Time Traveler to Next Door Read online

  When the p zza arr ved, we gawked shamelessly as Rupert took a tentat ve b te.

  "Rather tastes l ke Span sh sausage," he concluded, and we all sm led at each other.

  There was no doubt about t, Rupert was a h t.

  * A er d nner, Rupert came back to our house. I told Dad that we were work ng on a h story ass gnment together and needed to use the computer upsta rs. Dad's good mood had surv ved the journey home. When we stepped nto the hallway, he announced he would make us some tea and d sappeared nto the k tchen.

  "R ght," I sa d, grabb ng Rupert's sleeve. "Come on then." To my bew lderment, Rupert rema ned rooted to the spot, a hot flush cl mb ng h s neck. He cleared h s throat. "Where are we go ng exactly?"

  "To use the computer upsta rs n the study."

  "Upsta rs. Where the er, bedrooms are located."

  I screwed my face up. "What's wrong w th you?"

  "Won't your father m nd? Us d sappear ng o up there w thout a chaperone?" I laughed. "Oh my God. Are you for real? We were alone n your room for about an hour earl er. You d dn't seem too bothered about a chaperone then."

  "That's d erent. My parents weren't there. We hadn't just d ned w th them. What f they th nk we're..." He tra led nto s lence, cheeks ablaze.

  "What?"

  "Court ng." I released h s sleeve. "Rupert, a lot has changed s nce your day. Trust me, boys and g rls can be fr ends and have d nner w th the r parents w thout anyone th nk ng they secretly want to r p each other's clothes o ."

  H s blue eyes w dened. For a second I wondered f he m ght pass out. "Heavens, Clement ne, you're certa nly a forthr ght young woman. I was merely suggest ng that your father m ght get the wrong end of the st ck."

  "He won't," I sa d. "Now, come on."

  I jogged up the sta rs and nto the o ce to sw tch on the Mac book.

  "I actually have my own laptop," I sa d, as a reluctant Rupert appeared at door. "But t's not work ng."

  Rupert's reservat ons about be ng alone upsta rs w th me soon d m n shed. I sm led, watch ng as he stared at the computer screen n awe. "I've seen these boxes n the shop w ndows n town," he sa d, s tt ng down on the stool bes de me. "They're called TVs."

  "Well, t has a screen l ke a telev s on and you can watch shows on t, but t also does other stu . Th s s a laptop computer." I showed h m br efly how t worked, open ng a new Word document and demonstrat ng the keys. Then I cl cked at the nternet con at the bottom of the screen. "

  "The nternet s bas cally a research tool," I expla ned. "You just type whatever you want to know nto the search bar and press a button and boom, the world s your oyster. You can also shop for th ngs onl ne, and bu ld your own webs te."

  "But who operates t?" Rupert asked.

  I shrugged. "No one. It just s."

  He ducked to nvest gate under the desk. "There are no w res."

  "It's w relessly connected to the nternet modem downsta rs wh ch runs on f bre opt c cables l ke the telephone. You had the telephone n the n neteen twent es, r ght?"

  "We had the telephone, but, noth ng l ke th s. Does everyone have these th ngs n the r homes?"

  I nodded. "Pretty much. By the way, most telephones these days don't have w res e ther. People carry them around n the r pockets."

  Rupert's jaw dropped. "Astound ng. Uncle would've loved that. He was enormously fond of h s pocket compass."

  "Speak ng of your Uncle," I ventured carefully. "He's the best hope we have of f nd ng out what happened to the monstrance."

  He nodded. "Yes, I rather agree w th you there."

  "We need to f nd out about h s movements a er you travelled nto the future. D d he stay l v ng n Port Haven. D d he move away..." Rupert shook h s head. "Uncle would never have le Port Haven. The house has been n our fam ly for generat ons. He and Father grew up there."

  "Let's f nd out." My heart began to pound w th exc tement as I placed my f ngers on the keypad. "What was h s full name?"

  Rupert nhaled sharply, s tt ng up stra ght on the stool. "Perc val Frank Holt."

  I keyed n the name and h t enter. Instantly about half a dozen genealogy s tes popped up.

  "What does t say?" Rupert mplored.

  "These are just l nks to other web pages."

  "Web pages?" "Th nk of t as a g ant l brary f lled w th m ll ons of books. Whatever I type pulls nformat on from the pages that match." I po nted at the l nks. "These l nks show matches to Perc val Frank Holt, but for all we know, there are dozens of men w th the same name. So, we have to be more spec f c. Do you know what year he was born?"

  Rupert narrowed h s eyes. "Let me see. He was ten years older than Father, who was born n 1881. So I'd say 1871." I cl cked on the search bar and added the new nformat on. A l nk to a her tage s te that I'd spotted on the f rst try popped up aga n. I cl cked t and was mmed ately transferred to a membersh p page.

  "Ah ha, I thought we'd h t th s snag."

  "What snag?"

  "We need to pay to see the records."

  "Pay who?"

  "The company who runs the s te."

  "W ll that be d cult?" "Nope." I cl cked onto the name box and began typ ng Dad's name. Immed ately h s nformat on appeared n the boxes, nclud ng h s cred t card number. The only th ng t d dn't g ve me was the three d g t code on the back, but luck ly Dad wasn't the d strustful sort, and I remembered t from a few weeks ago when I was order ng my school un form.

  I shot a glance at Rupert. "Don't look so worr ed. Dad owes me about s x months worth of pocket money. S x pounds n nety-f ve sn't about to break the bank."

  Rupert arched a brow. "I have absolutely no dea what's go ng on, but I trust you."

  I sm led as I h t the subm t payment button. "Good."

  The V sa box popped up and then a few seconds later, transferred us to the ma n page of results. "When we d d th s n h story class last year, the teacher told us about censuses. They prov de deta ls of each household and who l ves there."

  "I know what a census s, Clement ne," Rupert sa d lo ly. I scrolled down the l st of census years. "Drat. There are no records for 1931 because of a f re and there are none n 1941 because of the second world war."

  Rupert gasped. "There was a second world war?"

  I glanced across h m, not c ng that the colour had dra ned from h s face. "Yes. I forgot you wouldn't know that. It started n n neteen—" "I don't want to hear anyth ng about t," he cut n. "It won't do to go home to the twent es w th that sort of nformat on. Prom se me you'll only tell me the th ngs I need to know."

  I swallowed. He appeared deadly ser ous. "Okay. I prom se."

  He took a deep, shudder ng breath. "Good. Now, when s the next census?" "1951." I cl cked on the l nk and typed Rupert's uncle's name nto the search box. A few Holts appeared, but only one matched exactly. I cl cked aga n and thanks to Dad's cred t card, a copy of the census form appeared on the screen.

  Rupert leaned n. "There he s," he sa d breathlessly. "That's the r ght age and county of b rth. But why s show ng up w th all those other people?"

  "What was the address of the old house? O c ally I mean."

  "Porthaven House, Porthaven."

  I recalled the faded gold n t als on the gate. "I thought the PH on the gates stood for Perc val Holt?"

  "No. Just an odd co nc dence." "Th s address sn't even n Port Haven. Look..." I po nted to the screen, where 'R verv ew Manor, Hawchester' was nscr bed n sw rly handwr t ng at the top of the document. Slowly t dawned on me.

  "I th nk th s place m ght be a nurs ng home."

  "What prec sely does that mean n modern context?" I chose my words carefully. "A place where the elderly go when they can't stay n the r own homes any more. E ther because they're too s ck, or—"

  "Or they're not as luc d as they once were..."

  "Yes."

  He s ghed. "As de from the p zza, t appears I'm d scover ng a lot of th ngs I'm none too fond of th s even ng."

  I placed a tentat ve hand on h s shoulder. "I'm sorry, Rupert."

  "Does th s place st ll ex st?"

>   I cl cked open a new page and typed n the address. A l nk for R verv ew Care Homes appeared w th a Hawchester address. "I th nk t does, yes, t's on the same road." He nodded. "Good. Perhaps someone there m ght be able to help." A steely resolve flashed w th n the depths of h s blue eyes as he turned to face me. "I say we pay them a v s t. Don't you?"

  Chapter Eght

  If Rupert had h s way, we would have gone har ng o to Hawchester the very next morn ng.

  "What's to stop us?" he asked as I walked h m back across the f elds that Saturday even ng. It was almost n ne o'clock and the sky had turned a dusky shade of blue. An owl could be heard hoot ng n the trees as d stant waves crashed onto the rocks.

  "Well, for starters t's Sunday tomorrow," I sa d. "O ce sta don't o en work weekends. Plus, I very much doubt the nurses would have access to pat ent records."

  He s ghed. "I forgot that t was Sunday. I'm afra d I lost all sense of what day t s some t me ago."

  I glanced across at h m n the fad ng l ght, watch ng as he gazed at the hor zon w th an empty stare.

  "I'm sorry I ment oned the war," I sa d, remember ng how horr f ed he'd been.

  He gave a weak sm le. "There's no need to apolog se. I mean, you weren't to know about Theodore."

  "Who's Theodore?"

  "My older brother. My only brother n fact. He d ed n World War I."

  I patted h s shoulder awkwardly. "Then I'm even more sorry. I had no dea." We were s lent unt l we reached the gate. Instead of open ng t, Rupert cl mbed up and swung a leg over, dropp ng onto the other s de w th ease.

  My heart clenched. Even n the very depths of gr ef, I had a home to go back to, fam ly members to comfort me. What d d Rupert have? A cold, empty house w thout a soul to keep h m company and the knowledge that a war respons ble for the death of h s brother repeated tself just twenty years later. Not to ment on the fact that h s beloved uncle most l kely ended h s days n a nurs ng home.

  "Why don't I ask Dad f you can stay w th us?" I sa d. "We can make up a story about your father be ng stuck somewhere or go ng away on bus ness. He wouldn't m nd. I can tell he l kes you."

  Rupert sm led. "You're a k nd person, Clement ne, and I had a splend d even ng meet ng your fam ly, but I belong at Port Haven House. I know what you're th nk ng— t must be awful l v ng w thout modern comforts—but the house s the only th ng keep ng me sane at the moment." He glanced toward the dark trees surround ng the property. "Bes des, I feel l ke I have to be there. Just n case I've m ssed someth ng."

  I nodded. "I understand."

  "Thanks awfully for the o er." "It's noth ng. So, Monday, why don't you meet me a er school? We can catch a bus that goes stra ght to Hawchester. It only takes about twenty m nutes."

  "Excellent. I'll wa t on the corner outs de the gates."

  "Tomorrow I sa d I'd do someth ng w th Adele," I sa d, sl ghtly gu lty that he would have to endure yet another day alone.

  "Of course. I don't expect you to show up every day. I'm a man of my own means."

  "Okay. But t you need me, I'm here."

  He gr nned. "I must say, hav ng a g rl worry ng over me sn't do ng much for my gentlemanly pr de."

  I chuckled. "See you, Monday." Shov ng hands nto h s pockets, he made no attempt to move. "I'll wa t unt l you're back safely. Perhaps you could flash the electr c l ghts to let me know when you're home."

  "But how w ll I know you're home safely?"

  He sm led. "Clement ne, what d d I say about gentlemanly pr de?"

  "Gotcha."

  "Goodbye."

  "Bye."

  W th a f nal glance, I hurr ed back across the f elds toward home. a

  *** I hung out w th Adele most of Sunday. We stayed n her room, l sten ng to Taylor Sw songs and cyber-stalk ng her summer hol day crush. I d dn't ment on Rupert. By Monday, t was all beg nn ng to feel l ke a dream. But then a er school there he was, wa t ng at the gates for me, consp cuous n h s cr cket sweater and monochrome brogues. Adele spotted h m nstantly. I hadn't been

  able to shake her o on the way out of B ology as I hoped I would. a

  "Harry Potter n ne o'clock," she sa d, nudg ng me. "D d you go and see h m on Saturday n the end?"

  "No, he was out," I l ed. If I'd told her I saw h m, she'd be susp c ous as to why I d dn't ment on t before. Adele t lted her head to the s de, study ng h m carefully. "You know, w th the r ght clothes and ha rcut he would probably be qu te good look ng."

  "Shhh," I sa d, as we drew closer. "Oooh, maybe you could g ve h m a makeover and ask h m to the school d sco n November. You'd earn so many cool po nts for rock ng up w th a year eleven."

  "Adele, shut up," I growled.

  To my d smay, she d dn't carry on walk ng towards home. She rema ned, glued to my s de as I greeted h m.

  "Hey, Rupert, you remember Adele," I sa d through gr tted teeth.

  Rupert sm led. "Of course. It's super to see you aga n, Adele." Adele g ggled. From the dev ous gl nt n her eye, I could tell she was about to say someth ng embarrass ng. "We were just d scuss ng the next school d sco."

  Rupert frowned. "D sco?" Adele rolled her eyes. "Sorry, I somet mes forget we're stuck n a t me warp here n Port Haven. I mean a dance, l ke a ball but w thout the soph st cat on."

  "Ah, I see."

  "Do you l ke to dance?" Adele asked, her words d rected at Rupert, but her mock ng eyes f xed on me.

  "I don't m nd the occas onal waltz."

  "Maybe you could take Clement ne."

  "We'll have to get go ng f we want to catch that bus," I sa d loudly to Rupert, my cheeks aflame.

  "What bus?" Adele asked.

  "I'm show ng Rupert how to get to Hawchester."

  She frowned. "But I thought you hadn't spoken to h m at the weekend?"

  Damn. I really was the world's worst l ar. Instead of d gg ng myself further nto the hole, I clamped my mouth shut and shrugged.

  Rather than get cross however, Adele's sm le w dened. "I'll leave you to t." I could almost hear the cogs n her bra n turn ng. Rather horr fy ngly, I real sed she bel eved that Rupert and I were enjoy ng a secret romance. She always d d watch too much Hollyoaks.

  "I'll text you later," I sa d.

  She sm rked, before turn ng on her heel and head ng n the oppos te d rect on.

  I turned back to Rupert. "Sorry about her. She doesn't get out much."

  He chuckled. "No, I'm sorry. I should have wa ted further up the street. I d dn't mean to embarrass you."

  "I'm not embarrassed," I sa d. Rupert, who I real sed had turned sl ghtly p nk n the face too, mot oned to the bus stop further up the road. "Is that where we're headed?"

  "It s," I sa d.

  He fell nto step bes de me as I began to walk.

  "What d d you get up to yesterday?" I asked h m.

  "Not much. A spot of sea f sh ng. Uncle packed a couple of rods n my truck. I caught a mackerel for supper."

  "How d d you cook t?"

  "Over the f replace of course."

  I sm led. "Of course. I forgot you're pract cally Rob nson Crusoe."

  "Ha! You're a w t, Clement ne Hardy. Has anyone ever told you?"

  I shook my head, sm l ng. "Noth ng even close." The bus showed up a er a few m nutes and we cl mbed aboard. I'd ra ded Dad's change jar n the k tchen that morn ng and had enough money for t ckets for the both of us.

  Rupert was mesmer sed by the bus. In fact, he was mesmer sed by everyth ng. He took a part cular nterest n the screens wh ch announced the next stop.

  "P cture shows on buses," he muttered. "Dear Lord, whatever next."a

  We got o the bus at the edge of Hawchester, a small market town that passed for a c ty because of ts mpress ve cathedral. I'd taken a qu ck look at Google maps that morn ng and d scovered that R verv ew care home was on the edge of the town. We would have to walk through the c ty centre and over a br dge to reach t

  The c ty wasn't part cularly busy that a ernoon. I'd hoped Rupert m ght f nd comfort n the cobbled streets and qua nt storefronts, but he appeared as gobsmacked as
ever.

  "I only v s ted th s place a few t mes as a ch ld," he sa d, paus ng to stare nto a br ghtly pa nted bakery w ndow. "I can't bel eve t's changed so much. What are those?" he asked as we passed a man sell ng mob le phone covers.

  "Remember I sa d people carry the r telephones w th them nowadays? Those are the covers they use to carry them n."

  "Remarkable. Ah, I see the cross s the same." In the centre of the c ty, was an elaborate Goth c market cross wh ch stood at the ntersect on of the cobbled streets. "Magn f cent, sn't t?" I nodded s lently. Now that we were near ng R verv ew, I'd started to feel more than just a l ttle apprehens ve. I mean, what f someone who worked there recogn sed me? How on earth would I expla n t to Dad?

  At the end of North Street, the shops th nned out and we crossed a stone br dge over the fast-flow ng r ver. Blackthorn Road was the f rst on the r ght, a tree l ned avenue w th large V ctor an houses on e ther s de.

  The nurs ng home wasn't hard to f nd. An mpos ng red br ck mans on several storeys h gh w th turrets jutt ng out of each corner, t was eas ly the largest bu ld ng on the street. There were a huge pa r of ron gates at the entrance and for a moment I worr ed we m ght not make t across the threshold. But then a car pulled up and the gates opened automat cally.

  W th a qu ck glance at each other, we scurr ed n a er t.

  "So far so good," I sa d. Ne ther of us spoke as we followed the s gns to the v s tor recept on at the s de of the bu ld ng. We'd already rehearsed what we were go ng to say.

  "Ready?" I asked, f nger po sed over the buzzer.

  Rupert paled. "As I'll ever be."

  I pushed the button and wa ted unt l a female vo ce crackled over the ntercom, "Can I help you?" "Talk nto the speaker," I h ssed, as Rupert began frant cally look ng around for the source of the vo ce. If I wasn't so nervous, t would have been com cal.

  He leaned over the sh ny steel of the ntercom. "Yes, I rather hope you can. I'm Rupert Holt, a relat ve of one of your ex-res dents."

  A buzz sounded, and the door cl cked o the latch. I gave h m the thumbs up.

  "Rather l ke esp onage th s, sn't t?" Rupert wh spered as I pulled t open. The recept on ns de was r chly furn shed, w th a deep blue carpet and gold embossed wallpaper. There was a c rcular seat ng area by the w ndow w th a vase of flowers and a box of t ssues on a small table. I wondered what sort of place th s was f they expected people to cry.