Timesmudger

By GIllian Smellie

Time travel and murder were not what Poppy was expecting when she returned to school after the long summer holidays. In fact, nothing was quite as she expected at all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: GIllian Smellie
• Release date: Jul 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311731791

GIllian Smellie

Gillian planned on becoming a spy when she grew up. Instead she moved to the north of England where she lives with her husband, three daughters, three dogs, five cats, two goldfish, one parrot, various chickens and writes books.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The water was too hot. Agnes called for Alice but by now she was downstairs helping Cook with dinner and in any event Agnes preferred to bath her son herself. She had already surprised her friends and had an almighty row with Ambrose over her refusal to employ a nanny and she knew that her preference to look after him herself, as much as possible, was considered very odd.

Come along my little man, we’ll manage perfectly well on our own won’t we? Henry, sitting on a vast towel on the bathroom floor smiled back and returned to his wooden bricks. Proud of her modern bathroom, with shiny taps and running water, Agnes added cold water to the enormous bath and tested it with her elbow as she had seen her own nanny do many years earlier. Satisfied that it was at last the correct temperature, she lowered the child into the bath and called to her nephew Edwin to give her a hand and so set in train the series of events that would ultimately culminate in the death of Edwin five years later.

CHAPTER ONE

Poppy hated the journey back to school. Not because she had to go back to school, but because her mother made it such hard work. She sighed as she watched her younger brother drag his heels across the station platform, trying to distance himself from the woman in an electric yellow cape marching in front of him. She knew exactly how he felt, how he longed to be anywhere at all but following his mother. It was only recently that Poppy had realised that nobody else seemed to notice her mother. The embarrassment and dread that accompanied any outing with their mother was quite unnecessary. The crowds were quite blind to her eccentric appearance as she flapped her arms and called to Duncan as he dawdled behind her. But it still didn’t stop her dreading every public outing.

Come along darling, you’ll miss the train if you don’t get a move on. Look Poppy’s waiting by the barrier. She came to a sudden halt in front of Poppy, like a huge liner pulling into dock, and pulled two crumpled paper bags out of her enormous handbag. Snacks! She announced in a loud and commanding voice as if the snacks might choose suddenly to change themselves into something else altogether. Poppy took the bags and balanced them on the top of her suitcase. Duncan looked on in horror as a third bag was extracted. I packed a third one just in case any of your friends were hungry too. Some of them do have to travel a long way and they might be a bit peckish by the time you all get on the train.

Thank you Mum. Poppy took the third bag and glared at Duncan who managed a mumbled thank you whilst staring at his shoes and praying for the floor to open up and swallow him. The pressure of people trying to squeeze through the barrier to the waiting trains was becoming stronger and Poppy pushed Duncan through. She turned and gave her mother a final hug before following him and the sea of people towards their train and the relative normality of school dragging her suitcase and shoving Duncan and his suitcase forward as they went.

By the time they had pushed through the crowds and got onto the train the doors were closing behind them and the train was pulling out of the station and heading towards the edges of London before they found their seats. Poppy left Duncan with his friends, he declined to take his snack bag. Poppy had some sympathy with him and moved along the train looking for Helen.

Hey what’s in there? She poked her finger into a carrier bag on the lap of a girl sprawled over two seats.

Poppy! I began to think you weren’t coming. I’ve saved you a seat. She sat up and Poppy dumped her case next to the rest of the pile of luggage and clambered to the empty seat by the window.

It was the usual long drawn out farewell. She held up her paper bag. Complete with interesting snacks for the journey. Do you want some?

The other girl smiled weakly. What is it?

Poppy leaned against the cool of the window; the fight to get onto the train had made her rather hot and bothered. Unlike the more modern long distance trains there were no tables and the seats were just a little too small. As Poppy leaned back she slipped towards the edge of the seat. She looked around at the sea of boys and girls, the youngest in their new uniform, clearly bought to last and several sizes too big. Others, like herself, in skirts bought many years earlier and even Poppy thought were perhaps edging on the wrong side of decency. She turned back to her friend.

I’ve no idea. Dad was starting to harvest the beetroot at the weekend so there’s probably something beetrooty, and Mum’s been writing a new book this summer so there’s been lots of experimentation. You don’t have to eat it; I’ll leave it discreetly on the seat and hope I don’t get arrested under some law about dangerous substances. She tucked the three bags in the gap between the two empty seats opposite and took the proffered chocolate biscuit. She means well, but her cooking really is dreadful.

She sells lots of books.

I know but I can’t imagine anyone actually cooks with them. Her recipes really are a bit odd... They giggled and sat back and worked their way through the packet of biscuits.

Poppy, I’ve got some news.

Good or bad?

Mmm, sort of both.

That sounds sort of bad.

Well I’ll never have to sleep in that pokey, horrible attic room again.

Poppy raised her eyebrows. That sounds like good to me.

I won’t have to sleep in that pokey, horrible attic room again because Mum has got Battersby’s job and the flat that goes with it.

Poppy spluttered, sending chocolately crumbs all over the seat opposite. It was a moment before she was able to speak. That is dreadful news. Your mother is the new matron? Oh Helen you are kidding?

Sadly not. Do you think it’s that bad?

Poppy sat back in her seat and looked heavenwards. She’ll come down on us like a ton of bricks if we breathe at the wrong time. The train sped through a tunnel and her ears popped. Poppy closed her eyes and shook her head. When she opened them there was a tall blonde girl brushing the crumbs off the two empty seats opposite them. The girl was wearing the same school uniform as her, so Poppy supposed she must be a new pupil, but she looked as if she had stepped out of the pages of Vogue and try as she might Poppy could not stifle the niggling feeling of jealousy crawling up her back.

Anyone sitting here? Before waiting for a reply she tapped Poppy’s foot. Poppy immediately removed it from the seat. The newcomer swept off the remaining chocolate crumbs before smoothing her skirt as she sat down.

What a dreadful journey. There’s nowhere to sit. Every seat seems to be reserved for somebody.

Poppy looked at the enormous mound of luggage that had suddenly appeared. All movement up and down the carriage had ceased. Faced with a wall of leather suitcases and matching bags everyone had given up and returned to their seats.

The girl was clearly oblivious to the chaos she had caused and had begun to pull out her purse from her bag. Is there a trolley service? I’m gasping.

Poppy returned her gaze to the blockage in the aisle. Not any longer I don’t think. For a moment she considered offering her the dubious contents of the three paper bags her mother had provided but decided against it. Helen offered a chocolate digestive. The new girl recoiled in horror.

No wheat, and no dairy with sugar.

Poppy blinked and exchanged glances with Helen. This girl was going to get jolly hungry if she was going to stay off biscuits all term, thought Poppy.

I was going to get some drinks from the buffet. Would you like something? Poppy fiddled in her coat pocket for some change. She hoped she didn’t ask for something too expensive, there was less than she had expected.

Mineral water, still. I don’t do sparkling. Welsh is good. I can’t pronounce the name, but it has a blue label. That one’s very good.

Helen gave Poppy a pound and Poppy climbed over the luggage and made her way along the train to the buffet leaving Helen to struggle to make conversation with the new girl. By the time she returned with two cans of lemonade and the only bottle of still water the buffet sold, the conversation had ground to a halt.

Poppy, this is Julia. She will be in Year Eight with us...

Lovely, replied Poppy with little feeling.

Julia glanced at the bottle in Poppy’s hand. Oh no, I couldn’t possibly drink that. It’s full of chemicals. Yes, I’m just coming for the one year, thank goodness.

Poppy was beginning to think the feeling was mutual, but managed a weak smile. Well, welcome to Martingdale Abbey. The train jolted and Poppy lurched towards Julia who put her hands up in horror. It looks like we’re here. She handed Helen her lemonade and they dragged their suitcases off the train. Boys and girls tumbled out of carriages and half-heartedly made their way towards the waiting buses. Julia stood alone in the carriage. Poppy sighed and went back in. Is something the matter?

My cases, I can’t possibly carry them all. She picked up a small overnight bag and swept off the train leaving Poppy surrounded by her bags.

By the time they reached school Poppy was struggling to keep her temper. How dare she treat me like her servant? I’m surprised she didn’t click her fingers. If she thinks I’m going to carry them off the bus and into school as well she has got another think coming. She’s unbelievable. Helen let Poppy rattle on only half listening to what she was saying; the enormity of having her mother as the school matron was only just dawning on her and she wasn’t entirely sure she was looking forward to it.

After their first brush with Julia both Poppy and Helen were quite keen to stay out of her way. However, fate had other ideas and as they dragged their suitcases along the corridor they could hear her voice and it was coming from their room.

Tell me this isn’t happening. Pinch me and make me wake up. Helen looked helplessly at Poppy.

Julia had already taken the best bed, tucked around the corner and with access to the deep windowsill, which she was covering with her books and a large collection of toiletries.

Oh hello, you two again. Julia turned and gave Poppy and Helen a quick glance and returned to her unpacking.

Knowing her friend only too well, Helen put a restraining hand on Poppy’s arm and her finger to her lips.

Poppy took a deep breath and threw her coat on the bed by the door. This was not how she had planned on spending her senior year at Martingdale. Stuck with the worst bed in the dorm with the new girl from hell. Suddenly, for the first time in years, she felt a pang of homesickness and wished she had kept her mother’s snacks. The beetroot and chocolate cookies might not be to everyone’s taste, but they were a tangible link to home and right now she wanted to be anywhere but here.

CHAPTER TWO

Edwin lay in bed and listened to the wind howl around the metal window frames. He thought their rattling sounded like dried up skeletons banging to be let in and shuffled further down the bed, pulling the covers completely over his head. It was dark and stuffy but at least he couldn’t hear the windows any more. Eventually he had to come up for air and he poked his nose out from under the top sheet. It was cold and he could feel his nose start to run. He wiped it on the edge of the sheet and watched the shadows on the ceiling.

As the eldest in the dormitory, he had chosen his bed and to everyone’s surprise had opted for the one by the door. He didn’t want the beds by the window, the draughts and rattling unnerved him and he liked to be able to see who was coming into the room before anyone else did. He also had room for a chair next to his bed, a small perk, but one none of the other boys had. He wasn’t sure what time it was, the moon was throwing pale shadows of the trees across the walls and ceiling and he guessed it must be hours until the morning bell. He turned to face the wall and tried to go back to sleep. He could hear the gentle snores of the other boys as they echoed round the room, one or two were becoming louder and he moved further down the covers to try and drown them out.

A gentle draught blew over the edge of his exposed forehead. It was cold and instinctively he pulled up the sheet again. Then he stopped. The window was on the other side of the room. Where was the draught coming from? He placed his hands slowly over the wall and, like a policeman doing a fingertip search, he painstakingly worked his way along the wall next to his bed. He found it; a thin line working its way across the wall diagonally from his pillow. It wasn’t quite straight; it looked more like a crack in the plaster. He sat up and ran his finger along its entire length. Then he heard it. It was like a scratching noise. He pulled his finger back with a start. The noise stopped and tentatively he placed his hand back on the wall. He didn’t wake anyone up so he couldn’t have screamed, but it wasn’t for want of trying.

The evening had gone on forever. Helen and Poppy unpacked more or less in silence. Relegated to the bed by the door Poppy did at least have space for a chair by her bed, on which she carefully placed her alarm clock, an old-fashioned wind-up clock that folded into its own case. It had been her father’s when he and her mother had first got married and as a little child she had been fascinated by the way it folded up into a neat little box. Her father had explained that it was a travelling clock and when she had first gone away to school he had solemnly presented it to her, saying that as she was a traveller now it was hers. Next to her clock went Sock Monkey, a rather strange creature fashioned from a pair of pink stripy socks. They had been all the rage a couple of terms ago and her mother had unexpectedly cottoned on to this and made one for Poppy so she would not be left out. Her mother’s sewing skills were, noted Poppy at the time, as experimental as her cookery, and it bore little resemblance to the cute long-legged monkeys her friends tucked in their bags and sat on their pillows. Hers had two very short fat legs and two extremely uneven arms, as if one had been amputated at the elbow. The ears were attached somewhere in the region of the back of the head, giving the monkey a look not unlike a speeding terrier and one eye fell off within minutes. Nonetheless, Poppy loved him. It was the only time her mother had actually noticed a fashion or trend and Poppy knew that it had probably taken her hours and a lot of sore fingers to create the oddity she held in her hands. Long after everyone else had moved on to the next trend Poppy still took Sock Monkey with her everywhere. Her link with home, however eccentric it was.

Her chest of drawers was pushed up next to Julia’s and as she put her clothes away she could hardly not notice that whilst her drawers were sparse with plenty of room, Julia had to squeeze and push to force her drawers to shut. Poppy had never seen anyone turn up with quite so many clothes and was secretly fascinated by the colours and textures. Julia went next door to hang up her wash bag and Poppy stroked a soft baby blue jumper poking out of the top drawer.

Cashmere.

Poppy pulled her hand back and shoved it protectively in her armpit, as if burned. Julia looked at her for a moment as if about to say something else, but then she changed her mind, began to sort her games kit and turned her back on Poppy.

Throughout all this Helen watched the two girls from her bed in the middle and wondered how on earth she was going to survive this term. For the first time she thought that having her mother as the matron was the least of her worries. Although nothing had been said, it was quite clear that Julia was as cross to have been put in the same dorm as they were to have her there. The three girls continued their unpacking in silence Julia didn’t seem to want to talk to them and they both felt uncomfortable talking as if she wasn’t there.

Lights out was dreadful. As it was the first day of term, Mrs Beecham came round personally to turn out the lights and say goodnight. Helen squirmed and ignored her mother. Poppy was polite but cool. She wasn’t sure how this was going to pan out and she didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot. Julia had no such fear and began with a list of complaints. As she lay there Poppy conceded that some of them were quite valid and she couldn’t see why they had to supervise the juniors’ tooth brushing either, but more wisely, she kept quiet.

Julia you don’t make the rules, you keep them. Poppy muffled a laugh; Helen turned to the wall and buried her head under the covers. Mrs Beecham said goodnight and turned out the lights.

Julia, unaware of the relationship between her new roommate and the matron, scowled. Cow! Helen shot up, but Poppy was faster and glared silently at her friend putting a finger discreetly to her lips. Helen met Poppy’s eyes and reluctantly slid back under the covers. Meanwhile Julia turned over to face the wall and went to sleep. It was then that the unravelling began.

Poppy curled into a ball and stuck her nose between Sock Monkey’s wonky ears. It’s only the first day. Julia’s probably a bit unsure of herself, it can’t be easy being the new girl when everyone else has been here for ages, thought Poppy as she shifted to avoid the draught that was coming from the wall. She wriggled again. It was jolly cold and it didn’t seem to matter where she put her head, she couldn’t avoid it. Slowly she put her hand to the wall and felt for the source of the draught. It didn’t take her long. There was a crack, just above her head. It stretched diagonally across the wall for about twelve inches. She edged closer and wondered if she could see all the way to the outside. That would certainly be an excellent excuse to move rooms and hopefully to one without Julia Montague. Her earlier sympathy was vanishing rapidly into the cool air brushing her face.

As she leaned closer her fingers pressed against the wall, but there was no resistance. The wall seemed to melt and she watched, incredulous, as the tips of her fingers disappeared into the plasterwork. She yanked them out and rubbed them. Slowly she prodded the wall very gently and once again her fingers slid effortlessly through the wall. It wasn’t unpleasant; it was rather odd, strangely ticklish as if somebody was running their fingers over her palm. She tried to pull her hand back. But as