Chapter 4 #3
He shrugged, annoyingly nonchalant. ‘I’ve published the most recent peer-reviewed paper on the Vale Brothers’ mechanism design, and I gave a keynote on their workshop evolution at the Geneva Horology Conference last year.’
‘Oh, of course you did,’ she muttered. ‘Because God forbid there be a clock-related event without Theo Blake centre stage.’ She picked up his mug of coffee and took a sip.
He quickly swiped the mug back. ‘I was invited,’ he said, wiping the rim of the mug. Pippa rolled her eyes. ‘Doctor Miriam Bowes follows my work and—’
‘Of course she does,’ Pippa interrupted. She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe you’re the one that gets to speak to him. Horace Vale hasn’t done a public appearance since…’
‘The Vale partnership broke down.’
‘Do you know why it did?’
Theo shook his head. ‘No, but apparently he requested that I be the one to interview him,’ he said proudly.
Pippa narrowed her eyes. ‘Why you?’
Theo looked like he was about to say something then stopped himself.
‘Go on, what are you keeping from me?’
‘Nothing. Maybe it’s because he knows I won’t ask stupid questions.’
‘Well, I think you should ask in the interview how he feels about the fact that I once repaired a Vale & Co. moon-phase mantel clock using nothing but tweezers, a pin, and half a tube of eyelash glue.’
Theo raised an eyebrow. ‘Shocking that they didn’t ask you to do the interview.’
She tilted her head and smiled. ‘Just admit it, you’ve always admired my work.’
‘Have I now.’ Theo shook his head and shoved another forkful of beans into his mouth.
‘What are you hoping to get out of him?’ she asked. ‘He’s famously tight-lipped about everything, especially the feud with his brother.’
Theo leaned back in his chair. ‘It’s only rumoured it was a feud. People like a scandal. It might just be that they decided not to work together anymore.’
‘If that was the case, wouldn’t they have released a statement to that effect at the time? Instead, they never said a word. You must have picked up some sort of whispers in the circles you move in.’
Theo hesitated and Pippa noticed a flicker of something in his eyes.
‘Oh my God, you do know something, don’t you?!’
Theo remained tight-lipped.
Pippa moved her chair closer to him and stared at him. ‘Tell me.’
‘I know nothing, and I doubt Horace will go airing his dirty laundry in public, not at his time of life, but I’m looking forward to sharing the stage with him.’
‘Are you going to ask him about this place? After all, this was his family home.’
‘I’m sure it’ll come up in the conversation.’
‘I’ve not had time to look over all the clocks, but none of them appear to be working, and they’ve all stopped at different times. Do you think that’s a sign?’
‘A sign of what, that the batteries have run out? Or that someone hasn’t wound them since the seventies?’
Undeterred, Pippa turned to him, eyes bright. ‘What if they all stopped for a reason?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Like I just said, some probably ran out of batteries, others a lack of winding.’
‘No, I mean what if something happened here? Something emotional. Something … seismic.’ She swept her arms wide in emphasis. ‘What if every clock stopped in response to a moment?’
Theo made a noise halfway between a scoff and a laugh. ‘Right. A moment so powerful it reached across different makes, models, and mechanisms, and prompted them to all then quit at different times in protest?’
‘Exactly,’ she said, warming to her theme.
‘What if someone died in here … suddenly … and the energy of it stopped the clocks? Or someone left … heartbroken, leaving only a farewell letter and the silence of fifty clocks frozen in time? Or it could have been a betrayal! Which brings me back to wondering why Walter and Horace stopped speaking…’
Theo raised a hand. ‘And so we return to the soap-opera theory of horology.’
Pippa narrowed her eyes at him. ‘This, coming from the man who lectures about the metaphysical symbolism of timepieces in eighteenth-century literature.’
‘That was one guest lecture, and it was titled “Temporal Anxiety and the Male Psyche”, not “Mystic Clocks and How They Feel About You”.’
She ignored that. ‘I just think there’s something poetic about it. All these clocks, once working in harmony, now frozen. Like a chorus gone silent. Something broke the rhythm, I’m sure of it.’
He leaned back in his chair and gave her a long look, then said flatly, ‘Yes. It’s called neglect, and, like I’ve already said, a dead battery.’
Pippa let out a sigh of pure theatrical disappointment. ‘God, you’re so literal.’
‘And you’re so allergic to Occam’s razor.’
‘Excuse me, I restore clocks for a living. I know full well that most broken mechanisms are just that: broken. But sometimes…’ She stood up and walked out of the kitchen towards the grandfather clock, placing a hand gently on its case.
‘Sometimes there’s a feeling. Like the clock’s holding something. ’
Theo cocked an eyebrow. ‘If it’s holding anything, it’s a spider and decades of dust.’
She turned and gave him a sweet smile. ‘Which is why I’ll be the one fixing it.’
‘By all means, Cinderella. Bring your tools and talk sweetly to it.’
‘Don’t pretend you’re not intrigued,’ she said, pulling her gaze back to the clocks. ‘I know you. You’re dying to take this grandfather clock apart and see what it’s hiding.’
Theo stood and collected his plate. ‘I’m dying to eat my breakfast in peace without a running monologue from A Christmas Carol. You’re giving proper Jacob Marley energy this morning.’
Pippa gasped. ‘Take that back.’
‘Only if you stop giving lectures on clock-based ghost theory.’
‘Fine. Be boring. But when we find something – because I know there’s something in this house – you’ll owe me an apology.’
‘I look forward to it,’ Theo said dryly, rinsing his plate. ‘You do know it’s in the small print of your stay that you aren’t allowed to touch the clocks, right?’
‘Who’s going to know?’
‘Pippa!’
‘Anyway, even if the clocks stopped for the most mundane reason, like old springs or a lack of winding, it’s still weird that no one’s started them again.’
‘They probably did and then got tired of keeping track of all fifty clocks. If you want to get all misty-eyed about poetic clock death, be my guest. Just don’t expect me to write a thesis on it.’
‘I wouldn’t trust your romantic instincts anyway,’ she said, sauntering over to the table. ‘You probably think The Time Traveler’s Wife is an instruction manual.’
‘And judging by the fact that only yesterday you were a runaway bride, I’m not sure your romantic instincts are anything to—’
‘Okay!’ she cut in sharply. ‘Low blow, doctor.’
Theo gave a small, smug smile but didn’t press further. He lifted his mug, took a sip, and stared into the middle distance like he was considering his next move in a chess game.
Pippa tilted her head. ‘So. What’s next for Theo Blake?’
He hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘Actually, something a bit different and something I’m very excited about.
I’ve just signed a contract with the International Horological Foundation.
Starting next month, I’ll be travelling the world, running workshops and mentoring young clockmakers and designers to inspire them to make this industry more modern and accessible.
’ He paused, his eyes brightening as he spoke.
‘It’s … well, it’s exactly the sort of thing I’ve always wanted to do.
Teach. Travel. Our craft gets dismissed as old-fashioned and stuffy, but it’s anything but.
I want to show people the beauty and precision behind it all.
It would be good to get something on the TV – the clockmaker’s equivalent of The Great British Bake Off.
’ He stopped, thinking for a second. ‘Maybe I’ll call it …
Ticked Off? No, wait … Watch This Space. ’
His enthusiasm was infectious and Pippa found herself smiling before she could stop it. ‘So, basically, you’re going to be some kind of horological rock star.’
He laughed softly. ‘Exactly that.’
She watched him for a moment, taking in the way his whole face lit up when he talked about it.
It struck her then how rare it was to see someone who genuinely loved what they did, not for the recognition or the cleverness of it, but for the pure joy of it, and before she knew it, that warmth in her chest had turned into something dangerously close to admiration.
‘I’m sure if anyone can make horology sexy it’s you.’ She knew people would be mesmerised by his knowledge, his passion, and, well … the fact he was rather easy on the eye didn’t exactly hurt either.
He arched a brow, that teasing smile returning. ‘Are you saying I’m sexy?’
Pippa blinked, realising what she’d just said. ‘Let’s not get carried away. I’m saying that clocks are sexy.’
A small smile passed between them.
‘It will be a strain on your family, if you’re going to be travelling so much, won’t it?’
‘Life’s always a bit of a strain,’ he said, and the spark that had lit his face moments ago seemed to fade.
‘You’d better get a move on if you’re after breakfast before the conference begins.
Time’s ticking, as they say.’ He looked at her for a moment before adding, ‘I hope you packed more than just a wedding dress to wear?’
‘Now that is the question, Doctor Blake.’ She gave a small laugh. ‘Honestly, I have no idea what’s in my suitcase.’ The moment she’d finished her bath last night she’d collapsed into bed, without even checking what Rose had managed to throw in for her.
* * *
Back upstairs and unzipping the suitcase, she found herself smiling. ‘Oh, Rose, you beautiful control freak.’ If there was ever a time to be grateful for a best friend who thought four steps ahead, it was now.