31
‘It’s a sundial,’ I say to the two of them as I walk around beneath the tree. ‘This oak tree above us. That’s why there’s always been a tree planted here, so it can work as a sundial – the earliest form of telling time.’
Adam and Barney still stare at me as if I’ve lost it.
‘The sun moves around in the sky above and therefore, at different times of the day, the tree casts its shadow over the buildings in Clockmaker Court like a sundial does. On a sundial there are twelve markings, like the markings on a clock that allow us to tell the time. I think the portal only works when the tree casts a shadow over number seven, the missing building.’
‘I get your theory,’ Adam says, not sounding as enthusiastic about this idea as I am.
‘But Ben said when Dotty went missing it was the evening, so there would be no sun then to cast a shadow. Unless it was seven o’clock in summertime, I suppose.
But I got the impression it was later at night than that. ’
‘No, you don’t understand. This particular sundial doesn’t tell time, it simply tells the exact moment when the portal is open. Look, the tree is casting a shadow over the missing building now, but it’s not seven o’clock.’ I look at my watch. ‘It’s just gone midday.’
‘Moonlight also casts a shadow if it’s bright enough,’ Barney says. ‘To cast a shadow, you only need a source of light and something blocking it. So, in theory, when the tree casts shadow from moonlight onto the building, it could also happen at night too.’
‘You see,’ I say, gesturing my hands between Adam and the bricked-up wall. ‘Our hidden building could be picked out twice a day. That must be when the portal comes alive – when it’s hit by shadow from the sun or the moon!’
‘ Technically …’ Barney says. ‘I don’t want to poop on your party, Eve. But it would only happen if the sun wasn’t covered by cloud or if the moon was full enough to provide enough light to cast a shadow.’
‘Yes, agreed. But it could happen.’ I look up at the tree again.
Although it’s currently casting a shadow over our hidden building, the sun’s rays are fully on the antiques shop right now, bathing it in a warm glow.
‘What if it’s not shadow that causes the portal to open?
’ I ask, as another theory forms in my mind.
‘What if it’s sunlight or moonlight that makes the magic happen?
’ I look at the other two, who again don’t look quite as convinced as I sound.
‘Think about it. Before time was invented – or recorded, really, I suppose – how did people tell what time of day it was or even what time of the year? By using the position of the sun for the time of day and the position of the moon during its lunar cycle for the time of year.’
‘You’re right,’ Barney says. ‘The sun rises and sets in a very similar position every day, only changing slightly as we on Earth orbit it over the year. But the moon’s position changes over the period of each lunar cycle.
If this portal is as old as Orla was suggesting yesterday, it would make sense that anything to do with it would be measured in terms of the sun and the moon – rather than what we know today as the familiar way to measure the passing of time, in minutes and hours, and days and months. ’
I turn to Adam.
‘I guess,’ he says, still looking unconvinced.
‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed since you’ve been here, Adam,’ I say, ‘but we get a lot of sun here in Cambridge. This part of East Anglia is known for its dry climate. Compared to the rest of the UK, we get a lot less cloud and rain. Therefore more opportunities to view both the sun and the moon, without cloud blocking them.’
‘OK, I’ll buy it,’ Adam says, giving in.
‘For now we’ll go with the portal opens when the sun or the moon shines directly on number seven.
But it still doesn’t tell us how to control the portal so we can choose the dates in history for it to open on to.
That was Dotty and Archie’s main problem in getting Ben back, remember? ’
I think about this. He’s right, of course. Even with my new theory, we still don’t know how to actually control the portal.
‘If we’re going as far back as the sun and moon controlling when the portal opens, rather than a set measurement of time or dates, then we’re looking as far back as pre-Roman times,’ Barney says.
‘The way of measuring days, months and years that we use today is in line with the Gregorian calendar introduced in 1582, if I remember rightly. Before that, they used the Julian calendar introduced by the Romans. This was the first to include leap days as part of a calendar year, which seems to be relevant in this case after what we heard last night. But, before that, recording the passage of months and years was mainly based on solar and lunar cycles, just like Eve suggested.’
‘How do you know so much about all this?’ I ask, amazed at Barney’s knowledge on the subject.
‘I’ve just always been interested in time,’ Barney says. ‘How we tell it now, how they did in the past. How we move through time, and of course the possibility of time travel. I’ve watched countless TikTok and YouTube videos about it.’
‘Ah, the modern way.’ Adam grins. ‘So, Einstein, how do you propose we control the sun and the moon so we can choose exact dates and years, then? Because unless you know some NASA astronauts willing to help us, I can’t see how we’re going to get up there to do that.’
‘You said the Romans brought in the modern-day way of us measuring the passing of time?’ I ask Barney, as yet another idea begins to spark in my mind.
Barney nods.
‘Remember that perpetual brass calendar we found down in the office when we first went there?’ I ask Adam.
‘Yes …’
‘It was in Roman numerals, wasn’t it?’
‘Er, I think so.’
‘It was, and it had a sun and a moon on it too. What if we could use that to control the portal, to request a date to travel to?’
‘Wouldn’t Dotty and Archie have tried using that when they were trying to get Ben back originally? I kind of thought that’s why it was left there.’
‘Oh. Yes,’ I reply a little despondently. ‘I guess they would.’
‘Nice idea, though,’ Adam says, trying to sound encouraging. ‘You’ll get there, Eve. I have no doubt about that. Why I’ve been roped into all this, I have no idea. But I can see why you have.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s like Ben said – you’re determined, you don’t give up. Dotty clearly never gave up trying to get Ben back to his right time, even though it was to be her downfall in the end. You’re the same as Dotty. It must run in the family – you won’t quit until you’ve got to the bottom of it all.’
Hearing Adam say that makes me immediately proud.
I only knew hearsay of my great-grandmother before all this, stories passed down through the family of what she was like and what she did based on assumption and conjecture – including that about her disappearance.
But every day now, I was feeling closer to her and what she stood for.
What Ben told us last night had only furthered my need to find out more about her, and to finally discover exactly what happened to her when she went missing in 1904.
‘Thank you for saying that, Adam. It’s such a compliment to me that people think I’m like Dotty.
She sounds like a bit of a hero, doesn’t she?
I’m definitely not that, far from it. I’m sure I could never be as brave as she was.
But your words have made me feel a lot better, when really I feel a bit useless right now. ’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Adam says. ‘You’re the one who’s got us here to this moment.
I wouldn’t have figured it all out on my own.
I’d have given up as soon as it got difficult.
But you kept pushing until we found ourselves where we are now.
I might not like the thought of a tunnel under that building that you can time travel in, and to be fair, until I actually see it working, I can’t fully believe it’s true.
But I know you do, and I’m absolutely certain you will be the one who will get us to where we need to be in the end. ’
I smile lovingly at him.
Next to us, Barney begins to applaud. ‘You two.’ He sniffs, pretending to be moved to tears. ‘You’re so cute together. That speech.’ He wipes an imaginary tear away. ‘It’s just too much.’
‘Ha ha,’ I say sarcastically. ‘Very funny.’
‘Actually,’ Barney says, snapping out of his ‘emotional turmoil’ pretty fast to sound affronted now instead. ‘I should be upset that you didn’t mention me in that impassioned speech, Adam. I’ve been involved in working a lot of this stuff out too, you know.’
‘You have indeed, Barney,’ Adam says, pretending to be serious. ‘Do you want a pat on the back instead? Or a hug, maybe?’
‘Nah,’ Barney says, switching back to his normal self. ‘I’m good, thanks. You stay right there on that bench. I think you and me have had enough physical contact already since you’ve been carrying me up and down the stairs!’
Adam grins. ‘Will do.’ He looks up at the tree again. ‘I still think this tree has something to do with how the portal works. It seems to be involved in everything else.’
‘I definitely think it is,’ I say, looking up with him. ‘But how?’
All three of us stare up at the tree.
‘You remember when we read those letters we found hidden in the book?’ Adam says. ‘It said in mine to remember that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I never really understood what that meant, but now I think my grandfather is telling us the tree is involved with how the portal works.’
‘I think so too,’ I reply. ‘Wait … what if the brass calendar doesn’t work when it’s down in the office, but it does work when it’s up here in the light?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Maybe rather than the building like I originally thought, the tree uses the calendar as a sundial? If we turned the dates on the calendar to where we wanted to go, and held it under the same light source that’s shining on the building, we’d get a shadow on the calendar from the tree …’
I look from Adam to Barney to gauge their reaction.
‘You did say that little calendar thing looked really old when we first saw it,’ Adam says. ‘Do you think it could be Roman old?’
‘It’s very well preserved if it is. But I definitely think it could be. What if no one could fully control the portal until the Romans arrived here? But using the sun, the moon, this ancient oak tree and a rudimentary early calendar, they were able to for the first time?’
‘You know what they say?’ Barney says, looking excitedly at us both. ‘When in Rome …’