gain you have made, someone else has lost.’
‘Marcus, that will be enough,’ Jim said, his voice hoarse. He nodded to me and gently clasped my hand in his. He looked so old, his face lined and drawn. ‘Now, what of this Malchev fellow?’ he said slowly.
‘Ah, yes. Hugo Malchev.’ Marcus was trying to sound cheerful. ‘Surprisingly voted in as Cricket Lord for the period 1970 to 1972. But the Melbourne Test that year, the fourth of the series, was washed out. Not a ball was bowled. However, the toss was made and teams of twelve selected.’
I wasn’t sure where all this was heading. Marcus saw my confused look and explained.
‘After a new Cricket Lord is appointed on the morning of a Test, he must remain here in the Sanctum, powerless until the first ball of the game is delivered. Sometimes there are rain delays, but he can do nothing but wait. However, in this particular game that first ball was never delivered.’
‘So what happened?’ Ally asked, back to her usual alert self.
‘Poor Malchev was cocooned here as though in a tomb. He had nowhere to go, and no food or water. Most importantly, he had no power.’
‘But why didn’t you all come back and help him?’ I asked.
‘Because our powers had also ceased,’ Marcus said. ‘For that period of time, from the appointment to that first ball being bowled, we were all powerless.’
‘What’s it got to do with power?’ Ally said. ‘Youjust walk through the door there and grab the guy. Or bring him some water or something.’
Marcus shook his head. ‘What door?’ he said softly. He walked back to Jim’s plaque and returned the stump to its holder on the wall. Its burnt section was now bigger than those of the other stumps.
‘The door over there!’ Ally said, pointing.
‘And have you ever seen that door before?’ Marcus said, turning to me.
‘Well, no,’ I answered. ‘But that’s because there’s always been a bookshelf there.’
‘There is no door there, Toby,’ Jim said.
‘Then how did we get in here?’ Ally asked, frowning.
‘Marcus and I are Cricket Lords. We know where to show the image of a Wisden front cover in order to create the door. No one else does.’
We were all silent a moment. Jimbo and the MCG cricket camp seemed a million miles away, and yet here I was at the MCG.
‘But if you were all powerless because there wasn’t a ball bowled in the Test match, then how come you have your powers now?’ I asked.
Marcus grimaced. ‘That, my lad, is because Malchev did get out. He managed to escape and travel back in time for the sixth Test match, also played in Melbourne. He must have got himself some supplies and waited here in the Sanctum for the first ball of that Test match to be bowled.’
‘And it did get bowled?’ Ally asked.
Marcus nodded.
‘And no one except the Cricket Lords knows about that door over there,’ Ally said.
‘No one.’ Jim closed his eyes again. Even two words seemed an enormous strain for him.
‘So the person knocking on the door right now must be a Cricket Lord then,’ Ally said quietly.
We all froze. I hadn’t heard any knocking.
‘Knocking? Are you sure?’ Marcus asked, looking queerly at Ally.
‘Maybe it’s the power from the smoke,’ I said. ‘Maybe Ally’s hearing is better than ours now.’
A moment later, we all heard a loud thumping on the door.
‘Malchev!’ Marcus hissed.
‘I told you there’d be danger,’ Jim sighed, sitting up and reaching an arm out for me.
‘Ally and Toby—go, both of you. I’ll deal with this,’ Marcus cried.
There was a crashing sound and suddenly the door flew open.
‘Toby, c’mon!’ Ally screamed, shaking me. I couldn’t take my eyes from the white figure speeding towards us. ‘It’s him,’ I gasped. ‘It’s—’
‘Toby, now!’ Marcus roared. ‘The poem!’
‘But what about Jim?’ I wailed, barely noticing Ally’s hand squeezing mine, her fingernails digging into the palm of my hand.
Jim let go of my
‘Marcus, that will be enough,’ Jim said, his voice hoarse. He nodded to me and gently clasped my hand in his. He looked so old, his face lined and drawn. ‘Now, what of this Malchev fellow?’ he said slowly.
‘Ah, yes. Hugo Malchev.’ Marcus was trying to sound cheerful. ‘Surprisingly voted in as Cricket Lord for the period 1970 to 1972. But the Melbourne Test that year, the fourth of the series, was washed out. Not a ball was bowled. However, the toss was made and teams of twelve selected.’
I wasn’t sure where all this was heading. Marcus saw my confused look and explained.
‘After a new Cricket Lord is appointed on the morning of a Test, he must remain here in the Sanctum, powerless until the first ball of the game is delivered. Sometimes there are rain delays, but he can do nothing but wait. However, in this particular game that first ball was never delivered.’
‘So what happened?’ Ally asked, back to her usual alert self.
‘Poor Malchev was cocooned here as though in a tomb. He had nowhere to go, and no food or water. Most importantly, he had no power.’
‘But why didn’t you all come back and help him?’ I asked.
‘Because our powers had also ceased,’ Marcus said. ‘For that period of time, from the appointment to that first ball being bowled, we were all powerless.’
‘What’s it got to do with power?’ Ally said. ‘Youjust walk through the door there and grab the guy. Or bring him some water or something.’
Marcus shook his head. ‘What door?’ he said softly. He walked back to Jim’s plaque and returned the stump to its holder on the wall. Its burnt section was now bigger than those of the other stumps.
‘The door over there!’ Ally said, pointing.
‘And have you ever seen that door before?’ Marcus said, turning to me.
‘Well, no,’ I answered. ‘But that’s because there’s always been a bookshelf there.’
‘There is no door there, Toby,’ Jim said.
‘Then how did we get in here?’ Ally asked, frowning.
‘Marcus and I are Cricket Lords. We know where to show the image of a Wisden front cover in order to create the door. No one else does.’
We were all silent a moment. Jimbo and the MCG cricket camp seemed a million miles away, and yet here I was at the MCG.
‘But if you were all powerless because there wasn’t a ball bowled in the Test match, then how come you have your powers now?’ I asked.
Marcus grimaced. ‘That, my lad, is because Malchev did get out. He managed to escape and travel back in time for the sixth Test match, also played in Melbourne. He must have got himself some supplies and waited here in the Sanctum for the first ball of that Test match to be bowled.’
‘And it did get bowled?’ Ally asked.
Marcus nodded.
‘And no one except the Cricket Lords knows about that door over there,’ Ally said.
‘No one.’ Jim closed his eyes again. Even two words seemed an enormous strain for him.
‘So the person knocking on the door right now must be a Cricket Lord then,’ Ally said quietly.
We all froze. I hadn’t heard any knocking.
‘Knocking? Are you sure?’ Marcus asked, looking queerly at Ally.
‘Maybe it’s the power from the smoke,’ I said. ‘Maybe Ally’s hearing is better than ours now.’
A moment later, we all heard a loud thumping on the door.
‘Malchev!’ Marcus hissed.
‘I told you there’d be danger,’ Jim sighed, sitting up and reaching an arm out for me.
‘Ally and Toby—go, both of you. I’ll deal with this,’ Marcus cried.
There was a crashing sound and suddenly the door flew open.
‘Toby, c’mon!’ Ally screamed, shaking me. I couldn’t take my eyes from the white figure speeding towards us. ‘It’s him,’ I gasped. ‘It’s—’
‘Toby, now!’ Marcus roared. ‘The poem!’
‘But what about Jim?’ I wailed, barely noticing Ally’s hand squeezing mine, her fingernails digging into the palm of my hand.
Jim let go of my
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