A New Development
Mrs Rokabye was surprised to find herself in the Vatican. All her life she had been a Baptist.
‘I thought the Vatican was in Rome,’ she said to Sniveller, who was dusting himself down.
‘Once a Pope always a Pope. Rome yesterday, Philippi today. Ave Maria, pass the beer, as we used to say after church.’
‘Where exactly are we?’ demanded Mrs Rokabye, still bound from head to foot in her extra-long scarf.
‘A planet called Philippi. A place called the Einstein Line.’
Mrs Rokabye could not understand how a hole in the ground in Walworth, south of the River Thames, had brought her out by the Vatican Post Office. And she could not understand why this Post Office, these Popes, and this Vatican were not in Rome but on somewhere called the Einstein Line. She had never been any good at science.
‘Life is more mystery than history,’ said Sniveller cheerfully.
‘Will we be going back the same way that we came?’ asked Mrs Rokabye anxiously.
‘Never step in the same river twice.’
‘What?’
Obviously Sniveller had suffered a blow to the head in the Walworth Hole.
‘Could you tell me in plain English what you mean?’ asked Mrs Rokabye.
‘No,’ said Sniveller.
‘I’ll buy a postcard then. Might as well.’
As Mrs Rokabye went into the Vatican Post Office, Sniveller noticed Abel Darkwater walking towards him talking to Pope Gregory XIII. Sniveller knew all of the Popes’ faces off by heart. He had memorised them the way some people memorise football teams.
He shrank his little body behind the bulky frame of the Swiss Guard holding his pikestaff.
‘I must leave for the Sands of Time today,’ said Abel Darkwater, as they walked by the Swiss Guard.
‘Perhaps I will come with you,’ said Pope Gregory.
‘The child will lead us to the Timekeeper very soon.’
‘And then?’
‘And then the Universe is ours.’
They passed on. Sniveller popped out from behind the guard just as Mrs Rokabye came out with her postcards.
‘I don’t know who I’m going to send them to. I haven’t got any friends.’
‘You’ve got me,’ said Sniveller.
‘Not much point in sending you a postcard saying, “Wish You Were Here”, because you are here.’
‘Very true,’ said Sniveller, ‘but neither of us will be here much longer because we are going hand in hand to the Sands of Time.’
‘It’s not down a hole, is it?’
‘It is very nearby, if I recall, though I don’t recall at all.’
Mrs Rokabye let out a yelp. ‘There’s something moving in my coat pocket!’
She put her hand in her pocket and smacked it up and down her thigh, as though she were trying to land a fish.
‘It’s the pin!’ she said. ‘It’s moving! It’s alive.’ She pulled out the shining pin, which had a force so strong that it was turning Mrs Rokabye’s whole body northwards. ‘It’s like a divining rod,’ she said. ‘Where is it pointing?’
Sniveller’s eyes were popping out of his head. He knew exactly what Mrs Rokabye had in her hands, but he could hardly believe it.
‘’Tis the Hand!’ he said. ‘The Hand that points to the Sands!’
‘This is no time for gibberish!’ cried Mrs Rokabye. ‘I am being dragged off my feet!’ And so she was as the pin, gleaming and vibrating, pulled her North.
‘Where did you get that?’ demanded Sniveller.
‘I found it in the wretched child’s duffle coat.’
‘It is the Hand of the Timekeeper!’
‘No!’
‘Oh yeses, no guesses.’
‘I thought it was treasure,’ said Mrs Rokabye, disappointed.
‘Treasure indeed in our hour of need!’
‘You mean this thing is trying to lead us to the Timekeeper?’
‘Yes!’
‘Well, I must have something to eat first,’ said Mrs Rokabye. ‘Too much excitement on an empty stomach can be fatal. Tell it, oh, tell it we’ll set off in an hour, but quick, because it’s pulling my arm out of its socket.’
And Sniveller muttered something in a strange language, and suddenly Mrs Rokabye’s arm that was whirling round and round fell back beside her body.
‘It is the Hour,’ said Sniveller. ‘It is the Moment.’
‘I am glad to hear it,’ said Mrs Rokabye, ‘but where can I find a fillet of fish and a Rum Baba?’
She was pale, it is true, her face as watery and cratered as the moon. Sniveller felt all his gallant and manly instincts come to the fore. He took Mrs Rokabye’s arm, and escorted her straight to the Caffè Ora.
Soon they were sitting at a table eating fried fish and spinach, with chocolate cake to follow. It was a proper meal out, with a glass of wine, and Mrs Rokabye was enjoying herself. Soon she would eat out like this every day, because soon she would be rich.
‘Here’s to the money!’ she said, raising her glass.
‘Here’s to love!’ said Sniveller. ‘A kiss is better than a miss,’ and he leaned over and puckered his lips.
Mrs Rokabye ignored him and filled her mouth with fish.
At that moment, a weary and perplexed Silver and a limping Gabriel opened the door of the Caffè Ora. Silver walked out backwards and trod on Gabriel’s foot.
‘We’d better go in through the window,’ she said. ‘Sniveller is in there with Mrs Rokabye.’