Chaos Clock (4 page)

“Mum! Ben won’t get out of my room. He’s messing up all my stuff,” Kate yelled round the door of her bedroom, holding on to a squalling Ben by a handful of sweatshirt. “Ouch! Mum, he’s kicking me.”

Ruth emerged from the study just as Ben dissolved into theatrical sobs and Kate let go. “Come on, Ben. I thought you wanted to make biscuits. Leave Kate alone, she’s trying to pack.”

The sobbing stopped abruptly. “Is she going away? Can I have her room?”

“I’m only going away for one night, idiot. I already told you about it.”

“Don’t call him an idiot,” said Ruth mildly. “It’s only half true. Come on, Ben.”

Kate shut the bedroom door. Why was it always so hard to get any peace or privacy in this house? Sometimes it felt as though she lived with about twenty people, not just three.

She found herself envying David and his dad and then felt awful that she’d done so. She knew how lonely both of them had been since his mum died. Neither of them said so any more, but she could see it in their eyes sometimes when they were round here and didn’t know she was paying attention: a longing as they watched Mum and Ben.

She checked her bag once more, then went to see if there were any bits of biscuit dough that needed eating.

“Here they are,” she called from the window where she’d been keeping watch for the last ten minutes.

“A kiss, a kiss,” yelled Ben, suddenly agitated in case Kate disappeared without saying goodbye.

Mum and Dad, to her relief, didn’t make a fuss over her going, just a quick kiss each and a reminder to thank Alastair for taking them.

At the museum, they found a parking space just across from the main entrance and joined the trickle of people carrying sleeping bags and backpacks.

“I have to come and sign you in and leave emergency numbers,” said Alastair, “but don’t worry, I’ll push off as fast as possible. I don’t want to spoil your fun.”

Inside the Main Hall it was darker than they had expected, only a few lights shining, the brightly lit Information Desk like a beacon, and as they went in the last few notes of the clock’s performance were dying away as it settled into quiet for the night.

Once Alastair had filled in a form signing them over officially, he gave David a quick hug and strode off to the door without looking back.

“Dump your stuff over there with the rest just now and have a seat,” said the tall, dark-haired man at the desk. “There’s another three to come and then we can get started,” he added.

Kate read his name tag:

“Can we sleep
anywhere
?” she asked.

He laughed. “No. We don’t let you near the mummies, if that’s what you’re about to ask. We don’t want you scaring each other to death during the night. You can sleep here in the Main Hall, or in with the elephants or the British mammals or the fish. Fish or mammals are comfiest because there’s carpet on the floors.”

“All right, Sandy?” he asked a smaller, balding man who’d joined him at the desk as he was speaking.

“Aye, Gordon. Fine.”

“I’m away to sort the clock for the night. There’s still three to come,” said G for Gordon and set off up the hall with a big torch in one hand.

Kate and David sat down on one of the padded benches by the fish pool, eyeing the others already waiting there.

“Twenty-one,” said David.

“What?”

“People. And three to come makes twenty-four. Should be plenty of room, even if everyone decides to sleep in the same place.”

Three girls appeared up the steps from the front door, carrying rucksacks that made it look as though they’d come to stay for a week, accompanied by someone’s anxious-looking mum. She went through the
form-filling
, then an elaborately affectionate goodbye that left one of the girls scarlet with embarrassment.

“Okay,” said Gordon. “Good evening everyone and welcome to the museum sleepover. Anyone been on one before?”

A couple of boys raised their arms.

“You can just doze through the talk then, lads. It’ll be the same as you heard last time.”

He went on to explain where they could sleep, what they could and couldn’t do and so on. “Right. You’ve got ten minutes to go and reserve your spot for the night then back here for the VIP tour. Bring your torches.”

There was a scrum as everyone rushed for their belongings and groups separated off to each of the sleeping areas. Kate and David had decided on the British mammal hall and they made a little campsite by the seals; friendly faces, David thought, if they woke in the middle of the night.

Apart from them another two pairs were settling themselves in the room, one beside the dolphins, the other by the white cattle.

Back at the desk, Gordon and Sandy were counting heads. When a trio of boys appeared from the direction of the fish gallery, Sandy gave Gordon a nod and led them through a pair of tall wooden doors that said “Staff Only” and into the working heart of the museum, where animals went for taxidermy, fabric for conservation and pottery to be dated; a brief glimpse of each so that no one got bored. Round a corner they came to a table covered with cans of juice, pizza and chocolate biscuits, and for ten minutes they sat on the floor or leaned against the wall, happily pigging out.

“Well,” said Gordon, “are you ready for the spooky
bit?” There was a chorus of affirmation. “Torches on then. This is when the lights go out.”

As he said it, the lights did go out and there were a few squeaks of mock alarm.

“Nobody gets scared too easy, do they?” asked Sandy.

“Nah.”

“Not likely.”

“Course not.”

“Switch on your torches then,” he continued. “Everyone ready?”

They filed out into the new, dark museum, Gordon leading and Sandy making sure no one got left behind, whether by accident or on purpose.

It was a moment before Kate realised they were in the Main Hall again. The yellow beams of light from the torches didn’t penetrate very far, but there was a half moon sailing high above the glass roof, giving just enough light to show faint outlines of the fish pools and the clock.

Gordon led them up the steps to the first floor and into the costume gallery, where blank-faced figures watched them from the display cases. It
was
quite spooky, Kate had to admit, especially when she noticed one figure in a yellow dress and hat, craning forward as though for a better look at them. No one talked above a whisper now, apart from a few slightly nervous laughs.

From there, they went to what everyone assumed would be the creepiest bit: the Egyptian section with its bound mummies and painted sarcophagi. For Kate it was a bit of a disappointment. If you were on your own
in the dark it would be really scary, but with
twenty-five
other people so close it didn’t seem much different from how it was during the day, just darker.

Someone’s torch picked out a mummy with gold feet and a gold mask where his face would have been. He had huge ears and a daft smile that made him look like a cartoon character. Kate pointed him out to David and they were overcome with a fit of the giggles.

Last, they went to the dinosaurs. The skeletons looked bigger than they did in daylight, especially the Ichthyosaur, hanging above them as though still swimming.

“You can have a wander round here for five minutes. Down or up one level’s all right but
don’t
go out of this section on your own.”

People spread out slowly. Kate and David joined the group that headed upstairs. There were big skeletons up here too: giant sloth, armadillo and elk, magnified by torchlight, but there were much smaller things also: beautiful Eskimo carvings of bone and walrus ivory. Kate’s favourite was an otter lying on its back and she moved away from the others to look at it now. It looked so funny, with its hind legs curled up and its front paws at the sides of its head as though it had just heard bad news.

As she looked at it, she had a sudden sensation that someone was standing just behind her. She turned, expecting to see David, but her eye was caught by the reflection, in a display case, of something moving, low and fast. She swung round with a gasp.

“David, did you see …?”

Her voice died away. There was no one there. She could make out David, with some of the others, at the other side of the gallery. She swung the torch from side to side, the hair rising on the back of her neck.

She forced herself to walk slowly over to the group, heart thumping in her chest as she tried to calm herself and pretended to listen to their discussion. It was no good: the feeling that someone else was there wouldn’t go away.

“Kate?”

She jumped slightly when David spoke.

“Are you okay?”

“Can we go back down now? Its cold up here,” she lied as she shivered.

She was going to tell David about the feeling, but it went as soon as she started down the stairs, so suddenly that it stopped her in her tracks for a couple of seconds.

Fool. Scaring yourself over nothing
.

She could almost believe it was true.

It was eleven thirty when they finally began to settle themselves in their little bivouacs. A few lights were on around the place so that if anyone woke disorientated during the night – assuming anyone slept – they wouldn’t be panicked to find, for instance, an elephant gazing down at them out of the darkness.

Kate and David lay caterpillared in their sleeping bags, eating and talking. Despite the unexpected earlier supper, they had plenty of room left.

“Did Claire make this?” asked Kate, round a mouthful of chocolate cake.

David nodded and after a few seconds, swallowed. “I made the icing though.” He licked a blob off one thumb.

“It’s really good.” Kate dug into her bag again. “Ben made us biscuits,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I had to bring them or he’d have had a fit.”

They looked into the plastic box.

“They’re interesting shapes,” said David slowly. “What sort of biscuits are they?”

“He said they were Action Man biscuits. Mum helped him with them so they’re probably not actually poisonous.”

David chose a small one, looked at it a bit more closely, then took a bite.

“Well?”

“Quite good actually. Orange. And there are bits of nut in them. At least I hope they’re bits of nut. Bit crumbly,” he added, as the rest of the biscuit disintegrated all over him. “Yuck. It’s gone inside my sleeping bag. I’ll have to get out and empty the crumbs.” He took another biscuit and put it all in his mouth at once. “Safest way to eat it.”

Kate put the box of biscuits down beside her backpack and watched as David flailed around with his sleeping bag trying to get the crumbs out.

Things had gone quiet around them now, as people began to think they might actually try to go to sleep. Kate checked her watch – ten past midnight.

“I’m going to sleep,” she told David as he crawled back into his de-crumbed sleeping bag.

“Me too,” he replied. “Don’t want to be falling asleep at football practice tomorrow.”

She smirked. The likelihood of anyone falling asleep within range of Mr Davidson’s voice was nil. He could have coached them without leaving his house at all, he was so loud. He would definitely pick on anyone who yawned their way through a practice though.

David was squiggling around beside her, trying to get his pillow the way he liked it. Finally he was satisfied and they lay staring up at where the ceiling would be if you could see it. It was very quiet now; whatever was going on in the other sleepover areas, everyone in this one had settled down for the night. Kate snuggled further down into her sleeping bag. It was surprisingly comfy. She could almost imagine she might eventually fall asleep.

She stood in a wasteland of blowing sand, shivering and alone. She had been here before; she recognised the empty white view stretching away forever all around her.

This time, no figure appeared in the distance moving towards her. She simply turned and the woman was there in front of her, two or three metres away. Behind her stood a pair of dogs.

She looked as she had the first time Kate had seen her, water trickling from her hair, hands and clothes, her dress stuck wetly to her legs, her too-vivid mouth smiling.

“Go away,” said Kate without thinking. “Get out of my dream.”

The smile stretched wider.

“Who are you? At least tell me that.”

The woman shrugged. “I have had many names. Why does it matter if you will not talk to me?” Behind her the dogs watched intently.

Kate forced herself to turn round and walk away, concentrating on trying to wake up.

The woman was in front of her again, blocking her path. “Talk to me. We are alike, you and I. I could show you such things …”

“Tell me your name.”

“If it matters so much to you, you may call me Tethys. We have been waiting for you for so long, Kate.”

“We?”

“My … family … friends. Waiting for you to help us. And now the time is coming. Now the time is close
when we shall walk together and everything will change. Everything. You cannot imagine, Kate, what it will be like. Let me show you.”

She held out one dripping hand. Behind Kate, one of the dogs began to howl, and she realised they were not dogs, but wolves.

“No!”

Kate must have shouted out; shouted so loud that she woke herself, struggling to sit up in her sleeping bag. She fumbled for her torch and switched it on.

Beside her David slept, a frown on his face. If she moved the torch beam round she could make out the humped shapes of the others across the room.

She was safe in the museum. Safe. She thought about waking David, but before she had the chance the light from a more powerful torch than her own swung around the room and there was Gordon.

“Everything all right? I thought I heard someone shout.”

“I think it was me. I had a bad dream.”

“You’re not the first. This place can do that.”

“No. It’s a dream I’ve had before. I don’t think it’s anything to do with being here. I’m fine now I’ve managed to wake up.”

“Sure?”

“Yes.”

“Anyway, I’m just out there if you want me.” He gestured to the hall.

“Thanks. I’m fine. Goodnight.” She turned out her torch, lay down again and watched the light disappear with Gordon before she closed her eyes.

David knew where he was at once.

He was looking down. Between and around his booted feet were small, smooth pebbles, grey and white and black. He knew that if he raised his head he would see the lake stretching away in front of him, still and shining like an enormous coin, but he didn’t want to see it. There was something
wrong
about the lake.

He began to walk along the pebbly shore, still looking down at his feet, looking down because that was safe, because he was afraid of what else he might see if he looked up, who might be there beside him, watching the silver lake.

The sensation that someone else was walking there with him was becoming stronger, but he could only hear his own feet on the pebbles, even when he slowed or paused.

The person who wasn’t there was between him and the lake. David stopped and screwed his courage tight and turned slowly until he faced it directly.

No one.

Nothing but the endless sheet of glittering water, with violet mist at the edge where it faded from sight.

Now that he was looking at it, it was difficult to stop. He stared, imagining how it would feel against his skin if he simply walked in. Not cold, he was sure of that,
though he had no idea why. Perhaps he would float on it like a leaf.

At the very edge of his hearing was a sound somewhere between buzzing and whispering, a disquieting sound, growing very slowly louder. It came from his left and he found himself straining to hear, yet not wanting to at the same time. He was sure it came from who, or what, had walked beside him earlier, and was now standing a little way off to his left.

He refused to turn his head. With a desperate terrified conviction he was sure that as long as he didn’t see what was there it could not be real. If he didn’t turn his head he was safe.

He had no idea how long he stayed like that, trying not to hear the whispers. He was very tired.

Eyes fixed on the pebbles, tracing the veins in one after another, he tried to shut out that other presence, until a tiny movement caught his eye and before he could stop himself his head turned reflexively to follow it … and he found himself looking at the toe of a hiking boot.

“David? … David!”

“Mmmn …?”

“You were mumbling. You woke me up,” hissed Kate.

David came fully awake, looking round for a moment in confusion. “Sorry,” he said. “I was dreaming.”

“I know. I heard you.”

“What time is it?”

“Just after five. Go back to sleep.”

He tried.

At six o’clock they both gave up and started rummaging for left-over food.

“We didn’t finish Ben’s biscuits, did we?”

It took a moment for the increasingly feeble torch beams to find the box. It was empty.

“Did you eat them during the night?” asked Kate, accusingly.

“Of course not. I wouldn’t have finished them. Maybe you ate them in your sleep.”

Kate snorted. “Well, somebody ate them.”

They sat in a moody silence, on the verge of an argument. Across the room, the others were still asleep.

Later, when the lights were on and they were packing up, David suddenly said, “Kate, look.”

There was a trail of Ben’s crumbly biscuits running from where the box had been, up onto the display platform and across the pebbles to a gap between two of the seals’ rocks.

They looked at each other.

“Do you think it was a rat?”

“I don’t know.”

They crept forward and bent down slowly, craning to see into the crevice, but there was nothing there.

Alastair was waiting at the front desk, as arranged, to sign them out and swap their football gear for their overnight things. They told Mr Syme about the biscuit trail, but he looked at them as if they were having him on, although he did promise to go and take a look.

“Have a good time then?” asked Alastair as they went out.

“Yeah, it was great,” said David. “Lots of extra food too.”

“Do you
ever
think about anything else?”

“Sometimes.”

“Enjoy the football. See you later.” Off he went to the car, laden with rucksacks and sleeping bags.

As it was early, there wasn’t much traffic around, so they heard the sound of barking as they went down the steps, even though it sounded as if it was further away this time.

“Do you think it’s the same dog?”

“Dunno. Sounds the same. Where is it?”

They stood in silence, trying to locate the source of the sound.

“Over there,” said Kate, pointing. “It’s across the road in the churchyard.”

They crossed the road and followed the sound of the invisible dog. Once inside the churchyard they stopped again, listening.

“That way. Look, there he is.”

A little dog lay on the short turf in front of a gravestone. He quietened when he saw the children approaching, thumping his tail on the ground instead, but he wouldn’t come to them.

As they walked towards him, Kate said, “Listen.”

“What? There’s nothing to listen to.”

“I know. That’s what I mean. It’s awfully quiet; there’s no traffic noise at all.”

They reached the place where the dog lay, and played with him and stroked him for a few minutes, but he wouldn’t leave the grave.

“Let’s go, shall we?” asked David. “It’s
too
quiet. It’s a bit creepy somehow.”

“Yes. Come on.”

They walked quickly back towards the gate, staying close together. As they reached it, the unnatural silence stopped quite suddenly, as though someone had flicked a switch, and the normal sounds of the city were restored.

They looked at each other.

“What was that all about?”

“I don’t know.” Kate was looking at the statue, which stood just across the road from the churchyard entrance – of a little dog; a rough-coated terrier of some sort.

“You don’t suppose …?”

David followed Kate’s gaze.

“No … no, that’s …”

“Impossible?”

“Yeah.”

Once the last of the children had been picked up, Gordon and Sandy went to check the places they’d slept and pick up the inevitable litter. Two of the kids who’d
been in the mammal hall had made up some story about a rat. Gordon could see a scatter of crumbs and pieces of biscuit. They’d made it quite convincing, leading under the artificial rocks where a real animal might take food.

He crouched down, and shone his torch in for a good look. There were some more bits of biscuit in a corner by the mountain hare. The cleaners wouldn’t be pleased. He straightened up and saw as he did so a little paw-print on the glass at the front of the display. Not a rat; it was too big for that. A little handprint rather that a paw-print.

He remembered half-seeing something whisk out of sight behind a display case that night a couple of weeks ago, and shivered without knowing why.