The Portal (9 page)

‘Clothes?'

‘In the wardrobe room.' Brin gestured across the lobby. ‘Passengers would look a bit odd outside in their own clothes, so your dad kept something for most sizes and seasons.'

‘I'm not surprised Mrs Hepworth was so upset,'
he went on. ‘You have to try and imagine what it's like to come to another world, a different planet, that most people in the Federation aren't allowed to visit, and have a chance to walk on it, breathe the air… You may be used to it, but to a visitor it's more special than you might think.'

William thought of General Ghool looking out over the valley in the moonlight.

‘So I can let them out whenever they want?'

‘Your dad never let passengers out on their own,' said Brin. ‘Your mother usually went with them. Partly to keep an eye on them and partly because she was the one who could answer any questions they might have. About plants and animals and that sort of thing.'

Brin paused. ‘He was going to tell you about all this, you know. This summer. He reckoned you'd be old enough, and he was going to show you the station, maybe let you start helping look after things, meet a few passengers…'

‘But then he disappeared,' said William.

‘Yes,' said Brin. ‘I don't understand that any more than you do.' He placed a hand comfortingly on William's shoulder. ‘But maybe Larry'll pick up some clues today, eh?'

They did pick up one clue about what had happened to William's parents that day, but it was
not as a result of anything Uncle Larry discovered from the Federation Security Forces. The information came from Mr Drew, the vet, who arrived at the back door at lunchtime, accompanied by a slightly breathless Mrs Duggan and Timber.

‘Ah, William.' Mr Drew had called in many times over the last few years and knew him well. ‘Are your parents around?'

‘They're away at the moment,' said William. ‘Is anything wrong?'

‘I'm not sure.' Mr Drew held up a large leather bag. ‘I found this in the quarry. It's your mother's, isn't it?'

‘Yes!' William recognized the bag at once. It was the one his mother took whenever she went out for a walk. It carried a bottle of water, her notebooks and any plant specimens she might find on the way.

‘I was a little concerned…' The vet placed the bag carefully on the table. ‘Because these spots here…' he pointed to one corner of the bag, ‘…are blood.' He looked across at William. ‘Is everything all right?'

‘Blood?' said William. ‘Are you sure?'

‘Positive,' said the vet. ‘Where is your mother at the moment?'

‘She's… she's gone on holiday.' William reached forward to touch the bag. ‘Where did you say you found it?'

‘The quarry,' said Mr Drew.

‘Called him out cos of one of the sheep,' said Mrs Duggan. ‘Fell over the edge.'

William knew the quarry. It was a large hole dug in the side of the hill on the edge of the farm and used now as a rubbish dump. If a sheep had fallen into it, he was not surprised it had been injured. There were all sorts of rusted bits of metal down there.

‘I saw the bag,' it was Mr Drew speaking again,
‘when I climbed down to the sheep. And there was more blood on the ground. You say your mother's gone on holiday?'

‘Yes.'

‘When did she go?'

William was finding it hard to think. It was his mother's bag – she never went anywhere without it – and now it had been found in the quarry. With blood on it.

‘William?' repeated the vet. ‘When did she go?'

‘Last… last Thursday, I think.'

‘Thursday?' Mr Drew frowned. ‘I was out here Thursday morning, and your mother didn't say anything about going on holiday. Where's she gone?'

‘France,' said William. ‘She went with Dad.'

‘Do you know where in France?'

‘Not really. They're camping.'

‘Postcard came,' said Mrs Duggan. ‘On the Saturday.' She pointed at the card on the dresser.

The vet picked it up and read it. ‘They went for a surprise holiday on the Thursday and you got this card on the Saturday?'

William nodded.

‘I'm sorry,' said Mr Drew, ‘but there's something not quite right about all this. I think it might be best if we call the police.'

‘The police?'

‘I don't wish to alarm you…' Mr Drew reached into his pocket and took out his mobile. ‘But it seems clear to me that there's been some sort of accident. The bag, the blood, your parents not being here – I could be wrong but I think –'

Mr Drew never got to say what he thought, because at that moment Mrs Duggan hit him on the back of his head with a frying pan. It was a large, heavy pan and he fell to the floor with a quiet sigh of surprise. For a moment, nobody moved, except Timber, who picked up one of the chair cushions, lifted up the vet's head with his nose and pushed the cushion underneath with his paws.

‘Brin still here?' asked Mrs Duggan.

‘I… um… yes…' said William.

‘Better go down and get him then,' said Mrs Duggan grimly. ‘And tell him to bring a medipac.'

As William went racing along to the hall, he was thinking
down
… Mrs Duggan had told him to go down and get Brin. Which meant she knew about the station. She must have known all along. He found Brin in the recreation room, and told him what had happened. Before he was halfway through the story, Brin had grabbed the medipac and was running towards the lift.

In the kitchen, he gave Mrs Duggan a brief nod
and bent down beside the body on the floor. He took two discs from the medipac, stuck one on the vet's arm and the other on his neck.

‘He was going to call the police,' said Mrs Duggan, peering anxiously down at the body. ‘Didn't hit him too hard, did I?'

‘Diagnosis: contusion to the back of the skull. Mild concussion probable,' said the voice from the medipac. ‘Medication prepared.'

‘He's fine.' Brin took a blue disc from the case and peeled off the cover. ‘Big bruise, but most of that'll be gone by the time he wakes up.'

‘Might be best,' said Mrs Duggan, ‘if he didn't remember any of this.'

‘I agree.' Brin burrowed in the medipac for a moment and came out with an orange-coloured device about the size of a bar of chocolate. ‘How long do we need?'

Mrs Duggan looked up at the kitchen clock. ‘He got here about two. Took us ten minutes to get to the quarry…' She paused for a moment. ‘Couldn't be more'n half an hour.'

‘I'll give him forty minutes,' said Brin, ‘to be on the safe side.' He tapped at some keys on the device before placing it under the vet's head. He pointed to the bag. ‘Could someone get rid of that before he comes round?'

Timber put his paws on the table, took the bag
in his teeth and carried it over to the kitchen dresser. Pushing open a door with his nose, he put the bag inside on a shelf and closed it again.

‘Could someone tell me what's going on?' asked William. The speed with which everything was happening made him feel a bit as if he'd been hit on the head with a frying pan himself.

‘I'm wiping out any memories he has of the last forty minutes,' said Brin, removing the device and then peeling off the patches he had placed on the vet. ‘So when he comes round he won't remember anything about the bag or being hit on the head. We'll tell him…' He paused.

‘Tell him he came up to the house to say hello,' said Mrs Duggan, ‘and slipped on the floor.'

‘Right.' Brin nodded. ‘We don't need to make it any more complicated than that. It'll only confuse him.'

He wouldn't be the only one, thought William, and he watched as the vet gave a low groan and sat up.

‘What… what happened?' he asked.

‘You slipped,' said Brin.

‘Tripped over that bit of carpet,' said Mrs Duggan. ‘Banged your head. You all right?'

‘I… I think so…' Mr Drew looked uncertainly round the kitchen. ‘You… you wanted me to look at one of the sheep… didn't you?'

‘No, no, you've done all that.' Mrs Duggan took him by the arm. ‘Then we came up here to say hello to William, remember?'

‘No…' said Mr Drew. ‘No, I don't.'

‘Bang on the head must have shaken you up pretty bad.' Mrs Duggan took him by the arm and steered him towards a chair.

‘You sit yourself down,' said Brin, ‘and I'll make a cup of tea.'

‘Oh… That would be… Thank you.' Still looking rather dazed, Mr Drew did as he was told and smiled faintly at William. ‘Hello, William! How are things with you?'

‘Oh, fine,' said William. ‘Couldn't be better.'

When Uncle Larry got back and heard what had happened, he looked at the bag with the blood and pulled thoughtfully at his beard. ‘This whole business,' he said, ‘gets more and more confusing.'

‘Is it Mum's blood?' asked William. ‘On the bag?'

‘Yes,' said Uncle Larry, ‘I think it is.'

‘What do you think's happened? Has she had an accident?'

Uncle Larry did not answer directly. Instead, he stood up and walked over to the window, staring out at the fields at the back of the farmhouse.

‘You know what bothers me?' he said eventually.
‘You know what really bothers me about all this? It's that none of it makes any sense. None of it! I keep running through the possibilities in my head and none of them work!' He turned to William. ‘You ask if your mother's had an accident. Well, let's imagine she did. Let's imagine she fell into the quarry and was so badly hurt she couldn't use her phone to call for help. But then what happened to your dad? Did he have an accident as well? At the same time? And even if that is what happened, where are the bodies?'

Uncle Larry began pacing up and down the kitchen.

‘So maybe it wasn't an accident. Maybe it was a kidnapping. Maybe some terrorist pod from Pastinare is staging one of their protests against the Federation, but if it was, why haven't they said something? The whole point of a kidnapping is to make the other side give in to your demands, and nobody's made any demands.'

‘Do you think they're dead?' asked William.

Uncle Larry stopped pacing, and turned to face him. ‘Let's say they are,' he said. ‘Let's take the worst case scenario and imagine both your parents have been murdered. They were very unlucky and they happen to have strayed into the path of a psychopath who murdered them both for no other reason than that's what he liked doing. But if that
is what happened – and it means leaving aside the fact that your dad always carried a wham-gun and that either of them only had to press a button on their phones to raise the alarm – where are the bodies? If they were buried anywhere on the farm, Emma would know, and if they'd been taken outside the perimeter she'd know that as well. You see what I mean? It doesn't make sense! None of it makes any sense at all!'

‘So we leave it to Federation Security to solve?' asked Brin.

Uncle Larry looked at him. ‘I don't know what else we can do.' He picked up the bag. ‘I'll give them this, tell them about the quarry and the blood, and ask them to get back to us as soon as they can.' He held up a hand as Brin opened his mouth to speak. ‘And, yes, I know William can't manage the station on his own while we're waiting.' He sighed. ‘I'm still working on that one.'

That night, as William lay in bed, thoughts of accidents, murder and kidnapping whirled through his mind. Something terrible had happened to his parents. That was why they had disappeared. That was why they were never going to come back. They had been attacked by an axe murderer, or run over by a bus or… or…

Thinking of all the things that might have
happened kept him awake a good deal of the night. He lay in bed, tossing and turning, trying to fight back a rising sense of panic, and only finally fell asleep towards dawn.

And while he slept, he had a dream.

He was on a ship, in a terrible storm. He was in a room below decks with a lot of other people, including Daniel and Amy and Mrs Duggan, and the ship was being thrown around by the waves and everyone was terrified that at any moment it would sink and they would all be drowned.

Someone should go up on deck, William thought, and find out what was happening. Were the waves big enough to overwhelm them? Were they near a shore and about to be thrown on the rocks? He needed to know, so, in the dream, he made his way up to the deck, then along a gangway through the howling wind and driving rain, and up a ladder that led to the bridge.

Pushing open the door, he was astonished to see the man at the helm was his father. His feet were braced against the deck, his arms gripped the wheel and his face peered out at the wind-torn waves ahead. William's mother was standing beside him and, when the wheel gave a lurch to the right, she reached out to help steady it.

William's heart filled at the sight of them. He wanted to rush over and hug them, to tell them
how much he had missed them and how worried he had been, but he knew at once that they shouldn't be disturbed. They were both too busy and, without a word, he went back down the ladder and along the gangway to rejoin Daniel and Amy and Mrs Duggan.

But, as he did so, everything felt different. He found he was no longer worried or anxious, because he knew now that Mum and Dad were all right, that everything was all right.

It was a wonderful dream. It was just a pity that he had to wake up at the end of it.

When William got up the next morning, he had made a decision. Brin had said that he could not manage the station on his own – and he was right – but William knew he didn't want anyone else to take over the job. He didn't want a stranger doing his father's work, sitting in his father's chair in the pantry, and using the tools in his workshop. When his parents came back from wherever they had been, William wanted them to find everything just as it had been when they left, so that life could carry on as before.