metal cooled and hardened before his eyes.
Rummaging in the button box he managed to find a fourth brass button, with an anchor on it, just as the others had. He left this in for the same length of time as he had the third, but it emerged only as two lumps of stone, like the button he had left for half a minute only.
He concluded then that you could not control this past at all; that is, you could not determine the stage of its past to which you wanted some object to revert, by the length of time you left it in the cupboard. The cupboard worked to its own timings, had its own logic. It would have comforted Hugh a little to have disproved that, if only minimally. If time as he knew it, running in a straight line, from the past through the present to the future, had related to the cupboard, even in reverse, it would have been something to cling to, to make him feel safe. It must be orthodox time, he thought, which made life seem relatively stable and ordinary. If time melted, had no force, then space, the whole physical world would easily melt as well. Hugh longed for one aspect of the cupboard to be controllable.
He stood staring at it, as if the cupboard itself, its wood, its form, might divulge some of its reason and purposes. He held a door open with one hand and rested his other hand on a shelf. He was stretched across the cupboard, his arms wide, but the cupboard seemed to hold him, rather than he it. The sun flowed past him, bringing out the close grain of the wood (so close that to the naked eye it scarcely made patterns on the wood, as coarser graining does). Light brought out the differential tarnishing of the thin brass hanging-rail. In one place he could see all colours there, oilish rainbow colours like the colours of the melted plastic.
Hugh dropped his hands suddenly and stepped right back. He clenched his hands and stood perfectly still, his head singing curiously. He took one step forward – hesitated – pulled his foot back.
He wanted – he could not look at what he wanted, because he knew that he must not, should not do it. But he wanted to; only, he was afraid. He put his foot forward again; he could not help it, it might have been dragged; and snatched it back. And again he could not help it, for his fear took over. He felt the two contrary pulls that he had felt before, himself ruling neither, yet ruled by both. They cancelled one another now and left him motionless.
He wanted to get inside the cupboard. There was a little, clear, moving picture inside his head, of stepping in, crushing himself up, pulling the doors shut on him. The doors snapped across his mind, cutting off pictures, making his eyes blind. It was dark inside the cupboard. The brass rail sang above him. He could see nothing now, only feel it.
Darkness. Hugh shook his head. For there was no darkness, only full daylight, hot sun. He stood staring at the cupboard, and the wanting to enter it was still so strong, it pulled him forward. He took one step forward and another, telling himself it was only to retrieve the pool of hardened metal that still lay on the floor in front of the cupboard. He bent, reached out a hand, stepped forward again. One foot was actually in the cupboard now. In a moment the rest of him would have followed. But –
“Hugh, Hugh ,” came a voice behind him and the crash of an opening door. “Penn and Anna are here. Mum says we ought to go. She’ll take us down to the station.”
“I don’t believe she’s ready, for a start.” Hugh’s voice belonged to someone else. His eyes blinked in the sunlight.
“Well she is, for once. You’d better hurry up,” said Jean.
“Well I’m not.”
“Well hurry up. What have you been doing, Hugh?”
“It’s far too late to go anyway. It’ll be jammed by now, in the holidays. I haven’t been doing anything.”
They were going to the zoo. It was one of Hugh’s favourite places, he went there often, by himself. He went to observe and also draw, animals,
Rummaging in the button box he managed to find a fourth brass button, with an anchor on it, just as the others had. He left this in for the same length of time as he had the third, but it emerged only as two lumps of stone, like the button he had left for half a minute only.
He concluded then that you could not control this past at all; that is, you could not determine the stage of its past to which you wanted some object to revert, by the length of time you left it in the cupboard. The cupboard worked to its own timings, had its own logic. It would have comforted Hugh a little to have disproved that, if only minimally. If time as he knew it, running in a straight line, from the past through the present to the future, had related to the cupboard, even in reverse, it would have been something to cling to, to make him feel safe. It must be orthodox time, he thought, which made life seem relatively stable and ordinary. If time melted, had no force, then space, the whole physical world would easily melt as well. Hugh longed for one aspect of the cupboard to be controllable.
He stood staring at it, as if the cupboard itself, its wood, its form, might divulge some of its reason and purposes. He held a door open with one hand and rested his other hand on a shelf. He was stretched across the cupboard, his arms wide, but the cupboard seemed to hold him, rather than he it. The sun flowed past him, bringing out the close grain of the wood (so close that to the naked eye it scarcely made patterns on the wood, as coarser graining does). Light brought out the differential tarnishing of the thin brass hanging-rail. In one place he could see all colours there, oilish rainbow colours like the colours of the melted plastic.
Hugh dropped his hands suddenly and stepped right back. He clenched his hands and stood perfectly still, his head singing curiously. He took one step forward – hesitated – pulled his foot back.
He wanted – he could not look at what he wanted, because he knew that he must not, should not do it. But he wanted to; only, he was afraid. He put his foot forward again; he could not help it, it might have been dragged; and snatched it back. And again he could not help it, for his fear took over. He felt the two contrary pulls that he had felt before, himself ruling neither, yet ruled by both. They cancelled one another now and left him motionless.
He wanted to get inside the cupboard. There was a little, clear, moving picture inside his head, of stepping in, crushing himself up, pulling the doors shut on him. The doors snapped across his mind, cutting off pictures, making his eyes blind. It was dark inside the cupboard. The brass rail sang above him. He could see nothing now, only feel it.
Darkness. Hugh shook his head. For there was no darkness, only full daylight, hot sun. He stood staring at the cupboard, and the wanting to enter it was still so strong, it pulled him forward. He took one step forward and another, telling himself it was only to retrieve the pool of hardened metal that still lay on the floor in front of the cupboard. He bent, reached out a hand, stepped forward again. One foot was actually in the cupboard now. In a moment the rest of him would have followed. But –
“Hugh, Hugh ,” came a voice behind him and the crash of an opening door. “Penn and Anna are here. Mum says we ought to go. She’ll take us down to the station.”
“I don’t believe she’s ready, for a start.” Hugh’s voice belonged to someone else. His eyes blinked in the sunlight.
“Well she is, for once. You’d better hurry up,” said Jean.
“Well I’m not.”
“Well hurry up. What have you been doing, Hugh?”
“It’s far too late to go anyway. It’ll be jammed by now, in the holidays. I haven’t been doing anything.”
They were going to the zoo. It was one of Hugh’s favourite places, he went there often, by himself. He went to observe and also draw, animals,
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