So many influences have shaped The Timetrippers, that it’s hard to know where to begin – but I do, so I will.
Without Joan Charles, psychic and clairvoyant, this book wouldn’t have got off the ground. She coached me to develop my intuition, a great skill, which led me on to learn more about loads of stuff, including reading the series of James Redfield books which start with The Celestine Prophecy. He is happy for me to use his concepts, which if you look under the surface, you’ll find in spades.
If you haven’t read them, even if you’re only 10, take 100 lines and start now! The Celestine Prophecy was the inspiration for writing what I hoped would be like a children’s version of the grown-up stuff. Thank you, James.
When I started to write The Timetrippers, I got terrific help from Minnie Grey who’s a super author – read her too as soon as you like – and from Julie Steele, at that time doing her editing stint in London.
Wendy Rimmington helped me to change the tone of the book and make it much more than it was, and Jenny Robertson worked very hard at getting some excellent PR and Press Reviews.
I had some (nearly) willing helpers too who helped fine-tune the final version you’re either reading now, or about to start reading (or maybe reading again?) and they are Struan, my youngest son; Victoria, at age 10, the first person to read it outside these four walls; her mum, Julie and my oldest son, Dale, all of whose comments and suggestions meant a lot. My big brother Rae and my second son, Scott, astonished me by finishing their reads in record time and with timely input too.
In case you hadn’t guessed, all of the above paragraph are Robertsons, but there are some non-Robertsons too who really helped shape the final version, especially Louis Rimmington, who deserves to be a top notch editor.
Special thanks too to Rick Anderson from Ooko for his brilliant printed copy cover design and the Mistlees map. Without Chris Elvery, a good friend from Call2Action who steered me through the technological minefields I encountered, the book would have fallen far short in many areas.
I am also really grateful to Gabriel and the team from Spiffing Covers who designed the electronic book cover --- nice job!
Steve Baker from ebooksbydesign was terrific in reformatting The Timetrippers for the electronic world and took most of the pain out of this tortuous process.
Abune them a’ however, is my lovely wife, Shirley, who cajoled, encouraged, applauded, critiqued and loved all I wrote; who reassured, sympathised, steered, was patient beyond words, listened, advised, and also paid all the bills. Her love pulled me through.
On a more practical level, I used a complete multitude of reference sources not the least of which was Encyclopaedia Britannica Online. I read around 40 books and referenced many more, and maybe when I’m rich and famous I’ll catalogue them too.
As my memory’s not fantastic and if I’ve forgotten anyone, then I hope I’m forgiven. If you know who else influenced me, let me know, and if I’ve not thanked anyone properly, please scold me with the thought police, or maybe e-mail me and I’ll fix it quicker than a rainbow coloured rug.
Cheers All,
Hamish
hamish@thetimetrippers.co.uk
Hamish Robertson Publications
Originally published in Great Britain by Hamish Robertson Publications
Liberton, Scotland
First edition published 2007
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
Copyright© Hamish Robertson 2007
Electronic Edition 1 – © September 2015
Original ISBN 978-0-9555555-0-3
This Edition 978-0-9555555-1-0
The right of Hamish Robertson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Hamish Robertson Publications.
This book is a work of fiction, with a wealth of historical accuracy, but there is a fund of inspirational content, both on and under its surface.
Excerpt from A Drunk Man Looks at The Thistle, by Hugh MacDiarmid used by kind permission of Carcanet Press Limited.
FOR MUM, DAD AND RODDY
– TIMETRIPPERS ALL
The icy water pulled him into its racing torrent as he twisted and tumbled and started to sink.
He struggled to turn on his back, feet pointing down-river. The current eased, but the pace was still frightening.
The water gripped him fiercely and chillingly. The roar of the river’s race was bewildering. Ancient trees loomed over the bank, too high to catch and hold on to. Overhead, the sun blazed down.
There was a girl in the water beside him. She pushed closer and reached out. He grabbed her hand, and she held on as they tumbled past dark rocks, dense undergrowth and through a channel. They swept round a bend. He lost the girl’s grip, and she surged ahead.
Suddenly, they were squashed between an enormous moss-covered rock and the reedy bank. He paddled to catch her.
The water roared louder, and they plunged deep down and under. They were pulled, pushed and lifted back to the surface to a waterfall of white foam ahead. They tumbled head over heels, and twisted like a crazy corkscrew down and through the torrent.
Time jumped, and he lay beside the girl on a pebbled beach, tossed there by the spin of a whirlpool.
He looked at her, stunned.
She said: “What happened? Where are we? Who are you?”
“I don’t know where we are”, he spluttered. “And who are you?”
“I’m Sara”, she said, patting him on the back to get his breath back.
“Thanks. I’m Dan. What’s going on?”
They looked round at a stunningly beautiful scene.
Behind them was the river, gurgling as the whirlpool sucked in and spat out tree roots, branches and weeds. In front was a crescent of gigantic tropical trees, tendrils trailing lazily in the brilliant sunlight. The air was humid and still.
Circling effortlessly above were three large black-winged birds, sizing them up, moving closer and closer.
“Hey, I think we need to move. Quick!” said Sara, grabbing his arm and tugging him towards the trees.
They stumbled up the pebbles to the shelter of an ancient wrinkled tree, its branches stretching up to the now hidden sun. They sat down to recover, exhausted by the effort of staying afloat.
Dan gasped: “I can’t believe it! I’ve never swum in a river before! I’ve never seen any place like this! And it’s so hot and steamy!”
Their clothes were soaked, but quickly drying in the shelter of their guardian tree.
Sara said: “I was on the net, doing homework on Africa. We’ve to find out what animals live on the Savannah. I took some notes, closed the PC, and before I know it I’m in a crazy rushing river!”
Dan looked around. “This can’t be the Savannah! These trees are like you’d see in a mangrove swamp. But there’s no swamp here.”
“And I hope there’s no alligators”, chimed Sara, laughing at his puzzled face.
“Let’s check it out”, he said, and stood up. A few yards away a gap in the trees caught the sun’s rays, inviting them in. They looked at each other, nodded and walked forward. Dan moved without effort, and looking down, realised he was floating over the ground.
They were climbing, and glided through the trees, up a steep slope to the top of a hill, with the river far below. Its racing torrent sounded as a background murmur. They could see for miles, and the sun was again beating on their heads. The view was stunning.
For as far as the eye could see was dense forest, crowned by a ring of snow-capped mountains, and wreathed in white puffy clouds.
The evil bird trio had gone, replaced by ghostly figures flying lazily back and forth in complex patterns. The shapes and sizes of these creatures kept changing. They were about Dan’s size and shape, but with see-through wings. In seconds, they grew bigger and more solid – like flying adults. Suddenly they shimmered out of view, and he wondered if the blazing sun was affecting his eyes.
The sounds of the forest were all around – insects chirruping, and birds cawing from the trees below. Monkeys chattered in the undergrowth. A small red and black snake, startled, slithered silently off, making them jump.
They glided on to reach a smooth grass meadow. In front stood a small circle of rocks, with two large stones in the centre, each about their own height. Beyond were countless vast stone buildings, with avenues leading off in all directions.
The city was made of huge blocks of grey weathered stone. Many of the structures were pyramids, and most were several storeys high, pillared and majestic, shimmering in the sun.
There was no sound at all.
Dan walked towards one building. The pillars were carved with strange symbols and shapes. He walked in wonder through the massive entrance. Inside, the walls glowed. In front were rows and rows of stone shelves, full of books sheathed in a leathery-leafed soft green substance.
“It’s a library!” he cried, astonished. He picked up one of the heavy books from the nearest shelf. Sensing he wasn’t alone, he looked up to see a dark skinned girl hovering above the floor, straight in front of him.
His jaw dropped, and so did the book, with a soft clump, to the paved floor. The girl, strangely dressed in a loose-fitting tunic, shimmered and gave off a soft radiance. She spoke without opening her smiling mouth. “You see our past, and come from our future. I have waited till the end to greet you”.
Sara shrieked in alarm as she entered the building to see the girl flicker and disappear as quickly and quietly as she had arrived.
Dan had a feeling something dreadful was going to happen, and picked up the book, knowing it was vitally important.
Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet collapsed, and he felt himself falling, falling, falling, arms and legs flailing frantically to stop himself from somersaulting.
“Heeeeeeeelp!” He shouted.
“Dan! Dan! Wake up!”
The voice came from the end of a dense tunnel that dissolved and turned into a pile of bedclothes. His mum, Liz, lifted them gently from his head.
“Dan – it’s OK! Where were you? What happened? You were dreaming again!”
He slowly came to, the visions from his dream still vibrating in his mind. He looked round, and with a start, remembered this was the first morning in his new home. He felt for the book but held nothing in his hands.
Liz sat on the bed and put her arm round him: “Are you all right? You were thrashing around and shouting for help”.
As the dream faded, he shivered and hugged her.
He began to dream vividly six weeks earlier, after learning they were moving to Scotland.
The Goodwins lived in Southcoats, near Bournemouth in England, and his dad, Hugh, worked with a big American Company – GU e-Fortunes – making mobile phones. The company was moving to a new factory in Scotland, to make, he said to Dan and his young brother, Tim: “new communication devices”.
“What are they, dad?” Tim asked curiously in his squeaky cheerful voice.
“Well – we’re not sure yet, Tim, but nearly everyone’s got a mobile now, so we’re looking at new ways of communicating. We’ll give people other ways to get in touch with each other; catch up with the news; and use different technologies.”
“What are they?”
Dan laughed. “It’s like the way things work, Tim. Dad’s going to invent new gadgets.” He asked: “Do you mean like flat-screen TV’s and – what’s the name of these pictures in the air – hieroglyphs – I mean holograms!”
Hugh smiled. “Yes – something like that, but we haven’t worked much detail out yet. I’ve to go to Scotland to start things off.”
The boys were quiet for a moment.
“How long will you be away, dad?” Dan asked, a worried frown crinkling his forehead.
“I don’t really know, but we have to move to Scotland very soon, because that’s where my new job is.”
Tim looked up: “Will I get new friends in Scotland?”
“Yes, Tim, you will, and you’ll be going to school, not nursery. We’re going to find a nice house with a big garden”.
“Will you be at home more, dad?” asked Dan, knowing what long hours he worked. Hugh hesitated for a moment: “Well, at the start, I’ll be really busy, but I’d like to live closer to work so I have less driving to do”.
Dan’s face fell. He was upset, and thought about his friends, John and Derek, due for a sleepover on Saturday. “But dad, we’ve got a nice house and garden here, so why do we have to move? Will I still see my pals? And what about school?”
Dan was ten, but looked older. With dark curly hair and blue eyes, he was a cheerful and open personality, bright and doing well at school, with reading and computer games his passion. He’d read everything from Harry Potter to Rudyard Kipling’s Jungle Book, which he’d devoured in two sittings.
He’d even got through dad’s copy of The Celestine Prophecy, which he thought was exciting, but wasn’t sure if he understood it all. He was reading Lord of the Rings, and found the action scenes riveting.
He loved playing strategy games on the computer, and got so wrapped up that he could really imagine himself in the Sahara Desert, guiding a camel train to the nearest oasis; or leading a charge of Crusaders breaking through enemy lines to capture a cliff top castle. He was a good chess player for his age, and played in the school team.
He had a huge thirst for knowledge, and really enjoyed helping others. Though he tried hard, he wasn’t very good at sports, especially football.
He was in Year 5 at Bogrin Place Junior, ten minutes’ walk away, though he didn’t often walk, mum insisting he share lifts with next-door’s spoilt daughter, Sally.
His classmates were really good fun. Even the girls were OK, except when playing games with so many rules – like tig, with extra do’s and don’ts, like: “You must tig on the right shoulder; and if you put both hands up at once, you’re safe; and you can’t be IT more than three times”, and on and on it went.
He was daydreaming again, and wiped tears from his eyes. “Dad, I’m really sad we have to move. I love it here”.
Hugh replied awkwardly: “I know, Dan, but we can’t stay. My new job’s a good one, and Scotland’s a great place to live. It’s full of history, and castles, and lovely scenery, and there are fewer people living there, so it’s quieter.
I hope we’ll have more time together when we move – and the schools are good. I’m really sorry, but that’s the way it is”.
His deep blue eyes looked at them sharply through his glasses. A tall bony man with short dark hair, thinning on top, he spoke with real concern, and obviously felt awkward about breaking the news of the move to the boys.
Dan, still upset, and a confused but chirpy Tim, dragged their heels going to bed that night. Liz read them a story about Indians in the Wild West, and the soldiers who fought and robbed them of their villages, land and hunting grounds.
As she read in her soft voice, her brown curly hair bobbed up and down, her greeny-blue eyes reflecting the bedside light. Dan thought it was like his dad’s Company stealing his job, forcing them to move to a strange and distant place.
That night, he dreamed of dinosaurs.
Big dinosaurs, flying dinosaurs, swimming dinosaurs and charging dinosaurs.
He stood on a flat dusty patch of earth. The scene before him took his breath away.
Tall ferns, sprouting from palm trees, fringed a green lake stretching into the distance. Dotted over its surface were small islands, covered with trees, impossibly high, climbing towards a dull grey sky. Dark masses of scudding black clouds shadowed the earth.
Flying around the giant trees were pterodactyls – at least they looked like pterodactyls, but with feathers – red, blue, yellow and orange feathers. The birds were agitated. Bizarrely, they sounded like cows – mooing to reassure each other in an otherworldly conversation.
He realised a herd of dinosaurs had stopped eating the ferns, and was nervously pacing the beaten earth.
He had to blink hard, because what he saw was impossible.
Astride the dinosaurs – they were iguanodons – were people – men, women and children, two on each animal hanging tightly on their backs.
The dinosaurs walked on all fours. They were about ten metres long, dwarfing the riders.
A curling stinging wind hit him in gusts, dust and tiny stones peppering his skin.
A loud trumpeting sound pierced the air, and he saw two creatures like Loch Ness monsters surging through the green water. Long glistening necks and a series of humps left arrow shaped wakes. Their heads looked like giant seals.
The pterodactyl-birds got more agitated seeing these giants approach, and more lifted from the trees to take the air.
Suddenly, in front of him, stood a boy, his own age, and he turned to see a familiar looking girl standing beside him. She was slightly smaller, with blond hair cut short like a boy’s.
Her deep brown eyes shone brightly from her freckled face.
Though she’d been there all along, the scene had so captivated him, he’d not realised. He knew she felt the same.
The native boy spoke in a language they didn’t understand. Dan asked him to repeat his words, and, like headlights cutting through a fog, he felt the meaning directly in his own mind. The boy told them his tribe was on the move because of the storm.
He pointed at one of the iguanodons, signing them to climb on its back. It stood restlessly, tossing its short scaly red and brown-speckled neck. Its rolling leathery tongue licked nervously round its mouth.
As Dan and the girl climbed up, scrabbling for hand and toe-holds on their mount’s humped back, they felt a ripple of fear run through the herd. Shouts of alarm came from the tribe.
There were about twenty iguanodons, all moving quickly away from the lake. Charging towards them was a huge dinosaur, its reptilian eyes starting from its oversized head. Its long scaly-skinned tail lifted up and thumped the ground as it headed towards the nearest iguanodon.
Terrified, the smaller animal swivelled, tossing its two riders off. The woman got up quickly, and ran to Dan’s iguanodon, nimbly leaping up behind him. The man fell heavily, and lay with his leg twisted under him.
Before anyone could move, the tyrannosaurus swooped, and with a fearsome crunch, caught his body in its mouth, serrated teeth snapping through bone and muscle. The man cried out briefly, then was silent as the huge carnivore settled to finish its prey.
Horrified, Dan felt the girl slump forwards in a feint, and held her firmly to stop her falling. The woman made a sharp whistling noise between her teeth. Their mount turned with the herd, and escaped the grisly scene in an uncomfortable wobbling ride. They rode in convoy for what seemed like an age, but Dan knew time had flashed past in moments, like a high-speed film.
They reached a rocky cliff, and the herd pulled up. The tribe dismounted, and he and the girl joined their strange companions. They talked quickly and nervously, pointing back at the lake in the far distance.
Dan couldn’t make out the words, but in the same strange way he’d understood the boy’s words, he knew what they said. They were sad about losing one of the tribe, but were terrified about the storm.
The sky was completely black, swirling with particles of soot that rained down constantly, stinging their heads and bodies. The sun had disappeared.
He knew they had to get away and instinctively held the girl’s hand. She looked at him trustingly as they ran to the shelter of the cliff. An opening in the rock face gleamed brightly, and they dashed into a large circular cave.
Suddenly they were tumbling, tumbling, tumbling down, down, down in a mad gliding fall.
The last thing he saw and heard was an enormous slab of rock completely filling the sky, falling faster than the eye could blink.
It crumped with a wrenching tearing explosion into the earth.
He twisted his body round and round to keep upright. He woke up sweating, his eyes opening to the gloom of his bedroom.
It was the most powerful dream he’d ever had. Though it felt like a nightmare, he felt no fear, only a real sense of being part of the prehistoric scene.
He hurried through to his parents’ room. They woke as he burst in the door, and described his dream. His vivid account rushed forth in an excited torrent of words.
“Wow!” said Liz, “That’s some dream. I wonder what it means.”
“Do you think it means something?” asked Dan
“Well,” she said, “Dreams often do. They can sometimes be about things you’ve said and done during the day, or things you’re worried about. Sometimes you see things that happen in the future”.
“But this was the past, not the future, mum – and it was so real I felt I was actually there!”
Hugh asked: “What was the girl like?”
“Hmm – a bit smaller than me, and the same age, but I don’t know who she was, dad. I thought I knew her – she was familiar, as if she was part of me, but I’ve never seen her before”.
They were curled together on the bed, and Tim joined them, rubbing bleary eyes: “What’s all the noise?” he asked, dragging his herd of soft toy animals in a blanket, his hair disheveled from sleep.
“Did we wake you, big boy?” said Liz, as Tim snuggled up.
This gave Dan another chance to tell his dream, and Tim’s eyes popped as he dwelt gruesomely on the t-rex’s attack.
“Well, boys”, said Liz, “this is some start to the day, and it’s not even 8 o’clock! Listen – we’re going to look at a new house tomorrow, so we need to pack our stuff to drive north this afternoon. We’re staying in Carlisle tonight in a hotel, so you’ll need to be on your best behaviour!”
The boys were bored with the journey, but enjoyed the treat of staying in the hotel, especially Tim, as they ate in the dining room. His blue-green eyes flicked back and forth as he took it all in. A small alert boy, he had the same sharp features as Dan, with black curly hair, slightly darker than Dan’s.
Liz told them the curious story of the house: “I got a phone call two days’ ago from the Estate Agent. It sounds like it might suit us. It’s in a lovely village in Perthshire, called Mistlees, which is only twenty minutes’ drive from dad’s work.”
“Where’s Perthshire?” asked Dan.
Hugh replied: “It’s in the middle of Scotland, a very pretty area, full of farms.”
“It’ll be good if the house doesn’t need much work,” said Liz.
“Will I have my own room?” asked Tim.
“Of course you will, Timmy,” she said. “The house is a good size, and there’s a really strange big cellar which could be a den for you!”
The boys looked at each other, and Dan rolled his eyes. “Mum, it might be a den for Tim, but I’m too old for that.”
“Well”, said Hugh, “Tell the boys the mystery”.
Liz leant over the table and lowered her tone. “The house has a peculiar history. It’s bizarre, but its owner has disappeared! He was an inventor – a bit of an oddball who often spent days in the house without going out”.
“An inventor! Who was he, mum?” asked Dan.
“He was called Peter Friis. I think his family was Dutch, but he came from South Africa. He’d lived in Mistlees for seven years, but disappeared completely a year ago. His family has given him up for lost, so they’re selling the house. It’s got a real air of mystery about it.”
Dan felt the thrill of adventure.
Farms surrounded Mistlees, in the heart of Perthshire, and the village was like an oasis in a sea of green fields. The many stone buildings, built solidly to protect against the weather, gave it a strong respectable feeling, but Dan couldn’t help wondering what secrets they hid.
When they saw the house, he shivered with anticipation. It was built with grey blocks of stone with a slate roof, and squatted solidly, with a timeless air, in the centre of the village. It stood out from the other buildings with its commanding presence.
The wooden door said “OPPORTUNITY HOUSE”.
It was all on one level, except for the cellar, and nestled in the peace and quiet of a large grassed garden surrounded by trees. It sat in Dirsett Avenue, a street with only a few houses, which ended at a small stream (“it’s called a burn in Scotland, Tim”, said Dan). A path snaked over the burn to the next street, and beyond, they could see the School.
As they wandered round, guided by the Estate Agent, they smelled its musty air and felt its curious lived-in atmosphere tinged with a faint air of hidden menace.
The boys’ bedrooms were side-by-side, and Dan could see exactly where his PC would go. In the main bedroom, the bed, wardrobes, and a large dressing table were covered in white sheets.
In the middle of the room was a startling rug.
It was multi-coloured and round – about three metres in diameter – dusty and a bit tattered in places. It looked like a giant bulls-eye, though the colours were different.
The outer ring was a faded red, and seemed to bleed into the wood of the floor. The next ring was orange, and inside that were rings of yellow, green, blue and violet. The centre circle was indigo, completing the colours of a circular rainbow.
It had a faint peppery smell.
The rug was so strange, it hinted at a world of mystery and magic. Dan loved it.
The Estate Agent coughed, embarrassed. He said: “We tried to move the rug before showing you round, but – it wouldn’t let us!”
“What!!” said Hugh, “It wouldn’t let you!”
“Eh, no – it seemed to want to stay here. We got it as far as the cellar door, but it slipped through our fingers and stayed quite firmly there – we had to carry it back here.”
Hugh and Liz laughed, and the boys joined in nervously. “Maybe it should be in the cellar,” Dan said with a smile.
“Well, that’s where it can go – I don’t want that thing in our bedroom, that’s for sure!” said Liz with a grimace.
The highlight of the house for the boys – even for Dan – was the cellar. From a door in the hall, a steep set of wooden stairs reached down into a high room stretching the length and breadth of the house.
As they opened the door, they smelt the curious aroma of burnt ash and wet animals. “Where’s that coming from?” Liz asked.
“I don’t know,” replied the Estate Agent. “The cellar’s clean enough – our surveyor gave it a clean bill of health.”
The floor was crammed with shelving, boxes, packages, machines, pipes and strange contraptions.
Most curious of all were the dozens of beautifully made models strewn everywhere. The floor was packed with tiny model buildings, animals and figures. Amongst them were a flying saucer and a bubble car with stilt-like legs.
“Wow!” said Tim. “It’s amazing!”
“It sure is, Timmy”, said Liz. “I wonder where all this stuff came from. You and Dan will have fun clearing it out”.
“It’s great, mum”, said Dan, “It’s a treasure trove!”
As he spoke, he felt a breath of cold air sweep past him, and he ducked quickly, startled.
Nobody else seemed to notice and the Estate Agent told them this was where Peter Friis had done his experiments.
“What are they?” asked Tim.
“It means trying different things out, Timmy”, said Dan, recovering from his fright.
“What kind of experiments?” asked Hugh.
The Agent hesitated. “I’ve heard different opinions. Some say he was an inventor, others that he made models for a living, and some even think he was trying to make a time machine, of all things!”
Hugh shook his head in disbelief, but the cellar fascinated Dan, and Liz had to hurry him away. He looked back down the stairs, and felt a thrill of expectancy.
Their next stop was the school – a solid old slate-roofed grey-stone building with a concrete playground. In the middle was a small fenced enclosure, packed with plants, flowers and vegetables.
The sign on the front gate read: “Elfsite Reach Primary School – 1872”.
A middle-aged woman in a long black dress was sweeping the playground with an old broom, muttering to herself. She saw them and put the broom down.
“Can I help you?” she asked in a crackly voice, sweeping her straggly grey hair aside. She peered at them over small round glasses perched on the end of her long thin nose.
Liz smiled warmly: “Hello, we’re the Goodwins. We’ve been viewing Opportunity House.”
The woman’s crinkled eyes lit up briefly with surprise. She rubbed her knobbly hands together: “I’m Mrs. Braid, the Headmistress.”
Dan and Tim took an instant dislike to this large lady, who eyed them up with a cool sharp expression on her face, which softened and became all smiles for Hugh and Liz.
She showed them the school garden: “Each term, a different class looks after it, planting, weeding, and tending the crops. It encourages children to understand nature, and give them a healthy respect for living and growing plants. They get to eat the vegetables too!” she laughed in a hollow way.
Liz asked: “Why’s it called Elfsite Reach?”
“Well, when the original villagers came here, they built a farm in the middle of the valley, and grew crops. However, when they were ready to harvest, the crops mysteriously disappeared, and legend has it that the elves reached up from their underground homes to pick them!”
She rubbed her hands together as if inspecting them for dirt: “The elves are one example of the village’s hidden power. It’s peaceful on the surface though.”
Dan wanted to know more, but Mrs. Braid ignored him: “It’s a lovely place to live. You know, Opportunity House was built on the site of the original farm”.
She looked coldly at Dan, as if unwillingly sharing a secret. Her wrinkled olive skin glistened in the sunshine, and her glasses gleamed at the end of her nose. Dan shivered.
Tim gazed at the drawings on the corridor walls.
“We like the children to express themselves in their work. Tim, you’ll be starting in the middle of August, and for the first few weeks, you’ll be coming in just till lunchtime”.
“But what’ll I do after lunch?” he asked nervously.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be here to walk you home, and you can help me get the house in order”, Liz replied.
Tim’s face fell. Mrs. Braid swept back a wisp of her hair, and Dan noticed how long her nails were. “After the first few weeks you’ll stay on till three o’clock”. She said to Liz and Hugh: “It gives the youngsters the chance to settle in to their new class without tiring them out too much. And Daniel – this is your class – we have seventeen children in Primary 6, and you’ll bring the number to eighteen when you start”.
Dan thought for a moment. No one called him Daniel, except when he was in trouble. He was puzzled by the term times. “August’s early”, he said. “I don’t usually start till September”.
“Yes,” she explained, with what Dan thought was a look of triumph: “The system in England is a bit different from here, but you finish earlier for the summer – at the end of June”.
Feeling a bit cheated, he looked at his new classroom. He liked it – tables and chairs were arranged in little groups, and the room was bright with class-work on the walls.
Hugh and Liz thought the school was perfect, though Dan wasn’t so sure. Mrs. Braid had really spooked him. He hoped his teacher would be friendlier.
Later, they walked round the village. A bright straight main-street was cheerfully decked with barrels and hanging baskets full of colourful flowers. There was a small supermarket, a newsagent, and a range of small shops, including “The Deli”, a well-stocked delicatessen, and a small dinghy looking jeweller’s shop.
Carved on a brick at the old stone building housing the Community Centre was the inscription: “VILLAGE HALL”. The little parish church in the north of the village looked very old, and Dan felt it had a haunted atmosphere.
Strangely, the cemetery was a good mile away to the south, beyond their new home and some other houses. The church and the cemetery were on slightly raised ground, with Opportunity House in the middle at the foot of the valley.
To the east were the ruins of another even older church, and about a mile from it, again with their house in between, stood a tall stone tower, topped by a broken clock-face.
“You know, mum,” said Dan, back in the car: “I think I’ll like it here after all, though I’m not sure about Mrs. Braid”.
Liz laughed: “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine when you get to know her.”
“I like it here too,” echoed Tim.
The Friis family quickly accepted their offer for the house, and six weeks later, on the first of August, they moved in.
Whilst Dan said a tearful goodbye to his friends, he was excited by the prospect of a new life and new friends in Mistlees, though he was nervous about the school.
The mysterious cellar, its strange contents, its smells and its atmosphere, and the inventor who had vanished fascinated him.
When he finally fell asleep on their first night in Opportunity House, he had his second powerful dream about the river, the book in the library, and the city hidden deep in the jungle.
Every Saturday, Sara shopped at the supermarket with her mum, Diana.
She loved it. Her step dad, Bruce, worked away from home a lot, though he was with them this weekend. While he sat in the car, Diana pushed the trolley, and Sara filled it.
She was ten (and a half, as she reminded everyone), and had lived in Mistlees all her life. Slim, but with a slightly chubby freckled face, she had short blond hair, like Diana’s, and deep brown challenging eyes.
She was a loner, but not by choice. She didn’t share her friends’ interest in pop music –she didn’t care about knowing all the new singles or words of songs.
Bruce and her mum couldn’t afford designer clothes, so she often felt the odd one out, wearing football tops and jeans most of the time. She wasn’t very good at school, being easily distracted and quickly bored.
Boys were a big topic of conversation, and Sara liked this, but not in the same way as her friends. Her interest in boys was in playing their games, but they didn’t let her, so she didn’t get the chance to show she was as good as them at football and computer games.
During the week, there had been a lot of talk about the newcomers. Her classmates had seen Dan’s family walking round the school and the village. She was excited by the chance to meet a boy she could bond with. She looked forward to the new family moving in to the house across the road, which had lain empty for over a year.
Sara had liked Mr. Friis, though everyone thought he was a bit odd.
He had always made time for her. He was a stooped old man, dressed in faded blue overalls, with a sense of humour to make you chuckle. He wore outsize glasses that made his brown eyes seem huge. When he smiled, they wobbled and his whole face lit up. Magnified laughter lines crinkled round his eyes, and his bushy black eyebrows shot up to his long curly white hair.
He knew what the villagers thought of him, and seemed to take pride in his reputation as the local eccentric.
She often heard strange noises coming from Opportunity House. Once, she saw him peeping round his bedroom curtains with a smile on his face, after an afternoon of loud bangs and crashes had disturbed the neighbourhood. He saw Sara watching, and gave her a little wave before silently withdrawing.
“Sara – have you got the butter yet?” asked Diana, interrupting her daydream.
“Coming, mum!” She picked up a large pack of unsalted butter and put it in the trolley.
Later, as she helped cook tea, she heard a car drive up and stop outside. She ran to the window and peered round the curtains.
Diana raised her eyebrows at Bruce, as they acknowledged her excitement.
Diana had been devastated when her first husband, Guy, had left them to live in London, and their divorce had been very upsetting and driven Sara in on herself.
When she met Bruce at a wedding three years ago, she had been swept off her feet by his sense of fun and romance. Sara had taken a while to get to know him, and Diana was still concerned at how much she missed her dad, who had lost contact with her.
Sara really needed a close friend.
“Let’s hope they’re a nice family,” Diana said. “Sara deserves some real company”.
“Maybe we’ll make friends with the Goodwins”, said Bruce. “They must be a better bet than potty old Peter!”
Sara’s eyes widened as she watched the family unload the big hatchback. She’d never seen a car so full of bags, boxes, parcels, and people. Her gaze took in the elder of the two boys. He looked about her age, slim but taller, with dark curly hair frizzling back in closely tangled rows across his head, just reaching the collar of a blue and red sweatshirt. His face was thin and alert, and he had a way of looking around him, as if picking out and noting everything he saw. His expression was cheerful and open, and his movements quick and positive.
Suddenly, Sara realised he was looking at her, and as he waved with a smile, she blushed and ducked down below the windowsill. “Caught in the act, were you?” laughed Bruce sarcastically.
“Never mind – you’ll meet them soon enough.”
Sara slunk back to the kitchen, hardly noticing the appearance of the boys’ parents, and his young brother leading them eagerly up the drive to the front door.
She couldn’t wait to meet the curly-haired boy. She was sure she’d seen him someplace before.
Soon, a removal lorry drew up, and until darkness fell, furniture and box after box poured into the waiting house. The removal men took away most of the old furniture too.
Sara kept clear of the windows, but lingered while pulling the curtains. Opportunity House glowed with light, full of life for the first time in a year.
Diana and Bruce decided to invite the Goodwins for dinner to welcome them to the village, and Sara dropped off to sleep that night with a tingling sensation that something exciting and a little bit scary was about to start.
The following morning, Diana, Bruce and Sara went over to the Goodwin’s. Liz and Hugh opened the door, smiling. From the hallway, a high squeaky voice, shouted: “Who is it, mum?” and Tim rushed to join them, dragging his blanket-full of soft toys behind him. He was still flushed with excitement at Dan’s dream about the river, the forest and the strange city.
He peered round Liz’s legs.
“We’re the Christie’s from over the road. I’m Bruce; this is my wife – Diana – and this is Sara”.
Bruce wore jeans, trainers and a baggy blue sweatshirt. He was small, bald and slightly plump with a round cheery face. A livid scar shone on his right cheek and he had black deep-set eyes. He smiled impishly, and winked at Tim.
Diana, in striking contrast, wore a bright red top, check trousers and suede shoes. She was tall, slim and pretty with short blonde hair swept back from her face, and soft brown eyes.
“Nice to meet you”, said Liz, introducing Hugh and Tim. “Come in, come in. It’s a bit chaotic this morning and we had a long drive yesterday. The house is a mess and we can’t find a thing, but I’m sure we can rustle up a cup of tea!”
They settled into the lounge, while she put the kettle on.
“Where’s Dan?” asked Hugh, but before Tim could reply, he walked in, an enquiring look on his face. He looked straight at Sara, and went pale. She returned his gaze with a shy grin. He knew immediately she was the girl from his two dreams – her cheery freckled face, brown eyes and short blond hair were etched firmly on his memory.
She wore faded denims, dark blue football top and old trainers. “What’s up Dan?” said Hugh, “Cat got your tongue?”
Dan felt embarrassed and confused. His mind in turmoil, he gulped, and to cover up, blurted out, “No, I’m still thinking about my dream. I’m not quite with it yet!”
Diana said: “That sounds interesting. What were you dreaming about?”
Liz looked at Dan and said: “He’s had a couple of rather strange dreams recently, and last night, he found a lost city, or that’s what it sounded like!”
Over their cup of tea, she told them about his dreams. “I’m sure they’re caused by the excitement of the move, and all the upheaval.” Sara was fascinated, and felt they were important to her too in some way.
Hugh and Liz told the Christies about their move, their captivation with the village, their new home, and the previous day’s journey.
Liz said, “We thought we’d spend the next few days sorting ourselves out, and I’m having fun organising. We’ve got more space here than in Southcoats, which is great, but the boys need some new furniture, and our bedroom and the lounge need some more bits and pieces. The only place we don’t need anything is the cellar, and the boys haven’t had the chance to rummage round there yet. Mr. Friis left everything in it, and it’s crammed full of junk, so we’ll probably need a big clear-out”.
Sensing the children’s mood, she added: “Dan, why don’t you and Timmy show Sara the cellar?”
“Good idea – come on guys, let’s go”, said Dan.
While Tim went to put on his slippers, Dan said: “I know this must sound weird, but I’ve seen you before – you’re the girl in my dreams!” Sara gasped: “That’s bizarre! I feel I know you too! How come?”
“I don’t know, but I knew it the moment I saw you!”
Sara shivered slightly at this odd sense of shared experience, and Tim trundled up scuffing his feet in slippers.
At the cellar door, Sara said: “This is where Peter did all his experiments. I’ve always wondered what he was up to. What a racket he used to make. Hammerings and bangings, whooshing noises and all sorts of clattering. Everyone thought he was odd, but I liked him – I think he was just a bit shy.”
“What happened to him?” asked Dan, liking the look of his new friend. Whilst a bit smaller, she was confident, and spoke with a soft lilting Perthshire accent he found strange but appealing. Her whole face lit up with animation as she spoke: “Peter spent days on end in the house, and when he did come out, it was usually to the supermarket, midweek to avoid seeing people. He was a bit of a recluse –”
“What’s a recluse?” asked Tim, in his piping little voice.
Sara and Dan laughed, and Dan explained: “It means someone who keeps away from people”.
“Why did he do that?” asked Tim.
Sara replied: “Well, he was an inventor – or a scientist – I’m not sure which. In fact, nobody knew much about him, because he kept pretty much to himself, which made him more curious. We didn’t see him for ages, and then he would just suddenly pop up at the shops, ambling along in his half-lost sort of way. Then, last July, he just disappeared! It was really strange – the police came round, asking us all questions. His family came and searched the house, and his brother even stayed for a couple of months, hoping he would come back – but he never did, and nobody knows what happened to him. And we haven’t seen old Nigel either”.
“Nigel? Who’s Nigel?” asked Dan.
“Oh, Nigel was the chap who used to help him. He was like an assistant. He would come round in his old Volvo, crammed to the roof with mysterious boxes, loading them in to the house, before going off again. No one knows where he came from or where he lived”.
“How strange”, said Dan. “So they did their experiments down here?” He pointed down the steps, and again felt a shiver of anticipation.
“Yes! I’m dying to see! Let’s go!”
Dan switched on the light and led, followed by Sara, with Tim trailing behind.
They were struck by the smell of the place. It was a mixture of old and new. Aromas of exotic spices competed with a stale dried leather smell. There were hints of wet grass, flowers, animals, paint and tea.
Sara sniffed: “What a funny smell!”
“I know”, Dan replied, “We noticed it before. I don’t know where it’s coming from.”
The room was over three metres high. Fluorescent lighting cast a strong sharp light into every corner. Around the four windowless walls metal shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, crammed full. Amongst the clutter, Sara saw the models. They were made of plaster, carved from wood and fashioned from pieces of metal, cloth and cardboard.
“These are cool”, she said, picking up a wood-carved aeroplane. It had a row of clear Perspex windows on its underside. Small dart-shaped wings studded its sides and top and rotated round the main body of the craft. It looked very sleek and futuristic, but – strangest of all – they could see lifelike little figures through the Perspex, dressed in violet-blue clothes, peering back at them.
“The detail’s amazing!” said Dan, his blue eyes sparkling, as he picked up a plastic moulded lion that snarled at him, its mane framing its magnificent head.
Tim was playing on the floor with two other animals, and Sara leant over to see. Dan gulped: “They’re the same as the iguanodons in my dream!”
Sara said: “Oh, that’s weird! I’d love to hear more about your dreams”.
“OK, Sara, but let’s explore some more first”.
They rummaged through piles of crates and boxes without finding much of interest. They were full of bits of wood, plastic and metal, and brightly coloured scraps of fabric.
Sara said: “He must have used these to make the models”.
In the centre of the floor, a sheet covered a bulky object, and they pulled it off to reveal a square metal table. Engraved on its surface were strange symbols and etchings of buildings, people and animals. In the middle was a sequence of letters.
“What an amazing table!” said Sara. “It must be something to do with his experiments”.
Tim, bored, crawled underneath, and yelped as he stood up and banged his head.
“Ouch – I felt that too!” said Dan, and bent down to pull him out. A perfect circle was outlined on the floor. Through it cut two straight lines dividing it into four equal segments. The lines continued to the four walls from end to end, and side-to-side, dead straight, quartering the cellar. The rim of the circle and the lines were no more than a centimetre thick, carved into the concrete floor.
“How odd!” said Dan. “I wonder what all this is, and what Peter got up to here. Have you noticed that everything’s clean and free of dust? The rest of the house is a bit grimy, but down here, it still feels lived in”.
“You’re right”, said Sara, rubbing Tim’s head.
Dan was about to speak when he felt the air swirl around him. He ducked and gasped, and Sara quickly said: “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
“Yes – yes, I think so! I just got a fright. It felt like something brushed past me!”
Sara shivered: “Ooh, I didn’t see anything. Are you sure?” “It happened once before, but it’s maybe just a draught.”
Bruce shouted down: “Come on Sara, time’s up! We have to go now, but you’ll see the boys later. We’re having dinner about six o’clock”.
They climbed upstairs. The adults were chatting in the hall. Sara and Dan grinned at each other. They heard Liz ask: “So how did you meet?”
Diana laughed: “Oh, it’s all my mum’s fault. Because I was on my own at the time, she asked me to go with her to a wedding in Glasgow. Bruce was propping up the bar, and the rest is history! How about you pair?”
Liz smiled: “Hugh and I grew up together in Kent, in Tunbridge Wells. We went to school together, got engaged, and got married fifteen years ago – all very conventional, nothing as exciting as you and Bruce.”
Bruce gripped Diana’s arm firmly, and said: "That’s enough chatter! We’d best get away before all our secrets come out! Come on Sara, let’s go”.
Hugh and Liz were dragged down to the cellar after the Christies left.
The metal table and its inscriptions fascinated them, but even Hugh couldn’t make sense of what the etchings meant. The circle and the lines that criss-crossed the cellar seemed important, and it was Liz who noticed the lines pointed north, south, east and west, following the layout of the village.
“How strange”, she puzzled.
Hugh spotted some drills and other tools to add to his tool-kit, and grinned his satisfaction.