The Witches of Chiswick (20 page)

“It’s not as good as I’d hoped for,” said Wells.

“The 1809 is much better.”

“You certainly know your vintages, young man.”

“I had a good teacher. But alas he is now dead. And I am sworn to avenge his death and bring his assassin to justice.”

“Jack the Ripper,” said Wells. “The very thought of that monster abroad on the streets sends a chill into my heart. Give me a little more port.”

Will did so.

“It’s why I’m here,” said Will, sipping further port. “I believe that Rune was trying to reach your home when his attacker caught up with him.”

“I believe that too. More port, if you please.”

Will administered more port.

“It is deeply regrettable that Rune never reached here,” said Mr Wells. “Particularly so because he had promised to pay me back a sum of money he had borrowed and also to aid me in my present predicament.”

“Your being invisible, do you mean?”

“Of course I do.”

“But why do you call that a predicament? It’s an incredible scientific achievement.”

“Science is bunk!” cried Mr Wells. And he spat as he cried it. “I put my faith in science. I believed that the world could be explained according to scientific principles. I was wrong.”

“How so?” Will asked.

“Because this world does not function according to scientific principles. It functions according to magic”

“Oh,” said Will. “Really? Do you think so?”

“Look at me,” said Wells. “Look at what little you can see of me. I never intended to become invisible. I wanted to become taller. The little you can see of me is short, is it not?”

“Not
that
short,” said Will. “I’ve seen shorter.”

“Only at the circus. I worked on a growth serum. To alter my metabolism and increase my height. It failed dismally. The result you see, or don’t see, before you.”

“And being invisible is a
bad
thing?”

“Have you ever tried to shave yourself when you can’t see your reflection in the mirror? You cannot imagine how awful it is to be invisible.”

“I can imagine what fun it might be,” said Will.

“Oh yes. Such as creeping into ladies’ rooms and watching them undress.”

“Things like that,” said Will.

“I am a scientist, not a voyeur.”

“Quite so,” said Will.

“Do you think I would gain pleasure by sneaking unseen into Buckingham Palace and positioning myself upon her Majesty’s toilet, so that she sat down unknowingly upon me and did her business?”

“Absolutely not!” Will made a disgusted face. “Such a thought never entered my head. Are you all right, Mr Wells?”

Mr Wells had a curious expression upon what could be seen of his talcumed head. An expression of ecstasy.

“I’m fine,” said Wells, doing snappings-out-of-it. “Fine.”

“And Rune was going to return you to visibility, through some means or another?”

“Through magic,” said Wells. “Which seems to triumph over science at any given opportunity.”

“But you invented the time machine. That’s a triumph of science if ever there was one.”

“If only that were true.”

“But it worked. I know it worked. I came here in it from the future.”

“Not through any efforts of mine,” said Mr Wells.

“But you invented it.”

“But it didn’t work.”

Barry stirred in Will’s head. “I’ve been out for the count, chief. What happened, are we all right?”

“I’m just having a little chat with Mr Wells. Please be quiet, Barry.”

“Aaagh!” went Barry.

“Aaagh!” went Mr Wells.

Will scratched at his aching head and then he peered at Mr Wells. “Why did you just go, ‘aaagh!’?” he asked.

“You spoke the name Barry.”

“I did,” said Will.

“Barry,” said Mr Wells. “He’s in
your
head, isn’t he?”

“He might be,” said Will. “What is it to you?”

“The time machine,” said Mr Wells. “He was the power behind it. He made it work.”

“Barry did?”

“He’s a loony, chief,” said Barry. “And why is he all talcumed up? And why has he got bits missing? And oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.”

“What do you mean, Mr Wells?” Will asked.

“Forget whatever he means,” said Barry. “Let’s get out of here, chief. Things to do, places to go. Chiswick, for instance.”

“Be quiet, Barry.”

“Inside your head,” said Mr Wells. “Your poor fool.”

“Hold on there,” said Will.

“Let’s be off,” said Barry.

“No, I want to hear what Mr Wells has to say.”

“I don’t.”

“Then go back to sleep.”

“That thing,” said Mr Wells, “that thing in your head was the power behind my time machine. I was working on the project but getting nowhere. Rune came round for dinner. He needed money, but I was disinclined to lend him any, as I had done so before on several previous occasions and failed to receive repayment. Rune told me that he could make my time machine work if I advanced him one hundred pounds. He was a very persuasive speaker. I gave him the money.”

“And Barry made the time machine work?”

“It was nothing, chief, I can’t take all the credit.”

“
Credit
? Mr Wells’ time machine brought that terminator robot thing into the future to kill me. And that’s why I’m here, now.” Will had a very fierce face on; thankfully for Barry he couldn’t see it.

“You’re getting it wrong, chief,” the sprout protested. “It’s not how you think, it wasn’t my fault.”

“So whose fault was it?”

“Search me, chief.”

“I’m going to release you now, Mr Wells,” said Will. “Don’t get me wrong; I don’t trust you. You seem like a very bitter individual to me.”

“You’d be bitter too if you were in my position.”

“Well, be that as it may, I am going to release you. It’s time Barry and I had a long talk.”

“You won’t get much truth out of him.”

“I think I might. Do you possess a pair of tweezers? A
long
pair?”

“I do,” said Mr Wells.

“All right, chief, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

Will thought about this. “I’m not even certain that I know what it is I want to know.”

“Fair enough then, chief, so let’s get on our way.”

“Ask him about his twin brother,” said Mr Wells.

“Damn,” said Barry.

“Cough it up,” said Will.

“Family business,” said Barry. “You wouldn’t be interested.”

Will reached down and untied Mr Wells. “I’ll help you up,” said he. “Let’s find your longest tweezers.”

“All right, chief, I’ll tell you everything.”

“Everything?” Will asked.

“Everything,” said Barry.

Mr Wells now sat in a comfy fireside chair, cushions all about him, his invisible broken ankle swathed in bandages and resting on a Persian pouffe. Will stoked up the fire and settled into a chair of similar comfort opposite the partially visible man.

“So, Barry,” said Will. “Would you like to tell me all about it?”

“Not really, chief.”

“Well, that is neither here nor there, nor anywhere else for that matter. Just tell me the truth and all of the truth.”

“And we’ll keep it between the two of us, yes, chief?”

“I don’t think so. Mr Wells seems to know something about this. I’d like him to hear it too.”

Mr Wells toasted Will with a glass of vintage port.

“All right then, chief. Tell you what, close your eyes and let your jaw go slack and I’ll work your vocal cords.”

Will shook his head and sighed. “If it will save time, then I will.” And so Will closed his eyes and slackened his jaw.

And Barry manipulated Will’s vocal cords.

“We must be off,” said the voice of Will. “Goodbye now, Mr Wells.”

“No!” Will’s eyes became widely open. “Just tell the truth and let’s be done with it.” And he closed his eyes and slackened his jaw once again.

And in that cosy room, with the comfy chairs and the dancing firelight and the light of the morning entering the windows, Barry told his tale through the mouth of Will Starling.

“Firstly,” he said. “You have to understand that none of this is my fault. Well, possibly some of it is, but most of it isn’t. You can look upon me as not just a Holy Guardian sprout assigned to bring comfort to a single individual, but as more of a Holy Guardian of the World sprout, a sprouty soldier of fortune on constant assignment to the forces of goodness and purity.”

Mr Wells made groaning sounds.

“Your ankle paining you?” Barry asked.

“Your banal conversation,” said Mr Wells.

“But it’s true,” said Barry. “It really is. As a scholar you must surely know that since the time of Christ, and possibly even before, mankind has been under the constant belief that it is living in the End Times; that the Apocalypse and Armageddon, and things of that nature generally, are about to occur.”

“This is indeed so,” said Mr Wells. “End Time cults have existed throughout history. There have been countless false messiahs, preaching that, ‘the end is at hand’. All have been wrong, however.”

“On the contrary,” said Barry. “Most have been correct. Mankind stands teetering on the edge of destruction. It always stands teetering on the edge of destruction. Always has, probably always will.”

“Stuff and nonsense,” said Mr Wells. “Amply proven by history. We are still here, are we not?”

“Only because of the likes of me.” Barry now moved Will’s hand towards his mouth and poured port into it.

“Oi!” said Will, regaining control of himself. “Cut that out. Just do the talking.”

“There is always some terrible conspiracy,” Barry continued. “Always some fiendish plot on the part of the forces of evil to destroy mankind and unleash chaos upon the world. Always. The likes of me are forever engaging in titanic struggle against the likes of them. We thwart their sinister plots and save mankind from extinction. Why only last month—”

“Only last month you were in Rune’s steamer trunk,” said Will, before relaxing once again.

“Chief, I can travel through time. I could pop off this moment, do things for years and years in another time and then be right back here a split second later, before you even realised that I was gone.
There
; I did it, then.”

“Tell us about your brother,” said Mr Wells. “I am sure Mr Starling would like to hear all about him.”

“I would,” Will agreed.

“Then just slacken that jaw and listen, chief.”

Barry continued with the telling of his tale. “I can’t do anything Without human help,” he said. “I need a ‘host’ to work with, as it were. Someone enlightened, who can actually hear the voice of their Holy Guardian. Most folk cannot. Choosing the right host isn’t easy, which is why some of my kind come to grief. They fall in with the wrong crowd, like my brother has a habit of doing, and then the trouble starts.”

“I spy a flaw in your line of debate,” said Mr Wells. “Surely
everyone
, according to reasoning, has a Holy Guardian Angel, be it angel or vegetable, assigned to them at birth.”

“That’s the way God does business,” said Barry. “Well, not God exactly, because He doesn’t get around to doing much of anything nowadays, but one of His operatives, in a department, in heaven, somewhere.”

“But
everyone
has one.”

“Yes,” said Barry. “I told you that.”

“So where is Mr Starling’s? When you moved in, did you evict the previous tenant?”

“Ah,” said Barry.

“Ah,” said Mr Wells.

“Allow me to explain,” said Barry. “Evicting the previous tenant, as you put it, is not something to be entered into lightly. It can have a dire effect on the ‘host’. Conflicting voices in the head, that kind of thing. It will be called schizophrenia in a few decades from now. It’s a tricky business. I am here at this present time because of the
big trouble
that is here. Mr Rune, for all his unconventional behaviour, was one of the good guys. He was dedicated to the fight against evil. I sought him out to help. But his Holy Guardian, Gavin the gooseberry—”

“
What
?” went Will.

“Slacken up, chief.”

Will slackened up.

“Gavin the gooseberry wasn’t having any of it. He thought he knew best. So I manifested in physical form to Mr Rune during one of his many abortive conjurations. But he didn’t trust me, and he kept me in a box. I was trying and trying to win him over and let me come inside. I could have made short work of that Gavin, sprout against a gooseberry, no contest! But however it didn’t come to pass, because Mr Rune had a plan of his own and it so happened that my plan and his plan joined together perfectly. Rune sought knowledge of future events, very possibly to lay bets upon race horses, but I’m sure also to aid the forces of good. I suggested to him that although it was a radical thing to do, I might be persuaded to bring someone back from the future; someone who would have knowledge of past events which were still future events to Mr Rune. If you understand me.”

Mr Wells nodded and sipped port.

“And this was the clever bit,” said Barry. “Rune wanted to bring back his magical heir, a descendant of his. The last of his line, in fact.”

“Tim.” Will worked his own mouth.

“Tim,” said Barry. “But, as you know, there was a bit of a balls-up and you were brought back instead.”

“A moment please,” said Mr Wells. “If you hatched up this plan with Rune, why was I brought into this?”

“You were working on a time machine,” said Barry. “And Mr Rune wanted to borrow a hundred quid. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

“Scoundrel,” said Wells. “Outrageous!”

“And a terrible mistake all round,” Barry continued. “I allowed myself to be placed in that machine. Allowed my time-travelling powers to be harnessed but not under my control. The machine was stolen, and used by the forces of evil against Mr Starling, because he had found evidence that the history he had been taught was incorrect, and his returning here would have an effect on changing things back to the way they should be. It’s all rather complicated. But the point I’m trying to make, and in answer to your question about previous tenants, is this. Mr Starling turned out to be the ideal candidate, because he doesn’t have a Holy Guardian of his own. In his age there are no more Holy Guardians, because in his age there is no more God.”

“What?” went Will.

And “What?” also went Mr Wells.

“In the age you come from, chief, there is no record of the incredible technological achievements of this age, am I right?”

“You are,” said Will.

“Because history will be changed in the year 1900. Everything will change as if none of the amazing things, the electrical automobiles, the
Dreadnaught
, the moonship that is soon to be launched, ever happened. The human race will take an evolutionary step backwards. This will lead to terrible things happening. Amongst those terrible things, and in fact the most terrible of them all, will be the death of God.”

“God cannot die,” said Mr Wells.

“I agree,” said Will.

“You do?” said Barry.

“I do,” said Will. “He can’t die, because He doesn’t exist.”

Barry had a right royal struggle to slacken Will’s jaw once again. “Exactly, because if no one believes in Him, He effectively ceases to exist. But whether you do or do not believe in God, chief, you know that history was changed. You’re here now, you can see how things really are. You can’t deny that, can you?”

Will just shook his head, slowly and thoughtfully.

“Something happens to change it all, to wipe out all records of what really happened here. All but a tiny detail here and there, like the digital watch the chief here discovered on a Victorian painting. One or two little things slipped through the magical net somehow. And the evil ones who stole the time machine tried to put that right, destroy the evidence and wipe out all knowledge. So far they’ve failed to do that, which means that we still have a chance at this minute to save the future from being interfered with. And to save good old God too. He’s not a bad old stick; He doesn’t deserve to get the chop.”

Will would have spoken, but he was speechless. Mr Wells, however, was not.

“I recall,” said he, “that you prefaced this tale with the words, ‘You have to understand that none of this is my fault’. And you have enforced this by telling us that although you were the power behind the time machine, you had no control over where it was sent.”

“Mr Rune set the controls,” said Barry. “He worked out the equations.”

“Rune told me that,” said Will, “when I first met him. I crash-landed in a street. Rune told me the calculations were slightly out. I don’t recall
you
being amongst the wreckage, though, Barry.”

“Had to make a
timely
departure, chief. A drayman’s horse nearly stepped upon me.”

“No, no, no,” said Will. “None of this makes any sense. If you wanted to be inside
me
, as
my
Holy Guardian, why didn’t you do it then?”

“You weren’t ready, chief. You were pretty confused, finding yourself in the Victorian era and everything. And you needed time with Mr Rune, so he could teach you stuff. Prepare you for the fight.”

“He taught me a lot,” said Will. “No magic, though.”

“He taught you Dimac,” said Mr Wells, ruefully rubbing at his bandaged ankle.

Barry cleared Wills’s throat. “Can I just ask one question?” he asked. “Mr Wells, how did you know about my brother?”

“Rune told me, over a very expensive dinner at one of his clubs, which
I
paid for. Rune liked to pontificate, to boast of his knowledge. ‘Science is bunk,’ he said to me. ‘Do not be fooled by scientific achievement; it has magic at its core.’ I didn’t believe him then, of course. We were celebrating the fact that the time machine was completed. I did not know then that the only reason it was completed was because Barry here had been installed within it by Rune. And I
had
parted with the one hundred pounds. And he couldn’t resist telling me. He told me all about you,
and
your brother. Barry’s brother, Mr Starling, was another of God’s little helpers, but he came to a sorry end.”

“A very sorry end,” said Barry. “Got cooked in the Great Fire of London. He persuaded his host there, a baker named Wilkinson, to get the fire started to purge London of the plague. The plague would have wiped out the entire country if it hadn’t been for my brother.”

“And,” Mr Wells continued, “Rune told me that he had arranged with Her Majesty that we would demonstrate the time machine before her at Buckingham Palace the following day. When we returned here after the meal, the time machine was gone.”

“Hold on,” Will’s voice was now once more under his own control. “This all makes some kind of sense, if Rune had already set the controls, and these ‘forces of evil’ had found out about his plan. All they had to do was put their terminator robot in the driving seat and send it off on its way while you were out at dinner celebrating. Is that what happened, Barry?”

“Near as damned, chief. I’ve been trying to figure it out myself. I know I travelled into the future and back, but who was at the controls, I don’t know. If I’m not inside a human, then I can’t see through their eyes. But I do know that Rune was being constantly followed. Time and time again I warned him, but he always boasted that he was invulnerable to attack. Sadly he was proved wrong on that account.”

And Barry relinquished his hold upon Will’s vocal cords.

Fire crackled in the grate. Will rose, fetched the port, refreshed Mr Wells’ glass and also his own. He returned to his seat and sat down upon it.

“Well,” said Will.

“Well,” said Mr Wells.

“I really don’t know what to say and what to do next.”

Mr Wells dusted talcum from his hands. His port glass hovered in the air. “I do not know what to believe any more,” he said. “I am a man of science, or perhaps I should say,
was
. If only I could claim that I achieved this dismal state of invisibility through science, then I would argue science over superstition. But sadly I cannot. My present state of being was not achieved through the administration of a medical decoction. I fear that I hold a certain degree of responsibility for your present predicament, Mr Starling.”

“I don’t understand,” said Will.

“I brought the evil to you.”

“I
really
don’t understand.”

“I travelled in the time machine myself,” said Mr Wells. “Before my dinner with Rune. Before the machine was stolen.”

“You did?” said Will. “
When
did you go to?”

“I went forward into the latter part of the twentieth century. I only altered the date Rune had set. Not the location. I travelled forward to Brentford, and I became involved in a number of most extraordinary adventures, before I returned here. Ten minutes before Rune arrived to take me to dinner, I met two remarkable fellows in Brentford; a Mr Pooley and a Mr Omally. But I have reason to believe now that I did not return from that time alone. Someone, or something, returned with me. And that someone or something absconded with my time machine.”