Time Traveler to Next Door Read online

  I placed a tentat ve hand on h s shoulder. "I'm sorry too. It must be d sappo nt ng not to have all the answers."

  He rose from the seat and folded the letter nto h s blazer pocket. "The cathedral t s." Hop ng to l h s sp r ts, I kept up a stream of chatter as we weaved our way across to the cathedral, tell ng h m about the pa r of peregr ne falcons that nested n the tower each year. Though he nodded at all the r ght t mes, I could tell he was st ll upset. I wondered f th s was how Adele had felt around me when Mum d ed. As f the other person's melancholy m ght swallow you whole f you stopped talk ng.

  "Where do you th nk they would keep t?" he asked as we stepped ns de the gloom of the clo sters.

  I thought back to the many t mes I'd v s ted n the school hol days as a ch ld. "There's a chapel; a treasury where they keep the valuable tems. If t's here, I'm sure that's where t'll be."

  "A treasury? I'm beg nn ng to th nk t m ght be for the best f we don't need the monstrance. I'm not sure I want to steal from a church." I gnored the comment as I led h m nto the ma n entrance. It wouldn't do to focus too much on how we'd actually get the monstrance. Part cularly when I had no dea myself.

  The ma n hall of the cathedral was br ght and a ry w th h gh vaulted ce l ngs and spectacular goth c arches. We strolled along the s de of the pews and through an ron gate nto the Chapel of the Four V rg ns. Ins de were rows of glass cab nets wh ch housed prec ous holy tems. A gu de—an elderly man w th a tweed blazer and checked sh rt—d ved on us as soon as we crossed the threshold. I d dn't m nd. We needed all the help we could get.

  Rupert hung back wh le I used our hackneyed l e. I d dn't even try to change what he pred cted I would say.

  "Rel g ous artefacts," the man repeated. "We certa nly have plenty of those."

  "We're nterested n look ng at your monstrances. I mean, f you have any." I added.

  "Ah, yes, we have a couple at the back f you'll l ke me to show you."

  Rupert and I exchanged a glance as we followed the man across the flagstones. "Of course, the monstrance s most commonly used n Cathol c worsh p," the man expla ned. "They use t to d splay the blessed sacrament, the bread that has been sp r tually transformed nto the body of Chr st."

  We arr ved at a sh ny cab net where two large monstrances were d splayed on the top shelf. One was extremely fancy w th an elaborate crystal stand and a s lvery sunburst, the other a s mple c rcle embedded nto a gold cruc f x. I glanced at Rupert to gauge h s react on. My heart dropped l ke a stone nto the p t of my stomach as he shook h s head.

  "Are these the only two you have n the cathedral?" I asked. "At the moment, yes. But we tend to change our d splays regularly, loan ng and borrow ng from other places of worsh p around the country. We do have a rather grand monstrance currently on loan at St. George's chapel n W ndsor. We had the honour of loan ng t out for the Royal Wedd ng back n July."

  Rupert's eyes w dened. "What date was the wedd ng?" he asked the man.

  I frowned, unsure what Rupert was gett ng at.

  "July 7th, I bel eve. The f rst Saturday n July."

  Rupert swayed on h s feet. F nally, t cl cked. That must've been the date that he travelled nto the future.

  "So, t's n W ndsor," I sa d, d vert ng the attent on back to me.

  "Yes, St. George's Chapel at W ndsor Castle."

  "When s t com ng back here?" "I'm afra d I'm not sure about that. It m ght go on d splay at the castle w th the other tems used at the wedd ng. Somet mes objects are gone for months. Occas onally they are loaned on to somewhere else."

  "Thank you," I sa d, plac ng a hand on Rupert's elbow to keep h m from keel ng over. "You've been really helpful."

  "You're welcome." Sm l ng, he turned h s attent on to a couple who'd strolled nto the room.

  "Let's go," I h ssed n Rupert's ear.

  Outs de, beneath the clo sters, Rupert looked as though he m ght throw up.

  "Was that the date you travelled to the future?" I asked h m. "July 7th?" "Yes," he sa d. He reached nto h s blazer pocket to retr eve h s uncle's letter. "Ifmycalculatonsarecorrect,"he read, "youhave journeyedtoapont ntmeconnectedtothemonstrance—a sgnfcanteventthatcreatedaunqueenergy.I've h t the na l on the

  head, haven't I? A royal wedd ng would have been packed w th energy. That's why I travelled to that spec f c po nt n t me. Cr key, Clement ne, I rather th nk I m ght need a sedat ve."

  I ra sed my hands, my head sp nn ng w th the new nformat on. "Okay. So, let's get th s stra ght. You touched the monstrance at the r ght t me when the planets al gned and because t was connected to th s po nt n t me, t sent you here?"

  "Yes. I th nk so. I don't know. What do you th nk? Could t be a co nc dence? Perhaps t's not the same monstrance at all." "I'm not sure how we could f nd out. I mean, the wedd ng was on telev s on, but I can't mag ne the cameras focus ng on holy rel cs all that much. We could search the nternet. But f t s the same one, what does t even really mean?"

  For a second a flash of hope llum nated h s face, h s eyes br ght n the gloom of the arches. "Don't you see? It would mean we could f nd another object, one l nked w th a po nt n the past. We m ght not even need the monstrance." He paused, star ng o nto the d stance. "It would mean I can go home."

  Chapter Twelve

  The next day at school, Adele wasn't buy ng my hosp tal l e. "You're up to someth ng," she sa d, as we headed nto our morn ng B ology class, "and I'd stake money on t that t has someth ng to do w th that wacky boy l v ng at the edge of the cl ."

  "I haven't seen Rupert s nce Monday," I l ed, hop ng that she wouldn't start w th the Span sh nqu s t on. As t turns out, I needn't have worr ed. No sooner had we reached our seats, her vo ce dropped to a wh sper. "Someth ng happened yesterday wh le you were at your fake hosp tal appo ntment."

  I rolled my eyes. "What happened?" Her face l t up l ke a Chr stmas tree as she sl d nto the seat bes de me. "Bas cally, I d dn't want to be a B lly no mates at luncht me, so I swallowed my pr de and sat on T a Mar e's table. Well, you know how her and R ch e Donovan are l ke second cous ns tw ce removed or someth ng? Well, he came and jo ned us, and T a-Mar e was all,

  whyareyousttngherewhenyou'reusuallyoutplayngfootewth yourgormlessmates? And then he d d th s we rd but totes adorbs th ng where he looked at me and sa d, I'monlyherebecauseAdele s." She paused to make a qu et h gh-p tched m n scream. "Then I get home last n ght, and he messages me on Facebook and asks me to go to the D sco w th h m."

  She clapped hands to her face Kev n from Home Alone style.

  "What d d you say?" "Well, I wanted to say yes r ght away, but I read n Cosmopol tan Magaz ne that t's not good to respond too qu ckly to a boy's text messages. Instead you need to create the llus on that you're extremely busy do ng fabulous th ngs and not just tr mm ng your toena ls or someth ng. So, I forced myself to wa t twenty-f ve m nutes and then I repl ed w th, Whynot?"

  I chuckled. "That's all you sa d?" She gr nned. "Gen us, sn't t? Whatever happens from here on n, I can pretend I never wanted to go out w th h m n the f rst place. Anyway, I know you're probably th nk ng that we planned to go together..."

  "No, t's f ne," I nterjected.

  "But I already expla ned I would meet h m there. No str ngs."

  "D d you actually say, nostrngs?"

  "Well, no but he gets how t s. He knows you and I come as a two for one deal." "Honestly, t's f ne. I'm not really fussed about go ng anyway." I flushed, remember ng the m sunderstand ng w th Rupert yesterday. "Bes des, I m ght even br ng Rupert. You know, because you already ment oned t and t would probably be rude not to."

  Adele gave me an over exaggerated w nk. "Yeah, r ght. L ke that's the reason." I pretended not to hear her as I reached ns de my bag for my books. The truth was that Rupert's arr val had me rattled n so many ways, t was mposs ble to d st ngu sh between one emot on and the next.

  I'd le h m yesterday a ernoon, por ng over h s uncle's academ c papers, a queer glow of exc tement lurk ng beh nd h s blue eyes. He d dn't seem at all d sappo nted that we hadn't gotten hold of the monstrance. In
deed, he acted as though he'd already solved the puzzle. As soon as I'd got home, I searched for p ctures and v deos of July's royal wedd ng, but just as I thought there were no mages of a monstrance. I wondered f the man at the cathedral had t wrong, or

  f they'd used t for decorat on only. E ther way, t d dn't matter. We d dn't have t. End of.

  "We're just fr ends," I told Adele. "Just because you're headed to the dark s de don't expect me to jo n you."

  She g ggled. "Ser ously, t's l ke I sa d the other day, w th decent clothes and ha r, he could be really cute."

  I'd just opened my mouth to protest when our teacher Mr H ggs walked nto the room, and the class lapsed nto s lence.

  *** At luncht me, Adele forced me to abandon our bench outs de the front o ce for one near the play ng f elds. Her mot ves soon became obv ous when R ch e Donovan appeared, attempt ng to sp n a football on h s ndex f nger and fa l ng m serably. Adele d dn't seem to m nd h s lack of sport ng prowess, however. She g ggled excess vely as he told her about how n fourth per od Maths, he'd acc dentally stabbed Devante w th h s compass. I wondered f th s would be our new rout ne now. Suddenly, the threat of seagull poop d dn't seem so bad.

  Out of concern for my school ng, Rupert had made me prom se not to call on h m n the a ernoon. I kept to my word and avo ded the beach on the way home, gnor ng the lure of d stant waves as I trudged up the path towards the house.

  As I rummaged n my bag for my keys, I real sed that for the f rst t me n a long wh le I d dn't m nd the dea of go ng home. S nce the Ital an

  restaurant last weekend, there had been a sh n Dad's behav our.

  He wasn't how he was before—I doubted he ever would be—but he

  seemed n less of a fog.

  I located my key and opened the door, paus ng on the threshold to scoop up a p le of ma l from the doormat. That should have been my f rst clue that Dad's foray nto recovery was noth ng but a f gment of my mag nat on. Yesterday the mat had been post-free.

  "Dad?" I called nto the gloom. S lence. I walked along the hallway nto the k tchen, d smayed to f nd the room exactly as I'd le t that morn ng—my empty glass and cereal bowl bes de the s nk, the bl nds st ll closed. The l v ng room was deadly qu et. I could tell from the musty a r that no one had been ns de t all day. A fam l ar claw t ghtened around my chest. For a t me, a er Mum d ed, I harboured the terr fy ng not on that I m ght come home to f nd Dad gone.

  Not out, or asleep, but gone. Just l ke Mum. I spr nted upsta rs and flung open the bedroom door, rel ef rush ng over me the second I heard h s qu et snores erupt ng from beneath the sheets.

  Before I le , I not ced someth ng glossy propped up on Mum's s de of the bed. It was the photo I'd found the other day n h s study, the snap of the r nfamous Rome tr p.

  I plucked t from the p llow and closed the door so ly beh nd me, star ng down at the mage of my sm l ng parents. T me s a cruel master. L ke sand sl pp ng through our f ngers at the beach, t s gone before we know to cher sh t. I held the p cture close to my face, tak ng n Mum's blonde ha r, the way she always stood; hand on h p, as f she were ready to take on the world. I tr ed to remember her scent—apple blossom and soap—her vo ce as she sa d goodbye the morn ng she d ed. But f t me s a cruel master, then memory s a sad st. I couldn't conjure up the exact p tch of her cl pped tones. I wondered f I'd forgotten.

  Dad's gr p of mourn ng extended a dark hand nto the hallway. But then my gaze snagged on her necklace and I thought of the words n Rupert's uncle's letter.

  'Ifmycalculatonsarecorrect,youhavejourneyedtoapont ntme connectedtothemonstrance—asgnfcanteventthatcreateda unqueenergy.Gold,slver,andotherprecousmetalsarevaluable becausetheycaptureasprtualforce.Whether t s nthepastorthe future sofnoconsequence'.

  The necklace; the s lver horseshoe she always wore. It had to be connected to her l fe, to a po nt n her past that I could use to channel s m lar energ es to those wh ch sent Rupert nto the future. Or f not the necklace, her wedd ng r ngs. The spark of hope d ed as

  t occurred to me that the most s gn f cant event m ght have been her death tself. If that was the case t would be too late to warn her. Though Rupert hadn't ment oned the spec f cs of when he'd arr ved back. Had t been the exact hour he'd le ? The stroke of m dn ght? I would have to ask h m.

  Of course, the whole th ng would be po ntless f t was mposs ble to get Rupert back home. I pushed open the door to the study and stepped ns de, dwell ng on the prom se I made a few n ghts ago, a vow not to search for Rupert's records a er that fateful day n n neteen twenty-s x. Though I completely understood the mot vat on beh nd h m not want ng to know, I couldn't help but marvel at how useful t would be, one way or another, to know for sure f he made t back.

  I sw tched on the Mac and sank onto the cha r, drumm ng my f ngers on the desk. Chances are I would f nd noth ng at all. Even f he made t back, he could have moved abroad or changed address. There could be hundreds f not thousands of Rupert Holt's to search through. St ll, there was no harm n hav ng a peek. But even as I pulled up the search eng ne and located the ancestry s te, a sense of dark forebod ng stole over me. I d dn't stop though. I couldn't. It was l ke Chr stmas when I was a l ttle k d, f nd ng a box beneath my parent's bed and know ng that I shouldn't open t.

  I d dn't stop then, and I d dn't stop now. I typed Rupert Holt nto the s te's record search and pressed enter. Just as I thought, there were over s x thousand results. Heart pound ng, I ref ned my search by select ng England as the country of res dence and typ ng the year of h s b rth. That narrowed th ngs down cons derably. I scrolled down and almost fell o the cha r as the words Port Haven jumped out at me. The l nk was ncluded under the head ngs Newspapers and Per od cals. My mouth turned dry and my knees wobbled. Suddenly nauseous, I hovered the mouse over the l nk. The date n bold read, 1941. I paused, wa t ng for a sense of loyalty to preva l. It was the very th ng Rupert had stressed he d dn't want me to do, and yet there I was, betray ng h m

  n the worst way mag nable.But tprobably sn'tevenhm,a vo ce n my head reasoned. On mpulse, I cl cked the l nk, and watched as a newspaper art cle appeared, a scanned copy of the or g nal posted by another user. For a few seconds, I couldn't make any sense of the words. They danced across the screen l ke demons, taunt ng my lack of ntegr ty.

  'Two k lled n Mounta n Crash.'

  Before I could stop myself, my eyes scanned the text. 'A Hurr cane a rcra crashed n the early hours of yesterday morn ng wh lst on a tra n ng exerc se above the Snowdon a mounta ns n North Wales. The p lot, Group Capta n Nev lle Dawes of Ipsden n Oxfordsh re s surv ved by w fe Marjor e and daughter Hazel. The a rcra 's Rear Gunner, Fly ng O cer Rupert Holt, s preceded n death by h s mother and father, Mr and Mrs Holt of Port Haven n Sussex. Both A rmen were k lled on mpact.'

  The blood n my ve ns froze as I sat r g d on the cha r. There had to be another Rupert Holt from Port Haven around at that t me. There had to be. Rupert had never ment oned any nterest n fly ng. On the contrary, he appeared to detest war and weaponry n all ts forms.

  I scrolled down to see f there was a p cture, but the art cle ended there. I supposed n wart me, a crash was common place and d dn't warrant more than a postage stamp-s zed amount of room on the page. I took a deep breath, and tr ed to calm down, aware that there were several ways n wh ch I could cross-reference the nformat on to know for sure f t were h m. There m ght be records of deceased RAF a rman onl ne, perhaps even photographs.

  My hand shot out and snapped the l d closed. I had seen enough. But I couldn't gnore the thoughts that began to pound through my head l ke a herd of w ld horses. If t were true and Rupert d ed n 1941—unmarr ed and ch ldless— t would expla n why Port Haven House had la n abandoned for all those years, why h s uncle had no one le to care for h m when he got s ck. It would mean he made t back n t me to leave h s th ngs n the secret room but wasn't able to

  nher t the property.

  I closed my eyes and covered my face w th my hands.

  Cur os ty really d d k ll the cat.

  Chapter Thrteen

  F
eel ng gu lty, I avo ded Rupert for the rest of the week. Instead, I spent my t me catch ng up on homework and l sten ng to Adele wax lyr cal about the h ghly m sunderstood soul that was R ch e Donovan.

  By the t me Fr day rolled around however, the shame of my d scovery had faded l ke a bad smell. I real sed that gu lt or no gu lt, I desperately wanted to see h m.

  As f I'd summoned h m from sheer w ll alone, I d scovered h m s tt ng on the doorstep that a ernoon, bask ng n the a ernoon rays of sunsh ne.

  He jumped up when he spotted me at the gate, sm l ng broadly. W th the sunl ght gl nt ng o h s w re-framed glasses and h s pr st ne cr cket wh tes, he was noth ng short of dazzl ng.

  "Laundry day," he sa d, pluck ng at h s polo sh rt. "Th s was all I had le ."

  I held my books t ght to my chest, nexpl cably shy. I suddenly couldn't get Adele's words about h s appearance out of my head.

  I frowned. "How on earth are you manag ng to do laundry?"

  "The pump outs de and a bar of soap. I heated water over the f re. Mother would be excess vely proud."

  He beamed aga n, and my heart lurched. I tr ed not to th nk what I'd read about h s parent's death. I unz pped my rucksack and rummaged ns de for my house keys. "I'm sorry I haven't been over to see you," I sa d, squ nt ng aga nst the sun, "but school has been pretty man c th s week."

  "Funn ly enough I was about to extend an apology to you. I've been rather engrossed n Uncle's thes s these past few days."

  "Oh," I sa d, tw st ng the key n the lock and push ng open the door. "Have you found anyth ng nterest ng?"

  He nodded. "Th s and that. If I m ght be so bold to nv te myself n, I'd be del ghted to share t w th you."

  I chuckled. "I m ssed you."

  H s cheeks turned red as he stuttered, "Oh well, yes, t's certa nly been a wrench."

  A s lence descended. I prayed that Dad m ght appear to break the tens on, but t seemed he'd gone out. "I wouldn't m nd us ng your nternet," he cont nued. "I've been study ng Uncle's star charts th s past week, and there are a couple of th ngs I'd l ke to clar fy."