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My legs almost buckled, and I realised my energy levels were seriously depleted. Anxiously, I looked to the side and saw Blaise staring round at the scene with wide eyes. Romy took a deep breath.
‘Well,’ she said heavily, ‘it looks like you did it, Wulfram. We’re here.’
Blaise turned to us, and we both gasped as we saw a thick streak of white through his long, dark, curly hair. Evidently time travel had caused at least one physical effect.
‘Where are we?’ he asked, clearly bewildered. ‘And who are you?’
So his memorywasjumbled, as Hector had warned it might be. How long would that last? And what sort of person would he be when he remembered who we were, and why we were here?
I supposed only time would tell.
Chapter 38
Wulfram 1673
I looked around in some disbelief. So this was Gerrenporth back in late 1673? It was barely recognisable. In my own time it was a pretty coastal village, heavily geared towards attracting tourists. The shops and cottages were mostly painted white, and many had cutesy names, hanging baskets of flowers or foliage, and smartly painted front doors. The seafront was full of floral displays, benches for tourists to sit and admire the views, ice cream shacks, seafood stalls, teashops…
I couldn’t believe the difference. This was dirty and grim. The houses were all bleak, with grimy windows and shabby doors. There was mud everywhere, and rather than swarms of relaxed tourists, there were hordes of men and women going about their everyday business, looking quite worn and serious.
From their clothes it was obvious this wasn’t an affluent town. Most of the men wore baggy britches and coats, with several patches to cover holes and tears. The women wore patched-up long skirts or dresses, ankle length which at least prevented them from being trailed in the mud. Their heads were covered by bonnets or hats, and they had large, linen squares tied around their necks.
I twitched my nose. I can’t say the place smelt particularly fragrant.
‘Wasn’t Gerrenporth famous for its pilchard fishing in this time?’ I whispered to Romy.
‘Yes, but that’s a late summer thing,’ she whispered back. ‘Gosh, Wulfram, look how shabby everything was then. I mean, now. The people look poverty-stricken.’
‘Where are we?’ Blaise asked, both sounding and looking confused.
I wondered what was going through his mind. Was he thinking he should be in seventeenth century Castle Clair? Was he thinking he should be on Peloryon Island? Or had he no idea whatsoever about who he was, let alone where he was supposed to be?
‘We’re in Gerrenporth,’ Romy said gently, taking his hand. ‘You know, Gerrenporth, on the Cornish coast?’
‘The Cornish coast…’ Blaise repeated the phrase, puzzled. ‘You mean, Polkayne?’
‘Er, no,’ Romy said, frowning.
‘Polkayne?’ I asked wearily. That’s the next village along from here. How does he know about that?’
‘Goodness knows,’ Romy said. ‘Are you okay, Wulfram? You look awful.’
‘It’s like Hector said,’ I admitted. ‘I’m so tired I just want to lie down and sleep.’
Romy pulled her cloak tighter around her. ‘Look, I think we ought to get off the streets,’ she said, as several people passing by gave us curious looks. ‘It’s getting dark already, you’re exhausted, and Blaise is in no fit state to be out either.’ She stared towards the sea. ‘I can’t see the island, can you?’
I squelched heavily through the mud, every step a huge effort, dodging several people to get a closer look at the sea. She was right. There was no sign of the island. I felt a pang of homesickness and real fear. We were in a strange place—because this certainly wasn’t the Gerrenporth I’d grown up in—surrounded by people who would string us up if they knew the truth about us. It wasn’t a pleasant position to be in.
I stared out at the horizon and thought of Keely. Somewhere in the future she was out there, safe and secure in Peloryon House, surrounded by her family and friends. How was she feeling right now? Was she missing me?
I mentally shook my head. We’d only been gone a few minutes! I had to get a grip and push my exhaustion to one side. I couldn’t leave this to Romy, and it was obvious Blaise wasn’t up to helping.
I hailed a couple of men who were strolling past, hands in pockets. To be honest, they looked a bit dodgy, but I supposed I couldn’t really judge them from my twenty-first century perspective. They might be perfectly respectable family men for all I knew.
‘I don’t suppose you know where we might find the Tremaynes?’ I asked doubtfully. ‘Phoenix Tremayne? Do you know if he lives round here?’
They shook their heads. ‘Sorry. Never heard of him.’
I’d been afraid they’d say that. I asked a couple more people with the same result. It seemed the Tremaynes hadn’t yet arrived in Gerrenporth. Maybe they only came here when the island appeared?
