The Time Hunters (Book 1 of the acclaimed series for children of all ages) (2 page)

Chapter 3

Uncle
Percy

They all went inside and Becky proceeded to tell her
mum everything. Immediately, Mrs Mellor phoned the Greater Manchester Police to
warn them a psychotic budgerigar was on the loose, only to be accused of having
one too many gin and tonics and that if she phoned again she would be charged with
wasting police time.

Becky went to her bedroom to calm down and fix her
hair. For a fleeting moment, she was sorely tempted to use the incident as an
excuse to get out of (or at least delay) going to Uncle Percy’s. However, she
couldn’t bring herself to do it. Joe hadn’t hesitated in leaping to her defence
and he had been so looking forward to the trip. Much as she would never admit
it, she really didn’t want to disappoint him.

Thirty minutes later, they had all climbed into the
car and Mrs Mellor was rifling through the cluttered glove compartment. ‘This
should do the trick,’ she said, a tattered CD held triumphantly in her hand.

Becky groaned. This was the moment she dreaded - sing-along-a-parent
time, and her mum had the musical talents of a dishcloth. She closed her eyes,
wishing she could do the same with her ears.

Manchester Piccadilly station bustled with people as
Becky trailed Joe into the gleaming white concourse. She had pushed the budgie incident
from her mind and had resumed her grumpy stance at being sent away for the
summer. Spotting a trolley, she and Joe piled their cases onto it and watched
as their mum paid for two tickets. Then they walked to platform fourteen.

The small platform hummed with activity as commuters
rushed from the standing train and scampered up the steps to make their next
connection.

‘You’ve got your mobile phones,’ Mrs Mellor said,
voice quivering. ‘I’m only a phone-call or a text away. It really isn’t that
far and if you’re genuinely unhappy I’ll come and get you at once.’ She bent
over to embrace Becky.

Becky knew the hug she returned was half-hearted - she
couldn’t help it. Still, as she felt her mum’s trembling body she felt a twinge
of guilt and said, ‘
We’ll
be all right, mum. Don’t
worry about us.’ She forced the best smile she could. ‘I’m sure it’ll be
brilliant.’

‘That’s the spirit.’ Mrs Mellor sniffed loudly. ‘I
know it will be. You just look after each other and have a wonderful time.’

Becky and Joe scaled the train’s steps, lugging
their suitcases behind them. They moved into the nearest carriage, wedged their
cases into an already heaving luggage compartment, and moved down the aisle to
a vacant table. Mrs Mellor, tears flowing freely now, trailed them to the
closest window.

The train shuddered and Becky’s heart sank further.
Throwing her mother a final wave, she felt the train edge out of the station.

‘So what
d’you reckon
he’s
like?’ Joe asked excitedly.

‘Who?’

‘Mr Potato Head.
Uncle Percy, of
course.’

Becky shot him a dismissive look. ‘Well, if you want
my honest opinion, he sounds like a right numpty.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, firstly, he
claims
to be an inventor. I mean it’s not the coolest job in the
world, is it?
 
Secondly, from what I can
gather, he’s a recluse and we’ve got to put up with that for six boring
weeks … and, unlike you, I actually
have
a life.’

‘I think he sounds great,’ Joe said truthfully. ‘Mum
says he’s well funny and dad liked him, so I don’t see why we won’t. She says
he’s got a massive house.’

‘Yeah,’ Becky said with a snort, ‘and it wouldn’t
surprise me if we were there to clean that
massive
house, to cook for
him, wash his clothes. And if that is the case, then you’re in charge of
washing his pants.’ She gave a doleful sigh. ‘We’ll be a couple of
house-slaves, you mark my words!’ And with that, Becky made it perfectly clear
that was the end of the discussion.

The train rattled through the Cheshire plains,
passing mile upon mile of patchwork fields, thick woodland, and stopping at, it
seemed to Becky, every boring village in the North West of England. After a
very long hour in which she said nothing to Joe bar the odd grunt, she watched
as a rusty sign heralded the final stop: Addlebury.

As the train juddered to a halt, Becky stood up to
see she and Joe were the last passengers in the carriage. With a huff, she
grabbed her shoulder bag and marched to the luggage compartment to collect her
case.

‘Come on. Let’s get it over with, then.’ Becky
waited as the doors opened and a gust of warm air brushed her face. Hesitantly,
she took her first step onto the platform. Looking round, she saw it was
deserted. ‘See… the old codger couldn’t even be bothered to meet us. I say we
get back on the train and -’ But before she could finish, a man appeared in
silhouette at the end of the platform, his dusky shadow lengthening before
them. He strode into the light, a glowing smile on his tanned face.

Uncle Percy was not as old as Becky had expected -
maybe fifty years of age - with broad shoulders, shoulder-length grey hair, and
warm hazel eyes. ‘Welcome, Becky. Welcome, Joe.
How wonderful
to see you both again.’

Joe threw him a wide smile.

Becky didn’t.

‘I’m your Uncle Percy,’ he continued, oblivious to her
lack of enthusiasm. ‘But you can call me whatever you’d like. I’ve always been
partial to the name Colonel Igidor Puffbury if you’d prefer that.’

Even Becky’s lips curled into a smile at that point,
although in truth it was chiefly due to her uncle’s peculiar dress-sense. He
wore a cream linen jacket with a striking crimson rose in the lapel, a gold tie
with the letter ‘G’ embroidered on it, Bermuda shorts and a violet waistcoat.
He was also holding the largest pair of driving goggles she’d ever seen.

‘Hello, Uncle Percy,’ Joe said enthusiastically.

‘The pleasure is mine, Joe.’ Uncle Percy gave Joe’s
hand a sturdy shake.

Becky offered a considerably more muted, ‘Hiya.’

‘And hello to you, Becky.’ Uncle Percy bowed deeply.
‘My, my, you have grown into a dazzling young woman.’

Becky considered belching just to see his reaction.

 
‘Please,
allow me to lighten your load.’ Uncle Percy leant over and took their cases. ‘I
trust you had a pleasant journey?’

‘It was fine,’ Joe said. ‘I like your flower.’

‘Thank you. It’s a Stephanie Rose. It’s unique to
Bowen Hall, that’s where I live. Anyway, shall we get
going.
I know a few people who are most eager to meet the two of you.’

‘Who?’
Becky asked warily. There had been no mention of anyone else.

‘Just my friends,’ Uncle Percy replied simply.
‘Maria is particularly excited. I’ve told her so many stories about you both,
she feels like she knows you already.’ Spinning sharply on his back foot, he
marched towards the exit. ‘Follow me …’

Becky arched her eyebrows with suspicion. How could he
know anything about them?

‘Who’s Maria?’ Joe said, struggling to keep up with
his uncle’s lengthy strides.

‘I suppose you’d call her the housekeeper,’ Uncle
Percy replied. ‘That’s certainly what she calls herself.’

‘You have staff?’ Becky asked.

‘Gosh, no,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Well, I don’t
consider them staff, anyhow. They’re my friends. I’m sure Maria would disagree,
however. I think she rather likes the idea of being an employee. She even
insists on wearing a uniform, which rather puzzles me.’

‘Are you, like, dead rich?’ Joe asked bluntly.

Uncle Percy chuckled. ‘To be perfectly honest with
you, I really don’t know. I think some of the patents do rather well, but I
leave those things to other people. Most of the profits go to various
charities. I have no interest in money, whatsoever. No, as long as we can
maintain the integrity of the Hall, that’s all that concerns me.’

Becky stifled a laugh. She didn’t believe a word of
it.
 
She followed Uncle Percy to the car
park where she froze to the spot. Standing there, glinting in the brilliant
sunlight,
was an ancient silver car the likes of which she
had never seen before, except in history books or very old films.

‘Wow!’ Joe exclaimed.

Becky’s eyes widened with horror.
It’s Chitty Chitty Bang Bang!
she
thought.

‘Do you like her?’ Uncle Percy asked.

‘That’s yours?’ Joe asked.

‘Indeed, she is,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘It’s a Rolls
Royce Silver Ghost.
 
There are only two
with the original chassis still in existence, and I’m fortunate enough to
possess one of them.
 
Of course, I’ve
made some minor modifications to make it a tad more suited to modern driving,
but essentially it’s the same car.’

‘It’s ace.’ Joe turned to Becky. ‘Isn’t it, Becks?’

‘Yeah,’ Becky lied, thankful her friends couldn’t
see her.

Uncle Percy swung open the passenger doors and
gestured for them to climb aboard. Joe leapt in. Becky followed, glancing from
side to side to check no one was watching.

Uncle Percy mounted the side step and settled onto
the claret leather seat. ‘Now, seatbelts on, please,’ he said. ‘We don’t want
any accidents, do we?’

Becky couldn’t help but think that a minor accident
resulting in her being sent straight home was a perfect solution to a very big
problem.

Fixing his goggles, Uncle Percy turned the ignition
key and the engine purred into life. He swung the car down a leafy side street
and in a matter of seconds they were surrounded by countryside.

‘Uncle Percy, mum says you’re an inventor,’ Joe said.

‘I am, indeed, Joe.’

‘So what was the last thing you invented?’

‘Erm, let me see …
The Gumchumper
, I think.’

‘What’s a Gumchumper?’

‘Well, have you ever noticed how much discarded
chewing gum litters the streets of every town? The Gumchumper is a device to
remove even the most stubborn gum off the pavements, leaving the surface as
good as new. It’s like a lightweight vacuum cleaner but considerably more
powerful. I’ve sent them to a number of town councils, free of charge, of
course. I do hope they use them.’

The Gumchumper?
Becky found herself
thinking.
What a dweeb!

They stopped at a set of traffic lights, when they
heard the deafening blast of a car horn. A black convertible car pulled
alongside them. Two young men wearing baseball caps and tracksuit tops were
smirking at Uncle Percy. The driver, who had very short mousy-brown hair and a
flat, pimply face nudged his friend and sniggered.

Becky suddenly felt very exposed.

‘Oh, dear,’ Uncle Percy said quietly. He flashed the
young men a courteous smile and said in a loud, steady voice, ‘Good morning,
gentlemen
.’

The driver responded with a rude hand gesture.

Uncle Percy exhaled heavily. ‘I do loathe bad
manners.’

The driver sounded the horn again.

Uncle Percy tutted disapprovingly.
‘Becky, Joe,
are
your seatbelts securely fastened?’

‘Y-yes,’ Becky and Joe stammered, as the traffic
lights flashed amber.

Immediately, the spotty driver revved his engine and
a cloud of fumes billowed from his exhaust.

‘Brace yourselves, please!’ Uncle Percy shouted over
the din of screeching tyres. ‘Things are going to get rather stirring.’ He
reached for the gear stick, flipped open its cap to reveal a scarlet button and
pressed it. At once, the Silver Ghost made a deep rumbling sound, like an
aeroplane readying for takeoff.
 
‘I’d
prefer you didn’t mention this to your mother …’

The amber light flashed green.

VVRRROOOOM!
The
black car’s tyres spun furiously and it sped off. At the same time, Uncle Percy
placed his foot calmly on the accelerator. There was no screeching noise - no
cloud of smoke - but, with a soft swish, the Silver Ghost soared away at an
astonishing speed.

Becky had never experienced anything like it. Her
stomach performed somersaults. She arched round to look at the black car, now a
tiny dot on the horizon.

Smiling contentedly, Uncle Percy steered the Silver
Ghost with ease and after two miles slowed to a regular speed. Lifting his
goggles, he said, ‘Did you enjoy that?’

Becky and Joe were speechless.

‘That was one of the little modifications I
mentioned: an
ultra-booster
. I
know it was reckless, and by and large I do respect the national speed limits,
but I also deplore rudeness and those gentlemen were rather loutish. Wouldn’t
you agree?’

‘Y-yes,’ Becky spluttered, still confused as to what
had just happened.