Chapter One of The Time Apprentice by Val Tyler
The Wobble
Offa Scratch’s eyes ran up the tunnel wall, across the ceiling and down the other side.
The Wreccas stood and watched in fearful anticipation. Would he approve?
‘Good, isn’t it?’ Sniff volunteered, hopefully.
‘Good?’ Offa Scratch asked, menacingly.
‘Well,’ Sniff realized his leader was not as happy as Sniff had hoped, ‘it seems to be in the right place.’
‘Seems?’ Offa Scratch snarled.
More than a year of being the Wrecca leader’s second-in-command had taught Sniff a great deal about how to keep out of trouble. Offa Scratch had shown them where to dig and so, of course, they had to be in exactly the right place.
‘I’s a bit slow sometimes, Your Almightiness,’ Sniff grovelled, bowing to his leader. ‘I know you telled us right. You thinked up the plan . . . the brilliant plan,’ he quickly corrected himself. ‘You’s a mighty brain.’
Slightly soothed, Offa Scratch paced the tunnel, watched by his men.
Wreccas are dirty, stupid, miserable beings. They have stooping shoulders because they spend most of their time in tunnels, and matted hair because they do not use brushes. They live under ground in a series of dark, damp, dingy tunnels called the Underneath, and most of the time they are in mortal fear of their ferocious leader.
Offa Scratch now turned to Scamp, who stood apart from the others. He was covered from head to toe in soil. Scamp was the lead digger. Although no longer a youth, Scamp was considered young to hold such a position.
‘How long till it’s finished?’ Offa Scratch demanded.
Scamp leant on a battered old shovel that was the mark of his trade. He scratched his head, dislodging the earth that was caught in his shaggy mane of tangled hair. ‘Hard to say,’ he mumbled.
‘Hard to say?’ Offa Scratch spat. ‘It’s your job to say!’
Scamp shook his head and a shower of loose soil cascaded to the ground. He looked up without fear. For some strange reason, Scamp was the only Wrecca who was not absolutely terrified of their ferocious leader. ‘It’s a long way to dig,’ he said, violently thumping his temple with the heel of his hand, trying to empty the soil out of his ear.
‘Scamp don’t have your quick brain, Your Greatness,’ Sniff interjected, seeing his leader’s temper beginning to flare. Offa Scratch found Scamp’s casual attitude infuriating. If he had not been so good at digging, Offa Scratch would have delivered Scamp up to the Ruckus long ago.
‘It’s ages,’ Sniff said, expertly diverting the subject away from Scamp, ‘since I heared the story of how you saved us all from the terrible danger down by the roaring river.’
Offa Scratch’s chest swelled at the thought. This was a story he loved to tell. He had been the hero that day and he always enjoyed boasting about it. ‘I’ll tell everyone!’
‘Wonderful idea, Your Masterfulness,’ Sniff grovelled, guiding his leader away. The Wreccas would not object to hearing the story again if it kept their leader happy.
Scamp remained where he was, still thumping his head, blissfully unaware just how close he had been to danger.
The hot summer sun baked Greenwich Park. The usually lush grass was brown. Those who sat in the park kept to the protective shade of the majestic trees. Chattering groups of summer visitors, each with a rucksack strapped to his or her back, sauntered down the hill. They might have been forgiven for thinking that whatever they were doing or saying was nothing to do with you, me or anyone else. But they would be wrong. Even our smallest actions can have powerful consequences.
A boy carrying a rucksack walked alone through the park. His shoulders were hunched and his hands were thrust deep into his pockets. His dark eyes glowered at the ground just in front of his feet.
Seth watched this boy.
Seth had been born a Wrecca but now lived above ground with the Guardian People. Living Topside, as the Wreccas called it, was totally different from the wretched misery of the Underneath, but Seth had found the change bewildering. As a result, he withdrew into himself and could not make friends. Perhaps that was why he noticed this particular boy. There was something in the way he walked that made Seth understand that he, too, felt alone. He watched as the boy took off his rucksack and flung it to the ground. A schoolbook fell out. The boy did not seem to notice.
Seth found himself watching with increasing interest. Leaning forward, he made no attempt to conceal his curiosity. He looked straight at the boy without any concern that he might be noticed. This boy would not be annoyed that a stranger was watching him so closely because he could not see Seth. The boy was Human.
The lad now trudged up and down, a short distance from Seth, repeatedly covering the same metres of ground, mumbling to himself. Seth tipped his head to one side to try and hear what he was saying, but could not. He moved closer to catch the boy’s words but found it difficult to understand because the boy was speaking in an unfamiliar accent.
‘Stupid name!’ the boy was grumbling with growing ferocity. ‘I hate them! I hate Greenwich! I hate Dad!’ And suddenly he swung his leg back and savagely kicked a large stone that shot off across the park and thudded into one of the trees.
Seth could almost hear the tree groan as the stone bit cruelly into the bark and chipped a chunk of it away. By the time Seth looked back, the boy had stuffed his book back into his bag and was grumpily striding off with shoulders hunched and hands deep in his pockets.
Seth walked over to the tree and picked up the chunk of bark that lay on the ground. ‘Poor old tree,’ he said, running his hand tenderly over the wound.
‘Hello, Grandfather!’ Tid and Sofi called out cheerfully as they arrived home from school.
Old Father Tim bent down and kissed Sofi on the head and ruffled Tid’s hair. ‘Did you have a good day?’ he asked.
‘All right,’ they answered, noticing a sticky, chocolate cake that was on the table. The kettle started whistling and the old man began making the tea.
Old Father Tim was the powerful leader of the Guardian People. Some found him rather frightening, but Sofi and Tid knew him to be kind and loving. There was, however, something mysteriously marvellous about the old man. Like all Guardians, Old Father Tim wore a full-length tunic under a long outer coat, but his was dark blue and it sparkled with a hint of sapphire and starlight. His shoulder-length hair and short beard glinted of silver and, on occasions, his usually kind eyes had a glint of steel.
The Guardian People are wise and noble. They guard time for everyone, live in tidy, well-kept cottages, value learning and respect one another. They inhabit the same places that we Humans do, except we cannot see them or any part of their world. Humans and Guardian People can even walk straight through one another with no reaction other than a strange feeling.
Tid and Sofi washed their hands at the kitchen sink before Sofi cut each of them a large piece of cake. The chocolate stuck to her fingers as she put a slice on to plates for Tid and herself. They were both licking their lips appreciatively when Old Father Tim and Tid suddenly stopped still. They looked at each other questioningly.
‘Did you feel that?’ Old Father Tim asked.
Tid nodded.
Sofi looked from Tid to her grandfather. She had no idea what they were talking about.
‘Feel what?’ she asked.
‘The wobble.’
‘I very much doubt that Sofi could have felt it,’ Old Father Tim said.
Sofi looked at him indignantly. She was about to say that she was just as likely to feel a wobble (whatever a wobble was) as Tid when Old Father Tim said, ‘Wipe your fingers, my boy. I must go to the Meridian Line, and I think it would be fitting for you to come too.’
Sofi looked at him, expectantly.
‘I am sorry, Sofi,’ Old Father Tim said, not wanting to disappoint her but knowing that he must. ‘As the Old Father Grandson and possible future leader, there are certain things that Tid needs to know. I cannot ask you to accompany us. Will you be all right on your own or shall I ask Enderell to come over?’
Mortified as she was at being left out, Sofi did not want to suffer the indignity of a babysitter while it was still daylight. She was too old for that.
‘I shall be fine,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘I’ve loads of work to do.’
Tid gulped down the last of his cake and quickly wiped his mouth and fingers on the damp cloth that Old Father Tim held out to him. Giving Sofi an apologetic smile, he followed his grandfather out of the cottage.
Sofi put down what remained of her piece of cake and pouted. She had been born a Wrecca, living in the Underneath until eighteen months before, when she and Seth had come to live Topside. She now felt that her transformation from Wrecca to one of the Guardian People was complete. Not only did she dress, speak and think like them, she usually forgot that she had ever been anything else. It hurt that there was something that Tid was allowed to do because he had had the good fortune to be born one of the Guardian People, while she was not because she had had a wretched beginning as a Wrecca.
Grumpily, she sat down, banging her elbows on to the table and thumping her chin into her hands.
She opened her one of her schoolbooks, supposing she must do her homework, but she did not want to. Why should she work while Tid was off having fun? Instead, she slammed the book shut and pulled Tempus and the Gemetbur out of her bag. It had been her turn to take her favourite storybook into school to show the class. Tempus and the Gemetbur was about the very first Guardian, Tempus. Sofi had learnt to read since coming Topside. It proved she was now one of the Guardians. Wreccas could not read. She settled back in her chair and idly flipped through the pages until Tid and Old Father Tim returned from the Line.
Tid burst through the door, excitedly exclaiming that there had been a wobble in time. ‘Humans will have to repeat a day. Just think, Sofi,’ he said enthusiastically, ‘all day tomorrow they will do exactly the same as they did today, and they won’t know anything about it!’
Sofi had a hundred questions, but pretended not to be interested. ‘I’m busy,’ she lied, closing her storybook and starting to do her homework.
© Val Tyler
Schools may copy this extract from The Time Apprentice for educational purposes only, provided that it is printed without alteration and that the title, the publisher and the name of the author are acknowledged.The Time Apprentice by Val Tyler (Puffin 2006) This extract, in whole or part, may not be copied for any activity that leads to financial gain of any sort unless permission is first sought from the author.