Out of Time, Page 2

  The elder sister said, “Gosh, I had not realised, Sir that the Urquhart family connections extended so far. Pray tell me, how are the Western Isles?”

  “No idea! Never been.” I said laughing.

  Why is that funny? Sir?”

  She looked serious. This was getting a bit worrying. I could see I was getting into a closed game. Another sandwich was required, I thought, to deflect from the path this seemed to be going. But as I extended my arm and opened my mouth to ask for another they both started and looked at my wrist and the one called Flory said,

  “Sir what is that bracelet on your arm? It is highly unusual.”

  “It’s just a quartz solar-powered watch. They’re great, never needs batteries, just a bit of sunshine which I must say we seem to be getting our fair share of today”.

  ---~---

  E.

  He was very relaxed in his manner and had the air of someone to whom I thought the world had been kind. His face was clean and closely shaven and his hair despite being unoiled was neat, tidy and well cut. His hands and nails had the marks of a gentleman. But as he rather impertinently outstretched his arm, for another sandwich, without asking first, I noticed a large bracelet clasping what looked like a jewelled blue disk. Flory asked him what it was, to which he replied with an incomprehensible phrase – I presumed he had forgotten himself and slipped back into his Scottish vernacular. I tried again.

  “Please excuse me but what is it for?”

  “Erm, well, to tell the time.”

  He looked at me puzzled as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  I persisted.

  “Pray forgive me, I didn’t mean to enquire so closely but it is fascinating.”

  “Do you want to have a look? I must admit I don’t normally get girls interested in my watches.”

  And then he unclasped it from his wrist and offered it to me. It had a peculiar flexible bracelet made of grey metal links clasping the small dark blue disc. I looked closer.

  “Oh, it is a little clock!” I exclaimed.

  “Pardon?”

  He was quite taken aback. I looked again. I could see now it had tiny clock hands which glowed in the sunlight under a glass cover, but the time was incorrect.

  “It is very beautiful, but how do you adjust the hands?”

  “I don’t. It’s a radio-controlled watch. They move themselves. Haven’t had to adjust it in over a year.”

  “But your bracelet, or watch as you call it, says a quarter past twelve, Mr Urquhart, while as you can see from the clubhouse clock it is now a quarter past two.”

  Puzzled, he removed a thin black case from his jacket pocket, looked at it then looked at the bracelet.

  “Nope, it’s right. I expect you will find that clubhouse clock has been stuck like that for years.”

  At this point my cousin Henry wandered over swinging his bat with a smile on his face. No doubt pleased that he’d whacked the ball into Granny Winshall’s garden again.

  “I hoped you enjoyed my game Elizabeth. I thought I’d better give the locals a bit of a chance otherwise they won’t turn up next year.”

  “Of course, Henry. By the way this is James Urquhart. He was passing through, so we offered him a sandwich.”

  Henry stared at him.

  “I’ll be damned if he is!”

  ---~---

  J.

  I startled. He looked me closely in the eye.

  “I’m sorry, I thought we were all making up names and titles as part of the afternoon fun”.

  The three of them looked at me in complete disbelief. Elizabeth said,

  “Are you implying we are not who we say we are?”

  “No, no,” I protested feeling the hole I had dug getting deeper. “Oh, alright, I give up. My father was a draughtsman and my mother a telephonist. So, what are your real names?”

  Elizabeth looked shocked. “Pardon? Are you suggesting we are also tradespeople, sir, masquerading as gentlefolk?”

  Oh dear, I seemed to have stumbled into the Bullingdon club annual cricket bash. This was not the time for class action. I swallowed my pride.

  “Look, I really apologise. I had no idea. I will leave immediately”.

  I touched my forelock with as much mockery as possible when facing a real hooray henry on his own ground with a cricket bat.

  They all looked very confused. I rose to go.

  ---~---

  E.

  He looked quite frightened. I’d feared Henry was going to hit him with his bat or box his ears.

  “Henry, stop! The man said he made a mistake. I think he genuinely thought he was at a village fete or carnival. You know, Henry, like at Lurgashall at St John’s feast when all the parishioners dress up and ape their betters. Is that not right, Mr Urquhart?”

  “Er, yes, that’s right. Sorry, I don’t come from these parts and I was lost”.

  Henry glowered at him but thankfully loosened his grip on the bat and, with a curt adieu and with a look of raised eyebrows at us, walked off to the club house.

  “I apologise for my cousin. I do not know why your name caused such a reaction, though I must admit we are more than a little insulted to have our Sunday best compared with fancy dress.”

  He looked shaken.

  “Look, Mr Urquhart, sit down again and have your lemonade. I think we have all made a mistake.”

  He hesitated, looked at his bracelet, looked at the club clock, puzzled and put it back on his wrist.

  “OK thank you. Look, it was all a mistake on my part but I must be going soon otherwise my friends will be looking for me.”

  Then he inexplicably removed his jacket and sat down in just his vest!

  “Mr Urquhart, your manners! Pray put on your jacket. You are not with your friends now!”

  He was now looking very vexed and confused but nevertheless put his jacket back on.

  But just as he sat down and I thought some semblance of normality was restored I heard what sounded like a bell coming from his jacket.

  “Excuse me, I’d better take this. I expect it’s my friends wondering where I am.”

  He reached inside and retrieved the black case he had looked at previously. He touched it and just as I was going to admonish him for taking out a cigarette and smoking in front of us he put it to his ear! Then a voice as if by magic inexplicably came from it.

  “Oi! Jimbo! Where are you? We’ve been looking for you for over an hour.”

  He then looked at the case and spoke to it!

  “You won’t believe this Mike but I’m in the middle of a field with the Bullingdon Club eating cucumber sandwiches with two very nice young ladies.”

  “Yeah? Well while you are dancing around the maypole with your fairy friends we are in the Lammastide and it’s your round.”

  “OK; see you in a bit once I’ve found out where I am.”

  Flory and I looked around us but saw no one else. Flory even looked under the table just in case a person was hiding there.

  Without a word of apology or explanation for this interruption he turned the black case towards us and said, “Do you mind if I take a couple of photos of you otherwise they’ll think I made this whole story up?”

  Before I could say a word he held the case in front of us. It had a black shiny appearance like a dark mirror. Then he handed it to me.

  “There - quite flattering really, mmh, you look a bit shocked. What do you think?”

  What I was thinking I don’t know. The black surface now had a coloured picture of Flory and I with rather a stunned expression on our faces.

  “You’re right. Could do better. Give us a smile.”

  He then stood and proceeded to point the case at us from different angles which seemed so preposterous that we eventually broke into laughter.

  “Pray stop, Mr Urquhart, you’re acting too much the fool.”

  “OK, what do you think? The last couple look the best.”

  Once again he showed us the case but this time h
e ran his finger across it and with each stroke was a new picture of us, all from different angles.

  “Well, sir, I have never seen such a contraption. What is it?”

  “It’s a Samsung S3.”

  Again he seemed to have slipped into his vernacular.

  “I see. Well Mr Urquhart, we must leave you now as the sun is getting quite oppressive. We must prepare afternoon tea, and you will want to return to your friends.”

  “I’m not surprised wearing all those clothes in this heat. How many layers have you got on underneath?”

  Flory and I looked at each other and she held my hand. I looked over to the club house to catch Henry’s eye but he was engaged in conversation. I would have to defend our honour myself.

  “Pardon me, Mr Urquhart, but we are not accustomed to this type of conversation. You have been over familiar, lied about your family, sat down improperly dressed and taken a sandwich without asking and then you enquire into our personal habits. Good day to you!”

  But instead of going he just slumped down into the chair totally dejected.

  ---~---

  J.

  I gave up. This was a whole new madness. I said,

  “Well, I can see I’ve totally over stepped the mark, ladies. Ok, goodbye then. Enjoy the cricket and, oh, thanks for the lemonade and sandwiches.”

  I then slowly walked over to the cart where the two old farm hands were still sitting. I asked where the Lammastide was and they pointed down the road.

  “About half a mile, you can’t miss it, still has most of its thatch on.”

  As I walked down the road, feeling a bit sorry for myself and angry at the girls, the cool breeze returned, wafting in my face, and an old MG whizzed past with what looked like another member of the Bolongers on his way to the fete. He gave me a wave. I reached for my phone to let my friends know I was coming, hoping there would still be time for a pint.

  Damn! No phone!

  Panic! I must have left it on the table. Oh god, do I go back for further stick or just buy a new phone. Obviously, it was stick. I reluctantly turned back leaving the thought of a cool pint behind me.

  ---~---

  E.

  “Well really, Flory that is the most peculiar man I have ever met.”

  “Yes but apart from his appalling manners he seemed to be quite harmless.”

  “Yet … I must admit there was something refreshing about him or dare I say, agreeable. I felt it was an air of simple ignorance. Judging by his hands he looked well bred.”

  “Perhaps he has spent a long time abroad away from society. It would account for the attention he gave you when he arrived at our table.”

  I pretended that I had not noticed.

  “Or maybe it was just his Scottish manners.”

  “Now, we must join Henry now at the clubhouse and listen to his tales of prowess on the field.”

  “Yes, and we must not forget to listen with awe and fascination.”

  As I picked up my parasol I noticed something under the table.

  “Flory! Look, it is Mr Urquhart’s black case.”

  “Ooh, let’s have a look at those pictures again, Elizabeth.”

  But there were no pictures, just a shiny black surface with what looked like a little clock still telling the wrong time.

  “We must return it, Flory. Take it over to old Ted and tell him to take it to the Lammastide, ask for a James Urquhart and make all haste.”

  I fumbled in my purse. “Here’s a shilling for his trouble. Go on, quick!”

  ---~---

  J.

  I eventually returned to the green. The old cart was still there by the roadside, but the farmers had gone. Even worse as I turned the corner of the copse I was greeted with an empty field. Everyone had gone! I hastened over to the club house. The clock still said 14:15. The wooden building was silent but I still tried the door. Locked. I turned around and scanned the grounds. Suddenly I noticed in the far corner of the green the MG again with the driver leaning against the door enjoying a fag. I walked quickly over to him.

  “Hello old boy, can I help?” he said. “You look like you’ve lost your horse.”

  Oh dear, it seemed they were all out today. I decided to ignore it.

  “Excuse me, but do you know where the people playing cricket here have gone?”

  “Sorry, old chap. Just got here. Seen no one - except you, of course. Don’t think there was a game here this Sunday, anyway. If there is a party they’ll be all over at Lurgashall, I expect, for the shoot.”

  I seemed to be living on the wrong planet.

  “Look, you couldn’t do me a favour? I think I’ve left my phone with a girl who was here this afternoon.”

  “That’s a good wheeze, old sport. Hoping she’d contact you, eh?”

  “Yeah, except she can’t ring me ’cos she’s got my phone, hasn’t she?” Hoping he would get the blindingly obvious.

  “What? Oh yes. Look, borrow mine, give her a bell. If she’s got it, she’ll pick it up.”

  I accepted graciously and rang my phone. No answers so I recorded a message.

  “Hi, this is James. Er, James Urquhart. If you are the lovely ladies who have found my phone could you give me a ring at home tonight on 012...... Oh, by the way, apologies if I was out of order and thanks for the sandwiches.”

  I rang off.

  “Thanks very much, mate.”

  “No probs and good luck. Where’s your car?”

  I’d forgotten about my car.

  “About two miles away at Petworth.”

  “You look like you need a lift. Hop in.”

  I was very grateful.

  ---~---

  E.

  The club house was full. The schools had broken up and there were children everywhere. The villagers had been invited in and were enjoying the beer and afternoon tea.

  Just then old Ted came through the door looking a little sheepish.

  “Did you find him, Ted?”

  “I’m sorry, my lady, but no one answered to that name nor had the customers heard of him.”

  “Oh well, ah, thank you Ted. You can keep the shilling for your troubles.”

  When we returned to the Lodge we went immediately up to Flory’s room where we quickly took out the black case and placed it carefully on the dressing table. I touched the smooth, black mirror face gingerly and the little clock appeared again.

  Suddenly it moved. We both jumped, and a tinkling sound came out of it, as we had heard that afternoon.

  “Oh Elizabeth, what is it doing?”

  “Shhh! I think it is going to speak again.”

  But after a few moments the bell stopped and then a tiny message appeared on the black mirror.

  We tentatively looked closer to read what it said.

  “Missed Call – ring Johnny.”

  Before I could stop her, Flory touched the message.

  The screen changed and a green picture appeared accompanied by a purring sound.

  “Flory, what have you done?”

  Then a voice.

  “Hi, Johnny here. Where are you, James? Have you found those lovely ladies who stole your phone?”

  Lovely ladies? Stole? We looked at each other. I put my face close to the mirror and said, “Excuse me, sir, but I don’t think we’ve met.” I said.

  “No, we haven’t, but it sounds like I’d like to.”

  We felt we had had more than enough familiarity today.

  “Sir, we have Mr. Urquhart’s black case. Kindly tell us how we can return it.”

  “What? Oh yes, well just ring James on 012–– –––– and tell him you’ve got his phone. I’m sure he’ll be grateful.”

  “Excuse me sir, but we don’t know what you mean. What is a phone?”

  “What?? The thing you are speaking to. Are you for real? How old are you?”

  “Sir, I assure we are quite real and I take great exception to someone asking our age! Are all Mr. Urquhart’s friends so rude?”

 
Silence. Then it spoke again.

  “Look, sorry, I’m just the messenger. Now, let me think. You really don’t know how to use a phone?”

  “No sir, I told you.”

  “OK, looks like I’m going to really need to squeeze the old lemon for this one. Right, get a pen and paper and write this down. You can write, can’t you?”

  Flory just stopped my grabbing the case and throwing it at the wall. I went to the desk and selected a good pen and paper.

  “I’m ready, sir.”

  He then gave a series of strange instructions to use on the black case. Press this, press that, press these numbers, etc.

  “And don’t forget,” he said, “If the screen goes blank, wipe your finger across the screen to get it back.”

  “Thank you, sir. But if we get it wrong what shall we do?”

  “Good point. I’ll ring you back in half an hour to check. Good luck.”

  “Oh, just a minute, the mirror is black!”

  “Don’t worry, just wipe your finger across it and it will come back. Got it? Good. Bye.”

  We sat down and began to follow the instructions.

  A picture of Mr Urquhart appeared on the screen with a long number. He was displayed with a large red pointed hat on his head. He was holding a tankard in one hand and the other had his thumb pointing up. He seemed very happy. I pressed the green button and after a moment I heard the buzzing sound again.

  ---~---

  J.

  I had just gotten in when the land line rang.

  “Hi, Jim here.”

  “Is that Mr Urquhart?”

  “Yes.”

  “It is Miss Bicester, Elizabeth Bicester, here Mr Urquhart. I have your black case.”

  “My what?”

  “You know, the thing I’m speaking to you on.”

  “Oh great, you found my phone. I came back but you had all gone. Must have been a good party at the shoot.”

  “I did not go to a shoot as you say, but it was an interesting afternoon.”

  “For me, too. So how can I pick up my phone?”

  “You could come to the lodge. I’ll give it to one of the servants.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t realise I had annoyed you so much.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You could give it to me in person.”

  There was a brief silence followed by a faint whispering which sounded like an argument, then she spoke again.