CHAPTER THIRTEEN – MARY
"Witches and warlocks, you’ll go to the Devil, you will. I’m a good, God–fearing girl: let me go, you demons!” screeched a girl’s voice. There was another crash, then a thud of something blunt hitting something hard. Tom, who was bringing up the rear of the three, was startled to find Septimus tumbling back towards him, blood trickling down his face.
Then, like a blur, the girl from the fire – the housemaid Mary Brown – was past him and hurtling on, down the stairs. Tom spun round and tried to grab her, but she was already going too fast and his arms closed on air. He staggered after her. When he reached the hall, he saw Mary running out of the front door, still screaming about witches and the Devil. He followed her, but by the time he had got to the door and gone out onto the pavement, the girl had vanished from sight. He looked both ways along the road, but she was nowhere to be seen.
“Damn it!” he cursed and stamped the pavement in frustration. Septimus and the Professor now arrived at his side, the Welshman holding a hand to his face. They looked at Tom expectantly. He shook his head, “Sorry, Prof, but she’s gone!”
“A young lady from the seventeenth century, as yet untrained and with no idea what world she has come to, is loose in London?” the Professor said grimly.
“Yup, it’s what you might call a cock–up!” Septimus said, dabbing a handkerchief with an hourglass symbol on the corner to his wound in an attempt to stem the flow of blood.
“You think?” observed Tom, wryly.
“How do we find her?” Septimus asked.
“I can help with that, if you will let me assist.”
Turning round they saw Edward Dyson, looking somewhat less out of place dressed as he now was in normal, twenty–first century clothes, rather than his regimental red coat.
“How can you?” asked Septimus, but Tom knew how.
“Because, he can sense her: he can sense Walkers, can’t you Edward? That’s how you found me at my school.”
Edward seemed to consider this for a moment before slowly nodding. “Back before I left England ... my England that is: before I joined the army in fact, I realised that I was different from my friends. It started with games of hide and seek. I was not very good at hiding, but I was a natural at the seeking part. Or at least, seeking one particular friend and one of my sisters ...” He paused for a minute and then realised they were all staring at him.
“I’m sorry, but I was just thinking that I last saw my sister and friend at their wedding. I was the best man, you know. That was the summer of ‘78 just before I sailed to South Africa. The memory is quite fresh. Yet it happened more than a century ago. It’s still taking a little getting used to,” he explained in a sad voice.
“Your sister and your friend,” the Professor prompted, “you are saying that back in 1878 you used to find them easily when playing hide and seek?”
Edward blinked and nodded. “Yes indeed, always them and always very quickly. Made Dotty ... erm ... Dorothy, quite mad ... oddly though, not anyone else,” he smiled, his eyes distant. “But it carried on later at school, at Oxford and then in the army. Once or twice I’d spot an ambush because I could sense someone was hiding nearby.”
“I think, young man, that those people you were able to spot might have been Walkers – temporopaths – too; or at least they had some hint of talent,” the Professor suggested.
Septimus coughed and said, “Which is fascinating stuff really. But don’t you think we should try and find the girl?”
The Professor nodded and they all turned back to Edward, who closed his eyes for a moment and then suddenly spun round to point through the house and southwards in the direction of the park.
“She is that way. Not far – just a few hundred yards – but she is running, I think. Quickly now, follow me,” he instructed and then took off, sprinting along the street towards the next junction. Tom and Septimus followed. Tom glanced back to see the Professor walking more slowly in their wake.
Rounding the corner, he saw that Edward was now some fifty yards ahead of him and just managed to catch a glimpse of Mary Brown as she turned left at the end of the street, a few hundred yards away; her long hair streaming untidily behind her. He risked Walking a couple of hundred yards at a time to catch up. When he stepped out of the second hop, expecting to be on the pavement just short of the junction, he found he had misjudged it and was standing now in Bayswater Road with a very large, bright red London bus speeding toward him, horn blaring. Then, with a blur, Septimus was besides him and had seized his jacket and pulled him sideways, into the island in the middle of the road.
The bus driver opened his window, swore at them both and muttered something about crazy pedestrians appearing in front of his bus.
“You ok, boyo?” asked Septimus in a concerned voice.
Still in shock and unable to speak, Tom nodded. He stood for a moment, catching his breath.
“You really ought to be more careful where you pull that kind of trick, Tommy. Personally, there are a lot of risks I’d take before standing in the way of a London bus when your life depends on its brakes working!”
Tom nodded again and finally managed to respond. “Yes, sorry about that. Was rushing I guess. Thanks mate.”
“Come on then, let’s be going.”
By now, Mary had vanished in the direction of Marble Arch, which they could see in the distance. Edward was running that way – once again leading the pursuit. Septimus and Tom re–crossed the road and carried on after him. Weaving through the crowds, they reached Marble Arch and found Edward standing at the entrance to the underground station. He pointed down the steps.
“She ran into this building,” he said. “I came here the other day to have a look; amazing how they’ve changed since my day – travelling under the ground was all quite new then, you know,” he said breathlessly as they gathered around him.
They all hurtled down the stairs, narrowly avoiding knocking a group of Japanese tourists over. The tourists each took a photo of them as they ran on past yelling apologies over their shoulders.
As they reached the platform, Tom realised that a tube train was just pulling out. They ran to catch up, but it was gone. He braced himself to Walk after it, but Septimus put a hand on the boy’s shoulder to hold him back.
“No, Tom: it’s too dangerous!”
“Damn it, Septimus – she’s on that train!” Tom yelled, ducking out from under his friend’s restraining hand.
“Gentlemen, you are wrong,” Edward said from behind them.
They turned. Edward was pointing to the other end of the station. Mary was standing on the edge of the platform, staring down onto the track. There was a look of horror on her face. As the three of them walked closer, Mary looked up at them in terror.
“It’s the Devil’s work: beasts of steel moving without horses; evil sorcery and witchcraft. You will burn for this, all of you!” she shouted, backing away. Around them the Londoners were ignoring them and carried on reading papers and listening to their iPods as if nothing was going on. Tom knew he would be the same: it was the first instinct of a commuter to ignore the lunatic in case they were on drugs or had a knife or, even worse, wanted to speak to you!
Septimus moved towards Mary, his arms open wide to show he meant no harm. “It’s alright, Mary. Everything is alright. We are people just like you and not evil, believe me,” he said, taking another step forward. Mary backed away, towards the edge of the platform.
“Mary, be careful you’ll fall!” shouted Tom. But it was already too late as, with a shriek, the young woman fell over the edge and down onto the rails. She gave a shout of pain as her leg hit the rail nearest the platform and she rolled over. Her right hand was only inches from the live central rail through which thousands of volts of electricity ran: enough to kill her in an instant.
Tom and his companions ran to the edge of the platform. Just then, a bright light from the tunnel, a gush of warm, musty air and an insistent clankety–clank noise, warned o
f the approach of the next train. It was coming fast and would be here in moments. Without thinking, Tom leapt into the path of the train and pulled Mary up by her hand. A look of sheer terror again rode her features as she stared at the oncoming train.
On the platform, the Londoners were finally looking: even they could not ignore what was going on. Fifty mouths were open and fifty pairs of eyes stared at him and Mary from all along the platform: iPods and newspapers, for the moment, hanging limply by the commuters’ sides.
“Tom: the train, look out!” yelled Edward and Septimus, together.
Tom spun round and saw the tube mere feet away. Instinctively, he reached out to the Flow of Time and Walked for an instant. It was enough: he and Mary collapsed onto the floor of the tube train’s first compartment whilst the nearest passengers screamed at their sudden appearance. The tube slowed to a halt and the doors hissed open. Edward and Septimus jumped in, their faces etched with concern that now changed to relief as they saw Mary and Tom were unhurt. The passengers jostled past them out of the carriage, some panicking at what they had seen, others not sure what they had seen, but it seemed that most, swept into the crush of exiting commuters, had not even noticed.
The four staggered off the tube and as the platform emptied, Tom and his companions collapsed panting onto the station seating. It took Tom a few moments to catch his breath. Then, his heart still pounding, he turned to Mary and saw that she was gazing at him, tears running down her grime–streaked face.
“Mary, I ...”
“You saved my life,” she said, her voice still tense but less shrill. “Twice now: here and in the fire.”
Tom was taken aback at that and just shrugged. Could it be she was unaware of what she had done, freezing the flames? Mary glanced over at Edward and Septimus and then back to Tom.
“Who are you people? If thee be not devils and witches, what then are you?”
“Just people, Miss Brown,” Septimus said softly, “just people.”
“People who can appear in a fire and lead me through it like angels: folk to whom solid walls are no hindrance?”
“Yes, people who can do that. We are people who can do things others cannot do. Like command a fire to stop and it stops. People like you,” Tom answered.
Mary’s eyes widened at that and she opened her mouth to say something, but in the end just nodded. Tom could feel her shaking.
“You are not a witch, Mary,” he said. “You are one of us. That is why we came for you, why we rescued you from the fire. All this,” he swung his arm wide, “is hard to grasp, I know, but it is not that we are devils nor is it magic. You have been brought out of your time into ours and in those three hundred years the world has moved on. Do not be afraid,” he smiled, “we are not going to hurt you; we are still just people, but with unique talents.”
The young woman studied Tom’s face for a good minute, as if to see if he was lying or even worse perhaps tricking her into admitting to something. But, suddenly, she seemed to relax and slumped back on the seat. “They would have hanged me for a witch had they known what I can do,” she muttered. Then she leaned forward covering her face with her hands. Tom heard a sob. Edward placed a hand on her back.
“It is alright, Miss Brown. Even if you were a witch – which you are not – they do not hang them now; the last one was hanged in Exeter in 1684. You are quite safe here."
Mary looked up at them all now, wiping her eyes on her cuff. “I have been so afraid: so alone. I thought ... I was sure one day I would be found out. But now ... it has all happened so quickly. Everything is so strange. I must have time to think.”
She stood up and walked off around the station, staring in wide–eyed fascination and confusion at the lights, the signs for the next train, the posters of rock groups and the rails themselves. The station was beginning to fill up again, people filing along the platform to wait for the next train. Tom reflected that Mary didn’t look at all out of place in her seventeenth century garb: her long skirt and tight bodice could be taken for just another fad of fashion – if anyone noticed at all.
“What is this place?” she asked as he and Septimus caught up with her.
“It’s called an underground station. It’s for getting on and off trains going under the ground,” he explained. “It is faster than trying to travel through all the traffic above ground.”
“What, pray tell, is a train?” Mary now asked, looking even more puzzled.
“Your beasts of steel,” Tom grinned, “they are just–”
Septimus cut across him, “Sorry to interrupt Tom, but let’s just get away from here before the Professor thinks we have all got lost, eh? Questions and answers can come later.”
“I’m sorry I hurt thee, Master,” Mary said, looking at the huge bruise on the Welshman’s face, which was no longer bleeding.
He smiled, “It’s nothing. Come on now, let’s be going.”
“In my day, they had just started building tunnels for trains under London,” said Edward leading the way towards the stairs. “The District Line was already running then. I read about it in the papers but I only visited London once on the way to Africa, so I never tried them myself. I always thought these underground railway networks were a bit dangerous. Do these people travel like this every day?” Edward asked.
Septimus grinned, following him, with Mary and Tom bringing up the rear. “Yup; some folk do this twice a day every day for forty years!”
“Really? I’m surprised they live that long,” Edward muttered.