Julius and the Watchmaker by Tim Hehir Page B

I?’
    â€˜Light speed,’ said Clements.
    â€˜Oh, yes. It’s like trying to solve a puzzle with only half the clues. Harrison was concerned with how to produce the device, not how it actually works. But I can tell you one thing, it was not a chronometer he was building…it was a time-machine, I’m sure of it.’
    â€˜I knew it,’ exclaimed Clements.
    Did he say time-machine, Higgins?
    â€˜This Professor Fox he mentions, though…If the cove were alive now, I’d like to ask him a few questions about this Guild of his. I’ll wager ten pounds it’s the very same one Lord Byron spoke of.’
    Julius could feel the sovereigns snug in his pocket. What have you gotten yourself into, Higgins? These people are insane. You could escape to Kent. Buy a cottage. Write a letter to Grandfather to explain everything. Invite him down for a visit. Get everything back to normal.
    While Julius was musing on possible futures for himself, Springheel spun the watch once more. It bobbed in the air over the supper table.
    It won’t hurt to get yourself into Springheel’s good books, Higgins. Get him to trust you — get him to let you see the diary again .
    Julius reached out to the spinning watch and tapped its side with his fingertip. It did not burst into light as he had hoped, but it glowed faintly.
    Clements dropped the gold signet ring into the remains of his kipper. ‘How did you do that?’
    â€˜It just…It felt like the right thing to do,’ said Julius, doing his best to avoid Springheel’s enquiring stare.
    â€˜You are a constant source of surprises, Julius,’ said Springheel eventually, and he reached out and tapped the side of the watch. The glow faded. He smiled. ‘We’re making progress.’
    â€˜We’ll be as rich as kings,’ said Clements, cleaning the kipper grease off the gold ring.
    â€˜Richer.’
    â€˜Yes, richer.’
    â€˜But now to work. We have our other little project to complete tonight, Clements. Julius, you may have the evening off,’ said Springheel as he pocketed the watch and swept out of the room in a swirl of excitement.
    â€˜Wash the dishes first,’ said Clements, and he rose from his seat and hurried after Springheel.
    â€˜Oh, Mr Clements,’ said Julius.
    Clements stopped at the curtain. ‘Yes.’
    â€˜Thank you for cleaning my boots.’
    â€˜That’s all right. Can’t abide the smell of rotting fish.’ Clements turned to go again.
    â€˜Mr Clements…could I have a look at the diary?’
    â€˜What for?’
    â€˜I’m interested.’
    Clements let the curtain fall and looked at Julius. ‘It’s ours now, fair and square—the diary and a few odd jobs in exchange for a week’s lodgings,’ he said.
    â€˜I know, it’s just that—’
    â€˜You can start by washing the dishes, like a good lad,’ said Clements, and he walked out into the shop.
    Alone in the kitchen, Julius could hear Springheel and Clements hurrying up the side stairs, voices raised in excited discussion. He patted the pocket containing the money. How much do cottages in Kent cost? he wondered, picturing a bucolic life amid fruit trees, with rustic types doffing their hats to him as he strolled down a country lane. But the image soon faded and was replaced by the kipper skeletons on the butter smeared plates.
    When the washing-up was done, Julius walked into the dark shop and rattled the door to make sure Clements had locked it. Then he trudged up the stairs, fell backwards onto the bed and looked up through the skylight. As he had been sleeping for most of the day he did not feel very drowsy, but he propped his pillow against the wall and leaned back to rest. It had been a very full few days. What are you going to do now, Higgins? What? What? What?

    Julius woke with a start. His hand clutched the pocket containing the twelve pounds—it was