Read Online The Turnarounders and the Arbuckle Rescue by Lou Heneghan - Free Book Online
Authors: Lou Heneghan
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your memories returning, this conversation would progress more quickly. But –’
‘But we could have been having this whole conversation half an hour ago, if you’d stopped when we called you!’ spat Seth.
‘Half an hour ago we wouldn’t have been having this conversation, Seth, we’d have been having an entirely different one, which wouldn’t do at all! You, of all people must remember that. You can’t step –’
‘…into the same river twice,’ Seth finished for him. ‘That’s – that’s just what I’m talking about!’ he cried. ‘How did you know I was thinking of Heraclitus? How do you know so much?’ He was pointing now and flapping his arms like a madman. ‘Our names? The things we know? What – what –’ he pointed to their plates as he stuttered, ‘– what kind of cake we like, for goodness sake!
‘Because I know you all so well, Seth. You and I once had a very memorable conversation about the ancient Greek philosophers. I’m surprised you don’t remember, actually.’ Ambrose handed him a cup of tea. ‘Do have a pastry. They were baked this morning’
‘Enough with the pastries!’ snapped Seth, frustrated. ‘You can start by telling us who you really are. Because I for one don’t buy any of this fortune-teller nonsense! Even your hourglass is rubbish.’
‘Honestly,’ said Ambrose, ‘I really didn’t think it was going to be this difficult. I mean, I know it’s been a while, but –’ He scratched his bald head. ‘Ah! I’ve got an idea.’ He strode to the back of the tent and bent to retrieve something from behind the desk. Then, throwing his hood over his head, he stood, holding the hourglass in his bony right hand and an eight-foot scythe in his left.
‘Ta Daa!’ sang the ominous black figure, mischievously. ‘How about now? Anything coming back?
‘Is that supposed to be funny?’ Valen’s shout was pure frustration. ‘This is ridiculous!’ she yelled. ‘There’s proper freaky stuff going on here and you’re playing charades, talking about dead Greek blokes and dishing out cake! There was a sword fight on the way here! An air raid siren! A dinosaur in the river! And we got shot at, by Saxons – with really sharp arrows!’
Ambrose scratched his head and looked at them searchingly. ‘You’re not joshing? Don’t you know what’s going on?’
‘To be honest, we’re not really in the mood for jokes,’ said Seth.
‘I think, maybe, you must be mistaking us for someone else,’ said Ralf.
There was a horrid, horrified silence and Ambrose pinched the bridge of his nose in consternation. ‘You really have no idea who I am?’
‘Finally, he gets it!’ Valen cried.
‘ Should we know you?’ Ralf asked.
‘Well – yes!’ cried Ambrose, appalled. ‘Quite frankly, you should!’
‘Oh! Oh!’ Alfie yelled suddenly. ‘I know!’
Ambrose’s face brightened but fell again when he saw Alfie’s expression change from excitement to horror. ‘I get it! He’s Death, man! He’s the Grim Reaper! We’re all gonna die, innit!’
‘Death!’ Ambrose propped the scythe against the wall and slammed the hourglass back on the desk. ‘Death!’ he repeated. He paced up and down, grumbling into the folds of his hood. ‘This always happens! I blame Homer. He always did have ideas above his station. There is no such person as the Grim Reaper. It was all a huge misunderstanding!’
Alfie started to speak but Ambrose cut him off. ‘Death is just the end of life! It’s an abstract idea. It’s not something that can be seen!’ He stared at their blank faces then slumped against the side of the desk. ‘Quite extraordinary!’ He scratched his head. ‘I knew there might be gaps in your memories. You might be a bit hazy but I wasn’t expecting this. The problem is if I just came out and told you, you’d never believe me. Probably think I was some crazed old loon!’
‘Perish the thought!’ sneered Seth.
‘Exactly,’ said Ambrose. ‘Ah ha!
‘But we could have been having this whole conversation half an hour ago, if you’d stopped when we called you!’ spat Seth.
‘Half an hour ago we wouldn’t have been having this conversation, Seth, we’d have been having an entirely different one, which wouldn’t do at all! You, of all people must remember that. You can’t step –’
‘…into the same river twice,’ Seth finished for him. ‘That’s – that’s just what I’m talking about!’ he cried. ‘How did you know I was thinking of Heraclitus? How do you know so much?’ He was pointing now and flapping his arms like a madman. ‘Our names? The things we know? What – what –’ he pointed to their plates as he stuttered, ‘– what kind of cake we like, for goodness sake!
‘Because I know you all so well, Seth. You and I once had a very memorable conversation about the ancient Greek philosophers. I’m surprised you don’t remember, actually.’ Ambrose handed him a cup of tea. ‘Do have a pastry. They were baked this morning’
‘Enough with the pastries!’ snapped Seth, frustrated. ‘You can start by telling us who you really are. Because I for one don’t buy any of this fortune-teller nonsense! Even your hourglass is rubbish.’
‘Honestly,’ said Ambrose, ‘I really didn’t think it was going to be this difficult. I mean, I know it’s been a while, but –’ He scratched his bald head. ‘Ah! I’ve got an idea.’ He strode to the back of the tent and bent to retrieve something from behind the desk. Then, throwing his hood over his head, he stood, holding the hourglass in his bony right hand and an eight-foot scythe in his left.
‘Ta Daa!’ sang the ominous black figure, mischievously. ‘How about now? Anything coming back?
‘Is that supposed to be funny?’ Valen’s shout was pure frustration. ‘This is ridiculous!’ she yelled. ‘There’s proper freaky stuff going on here and you’re playing charades, talking about dead Greek blokes and dishing out cake! There was a sword fight on the way here! An air raid siren! A dinosaur in the river! And we got shot at, by Saxons – with really sharp arrows!’
Ambrose scratched his head and looked at them searchingly. ‘You’re not joshing? Don’t you know what’s going on?’
‘To be honest, we’re not really in the mood for jokes,’ said Seth.
‘I think, maybe, you must be mistaking us for someone else,’ said Ralf.
There was a horrid, horrified silence and Ambrose pinched the bridge of his nose in consternation. ‘You really have no idea who I am?’
‘Finally, he gets it!’ Valen cried.
‘ Should we know you?’ Ralf asked.
‘Well – yes!’ cried Ambrose, appalled. ‘Quite frankly, you should!’
‘Oh! Oh!’ Alfie yelled suddenly. ‘I know!’
Ambrose’s face brightened but fell again when he saw Alfie’s expression change from excitement to horror. ‘I get it! He’s Death, man! He’s the Grim Reaper! We’re all gonna die, innit!’
‘Death!’ Ambrose propped the scythe against the wall and slammed the hourglass back on the desk. ‘Death!’ he repeated. He paced up and down, grumbling into the folds of his hood. ‘This always happens! I blame Homer. He always did have ideas above his station. There is no such person as the Grim Reaper. It was all a huge misunderstanding!’
Alfie started to speak but Ambrose cut him off. ‘Death is just the end of life! It’s an abstract idea. It’s not something that can be seen!’ He stared at their blank faces then slumped against the side of the desk. ‘Quite extraordinary!’ He scratched his head. ‘I knew there might be gaps in your memories. You might be a bit hazy but I wasn’t expecting this. The problem is if I just came out and told you, you’d never believe me. Probably think I was some crazed old loon!’
‘Perish the thought!’ sneered Seth.
‘Exactly,’ said Ambrose. ‘Ah ha!
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