought very hard about maths, when Ruby yelled, “Stop! That’s their car!”

  It was. The car was parked in the yard beside a country pub called The White Swan. In Alex’s day, pubs had car parks. In 1912, they apparently had stables, with stable yards. Atherton braked rather more dramatically than was strictly necessary, and swerved the car into the stable yard, narrowly avoiding a boy in a flat cap, who gawped at him admiringly.

  “You,” said Ruby furiously, “are a terrible driver.”

  Atherton tipped his hat to her and scrambled out of the car.

  “Come on!” he yelled, and headed towards the pub. Mary and the children followed.

  The inside of the pub was divided into little rooms, with horse-brasses hanging from the walls. The tables were plain wood, and there were no menus, no pumps serving Coke and Fanta, and no beer pumps with the names of different beers attached to them, although there were advertisements behind the bar. The Doctors’ Special Rum, Prescribed by the Medical Profession, one said. Finest Ales & Porter, Bottled Ales & Stout, said another. The pub also smelled rather unpleasantly of cigarette smoke. And – Alex realised, looking around – with the exception of the young woman serving behind the bar, there were no women in it. Were women not allowed to go into pubs?

  Atherton strode forwards, the others at his heels. Alex spotted them first. “There they are!” he cried.

  There they were, indeed. The younger man and the older, in a corner of the pub, eating what looked like bread and cheese. (Alex and Ruby’s parents liked the sort of holidays that involved walking up hills in the middle of nowhere, so the children had eaten in quite a lot of pubs, and they didn’t think bread and cheese was at all the sort of food pubs ought to serve. In the twenty-first century it would have been scampi and chips.)

  The two men jumped, and the younger one (he’d taken off his straw hat, and his hair looked even redder without it) said, “Great Scott!”

  But Atherton cried, “You!”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Upset

  The man with red hair blushed, and his mouth opened and shut without saying anything.

  “Charlie!” said Atherton. “What in the devil’s name are you doing locking my relations in coach houses? If you’re going to do things like that, couldn’t you at least pick Auntie Mildred, or that self-important brother of mine, rather than some of the nice ones?”

  “Charlie?” whispered Ruby to Alex.

  “He was the person Atherton bought the Newberry Cup off,” Alex whispered back. “Remember?”

  He’d been wondering all the way here if this was the person Atherton had meant when he’d talked about his friend who “leapt before he looked”. Who else would know that Atherton had the Cup?

  “Atherton!” said Charlie. He got to his feet, knocking the chair over in his hurry, and rubbed his hands rather nervously on his trousers. “Just a bit of a joke, old man, that’s all. No harm done, eh?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that,” said Atherton. “Not when my brother’s stables are in ruins and my valuable artefact appears to have been stolen. Game’s up, Charlie. Why don’t you tell me exactly what’s going on?”

  Charlie had the grace to look uncomfortable.

  “Look here, old thing,” he said. “Frightfully sorry and all that, but it isn’t my artefact, you know. It belongs to Father, and, well … I’d thought it would be simply weeks before he came home and noticed it was gone, by which time I’d be in India. But it turns out he’s coming home on Tuesday, and it’ll be frightfully awkward, you see. And I need that money; I always was a fool about money, and there are all sorts of people who need paying back rather sharpish.”

  “You could have got a job!” Ruby said indignantly.

  Mary grinned.

  Alex nudged Ruby and whispered, “I don’t think rich people had jobs in the olden days. Not the sort of people who have valets. They always live off allowances and things in books.”

  “See here,” Charlie was saying. “I didn’t mean any trouble – honestly, I didn’t. How about I just pay you back and we leave it at that? I’m sure you can think of something to put the bobbies off the scent, can’t you?”

  He gave his friend such an appealing look that Alex was sure Atherton would relent. And Atherton, indeed, said, rather regretfully, “Well … look here, old thing—”

  But they had reckoned without Mary.

  “Now, just you wait a minute!” she said. “All of that old-school-tie rot might work with Atherton, but it jolly well won’t work with me! He bought that Cup from you fair and square, and if that puts you in a spot with your father, well, that’s your affair, isn’t it?”

  Charlie looked alarmed. He glanced pleadingly at Atherton, who raised both hands as though to say, “Nothing to do with me, mate!” But Mary was still going strong.

  “You,” she went on, clearly enjoying herself, “are a worm of the highest order! If it were up to me, I’d have you arrested! A couple of years in a
nice cold cell and you’ll soon change your tune!”

  If Charlie had looked panicked before, now he looked terrified. The valet – Giles – on the other hand, wore rather a calculating expression. His eyes darted towards the door. Ruby grabbed Alex’s arm.

  “Wait there,” she said, and slipped away.

  “See here –” Charlie was saying. “I didn’t – you wouldn’t—”

  “Oh, wouldn’t I just? And I will too! We’ve called the police, you know. They’re on their way, and if you don’t hand over our Cup right now, we’ll hand you over to them!”

  Giles got to his feet with an air of subtle menace.

  Atherton gave him a scornful look. “In a public house?” he said. “With all these witnesses? Really, old chap. I don’t fancy your chances, do you?”

  A look passed between Giles and Charlie, so quickly that Alex almost missed it.

  “All right,” Charlie said, after a pause. “I’ll go and fetch it from the bus now, if you want.”

  “I should jolly well think so too!” said Mary. She turned to Atherton in triumph.

  Atherton, very solemnly, took off his hat.

  “You,” he said in reverent tones, “are a queen among women. A goddess among mortals!”

  “And don’t you forget it,” said Mary.

  They trooped back out into the stable yard. Ruby was standing by the roadside, making friends with a little boy on a pony. She looked round as they came out, obviously curious, but didn’t come over. Giles leaned over to Charlie and murmured something, and Charlie nodded. Alex would have liked to warn Atherton, but Atherton was striding ahead, towards the car, and he wasn’t sure exactly what it was he would have said anyway. His suspicions grew, however, as, passing Atherton’s car, Giles stooped. Just for a moment.

  “All right?” said Atherton, turning.

  The valet, rising with a smoothness Jeeves would have been proud of, said, “Perfectly all right, sir.”

  They reached Charlie’s little green open-topped car. Charlie opened the side door, climbed in and felt under the seat.

  Giles said, “If none of you objects, I’d better get the car started. Afraid the engine’s a little temperamental.”

  Atherton brightened.

  “I say, is it?” he said. “Mine was awfully tricky at first, but then d’you know what I did? I—”

  Giles opened the bonnet and began doing something with a little can of what Alex supposed was petrol, while he and Atherton began a long, complicated discussion about engines and petrol and cold winter mornings.

  Alex glanced worriedly at Mary who said, “Dearest, are you sure…?”

  But Atherton didn’t seem to hear.

  Mary sighed, and said, “Come on, Charlie old man, buck up. Where’s this Cup of yours then?”

  “I know it’s here somewhere…” said Charlie indistinctly, from underneath the seat.

  The car engine gave a sputter and roared into life.

  Atherton cried, “Oh, good show!” as Giles, looking pleased with himself, removed the starting handle and reattached the bonnet.

  Mary said, “Now, look here. I don’t know what you two think you’re playing at, but—”

  “Here,” said Giles to Charlie. “You’d better let me do that.”

  He climbed into the car. Then, so quickly that Alex barely had time to blink, he put the car into gear, swerved around Atherton, who leapt aside, and drove away in a flurry of dust, leaving them staring.

  “Hey!” Alex yelled.

  “That filthy toad!” Mary cried. “After him!”

  Ruby shouted, “No, wait!”

  But Mary and Atherton were running back to the car.

  “He’s done something to the car!” Alex shouted. “That valet – I know he has!”

  Atherton was already feeling the back tyre.

  “Punctured!” he said. “The wart! The weasel! The excrement on the sole of human existence! Is there another—” He looked wildly around the yard, as though hoping for another car in which to give chase, but of course there were none. “Curse him!” he cried. “A curse on the house of Higgins and all their descendants! By the time we’ll get there it’ll all be fixed, of course. The Cup nicely back where it belongs, and only his word against mine! Curse and confound and discombobulate him!”

  “Is something the matter?” said Ruby, wandering up. She looked rather pleased with herself.

  “He’s taken my Cup!” Atherton howled. “My beautiful Cup!”

  “Your Cup?” said Ruby.

  “Yes! My beautiful, beautiful Newberry Cup!”

  “Oh,” said Ruby. She opened her bag and pulled out a large bundle wrapped in green velvet. “You mean this Cup?”

  The four of them sat in a row on top of the gate, drinking lemonade (Mary and the children) and beer (Atherton) and waiting for the policemen.

  “I don’t suppose we’ll have any more trouble from Charlie,” Atherton said, waving his pipe in an expansive manner. “Never had much pluck, did Charlie. Although,” he scratched his ear thoughtfully, “I might drop a line to his father, just to be on the safe side. Wonderful man, Mr Higgins. Probably polite to warn the old chap, before his artefact starts touring the country. And of course, if he wants the Cup back, we’ll have to pony it up. It does belong to him, after all. But I suspect he’ll just be grateful his son found a way to pay his debts like a gentleman.”

  He took a gulp of his ale.

  Mary said, “No need to be so jolly smug about it. But what in heaven’s name are you going to tell the police?”

  “Oh, I think we’ll tell them the truth, don’t you? Might be as well to have them on our side. It’s all right. I won’t press charges. And if Charlie knows what’s good for him, he won’t do anything that means I have to.”

  And that seemed to be that. Except…

  “We haven’t actually seen the Cup yet,” said Alex. “Well – I haven’t, anyway. Ruby probably did when she rescued it.”

  “Not really,” said Ruby. “I just peeped in to make sure. I didn’t want you lot coming out and catching me with it. Can we? Given as how it was us who solved the crime and everything.”

  Atherton glanced at her. “I don’t see why not,” he said. “Sling it over, Mary.”

  The Cup was in Mary’s handbag. Carefully, as though afraid she might break something, she lifted it out and unfolded the green velvet.

  And inside was the Newberry Cup.

  It was about the size of Mary’s hand, with the fingers outstretched, an intricate Saxon chalice made of soft old gold and jewels. The outer sides of the Cup were engraved with complicated twining scrollwork, set with rubies and sapphires and emeralds.

  It sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight, and it glowed a dull gold.

  “Roman gold,” said Atherton.

  “It’s beautiful,” said Ruby, who never usually cared for anything like that at all.

  “It’s over a thousand years old,” said Mary. “It was made for a Saxon lady, as a wedding gift for her chapel.”

  She looked up and her eyes met Atherton’s, and suddenly Alex felt ashamed of watching, as though he were intruding on something private, and rather holy.

  “Fitting that we bring it home today then,” said Atherton, and his voice, for once, had no laughter in it. He put down his pipe and took her hand. Mary lifted her face to his and stared, and then, for no reason that Alex could see, she blushed and looked away. Atherton grinned.

  “What ho!” he said, and kissed her.

  Eventually the police arrived, rather sweetly, on bicycles, and all the explanations had to be gone through again. The policemen seemed to share Atherton’s view of things.

  “Let’s not go making more trouble than we have to,” the inspector said. He shook his head. “Although I don’t know what your brother will say about those stables.”

  Applecott House, when they finally made it back home, was full of wedding guests, noisy and cheerful and hungry for dinner. Mostly Pilgrims, but also relations of Mar
y’s, and Mary’s anthropologist friends, who were cheerful young women with names like Bunty and Cyril, and Atherton’s friends from Cambridge, who were cheerful young men with names like Algy and Guffy. Everyone was very enthusiastic about their adventures with the Newberry Cup, and there was a general feeling that catching robbers was just the sort of jolly good thing that jolly good sorts like Atherton and Mary would do. Alex and Ruby found it rather bewildering. They were sure their own parents would have been more surprised. (The eldest brother, Uncle Edmund, shook his head and looked disapproving, then went off to talk about interest rates with the vicar in the corner.)

  There was an awful lot of explaining to do. Alex and Ruby were formally introduced to Dora and Henry’s parents, who one apparently had to refer to as Mr and Mrs Pilgrim, like teachers. Dora’s father was a historian. Alex was pretty sure that in modern Britain, historians taught in universities or schools or something, but Dora’s father seemed to just stay at home and look after the house and write monographs on ancient kings and queens. He was very excited about the Newberry Cup, and he and Atherton immediately started a long and complicated discussion about King Alfred, and Rædwald, and all sorts of people Alex had never heard of. Alex found it strangely exciting. All the grown-ups he knew in the future had boring, sensible jobs like being teachers, or plumbers, or working in offices. These people who charged about the world finding things out and having ideas and discovering things were a whole other breed. He watched the brothers talking, and wondered if one could one live a life like that in the twenty-first century. He was a Pilgrim, just like they were. If they could do it, could he?

  He was still wondering when he felt Ruby at his elbow.

  “Come on,” she said. “The mirror. While they’re all talking. Let’s see if it’ll let us go home.”