In which Plan D is initiated

“I am not keeping that thing as a pet!” bellowed Bill. “It nearly killed me!”

They were sitting around one of the wooden picnic tables on the cliff top near the shop, discussing what to do next. Getting the sleeping dinosaur into the horsebox had taken the rest of the afternoon and involved making a hole in the back of the horsebox and using the Land Rover’s winch to drag its body up the ramp. The winch and the horsebox had both complained bitterly, but neither gave up completely, which was a relief to everyone. If the dinosaur had woken up while they attended to a serious breakdown… well, it doesn’t bear thinking about.

“It would just be for a short time,” said Grandpa, “until we can figure out what to do with it.”

“I don’t think my old barn would be strong enough – and just think what it would cost to feed!”

“We don’t really have any other option,” pleaded Tess. “Sheila needs a home.” She had taken to calling the dinosaur Sheila. Sheila the Sarcosaurus.

“I’m not sure the tranquilisers would last long enough to get it there. Unless you fancy sitting in the back with it and you can shoot it every time it wakes up…”

Tess looked defeated.

“I have another idea,” said Jake.

They all looked at him expectantly.

“There’s an abandoned stone mine up on the hill that we could use. No one ever goes there. We could build a barrier over the entrance.”

This seemed an altogether better prospect to everyone than driving the dinosaur around the M25 where all sorts of things could go wrong.

“I like the sound of that,” said Bill whose opinion was possibly most important, given that the alternative was his farm. “But how quickly could we build a barrier?”

Jake sketched out a plan involving more scaffolding and scaffold boards. This particular quarry was dug into a hillside, so a barrier was required across the entrance. Caleb suggested leaving a hole the size of the horsebox so it could be left in position and driven out again if necessary. Bill congratulated him and said it was always good to think ahead.

“We’d better not lose any time,” said Grandpa. “We don’t know when it might wake up.”

Just then Mr McArthur pulled up in his Mercedes SUV with Dad and the girls.

“Bill! What are you doing here?” asked Dad in surprise.

“Hello there! I was, er, just down in the area and thought I’d look in and see you all.”

“Really?” Dad seemed a little unconvinced. “What brings you this way?”

“Um, I was here for a… horse show.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you went in for that sort of thing.”

“Yes, it’s a new interest,” interjected Grandpa. “As a matter of fact, I was just suggesting we could maybe all go along with him tomorrow.”

“I’ve had enough of horses this holiday,” Dad grumbled. “They make my eyes itch – even from a distance. I’m surprised they aren’t itching now, with your horsebox just parked over there…”

“Er, curious that,” said Bill. “I’ll be taking it away shortly, so you shouldn’t have any bother.”

*

The party broke up with Bill, Jake and Tess driving away to do what was needed at the quarry. They told the other adults they were showing Bill somewhere he could stay for the night, which was also part of the plan. It was thought best the kids stayed at the camp site so as not to rouse any further suspicions – and besides, someone needed to guard the fence for the rest of the day.

The afternoon found Mum reading her book in a folding chair, Dad doing a watercolour painting of the coastline and Grandpa and the kids patrolling the fence.

“Why did you say that about us going to the horse show tomorrow?” asked Caleb when he and Grandpa were alone.

“It gives us options,” said Grandpa. “I have a plan forming in my head…” He looked up to check that the girls were out of earshot.

Grandpa continued: “I can’t help thinking the best solution overall is to take it back in time to where it belonged. Plan D.”

Caleb raised his eyebrows, though not so much from surprise as to coax Grandpa to give further details. It was an idea that had crossed his mind too.

“But how can we do that when we don’t have the time machine?” he questioned. “We left it with Prince John and Ignatius, remember?”

“Yes, I’ve been thinking about that. One idea is to get them to come and help us. Given how much they enjoy moving through time looking for exciting new objects to add to Prince John’s collection, we could possibly get a message to them. We would just need to leave it somewhere they would find it. In fact, I’m surprised they haven’t already appeared to try and get their hands on the ray-gun.”

“But we would have no idea when they might turn up, even if that worked, and in the meantime, we would have a dinosaur to feed…”

“Yes. The other idea is to get hold of another time machine.”

Caleb pulled a face as if to suggest Grandpa was going mad.

“The time machine was invented by the lady we found in Prince John’s castle, remember?” Caleb nodded. “Well, it’s possible she had others, if we could only find out where she lived.”

“How on earth could we do that? We don’t know anything about her!”

“We do know something important. She used the campervan to take the time machine to the 12^th Century. It is her campervan. That means two things. She probably originates from the same time as us and secondly, we might be able to use the campervan to figure out where she lived. Tax or MOT records, that kind of thing.”

Caleb looked impressed. “You have been thinking this through, haven’t you!”

“Not much else to do around here when you have a broken foot,” chuckled Grandpa.

“But how quickly can we figure this out and when would we be able to go searching for her home?”

“We have to act quickly. As soon as Tess comes back we can see if she has access to a computer. If we can find anything out tonight, we can go searching tomorrow.”

“You had better take us with you given what you said to my parents about us all going to the horse show.”

“Exactly what I was thinking. And I suspect you kids will prove very useful when it comes to searching for things. My eyes aren’t so good these days…”

*

That evening Jake came up trumps again. He had a friend who knew a thing or two about computers. Grandpa provided them with the service record from the glove box of the camper van, an old tax disc (the kind that aren’t used any more, but which was sitting in the windscreen as a memento), the registration and the chassis number. Somehow the friend was able to pull up a name and address: Morag Johnson, The Old Forge Cottage, Larkford, Shropshire.

“Incredible! How did you do that?” asked Bill. “Where you able to hack the DVLA records?”

“No. We found the name of the garage that had sold it to her and we gave them a call. They checked their records and told me the name and address,” explained Jake. “I said we were trying to return it to its owner.”

“Oh…” Bill sounded a bit disappointed. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“That’s fantastic,” said Grandpa. “Shropshire isn’t so very far away. Just a couple of hours. We can definitely get there and back in a day. We’ll go and pay a visit and see if we can figure out what to do next. Meanwhile, you kids had better get to bed – we should start early tomorrow. Everyone ready for a 7.30 a.m. departure!”

*

The drive to Shropshire took a little more than two hours, as it happened. 10 O’clock found them nosing up a country lane looking for the Old Forge Cottage. They had stopped at the village shop to ask directions and had been pointed up a lane by the church.

“There it is!” said Caleb from the back seat.

“How do you know?” asked Bill.

“You can see the chimney from the forge,” said Caleb.

“So you can! I thought there must be a sign.”

“There is too!” said Beth. “I can see it now.”

There was indeed a sign, which had been hidden from view at first. The house was on the left of the road, set back behind a garden replete with cottage-garden flowers. They had passed an old building hard up against the road first, which supported the chimney and was in less good shape. It was separated from the house by a compact yard in which various pieces of equipment were disintegrating slowly, including an old water pump in one corner. A sign on the house said, “Old Forge Cottage”.

“Very picturesque,” said Bill, as he pulled up in the yard.

“One thing troubles me,” said Grandpa as he climbed out awkwardly, trying to get his crutches into position.

“What’s that?” asked Caleb, jumping down next to him.

“The garden has been tended. If she had been away a long time it would be overgrown.”

The others looked over to the garden. It certainly appeared as though it had received plenty of love and attention in recent weeks.

“She might be back,” said Bill. “Surely with time travel, however long you spend somewhere else, you can come back to where you came from a moment after you left. It would be like you never left at all.”

“Yes, you are right,” said Grandpa. “Unless you never come back.”

The kids looked at him with varying amounts of concern as the meaning of what he said slowly dawned on them.

“Well, we can only knock at the door and find out,” Grandpa shrugged. “There’s nothing illegal about that. Maybe you kids should stay by the Land Rover till we know what is going on…”

Grandpa made his way slowly to the front door with the help of his crutches. He knocked loudly.

They all waited, listening intently for a response. Nothing came. Grandpa knocked again. The children looked around at the yard and the cottage and the lane with the birds sitting on the power lines above. Caleb noted the door into the forge and a long timber building extending back from it with more windows and doors facing out into the yard. All the timber – doors, window frames, barge boards – was painted a soft lavender blue, which had faded in the sunlight and was in sore need of maintenance.

“No one home,” said Grandpa. “Which is a concern. It’s strange about the garden…”

Caleb had wandered over to the forge and was looking in the window.

“I think this might be some kind of workshop in here,” he said.

The others approached the forge and Bill tried the door.

“Locked.”

They made their way down the side of the timber building, picking their way round a rusting trailer and pile of metal off-cuts, some barrels and wire mesh. Each window they tried was closed. Each door locked.

“Hmm… I hadn’t counted on breaking in,” said Grandpa.

Flora was getting frustrated. “Why were you not expecting anyone at home? You said you were going to find someone.”

“I said there was someone who could help us, but I wasn’t necessarily expecting to find them at home,” said Grandpa by way of explanation. “But I believe there is something in that workshop that would be able to help us, if only we could get in.”

“OK, a pet possum for whoever finds a way in!” declared Bill.

The kids continued their search with renewed vigour, though no one was entirely sure what a possum was. Caleb disappeared around the back of the building to explore. A few minutes later he returned.

“I can’t find a way in. I think our only option is to break a window.”

Beth looked shocked.

“Caleb’s right – this isn’t the time to worry about a bit of damage to property,” said Grandpa. “We can make sure it is fixed again.”

Just then they heard a scream from the back garden of the cottage. It was Flora. They all ran to her aid and found her staring wide eyed at old man with shaggy white hair who was blocking her path back to the yard. He was somewhat hunched over and wore wellies that looked too big for him. More importantly, he was brandishing a garden fork with sharp prongs.

“Er, hello,” said Grandpa, thinking fast. “I’m Albert Sansom, a friend of Morag’s.”

The old man turned his head to face him but kept his fork trained on Flora. “Aarr…” he said. It was possibly intended as a threat, but it could have been a greeting.

“We, er, know where she is and I’m sorry to say she is in trouble. We need your help.”

A frown came to the old man’s weather-beaten face.

“I saw her not so long ago and she was in a bit of a fix,” continued Grandpa. “She’s stranded and not able to come home.”

The old man didn’t flinch. But slowly turned to train his prongs on Grandpa.

“I think there is something in her workshop that she needs in order to be able to come home again. Do you know where she keeps the key?”

The old man continued to look at Grandpa as though weighing things up. Grandpa wasn’t sure if he was suspicious, very slow on the uptake or even, possibly, deaf.

Grandpa took a risk. “I expect you know she does some unusual research in that workshop. Have you ever seen any flashes or bangs? It wouldn’t surprise me if you knew that she disappeared for periods of time without much of an explanation… I know what it is she is doing and as her friend I want to help her.”

Something shifted in the old man’s face, but not necessarily for the better.

Things started to look decidedly bad when the old man raised the fork and levelled the prongs at Grandpa’s chest.

“I’ll let you in,” said a wheezy voice, “but any funny business and I’ll pop you like a ripe tomato. And you don’t take anything without my say so.”

“Yes, of course,” said Grandpa. “We’ll only take something if you give us permission.”

The children breathed a sigh of relief as the old man lowered his fork and then rummaged in his pocket for a bunch of keys. Once he had found them and his baggy trousers had been readjusted, he led the way to the door of the forge. He selected a key, but before he put it in the lock, he turned and looked them over one by one, as if to satisfy himself of something. Then he put the key in the lock and turned it. He stood aside to let them in, still clutching his fork meaningfully.

The forge still looked like a forge, with a fire pit, bellows and an anvil and plenty of evidence they had been used. Black soot covered the grey stone walls and hung on cobwebs in the rafters. Coal was heaped in one corner, sheet metal and angle sections were stacked up in another. Caleb was intrigued, but there was nothing here to interest Grandpa, who quickly moved through to the next room.

Caleb followed him into the newer extension, which was much lighter in comparison. The walls had been painted white and, in addition to the windows, some translucent sky lights bathed the whole room in a diffuse soft light. Down the centre of the room was a long, deep workbench below which were shelves of materials, electrical equipment and tools. Around the edges of the room were more shelves and tools and several large white boards covered in diagrams. Grandpa walked along the workbench slowly, looking at the various creations, watched all the while by the old man and his fork.

“Ah, ha! I think this is what we are looking for…” he said happily, once he had reached halfway down the room.

The first creation he assessed looked like a metal pyramid with a TV aerial sticking out of the top. A box protruded from one side, with a dial and a couple of levers and some lights. In front, lying on the bench, was a little sign that said, ‘Mark 1’. There was a note stuck to it that said, ‘Regulator borrowed for Mark 3’. Next along the bench he came to rectangular metal box. A side panel had been removed, and coils of wire spilled out. A sign on the bench said, ‘Mark 2’, and a sticky note said in capital letters, ‘DO NOT USE’. Mark 3 looked more promising. It was cylindrical with a domed top. It was on a metal stand and had an antennae on top which divided into four, each wire heading outwards and upwards in a different direction. There were no warning notes or obvious pieces missing.

Beyond it was a space where Mark 4 ought to have been.

“I think we know where Mark 4 is,” said Grandpa turning back to the previous model.

“I wonder…” He started to inspect Mark 3 more closely. All the connections looked sound and some of the controls were reminiscent of what he had seen on Mark 4, the version they had seen Prince John and Ignatius use on several occasions.

“What about the battery?” asked Caleb.

“I think it is like the others,” said Grandpa, “just powered from a 12 volt car battery. You can see the positive and negative terminals here.”

The children were starting to feel hopeful, but then Grandpa suddenly spoiled things.

“Oh dear…” Grandpa paused. “The date setter only has 4 digits.” He pointed and Caleb and the others looked to see what he meant.

On a control panel were four little windows, each displaying a single digit. Currently they showed 0942. The letters AD had been handwritten in marker pen on the casing to the right.

“It looks as though this one would only take us from 0 AD up to 9999 AD. So we would be OK if we wanted to see Jesus being born but nothing before that. We need to be able to go negative if we are to help Sheila…” he looked up at the children with concern.

“That scuppers that plan,” said Bill. “Looks like we’ll be keeping Sheila after all.”

“Not necessarily,” said Grandpa. “There is something we can do with this…”

Bill had a feeling he didn’t like where this was going.

“We can use this machine to find Morag and the Mark 4 and then they can help us save Sheila. I have been waiting for an opportunity to rescue Moray, and this might be it.”

The old man was squinting and looking from Grandpa to Bill. He was understandably confused and suspicious.

Bill wasn’t having it. “You mean you want to go back to that sword wielding maniac and ask him to let Ms Johnson go and his beloved time… er, the… machine – he’ll never do it! It will be like Pharaoh and the Israelites all over again.”

Grandpa waited for Bill to go quiet. “Well, I don’t know about bringing plagues down on him like Moses did, but there are other things we can bargain with. He might like a dinosaur, for example. Or we could take him some other things he might like. I have a few ideas up my sleeve. And besides, we don’t necessarily have to ask his permission, do we? We didn’t last time…”

Bill wasn’t convinced. “You can try if you like, but I’m not going anywhere. Least of all within reach of that megalomaniacal tyrant.”

“You have to come, Bill – with my foot like this you’re the only one who can drive.”

The kids looked at Bill imploringly.

“Think of poor Morag, locked in that castle…” said Grandpa.

“And poor Sheila with no friends…” said Beth.

“And the poor goat…” added Flora.

*

And so it was that not long after this convincing argument was laid before him, Bill was driving them back to the south coast, the Mark 3 time machine wrapped carefully in a blanket in the back. The gardener had agreed to let them take it, particularly after hearing something about Morag being locked up by a mad man. Grandpa said he would do his best to bring it back safely and – all being well – Morag too. This had made the gardener smile for the first time.

They discussed their plan as they drove. They would have to get Sheila back in the horsebox. The time machine would be set up in the Land Rover as they couldn’t very well use the campervan without telling Mum and Dad what was happening. Bill and Grandpa would travel back in time together and seek to persuade Prince John to agree to a deal. Grandpa wasn’t very forthcoming when they asked what would happen if Prince John refused. All he did was repeat that he had a few ideas up his sleeve.

*

The children were determined to see Bill and Grandpa off the next morning, so Bill picked them all up early and drove them up to the quarry. Jake had agreed to give them a lift back to the camp site when he took Tess to work.

Getting Sheila into the horsebox was a lot quicker than it might have been, thanks to Caleb’s forward thinking. And they had learned a few lessons from last time. They cut a hole in the back of the horsebox big enough for the goat, so they could put it in as bait and then pull it out at the last moment. (“Why is everyone so intent on cutting holes in my horsebox,” complained Bill.) The bait worked and soon Sheila was where they wanted her. They had put in some old meat too and while Sheila was guzzling it down, (“Terrible table manners” observed Bill) they used the tranquiliser to put her to sleep. Caleb still couldn’t get used to the idea of a hulking great lizard being asleep inches from his feet. It was unnerving to watch its scaly skin rise and fall with its breathing, knowing those same scales were part of a fearsome weaponry that could take life in a moment. He couldn’t help holding his own breath as Jake bravely went inside the enclosure and closed up the horsebox, lifting the ramp up and securing it in place. Finally, Bill drove the horsebox forwards, clear of the barricade.

“Right, I think we are all set!” said Grandpa. Unlike most vehicles today, the back of an early Land Rover had a bench seat down each side, running front to back, and a flat wooden floor in between. They had strapped the time machine down to the floor in the back and used some long jump leads to connect it to the battery. It meant keeping a window open for the cable and the bonnet slightly raised, but this wasn’t the time to worry about wind resistance. They wouldn’t need to go particularly fast for the time machine to work anyway, based on their previous experience. The tranquiliser guns were kept at the ready, with a full case of darts on the seat between Grandpa and Bill.

Grandpa gave each of the kids a hug in turn. Bill followed him round, ceremonially shaking each of their hands. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered. Caleb wasn’t sure if he was referring to the shaking of hands or the upcoming time travel, but thought it best not to ask.

“OK everyone, stand back!” said Grandpa as he got into the back from where he would be able to operate the machine. Bill climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed his door. “It probably won’t work anyway,” he muttered through the open window, “and then we can all go and get an ice-cream.”

Caleb and Beth stood closely together on one side of the Land Rover. Tess was on the other side with Jake, and Flora stood between them holding the goat on a piece of rope. The goat bleated restlessly, turning first one way then another and then starting to walk away, only to be pulled back by a sudden jerk of the rope by Flora.

Bill started the engine and put it noisily into first gear. He eased off the brake and they started to move down the track between the trees. They picked up speed and everyone waited for the anticipated flash. But the Land Rover disappeared out of sight round a corner with nothing having happened at all. They all strained their ears.

Silence.

“Oh, great,” said Caleb with disappointment. “It hasn’t worked.” He began to run down the track.