The Trespass(28)

“So,” Farrell said. “You got a dial, a shave and a nick. Take each in turn.”

“Something on the clock?” Sara suggested, lips pursed in concentration. “You know – a dial. A cog or something like that.”

Dracup exhaled deeply. “Maybe. Or a phone?”

“I’d guess not,” Farrell said. “We’re talking a long time ago. Telephones wouldn’t be in common use.”

“True. And dial what? There’s no number, and even if there were it would be out of date,” Sara offered.

“How about the shave bit?” Dracup asked them. He looked at Sara expectantly – this was her forte, but her face again wore a puzzled expression. Just when he needed her intellect she was closing down on him. He bit his lip, trying to mask his frustration. They had to make some progress soon before the trail went completely cold.

“Close shave,” Farrell corrected. “Like something bad just avoided… but the last part – nick of time – maybe something really urgent…”

“Yes,” Dracup agreed. “It implies precision – the critical moment, the exact instant at which something has to take place.” Dracup pondered silently for a second or so, then, thinking aloud: “The idea being that a ‘nick’ is a narrow and precise marker, so if something is ‘in the nick’ it’s precisely where it should be.”

“Narrow and precise markers. Like the hands of a clock,” Farrell said.

Dracup snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Yes. Nick of time.” He was on his feet. “Seven past seven.” Dracup banged his forehead with his fist. “What’s wrong with me?”

Sara stood in front of him and stroked his cheek. “Simon. You’re under strain. It’s hardly surprising you’re not thinking straight.” She kissed him lightly on the lips. “That’s what I’m here for, okay?”

Dracup squeezed her hand and forced a smile. “Yes. Thanks. I know.”

Farrell was diplomatically looking out of the window. “You goin’ to take another look at the timepiece, or what?”

They gathered on the top landing around the clock. “Kind of appropriate, wouldn’t you say?” Farrell said, running his fingers up and down the dark mahogany.

“What’s that?”

“Your grandfather leaving his messages in a grandfather clock.”

“Very astute, Farrell,” Dracup said. “But it’s the time that’s significant. Look.” He pointed at the hands, stiffened into their positions by the passing of the years.

“That’d be seven minutes past seven by my reckoning all right,” Farrell said.

“Exactly. That’s what Churchill was telling us.”

“But how do we know the hands haven’t moved since your grandfather placed the note in the clock?” Sara asked.

Dracup thought for a moment. “We don’t. But there’s no indication that this has been working at all in recent times. The only person who would have bothered to do anything with it was my aunt – and she clearly hasn’t. Besides, apart from Churchill there’s something else that makes me pretty sure that the hands are as Theodore left them.”

Sara shook her head. “Sorry. You’ve lost me now.”

“The number seven has great significance in Jewish scripture. And as we appear to be dealing with the legacy of a man who was rescued from a flood by the God of the Jewish scriptures, the use of the number seven is curiously appropriate.”

“Sure is,” Farrell said. “In the Old Testament seven makes an appearance right away. Creation in seven days, then there’s seven days in the week. Also seven graces, seven deadly sins, seven divisions in the Lord’s Prayer and seven ages in the life of man. Among the Hebrews every seventh year was sabbatical, and seven times seven years was the jubilee. The three great Jewish feasts lasted seven days, and between the first and second were seven weeks.” Farrell paused briefly, then added, “Oh yeah, the Levitical purifications lasted seven days too.”

Sara laughed aloud. “I’ll take your word for it. Is that it?”

“Let’s see.” Farrell looked heavenwards as if for inspiration. “Ah, not quite. Naaman was commanded to dip seven times in the river Jordan to be cured of leprosy. The prophet Elijah sent his servant seven times to look out for rain. Ten times seven Israelites went to Egypt, and the exile lasted the same number of years. There were ten times seven elders. And Pharaoh in his dream saw seven years for each of his wives. My favourite story was the fall of Jericho,” Farrell smiled fondly at the recollection, “when seven priests with seven trumpets marched round Jericho once every day and then seven times on the seventh day. Then the walls came down.”