TIME QUAKE (25 page)

Dr Dyer ran his hands through red hair. ‘Anita, this is a step too far for me – I honestly don’t know what I think any more . . .’

‘All right . . . but, in any case, if we take the idea that Kate has been conducting dark energy to its logical conclusion, do you see what effect this might have on the human body?’

Mrs Dyer’s eyes darted from one to another and caught her husband’s expression change from one of excitement to dismay in half a second.

‘What is it?’ she cried.

‘I’ve just understood your reference to the link between the galaxies in the universe and the atoms in Kate’s body . . . If dark energy fills the spaces in atoms in the same way that it fills the empty spaces in the universe, then Kate’s atoms could, quite literally, like the universe itself, be drifting apart . . .’

Mrs Dyer’s eyes opened wide with horror. ‘Which would explain why Kate looks like she’s fading! Oh, Andrew, we’ve got to get her back! We’ve got to get her back and reverse it!’

Dr Dyer held his wife in his arms but over her shoulder his eyes met those of Dr Pirretti. Both knew what the other was thinking. Suddenly Mrs Dyer pushed her husband away and turned to Dr Pirretti.

‘Anita, you’ve got to tell your alter ego to hurry. Tell her to keep trying to contact her. If she can give Kate the security code for the machine they might stand a chance. What
is
the code, Andrew?’

‘One that she won’t have any problem remembering – it’s her date of birth.’

‘Tell her, Anita! Tell her that we’re doing everything we can to get her back!’

‘I will. Of course, I will.’

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

The Law of Temporal Osmosis

In which Kate makes a scientific
discovery and keeps company with
The Tar Man on his boat

It took Kate an unbearably long time to extricate her hand from Sir Richard’s grasp. He felt like a corpse: cold, stiff and unresponsive. She had to tear back his fingers with every last scrap of her strength until she went red in the face and her forehead became drenched in sweat. Finally she managed to slide her hand out. It seemed to her that her ability to interact with the physical world was diminishing with each new episode of fast-forwarding. Relative to her own mass, everything she touched now seemed so much denser. It was as if she were losing her strength in this dimension – a butterfly beating its wings against a windowpane. Just how fast must she now be hurtling through time?

Kate was anxious to get out of the room. In the same way as London pavements bear witness to the passage of an underground train tens of feet below, the air that she breathed transmitted Sir Richard’s pulsing cry even though it was no longer audible. Glancing around the Tar Man’s sitting room, she tried to avoid
letting her gaze settle on Sir Richard’s arm or the expression on his face, or the pool of someone’s blood under the table. The room was furnished with taste and care, which both surprised and intrigued Kate. The surface of the table was strewn with ancient-looking objects. Kate wondered if the Tar Man liked to collect beautiful things, or whether this was merely where he stashed his stolen goods. Most of the items would have looked at home in the British Museum – amulets and urns, small statues of athletes and wood nymphs and the like. There was a tinderbox, too, similar to the one she had often seen Gideon use to light fires.

Stepping over Sir Richard’s sprawling legs, Kate hurried out of the door, down the stairs, past the old gentleman and the Parson, and stood looking down into the mouth of the trapdoor. The yawning hole was pitch-black and smelled bad. The candle was still burning in the centre of the hall and Kate decided that she would have to requisition it. After all, the old gentleman and the Parson would not miss it – it would be back again within a blink of one of their eyes. But when she crouched down, expecting to pick it up in one hand, she found that she needed two. It was a peculiar sensation: it was not that it felt enormously heavy, it was more a case of her own flesh seeming insubstantial compared with the density of the candlestick. After a short while she felt as if her arms might tear like tissue paper if she didn’t put the candlestick down. Kate placed it back on the floor. Trying to convince herself that her flesh did not look as fragile as it felt, Kate held out her hands in front of her, reassuring herself that their waxen translucence was merely an effect of the candlelight. At length she decided to go outside to look for Gideon and Peter rather than descending into that black hole by herself and without a light.

She looked over at the old gentleman who was now passing his
flask over to the Parson. The latter was looking very pleased at the prospect of another mouthful of brandy.

‘See you later, you poor little thing,’ she said to Toby the dog, and planted a loud kiss on its head. ‘Bye, Parson Ledbury and your new friend! Don’t drink too much bingo while I’m away!’

Kate stole out into the night and walked painfully over the cobblestones towards the river. At the quayside she stopped and turned a full three hundred and sixty degrees, searching the darkness for any sign of Gideon or Peter. Time had turned the Thames into a great slab of black glass. Silhouettes of houses and church steeples rose up all around, dwarfed by the towering dome of St Paul’s which glowed in the moonlight like a gigantic beacon over the city. The night was exceptionally clear. The longer Kate gazed at the sky, the more layers of stars she could see; an infinity of stars shining down on her from the farthest stretches of the universe. Kate sighed and looked out at this still and silent world where she was its only fully-functioning inhabitant. It was like having her own desert island or, which was nearer the mark, like being the only inmate of a vast prison whose sole key holder, to the best of her knowledge, was Peter Schock, who was currently nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly Kate noticed a dark shape above her that made her heart thump in her chest. It blotted out a tiny pocket of stars and she could not account for it. But when she walked a few paces to one side she realised what it was. A bat hung in the air only a few feet above her head, as if suspended by elastic from an invisible ceiling. Kate jumped up to take a swipe at it, an action she regretted when she landed back on the cobblestones.

She walked to the edge of the quayside and looked down, half-expecting to see the Tar Man or Gideon and Peter. But there was no one in sight, just a line of rowing boats and, beyond them, a few
larger vessels anchored in deeper water. She leaned over and peered first to one side and then the other. Where could they have got to? Kate felt certain that the trapdoor must lead to a secret passage, so surely its purpose must be to link the Tar Man’s house to the river? Unless, of course, they had never got out of the cellar . . . She became uneasy. There was nothing for it, she was going to have to go back.

Back in the Tar Man’s house, the gaping hole did not look any more inviting. Even if I can’t carry the candlestick very easily, she said to herself, at least I can move it closer to the trapdoor. The flame did not even flicker as she pushed it across the floor but it cast too weak a light to illuminate more than the stairs. Kate stared down into the darkness and imagined damp, slimy walls and scuttling creatures. After a lengthy hesitation Kate worked up enough courage to climb down the rough wooden steps. The odour of rottenness and stagnant water intensified. She walked straight ahead, her arms outstretched, but soon, as total, suffocating darkness swallowed her up, she found herself scrambling back up the steps in a panic and collapsed on the floor, face to face with Parson Ledbury, still as cheerful as ever at the prospect of a nip of brandy.

She sat there, recovering her breath, until her gaze happened to rest on two objects, barely visible in the gloom, that lay in the corner of the Tar Man’s hall. Kate hurried over to investigate and heaved the objects off the floor and held them in front of her.

‘My trainers!’ she cried.

Unpeeling the soiled strips of petticoat from her red and blistered feet, she struggled to put on the well-loved blue and white trainers with their spongy soles and soft lining. But once she had finally managed to get into them, her feet trailed as if she were wearing blocks of wood. Rather than allowing her to walk better,
she feared that they would actually prevent her from walking at all. She cried out in exasperation and, if the action had not required so much strength, would have pulled them off and flung them across the hall in disgust. She trudged from one end of the house to the other, furious with her trainers for behaving in this way when the rest of her clothes had the decency to cooperate. Soon, though, she began to notice that the soles started to yield a little to the pressure of her foot. She persevered. Yes, there was no doubt about it, with each step the trainers grew more pliable. Curious and encouraged, she shuffled up and down the hall like a toddler wearing her mother’s high heels. Was this process, she wondered, like defrosting a chicken in the pantry overnight? Just as the heat would transfer from the air into the meat until both reached the same temperature, the rates at which she and her trainers travelled through time needed to equalise.

Kate felt so pleased with herself for this feat of scientific deduction that she had to share it. She sat at the feet of Parson Ledbury and the old gentleman and, as she stroked Toby’s white belly, she told all three of them about her idea. Travelling forwards and backwards in time was amazing enough, but being able to affect the speed at which adjacent objects move through time was incredible! She told them that if her dad were here he would probably make her hold different objects and sit in baths of water – and who knew what else – to test her theory. He might even name a scientific law after her:
Kate Dyer’s Law of Temporal Osmosis
. . . She looked at her unresponsive audience and suddenly her head sank down onto her knees. ‘Oh, Dad,’ she whispered into her skirts. ‘When are you coming to get me?’

Kate woke up with a start. The first thing that came into her head was that she had to find Peter. She had not meant to fall asleep.
When she lifted her head up the Parson’s expression was subtly altered. One of Toby’s ears was turned half inside out and she wondered how it had happened. Had she done it? She stared down into the black hole once more and without understanding how she could be so certain, decided that she could not detect Peter’s presence – it was to the river that she must return. Kate waited until she was able to run on the spot in her trainers, then set off at a jog.

Kate loved to run: to feel the wind in her hair and see her feet pounding the earth, eating up the ground in front of her. Here, there was no wind and she was obliged to lift her heavy skirts to avoid tripping up, but running was still a pleasure. She headed westwards, past Blackfriars, and then, when there was no sign of anyone save a young couple stealing a kiss by the water’s edge, she turned back on herself. Kate continued for some way in the direction of London Bridge but after a while her lungs began to burn with the effort of it. She stopped and bent over, resting her hands on her knees, trying to get her breath back. Some of the pins fell loose from her hair and long red tresses hung down, swaying from side to side, brushing the cobblestones. While she waited for her heart to stop hammering, she looked through strands of hair at the river below her. She could see five or six small boats sailing over this stretch of the Thames. The waterman nearest to her had just pushed off and his boat – which was nearer in size to a rowing boat than a wherry – was still only six or seven feet from dry land. The waterman stood balanced at the centre of the boat’s floor, one arm outstretched to steady himself. His stance caught Kate’s attention. Watermen spent their whole lives bobbing about on the river in these precarious little vessels so that keeping their balance under all conditions was second nature to them. It was all in the legs according to Sir Richard – so it was surprising to see one who
had to resort to using his arms for balance. Perhaps he wasn’t a waterman. The man had his back to her but his stance reminded her of a javelin thrower, and he held one of the oars provocatively as if rowing with it was the last thing on his mind. Kate stood up and strained to see what he was doing. Then she ran over and walked right up to the edge of the quayside to take a closer look. He was aiming at something in the water, his lean and athletic body a perfect expression of coiled-up energy about to strike. She was familiar with the watermen’s uniform. They wore distinctive red jackets and, more often than not, a particular kind of hat. It was too dark to differentiate between colours but she felt sure that this man’s jacket did not belong to a waterman, nor was he wearing a hat. His longish hair, black from what she could tell, was tied back in a ponytail. A shiver of recognition ran down Kate’s spine.

Estimating the distance between the boat and the quayside, she walked twenty or thirty paces away – enough for a good run-up – and charged towards the river at full pelt. Holding up her cumbersome skirts to the level of her knees, she leaped high into the air and landed heavily in the bottom of the wooden boat, narrowly missing the man and toppling forwards onto her hands and knees. Although she was expecting the flimsy vessel to rock violently in the water, it behaved instead as if it were on dry land and did not shift even a fraction of a millimetre. Just how fast must she be travelling through time for her not to feel even that? Kate crawled past the man and slowly turned her head upwards. She hardly dared look.

Kate lay at the feet of the Tar Man. He was angry, that much was obvious. His eyes smouldered and his mouth was open in a ferocious shout. Kate felt uncomfortable. To be at such close quarters with him went counter to all her instincts, even though
common sense told her she was perfectly safe. She stood up and confronted him.