Katy Parker and the House that Cried (11 page)

Patrick sat up yawning and rubbing his eyes. “This better be good, Katy. I'm tired. I was having a lovely dream,” he mumbled, still half asleep.

“It's the bomb! That's why we've been sent here. I remember Charlie saying the one and only bomb that ever fell on Knutsburry fell on 15
^th
May, 1942! It's obvious, isn't it – we're meant to stop it happening and save everyone.”

Patrick was suddenly very awake. “But how? We can't change the course of history. We don't know what will happen if we do.”

“What do you mean we can't change history? Who's going to stop us?” challenged Katy.

“I mean we shouldn't. It's dangerous to mess about with fixed dates in time. If we change things, we might alter the whole course of history for the worse – it's called the butterfly effect,” said Patrick.

“You've been watching too much TV. Your theories are wrong Patrick – we have to change it. I'm going to save Mrs Graham and Susie. Are you going to help me or not?”

“Calm down, Katy. Think about it. No one is going to believe us if we try to warn them about the bomb. Everyone is always saying that it's a quiet war
around here, that Hitler would never bomb sleepy old Knutsburry. I don't see how we can make a difference.”

“Today is the 12th of May. We have exactly three days to work this thing out and come up with a plan.”

Neither of them had a clue how to proceed but before Patrick could reply the door creaked open and Mrs Graham popped her head around. “Quiet you two. Katy, get back into bed and no more chatting, it's very late. The twins have been asleep for ages. Sweet dreams and I'll see you both bright and early in the morning.”

The urgency of the situation was confirmed first thing the next morning when the twins didn't appear for breakfast.

Mrs Graham walked downstairs with a worried look on her face. “Keep away from the twins. They're covered in chickenpox and feel quite poorly with it. I've covered them in calamine lotion to stop the itching and told them to stay in bed. You'll have to do without their company for a couple of days, I'm afraid.”

Katy looked at Patrick. It had started – just as Charlie had described to them that day in his garden. What could they do?

Willow Dene felt unnaturally quiet without the twins crashing about and jumping out of cupboards to scare you. No tennis balls or cricket bats lay around the corner waiting to trip you up. Even the usual routine of school had been interrupted by the start of the May halfterm holidays.

They spent Monday morning doing jobs for Mrs Graham, who was expecting some new evacuees from Liverpool called Doris and Edna Burton. Katy was stunned when she heard Mrs Graham talking about the possibility of Doris and Edna being sent to Canada by boat to escape the war entirely and live with distant relatives.

“But how will they see their mum and dad?” asked Katy.

“Doris and Edna have been very unlucky. Their mum was killed a couple of weeks ago in an explosion at the munitions factory where she worked. They've been staying with various neighbours ever since.”

“But what about their dad?” asked Katy.

“He was killed at Dunkirk, trying to rescue soldiers from the beach. There are no living relatives left in England that can give them a proper home. That's why they're coming to us, just until it's all sorted out.”

For the first time, the harsh reality of the war really hit Katy. She and Patrick had been enjoying playing at it for the last few weeks but for everyone else around them it was a grim reality.

“I'll help out as much as I can, Mrs Graham, just let me know what I can do,” Katy whispered in reply, a sudden sadness falling over her at the thought of Doris and Edna's misfortune.

“Well, I do have something in mind. I wasn't going to tell you, as I wanted it to be a surprise but with the twins being ill, I'll need an extra pair of hands. The Parish Council has arranged a special treat for evacuees and their host families.”

“Ooh, what's going to happen?” asked Katy, excitedly.

“We're having a party in the village hall in the afternoon,” answered Mrs Graham, “and then we're going to the cinema to see some cartoons. There's a lot to do, what with decorating the hall and getting together enough rations to make a cake and sandwiches. Lots of people are contributing so we should be able to put on a good spread.”

Katy and Patrick were kept busy for the next two days making bunting and banners to decorate the
hall and helping out. As a result they had got no further in working out how to evacuate the cinema before the bomb fell. Sitting at one of the trestle tables in the village hall, making paper chains, they quietly discussed their options.

“Charlie said the bomb fell early in the evening, around six o'clock. We've got to time our plan right. But what can we do?” whispered Katy.

“Why don't we just go to the cinema with everyone. Just before six o'clock we could create a disturbance – shouting and screaming that everyone's got to leave because a bomb is going to fall on the cinema,” suggested Patrick.

“That won't work. No one will believe us. They'll just think we're causing trouble, trying to spoil things. We'll be the only ones made to leave the cinema,” said Katy.

“You're probably right. We need to do it so everyone automatically starts to evacuate without questioning it,” he replied.

“But how? I keep racking my brain, but I can't come up with anything. . . I think it's time we talked to Charlie. I'm certain that's what we're meant to do. I just hope we haven't left it too late. In the meantime,
let's try and persuade Mrs Graham not to go to the cinema – we have to at least try something.”

* * * *

On Wednesday morning, Katy and Patrick woke early, consumed by mounting dread and anxiety. They both felt sick to the pit of their stomachs with the thought of what would happen later that day.

In the kitchen, Mrs Graham was busy making up a breakfast tray for the twins with boiled-eggs and soldiers. “As soon as you've both had breakfast and done your chores, I want you to go back up to the village hall and help with the sandwiches and tidying up, please.”

“I want Katy to stay and play mums and dads with me,” demanded Susie. “It's not fair; I never get to do anything good. Why can't I come to the cinema with you?”

“I've already told you, Susie, the film starts too late for you. Katy will take you on Saturday morning,” replied Mrs Graham.

As planned, Patrick and Katy took the opportunity to try and dissuade Mrs Graham from going to the
cinema. “Do you think it's a good idea to take Doris and Edna to the cinema this evening? They'll probably be tired after all their travelling and want an early night,” said Patrick.

Mrs Graham considered this briefly, then dismissed it. “Oh no, they'll enjoy it. They need a distraction after all they've gone through. They can have a lie in tomorrow morning.”

It was Katy's turn to try and change her mind. “The twins seem much worse this morning, I'm not sure you should leave them this evening. What if they need you and you're out?”

“Stop worrying you two. Everything will be fine. Hillary is coming round at five o'clock to babysit Susie and keep an eye on the twins. She's more than capable of dealing with any problems. Enough of this nonsense, we still have lots to do if we're going to be ready for the party at two o'clock.”

Katy and Patrick set off for the village hall, a feeling of impending doom hanging in the air around them. They were greeted at the door by Mrs Evans, the vicar's wife. “I'm glad to see you two!” she exclaimed, looking rather red-faced and flustered. “There's still so much to do. Katy you're needed in the kitchen to
help prepare the sandwiches. Patrick, Charlie is in the store room and needs help with the chairs.”

Katy made her way to the kitchen, which had become a hive of activity and noise. Someone had set up a gramophone on the serving hatch and lively old-fashioned dance music played as they all worked together in a sort of production line, trying to get things ready in time for the evacuees' arrival. Someone passed her an apron and thrust a large bowl of hard-boiled eggs into her hands, instructing her to peel and mash them for egg and cress sandwiches.

The next couple of hours passed in a whirl of excitement as the finishing touches were put to the village hall. It was a large wooden building with windows all down one side, and a raised platform at the far end, on which amateur drama productions and music concerts took place. On the far wall hung a large portrait of the King and Queen and several Union Jack flags. A long row of wooden trestle tables had been set up down the centre of the room and they had been covered with a wide variety of different coloured tablecloths that had been donated especially for the occasion.

“You three can skedaddle now,” said Mrs Evans, “You'll need to go home and get ready for the party. The room looks lovely – you've all done a great job. Make sure you're back here in time to greet the evacuees. We want them to feel welcome.”

“Katy,” hissed Patrick urgently, “we have to tell Charlie now. We can't put it off any longer.”

Katy felt sick with anxiety. “We'll tell him on the walk home. . . What if he can't help us?”

The three of them wandered off back home, walking slowly and chatting as they went. A lull in the conversation gave Patrick the courage to spit it out, once and for all. “Charlie, we have something to tell you. It's not a joke. We're deadly serious. In fact it's a matter of life and death that you believe us.”

Charlie stopped walking and turned to face Patrick. “What's this then Patrick? You sound a bit scared.”

Patrick glanced at Katy, his eyes full of worry. Katy picked up the story for him. “This sounds crazy Charlie. . . but something terrible is going to happen tonight just after six o'clock.”

Charlie stared at them both, “What do you mean, something terrible?” he asked.

Katy took a deep breath and continued, “A German bomber is going to drop a bomb on Knutsburry. The bomb is going to land on the cinema and kill everyone inside. We need your help, Charlie. We can't stop the bomb falling, but we can try and keep everyone safe. We just need to come up with a plan.”

Charlie stared at them with an incredulous look on his face. After a long pause he finally said, “That's not a very nice joke. Bombs are no laughing matter. You should know that, being evacuees from London.”

Katy replied, “That's just the thing Charlie. We're not actually evacuees at all. Not really.”

“What do you mean you're not evacuees? You're not making sense Katy.”

“I'll try and explain if you'll just listen, Charlie. It won't be easy to believe but please try.”

Charlie stared at them both and folded his arms, signalling Katy to carry on. Katy hesitated. Charlie didn't look like he was going to believe them. With no other option, she launched into their tale – one she had silently rehearsed many times. The sense of relief she felt at finally being able to share their story with someone else was overwhelming.

“Patrick and I are really from the future. We were spending the afternoon at Willow Dene, researching life during the Second World War for my history project.”

Patrick interrupted, “We had just eaten a lovely tea prepared by you!”

“What do you mean, prepared by me? Have you both gone mad?” said Charlie, scornfully.

“No Charlie, it's true. We know you in the future. You look after Willow Dene for the twins. Your grandson, Tom, goes to our school – Katy's got a crush on him!”

Katy elbowed Patrick. “Stick to the important facts. We'd been listening to the radio and reading old magazines and we both fell asleep. When we woke up, we found ourselves in 1942.”

Patrick interrupted once more. “It's taken us a while to figure it out but we finally know why this has happened. We've been sent here to save the people in the cinema, especially Mrs Graham and Susie. They're not meant to die – not yet – not like this.”

Charlie sat down with his head in his hands. After what seemed like an eternity, he looked up at them both with a look of complete disbelief on his face.
“Can you prove any of this? You can't just expect me to believe a story like this without proof.”

Katy and Patrick stared at each other helplessly. Proof? They had nothing; Charlie would never believe them now.

Suddenly, Patrick jumped up and screamed out in delight, “I
do
have proof for you! When I met you in the future we chatted in your potting shed. You showed me your granddad's medal. He'd survived the trenches of the Great War and gave you the medal for luck. You promised your granddad you'd carry it with you always. Go on put your hand in your pocket, I bet it's there!”

Charlie stared at Patrick in astonishment as he pulled the medal out of his pocket, just as Patrick had said.

“How did you know that? I haven't told anyone that Granddad gave me that medal. . . I can't believe I'm going to say this but. . . I think I believe you. There's no way you could know about my medal unless I told you.”

Charlie then became very excited and full of questions about life in the future. Katy was trying her best to answer them when Patrick finally cut in. “There's
no time for chatting, you two. What are we going to do about the bomb? We've got to save Mrs Graham and Susie. Susie is only three years old. We have to make sure she makes it to her fourth birthday next week.”

Charlie sat lost in thought. Finally he looked up, smiling hesitantly, “OK, you two. I've got a plan. Listen up and I'll tell you what we can do.”

The three of them huddled together and Katy and Patrick listened as Charlie hatched his plan.

 

Chapter 9

The Plan Unfolds