Chapter Ten: Twelve Years Young

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At some point, without either of them noticing, Spencer had stopped being homesick. There was too much to do for him to be able to focus time on being sad, like Emily finally successfully tracking down a family of hedgehogs in their gardens and spending time with the oldest Mr Chambers as he continued trying to convince Emily that he'd lived the most exciting life a person could ever live. After some attempts to draw Spencer into the conversations, he'd given up on him, although he watched Spencer sometimes trying to figure out just what this strange boy was about.

"Spencer's read every book in here," Emily announced one day, bouncing up on the bed and taking an offered lolly from the container the man shook at them. Spencer took one too, whispering thank you and returning to his second reread of some of his favourites. "Do you have any more?"

"More books? Well, probably. Check in that cupboard there, boy. You read so much it's a wonder you don't turn into a book—just like a boy I knew back in Spain, just, poof! One day he was a human, the next a manual on how to roast potatoes! Remarkable!"

Emily narrowed her eyes at him. Spencer just sighed and went to the cupboard, digging his fingers into the indented handle and trying to drag it open on dusty sliders. It fought him with every pull, grating and groaning as years of decay were disturbed, until he'd finally gotten it open enough that he could peer around the door and look within. It smelled like mice and old paper and he reached in and tentatively felt around until he touched something hard and cold, pulling forth an intricate looking clock made of tiny latticed pieces of metal all interlocked together. Spencer turned it back and forth, ignoring Emily and the man's conversation as he noticed that the clock wasn't working anymore, with bits looking like they were missing and no batteries in it. And no spots for a battery either.

"What's that you got there, boy?" The man struggled up to look down at the clock. "Huh. Thought that old thing was lost. Was one of the first ones I ever made, you know."

"You made this?" Spencer asked disbelievingly. It had to be another story—people didn't make clocks, factories made clocks. And then you bought them in the shops and put batteries in them to make them tick—except this one didn't have batteries, rattling slightly as he turned it over again and looked at the silent face.

"I did. That's my old maker's mark on the bottom, see that. That's my name. GC. Gilbert Chambers. Bring it here."

Spencer did, taking a seat next to Emily and holding the clock out, not letting go as the man touched it with narrow, knobby fingers. He wasn't entirely convinced the man could hold the weight of the clock if he was to let go.

"Right, right, I see. Hmm. Get back in that cupboard, wiggle right in there, you've got small bits you can do it—see if you can find a box in there, and the pendulum."

"What's a pendulum do on a clock?" Spencer asked curiously as he did just that, Emily hopping down and helping him haul the door open a bit wider with a loud shriek of wood.

"It's a weight. Helps the clock run. You like reading how things work—Eric might have a couple of my old books around here. It's why they don't need batteries, boy, the pendulum acts as a counterweight making the mechanisms tick tick tick. It's called a 'harmonic oscillator' and that's your five-dollar word for today. Come on, where's that box? Eric? Eric! Get here!"

Chambers appeared in the doorway, looking frazzled. "I really do need to be back to Winfield soon," he said absently, barely even seeming to notice the flurry of movement in the room. "What is it? Miss Emily, what are you…"

"Where are my clock books? The boy is interested." The old man coughed, flapping his hand at Chambers as Spencer finally unwedged a box from a pile of papers, bringing everything spilling free—including a tarnished silver weight on a long hook, which Emily picked up and examined. "Get them for him. And my old tools—not the clock ones, those are here, my actual tools. Boys should have tools if they're interested."

"Girls should have tools too," Emily added, helping Spencer lift the box up to the bed and open it.

Chambers had vanished after a wary look at the box, reappearing with a toolbox piled with yellowed, spiral-bound notebooks and a distasteful twist to his mouth. "Miss Emily, your clothes are going to get dusty, I'm really not sure your mother would approve."

"Sure she would, I'm improving myself." Emily snapped open the box, gasping at what was inside. "Look how little this screwdriver is! Oh!"

Spencer peered in, eyes widening as he found the most chaotic arrangement of elaborate tools within, springs and screws and coils of metal filling the box to the brim.

"Right, give me that and that and sit here and watch—I'm going to show you how to fix a clock. Girl, you can look too if you like, though I bet you'll get bored."

"Bet I won't," Emily retorted, settling in.

Chambers just shook his head. "Half an hour and we're leaving," he warned them, but none of the three on the bed took any notice of him.

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Emily did get bored. As it turned out, clock-making was not her forte, even though Spencer seemed utterly entranced by being the old man's hands. The man directed him on which parts to pry loose or carefully unscrew, his own hands far too shaky to do the fine work anymore, and Spencer was captivated by watching the complex machine come apart and back together under his hands. Making things, he realised, was also a kind of magic.

Emily, on the other hand, went exploring in the cupboard. She was a little awed to find a picture of a young man who might have been the old man years ago standing with an elephant decked out in tassels and almost naked girls, sitting with her legs crossed examining the topless women and wondering if she'd ever look like that one day, except with less stars stuck to her boobs. Tucking the picture aside for further perusal later, she dived back in, finding a leather pouch and unfolding it to find that it was filled with straight tools like she'd never seen before.

"What are these?" she asked, holding them up.

The man glanced at them. "Lock picks," he announced. "You can keep them, if you don't tell Eric. He's always been a stiff biscuit about things like that.

Emily gasped, before carefully tucking the lockpicks deep into the pockets of her dress to be hidden away at home. And then she heard it—the tick tock tick tock of a working clock, leaping up in a shower of papers to find Spencer holding up their now working clock.

"Em, look what I did," he gasped, mouth in the biggest smile she'd ever seen on him. "I fixed something!"

But their celebrations were cut short as the door opened and Chambers leaned in, informing them that it was home time. Disappointed, they packed up the cupboard—with some difficulty, Spencer putting the clock on the old man's bedside cupboard with tender care.

"Boy," whispered the man, pressing his finger to his mouth in a shushing motion. "Look in that drawer. Under my hankies, yup in there. See it?"

Spencer withdrew a shiny silver pocket watch, holding it out curiously.

"Yup. That. Take it. A boy should always be able to keep time—and I haven't got enough time left to bother with it. Just keep it wound and it'll be as steady as your own heart."

"Is that the watch Mum gave you?" Chambers asked, glancing over. "He's a child. He'll lose or break it."

"Nonsense he will. He's got a maker's heart, look at him. Steady hands." The old man winked. "Now, get out of here. I need to sleep. Shoo!"

They shooed, Emily wondering if Chambers knew why the ladies in the photo had gotten so naked just to pet an elephant—but maybe she shouldn't ask him that, he got pretty upset about things like that—and Spencer holding the pocket watch in his hands like he'd never been gifted anything more precious.

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As though time had simply been waiting for them to enjoy their time in London, it began racing by without pause. Although they didn't make any new friends at school, they enjoyed their time there and they still had each other. Spencer's teachers all watched him curiously, murmuring quietly about his future between themselves. Emily's teachers did the same, seeing a potential in her that she wasn't yet quite fully taking advantage of. Emily became fluent in her fourth language and, after a murmur from her mother, they were both listed to take Italian come the next school year. Spencer took a class on piano and realised that it was all math and therefore simple, taking to it with an ease belayed only by his disinterest in music beyond how satisfying it was to turn math into sound.

At home, their time was taken up with Emily hunting hedgehogs and writing stories about her adventures. Spencer tagged along sometimes, lugging his gifted box of tools with him and pestering the gardeners to show him how to use them. By the time the school year was rolling around to an end, he'd learned how to unblock pipes and reaffix gutters to roofs and even how to change the washer on a leaky faucet. Every new skill he learned, he practised, waiting until Chambers agreed to take them to his home to visit the old man and then slipping away to find something broken or leaky to fix. Chambers always wondered what kind of a fairy had been flittering through his house afterwards, as things he'd always intended to get a man out to fix suddenly began working again.

The security personnel around, mostly bored as the threat level decreased without incident, continued teaching Spencer how to play cards, not realising that he'd been quietly teaching himself how to count cards in anticipation. Before long, Emily clued into the profitability of getting her own share of his winnings—usually lollies or trinkets with the occasional tenner—and joined in, her Poker face terrifying when paired with Spencer's apparent naivety. Rossi, who was coming up to the end of his assignment here and very sorry to be doing so now that he'd found a new pursuit on his time off in the form of a very beautiful French ambassador who was helping him chase away all his woes about Caroline leaving him the year prior, graduated the children from bags and holds. After getting stern promises from both of them that they wouldn't tell anyone, he'd spent a glorious few weeks in the sitting room with the door locked and floor covered in pillows as he taught the children how to throw each other. Even Spencer had fun with it, although Emily beat him every time and Rossi had on two occasions had to move fast to stop her flinging him into a wall accidentally instead of the cushioned floor.

Right now, he was reading a newspaper while the two zip-tied children wiggled about on the floor, giggling and bickering about the best ways to escape their predicament. Rossi, who seriously doubted that they could, was merely enjoying the break from having to supervise them.

Until the giggling stopped and, belatedly, he realised it was silent, looking up to find Spencer and Emily un-zip tied and watching him seriously, twin smug smiles on both their faces.

"How?" he exclaimed, leaping up and staring at the neatly sawed through zip ties on the floor where they had been sitting.

"Secret," chirped both the kids in unison, beaming at him, and Emily adding, "I'll tell you if you teach us to shoot."

Rossi considered that.

"How about you tell me and I show you how to use those lockpicks of yours?" he fired back, just as fast and feeling assured that he wouldn't be the one who had to deal with the repercussions of her knowing how to pick locks, seeing as he'd be gone in two months.

Emily perked up instantly. "Can you show us how to get out of handcuffs?" she asked, Rossi nodding. "Right, brilliant. Spence, get the zip ties."

And, to Rossi's stunned awe, he watched as she quickly tied her friend back up and stood back as he wiggled himself like a little monkey down and through the loop of his arms until they were in front of him instead of behind—a trick Rossi had taught them—and began sawing at the ties using his shoelace. The ties snapped rapidly, his hands coming loose and Spencer leaping up to show him. "See," he said cheerfully. "I just utilised friction—"

"You are both going to be terrifying adults," Rossi said, which was true, adding, "And I'm so glad I won't have to deal with you," which was not true at all, although he didn't know this at the time.

All in all, nineteen-eighty-two was very much the year of them learning new things and, although they didn't know this yet either, it set the stage for the rest of their lives.

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A familiar letter was sent home come the end of term. Emily saw Chambers walking past with it, the school letterhead upon the envelope, and bolted to her room to wait out the lecture she was sure was coming. Maybe the school had found out what she'd done to Lucy Bell's schoolbooks, or about the lizards in the science lab, or—

But it wasn't Emily who was duly summoned to Elizabeth's office upon the reading of the letter: it was Spencer. Emily watched him go almost bursting with curiosity, wondering why he looked like he was walking to his death when they all knew schools only ever had good things to say about him.

And in the office, a conversation was being had about his future.

"I'm not accustomed to asking a child their opinion on adult matters, but your mother is insistent that you be treated as an adult regarding this," Elizabeth was saying seriously to the withdrawn boy sitting hunched up on the chair before her desk. "Sit up straight. Don't slouch, it's unbecoming." Spencer straightened, head tipped down and eyes hidden below hair that Elizabeth noted she would have to leave a message to have cut soon. It was too long for a boy. "Are you listening, Spencer?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And what are your thoughts regarding your higher education? The school is adamant that there is only so much more you can gain from a secondary level education, although both they and I question whether you are far too young to be considering tertiary. However, they've allowed me the option of having an exam period set aside for you to gain your college entry this year, if you wish."

Spencer thought about that for a bit, staring at his lap. "That means I'll be barely twelve when I start college," he said slowly, feeling cold. It was bad enough he was in classes with seventeen-year-olds right now—in college, they'd be even older. "Will I attend university in London?"

"At this point, I don't know. It would serve you more to attend the same college throughout your degree, in my opinion, and if you intend upon an academic career in the states, networking will be easier if you begin during your early years of undergrad. However, while I may be convinced that you are ready for tertiary education, I baulk completely at the idea of you living on-campus at twelve." She paused, mouth thinning a little. "Your mother disagreed, but I don't believe she is assessing your abilities well, currently. Her state is erratic."

Spencer's head snapped up. His mom's last letters had been strange, he'd noticed, and there was a lot in those statements Elizabeth wasn't saying. "But if Mom says I have to live on-campus at an American college, it's her choice, right? I'm only a kid… I don't have a say."

He was also choosing his words carefully, assessing how much agency he would have in the coming months while also pressing back the voice that pointed out he'd be leaving Emily alone in London.

"Not quite." Elizabeth took a breath that was tense and delayed, before speaking again. "In this, I am adamant that you would be endangered. If you insist upon furthering your education this year at twelve, I will attempt to arrange for tertiary tutoring or, if necessary, campus classes with you remaining here at Winfield to live. Perhaps an assistant to attend class with you. However, I will not support your mother's insistence that you could apply for a favoured college in the States. While I understand that you have preferences, as does she, the universities here are equally prestigious without you being far from home and lacking a support system at an age where you simply cannot be that unsupervised—and I will take legal steps to posit that your mother's judgement is impaired in this matter."

Spencer stared at her, all of that racing around in his mind. If he picked leaving school, his mom and Elizabeth were going to fight, this he could tell. Plus, he'd have to study away from Emily—especially since she was moving up to secondary next year—even if he remained in London. And he'd have to try all new things, which was terrifying to consider.

And he didn't even really know what he wanted to learn yet anyway.

"Twelve is still a child," he said finally with certainty. He wasn't done being a child yet—not when there was so much left he wanted to learn before childhood ended. "Maybe thirteen will be better?"

Elizabeth smiled at him, relieved despite herself. "I agree entirely," she said, reaching for the phone in order to call Diana. "Perhaps next year. In the meantime, I'll discuss with your teachers about how they can challenge you."

And that was that; for the next year at least, Spencer would remain at school, with Emily.