The Thief of Time (32 page)

I looked at him in surprise. ‘How do you mean?' I asked and he sat up straight again, looking around to make sure that there was no one listening.

‘Can you keep a secret?' he asked me and I nodded. ‘Well,' he began, ‘you know I've been saving up, don't you?'

‘Sure,' I said. He had spoken of it often.

‘Well, I've got quite a bit put aside now, you see. I've been saving since I was about fifteen if you want to know the truth. And a couple more months and I'll have all I need. I'm going to take it, go down to London and set myself up for life. No more shovelling horseshit for Jack Holby.'

I felt sad and even as he spoke of leaving, although I felt such genuine contentment with Cageley, my mind bounced quickly to an idea of whether we could all leave together some day. ‘What will you do?' I asked him.

‘I can read and write,' he said. ‘I got some schooling before coming to work here. I'm going to put myself out as a clerk. Find a good business that will take me in and let me do some study. Maybe the law or book-keeping, I don't mind. Something solid. Something regular. I've got enough now to buy my way into a firm and let them pay my way from there. Get some rooms somewhere. I'll be set for life.' His whole face positively beamed with excitement at this prospect.

‘But won't you miss it here?' I asked him and he laughed out loud.

‘You haven't been here that long, Mattie,' he explained. ‘You still see it as a bit of stability, something you've never known before. I've been here all my life. I grew up here. And why should the likes of Nat Pepys get to live the high life and roll around in his money and boss other people around when I can't do the same? Difference between him and me is I'll have earned my way out. I'll have worked for it. And, one of these days, that bastard's going to be calling
me
'sir'.

The antipathy between the two, an antipathy which it had to be said existed mainly on Jack's part, had never been as obvious to me as then. It wasn't just the manner in which Nat had mistreated his friend Elsie, nor was it the way he lorded it over us all the time. It went deeper than that. It went down to the fact that Jack couldn't stand the idea of someone feeling they had authority over him. He didn't believe in the very concept. He'd been in near servitude all his life and it disgusted him. He was the original revolutionary. Only he wasn't hot headed; he would never have just upped and left until he felt the time was right for him and he could make it on his own.

‘You want to start thinking about it,' he said after a few moments. ‘You can't stay here for ever, I mean. You're young, though, so you should start saving your -'

‘Well, I've got Tomas to think about,' I interrupted. ‘And Dominique. I can't just get on a horse and ride off to wherever I choose. I've got responsibilities.'

‘But don't them Ambertons look after Tomas?'

‘I wouldn't go without him,' I said firmly. ‘He's my brother. We stick together. And Dominique.' He snorted a laugh and I spun around and stared at him. ‘What?' I asked. ‘What was that for?'

He shrugged and looked as if he didn't want to answer. ‘It's just...' he began, hesitating and thinking about his words carefully. ‘I don't think she necessarily needs you to look out for her, that's all. She looks like she's able to take care of herself if you ask me.'

‘You don't know her,' I said.

‘I know she's not your sister,' he said, his words coming out so clearly and unexpectedly that they didn't even register with me for a few moments. ‘I know that much, Mattie.'

I stared at him and felt my face drain a little, unsure of what to say. ‘How do you ...?' I began. ‘How did you know that?'

‘It's obvious from the way you look at her,' he said. ‘I've seen it. And the way she looks at you sometimes. It's the look of two people who've been a little bit more than just brother and sister if you ask me. I may have spent my whole life holed up in this cage but I do know a thing or two about that.'

I slumped back against the tree and wondered for a moment why I had never bothered to tell him before. Why we hadn't explained it to everyone. Perhaps it was because we had at first been so fearful of being separated that we had concocted the lie but, once we had settled in there so well, an opportunity had never arisen where we might clear up the deception.

‘Does anyone else know?' I asked him and he shook his head.

‘Not so far as I've heard. But the point is, whatever you feel for her, you can't let your whole life be run by it. Make your own life yourself

I nodded. ‘We
will
leave some day,' I said. ‘When we're ready.'

‘Do you love her then?' he asked and, to my irritation, I blushed furiously. Although it had been the primary emotion in my mind for a couple of years now, the all-consuming desire which racked me from morning till night, whenever I saw her and whenever I didn't, I had never come out and just told someone about it and it seemed odd to be suddenly asked the question and find that I was stuck for words.

But: ‘Yes,' I said eventually. ‘I do. It's that simple.'

‘And do you think she loves you?'

‘Absolutely,' I said, this time without hesitation, although I was less convinced. ‘What's not to love?' I added with a smile in order to lighten the moment.

‘I don't know,' he said pensively and for a moment I wasn't sure whether he meant that he didn't know what was not to love or whether she loved me or not.

‘The thing is', I continued, oblivious to his doubts, wanting to reassure myself of her feelings now more than anything else, ‘the thing is she sees me as her ...' I paused, trying to figure out exactly what she saw me as. ‘As her ... her .. .' And for the life of me I couldn't finish the sentence. Jack simply nodded and finished his drink before jumping up and stretching out his limbs.

‘She believes it, you see,' he said. ‘The lie. She's managed to convince herself that it's true.' I looked at him quizzically. ‘That you're brother and sister,' he explained. ‘She's come to feel that that's the natural relationship between the two of you.'

‘She's just hiding her feelings,' I said. ‘You don't know her like I do.'

He laughed. ‘Not sure I want to, Mattie,' he said.

I jumped up and stared at him furiously. ‘What's that supposed to mean?' I asked, my fists clenching automatically by my side even as I willed him to back down.

‘I just mean that, whatever you feel for her, there's no guarantee that she feels the same way, that's all. Maybe she's playing on that fact. You're a safety net for her. She knows she can count on you without her having to give anything back.'

‘But what could she give back?' I asked, infuriated, and he hesitated before answering.

‘Well, when was the last time you spent a night in her room, Mattie?' The words were barely out of his mouth when I swung the first punch. He stepped back quickly and my arm flew past his face without connecting. Instead he grabbed me by the arm and gave a half-laugh. ‘Take it easy,' he said, perhaps a little unnerved by my reaction.

‘Take it back,' I shouted back, my face red, particularly since he had my right arm in a tight clench and seemed unwilling to release it. ‘You don't know her so take it back.'

He pushed me backwards and I tripped over a root of the tree, falling hard on the ground. I groaned as I felt a jabbing pain run through my back. Jack stared down at me and kicked a foot in the dirt angrily. ‘Now look what you've done,' he said. ‘I didn't mean any harm, Mattie. I was only saying, that was all. There's no need for any of this.'

‘You take it back,' I repeated, probably in no position to issue orders to him but willing none the less to stand up and face off once again if necessary.

‘Fine, fine, I take it back,' he said, sighing and shaking his head. ‘But you think about what I said. It might stand to you at some point. Here,' he continued, throwing the piece of wood at me, and I looked at it now and held it up, realising what it was for the first time. He had carefully scored out the insides of the wood, leaving a frame around emptiness and a solid cube cage in my hand. It was like a puzzle or game and I stared up at him feeling a mixture of anger at how he had talked about Dominique and frustration with an argument I had never expected. I wanted to continue our talk, to convince him how much she loved me, to make him say it, but he was already heading back towards the house and within a couple of minutes he had vanished over the hill, leaving me there alone, the wooden box in my hand.

‘She
does
love me,' I muttered before getting up and dusting off the seat of my pants roughly.

The sand was golden brown beneath my toes and I buried my feet down into it as deeply as I could until it became too heavy for me to push any further. I lay back, my body creating an image of itself in the sand below, and allowed the sun to burn down on top of me. I had just emerged from the cold water and my skin was wet, droplets sitting casually about my chest and making my legs appear darker as the hairs stuck gently to the skin. I ran a hand down towards my centre, my fingers enjoying the feel of my warm skin, my eyes closed to block out the light as my body stretched within itself. I could lie there for ever, I thought. Then my hand came back up towards my head until it was contorted in upon itself, shaking my shoulder, dragging me back to consciousness.

‘Matthieu,' said Mrs Amberton, her nightdressed form a ghoulish figure to awaken to. I licked my mouth, creating unpleasant sounds as it snapped open, and stared at her in confusion. Why was she there? I asked myself. I'd been having such a lovely dream. ‘Matthieu,' she repeated, her voice louder now as her rough hands shook my bare shoulder beneath the sheet. ‘You've got to get up. It's Tomas. He's not right.'

My eyes opened now and I sat up in the bed, shaking my head and combing my hair roughly away from my eyes with my fingers. ‘What's wrong with him?' I asked. ‘What's going on?'

‘He's in the kitchen,' she said. ‘Come on. Come and see him.'

She left me alone and I stumbled out of the bed, pulling on my trousers quickly before stepping inside. Tomas, just turned eight years old, was sitting in the rocking chair by the fire on Mr Amberton's knee, groaning dramatically.

‘Tomas?' I asked, leaning over him and putting a hand to his forehead to check his temperature. ‘What's wrong with you?'

‘Don't,' he hissed, brushing my hand away. His eyes were closed and his mouth was wide open. The brief touch I had had of his forehead had been warm and I looked at Mrs Amberton in surprise.

‘He's burning up,' I said. ‘What is it, do you think?'

‘Summer ‘flu,' she said. ‘I saw it coming. He just has to go through it, that's all. Only he don't seem to be ‘appy about it right now, does he? Should be in bed but he won't go.'

‘Tomas,' I said, shaking him now in the same way that she had awoken me, ‘come on, you need to go to bed. You're not well.'

‘I want Dominique,' he said suddenly. ‘I want her to put me to bed.'

‘She's not here, you know that,' I replied, surprised that he had asked for her.

‘I
want
her,' he screamed, making us all jump back in fright. He was not a tempestuous child and it was rare that he behaved in this manner. ‘I want
Dominique,'
he repeated.

‘I think you'd better go get her,' said Mrs Amberton.

‘At this time of night? It's nearly one O'clock in the morning.'

‘Well, he's not going to get any sleep until she gets here,' she answered angrily. ‘I've been trying to get him off for thirty minutes since but she's the only one he asks for. Just tell her it's an emergency. Look at him, Matthieu! He's got a fever. He has to get to bed.'

I sighed and nodded before returning to my room to finish dressing. The bed looked warm and inviting and I was sorry to have to leave it. I put on two shirts and a jumper to stave off the cold. As I stepped out into the night, wrapping one of Mr Amberton's scarves around my neck beneath my coat, I shivered and wondered how Dominique would react to this urgent summons.

Tomas could barely remember his mother. He had only been five when Philippe had killed her and, by the time he reached the age of reason, where he could remember the things that took place, we had already fallen in with Dominique. She had taken some charge of him then, halving my responsibilities towards him during those early days, and had been his sole daytime protector while we lived in Dover and I had earned the money for our dinners through my pickpocketing experiences. They were friends, they got on well, but it had never really occurred to me – or to Dominique, I expect – how much he saw her as a maternal figure, which in turn made me realise how much he must have seen me as his true father. And, since we had arrived in Cageley, that ‘mother' had all but vanished out of his life. True, he saw her once a week at dinner and they would often run into each other in the village but by and large he did not have the same connections with her as he once had. I didn't think that he had ever even
been
to Cageley House, where both Dominique and I spent most of our time, and it occurred to me how little I knew about his own days and what he did to occupy them. Mr Amberton had accepted him into his schoolhouse and from all accounts he performed well there, but what of his friends? What of his interests, his pastimes? I knew nothing of these. I felt guilty about this as I walked down the driveway towards the rear of the house and regretted my neglect of my brother in recent times.

Dominique and Mary-Ann had a habit of leaving the side door to the kitchen unlocked at nights; if anyone should want to go out and return, it was far easier to go through this way than to have to unbolt the locks on the house's main door. There was little chance of burglary as Cageley was always a peaceful place and no one would have dared risk the dogs in the driveway had they not been as well acquainted with them as I already was.