circling above us, watching? There could be any kind of demon or creature. We need to get a message out.’ He put his phone away and sighed. ‘Come on, back to the church.’
‘We’ll get wet.’
‘That’s the least of our problems.’ Knight stepped out into the rain. ‘It’s not that bad. Let’s go.’
With a grunt of irritation, Maria followed him.
‘If you’re that bothered,’ Knight told her, ‘you can shelter in the phone box.’
He stopped abruptly and Maria almost walked into him.
‘What is it?’ She followed his gaze to the small phone box on the other side of the road. ‘Like I said, it won’t still be connected.’
Knight set off towards the phone box. ‘It might be – if it thinks it’s in 1943, like those soldiers. Like the pub when Tommy was here. Like the church tower …’
‘You are kidding!’ Maria tried to squeeze into the small cubicle behind Knight, but she was still getting wet from the rain. ‘Anything?’
In answer, he held the chunky Bakelite phone receiver to her ear.
‘Hello? Hello?’ a woman’s voice said impatiently. ‘Is there anyone there? What number do you require? I haven’t got all day. There’s a war on, you know, so unless this is urgent please hang up.’
Knight replaced the handset.
‘Interesting, but I’m not sure it helps. Who do we know in 1943 and what’s their phone number?’
‘We could call the police.’
‘Even if they believe us, they’ll come here nearly seventy years ago. That’s no use. There must be a way,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I must know a phone number that will help. Ah!’ He clicked his fingers.‘What’s the most famous phone number of the twentieth century?’
‘Er … 999?’ Maria said. ‘Or 1066?’
‘Very funny.’ Knight lifted the receiver again. ‘Hello? Can you get me a London number please? A reverse-charge call, is that the term?’ He listened for a moment. ‘Yes, I can wait. We’re not going anywhere. And the number is Whitehall 1212.’
*
The letter was old and dry. It cracked as Ben pulled it out of the envelope and unfolded it.
‘What’s it say? Who’s it from?’ Rupam demanded.
‘You should wait for Mrs Bailey to come back,’ Sam said quietly.
She was sitting on the large circular wooden table in the middle of the library. Right where Rupam would have seen her – if she had really been there.
Mrs Bailey had taken the man with the briefcase back to his car. He was obviously disappointed not to discover what was in the letter he’d brought all the way from London.
‘It’s dated 3 March 1943,’ Ben said as soon as Mrs Bailey returned. ‘And it’s a message from Mr Knight.’
New Scotland Yard
Embankment
London
3 March 1943
Dear Ben Foundling
I do not pretend to understand what is happening or why I have been asked to ensure that this letter is delivered to you so far in the future at such a remote location. But I have just spoken on the telephone with Mr Dirk Knight, who assures me that it is of the utmost importance that I follow his instructions. He was most persuasive and I am sure he has his reasons. The code words he used have been confirmed at the highest level.
I noted down exactly what Mr Knight asked me to tell you and will copy it exactly from my notes:
We are trapped in the village with no communications except this telephone. Greene’s people at the checkpoints are under the same illusion as Corporal Rutherford and, I imagine, now believe they have orders to shoot on sight. Other ways out seem to be blocked by hedges and vegetation.
The solution must lie within the village itself. The only clue we have is the words of an old woman we met: ‘Beware the green.’ We have no idea what she meant. Growl desperately needs the documents Mrs Bailey has provided to complete his research, plus whatever else you have discovered.
While Mrs Bailey works with Captain Morton to sort out Greene’s people and organise satterlight (sorry, not sure of the spelling
‘We’ll get wet.’
‘That’s the least of our problems.’ Knight stepped out into the rain. ‘It’s not that bad. Let’s go.’
With a grunt of irritation, Maria followed him.
‘If you’re that bothered,’ Knight told her, ‘you can shelter in the phone box.’
He stopped abruptly and Maria almost walked into him.
‘What is it?’ She followed his gaze to the small phone box on the other side of the road. ‘Like I said, it won’t still be connected.’
Knight set off towards the phone box. ‘It might be – if it thinks it’s in 1943, like those soldiers. Like the pub when Tommy was here. Like the church tower …’
‘You are kidding!’ Maria tried to squeeze into the small cubicle behind Knight, but she was still getting wet from the rain. ‘Anything?’
In answer, he held the chunky Bakelite phone receiver to her ear.
‘Hello? Hello?’ a woman’s voice said impatiently. ‘Is there anyone there? What number do you require? I haven’t got all day. There’s a war on, you know, so unless this is urgent please hang up.’
Knight replaced the handset.
‘Interesting, but I’m not sure it helps. Who do we know in 1943 and what’s their phone number?’
‘We could call the police.’
‘Even if they believe us, they’ll come here nearly seventy years ago. That’s no use. There must be a way,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I must know a phone number that will help. Ah!’ He clicked his fingers.‘What’s the most famous phone number of the twentieth century?’
‘Er … 999?’ Maria said. ‘Or 1066?’
‘Very funny.’ Knight lifted the receiver again. ‘Hello? Can you get me a London number please? A reverse-charge call, is that the term?’ He listened for a moment. ‘Yes, I can wait. We’re not going anywhere. And the number is Whitehall 1212.’
*
The letter was old and dry. It cracked as Ben pulled it out of the envelope and unfolded it.
‘What’s it say? Who’s it from?’ Rupam demanded.
‘You should wait for Mrs Bailey to come back,’ Sam said quietly.
She was sitting on the large circular wooden table in the middle of the library. Right where Rupam would have seen her – if she had really been there.
Mrs Bailey had taken the man with the briefcase back to his car. He was obviously disappointed not to discover what was in the letter he’d brought all the way from London.
‘It’s dated 3 March 1943,’ Ben said as soon as Mrs Bailey returned. ‘And it’s a message from Mr Knight.’
New Scotland Yard
Embankment
London
3 March 1943
Dear Ben Foundling
I do not pretend to understand what is happening or why I have been asked to ensure that this letter is delivered to you so far in the future at such a remote location. But I have just spoken on the telephone with Mr Dirk Knight, who assures me that it is of the utmost importance that I follow his instructions. He was most persuasive and I am sure he has his reasons. The code words he used have been confirmed at the highest level.
I noted down exactly what Mr Knight asked me to tell you and will copy it exactly from my notes:
We are trapped in the village with no communications except this telephone. Greene’s people at the checkpoints are under the same illusion as Corporal Rutherford and, I imagine, now believe they have orders to shoot on sight. Other ways out seem to be blocked by hedges and vegetation.
The solution must lie within the village itself. The only clue we have is the words of an old woman we met: ‘Beware the green.’ We have no idea what she meant. Growl desperately needs the documents Mrs Bailey has provided to complete his research, plus whatever else you have discovered.
While Mrs Bailey works with Captain Morton to sort out Greene’s people and organise satterlight (sorry, not sure of the spelling
Similar Books
