The Accidental Time Traveller (10 page)

Running home through the dark white streets, I kicked up snow and whooped. I wanted Crow to show up. I was so buzzing I would have punched him on the nose, and demanded my 50p back. Then I would have told him never ever to text me again, or I would report him to the police.

When I got home, I was so fired up I could have run a marathon. Up in my room I danced around a bit then gazed out at the moon. It was nearly full. Plans whizzed round my head. I decided I would do the time travel experiment the next day. Agatha already had some of the stuff ready. I could easily get candles and matches. I had a gold star in my art jotter for a drawing I had done of the twins. I knew it wasn’t real gold, but it was definitely gold coloured. And I had Macrimmon’s plan. Maybe it was the full moon. Maybe it was midwinter. Or being almost the Christmas holidays. Or maybe it was because I was through with lying to Will and Robbie, but I felt like I could do anything.

And – there was something else that needed to be done. I grabbed the history prize entry form. I had almost forgotten about it. I looked at the due date. Tomorrow. I scrambled around looking for a pen
and paper. I grabbed an
Oor Wullie
annual to lean on, plumped back in my beanbag seat, then twirled the pen in the air. I chewed the top of it, racking my brains trying to remember all the things Agatha had told me.

Then, I began.

I counted my words. 32. Only 468 to go. I took a deep breath, and kept writing.

My wrist was sore. I bet I’d never written so many words in my life. I counted them. I couldn’t believe it. I had 250. I had written half the essay and I still had more to say. I felt great. I carried on.

I counted the words. 500! I’d done it! Then I glanced at the clock. A whole hour had passed. My stomach was rumbling. While I had been writing my essay it was like time didn’t exist, which, of course, made me think about Agatha. I put the pen down, placed my essay carefully down on the carpet and stared at it. I swear it seemed to glow. “You’re a winner,” I murmured, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.

Mum popped her head round the door. “Esme’s teething,” she said, “and Ellie’s being grouchy, poor thing. Listen honey, I haven’t had a minute to make dinner. I know it’s dark – but you’re a big boy now.” She winked at me. “So could you run along to Mrs Singh and get a couple of pizzas?” She didn’t notice my essay on the floor. I was going to tell her about it when she said, “Please? I’m starving. Bet you are too.”

So I got ready to go out into the snow, again. I was exhausted. All that energy had gone into the essay. Now all I wanted to do was sleep. “Here’s a pound for you, Saul,” Mum said, pressing the coin into my hand. Then she kissed me on the cheek. “You can be a
well-behaved
boy when you put your mind to it.” She patted me on the shoulder. “You’re a good brother to Esme and Ellie. They’ll be more fun when they’re older. You understand, don’t you, darling?”

I nodded, embarrassed. I always felt embarrassed when Mum went all emotional. Then she handed me three pounds. “Buy the cheapest,” she said. “There’s a two-for-one offer on margeritas.”

Then I was off, trudging through the snow, keeping a lookout for Crow, and wondering what I was going to buy with my pound. I was just getting close to the shop when I heard a tune floating in the air. I looked around, but couldn’t see anyone. The music was just wafting about on its own.

I walked on, feeling like I was in a dream with the dark and the snow and the music. Then I saw him – the fiddle player. He was a grungy man with a long woolly jumper and raggy beard who sometimes played old-fashioned tunes on Peebles High Street with the fiddle case open in front of him. Now here he was just near our shop, and it was like he was playing just for me. Nobody else was about. I slowed down, not wanting to pass him. The tune floated around with the snowflakes.

As he played he snapped his boots up and down on the snowy pavement. The boots had holes in them. I wanted to rush past. I took a step or two then felt him staring at me with his glinting eyes. His fiddle case didn’t look very full. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was give him my pound.

I fumbled in my pocket, rubbing the warm coin. I had planned on buying juice and crisps and chewing gum. I’d given so much away I wanted to get something for myself. But the man went on playing, and all the time he fixed his eyes on me. They were the kind of
eyes that could put a curse on you. Drat! I was going to feel too bad if I went by and didn’t give him anything. I shuffled up and dropped the pound coin in his case. It landed with a twang, next to a 2p piece.

The man stopped playing, brought the bow to his head and nodded, like he was saluting me, then he went back to his playing. I looked down at my feet, then hurried past him, feeling the empty place in my pocket where my money used to be.

Five minutes later, when I came out of the shop with the pizzas, the man and his fiddle case had gone. Off to spend my pound, I thought, miffed, as I ran home.

That night I fell into bed. I didn’t even take my clothes off. I mean, I was knackered. I couldn’t believe I could do so much in one day. I sunk back onto my bed. Everything whirled in my head: the weird fiddle tune, my lost pound, Agatha and Agnes in the tree, Crow and the scary text, my new Rasta hat, my new BMX, the pizza, the essay. The essay…

I was half asleep when I got this niggling feeling that I hadn’t written enough. The judges said 500 words was the minimum. And I had done the minimum. Mrs Veitch was always saying that’s all I ever do – the minimum.

I never felt less like writing. I could hardly open my eyes. But the thought wouldn’t go away. If I could just write two more sentences I’d have a chance. I had to do more than the minimum.

So I swung my legs onto the floor. What an effort! I slumped onto the carpet. I fished my essay out from under my bed, found a pen, scored out the words
the
end
and tried to remember some more things about life in 1812.

Children did play games in 1812 like they cut out fish and banged their hand on the ground to make the fish jump so you had fish racing. The other thing they liked was making theatre shows and dressing up. They didn’t have oranges unless they were rich so many children died from the meesles. They didn’t have a cure for it. I hope the people in Peebles had a happy time in the past. They had their problems but basically they loved their home.

I couldn’t write another word. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I couldn’t even manage to write “the end”.

Next morning, I lay in bed, remembering weird dreams. In one of them, Albert Black was getting a rope wound round and round his neck. In another dream a little monkey in a red waistcoat was crying and rubbing his eyes. I lay staring at the ceiling. It was still dark.

The first thing I heard was screeching. I thought it was the monkey. Then it dawned on me that it was Dad’s taxi. That meant he had an early pick up. Next thing I heard one of the twins crying. I didn’t know which one. I rolled over and something dug into my back. I still had my trousers on, and my belt. When I’d fallen asleep with all my clothes on before, I always woke in the morning with my pyjamas on. Mum had said some little pixie must have come in the night. It was her, of course, or Dad.

I fell out of bed, suddenly feeling like an idiot about the essay. Like, who did I think I was? Whoever reads it will probably have a right good laugh. I folded the paper and put it into the envelope that I had ready, but all the fizz had gone. I never won anything.

I fumbled about looking for my shoes. At least I hadn’t slept with them on. My plans had seemed great
last night but now in the dark morning they didn’t feel so fantastic. I was ready to rip the envelope up and bin it. But some little voice inside me said: Come on, Saul, give it a try. Trying never hurts. That’s what Dad always says to me. So I stuffed the essay into my rucksack.

I did a couple of star-jumps then splashed cold water on my face. Through in the kitchen I drank a huge glass of banana milk. While Mum was getting the twins up, I scooted round the living room looking for candles and matches. Usually Mum kept them hidden but now we were coming up for Christmas she had red candles on the table and a box of matches on a shelf. In the bathroom we had this little glass crystal thing. It dangled on a thread and when the sun shone it made the bathroom all rainbows. I dropped it into my rucksack.

Of course, deep down, I didn’t really want Agatha Black to go. There were still loads of things I hadn’t shown her, loads we hadn’t done. I had told her we would go sledging. But I was starting to feel bad. She’d been in the twenty-first century for five days now. I remembered how she said the longer she stayed away, the harder it I would be to get back. But mostly it was the way she said, “I’ve got my life to live,” that really got to me.

My rucksack was filling up. I grabbed two bagels from the cupboard and an orange. Then I scooped up a half-empty packet of chocolate biscuits and a few figs. I had learnt a few things about Agatha Black. Her sweet tooth was one of them.

I got to school just as the bell screeched. I had wanted to hand the essay in early, without anybody seeing me, but because I had spent ages getting all the time-travel equipment ready, I was going to have to do it in front of the whole class. I hung my jacket on a peg and shuffled into the classroom. Will and Robbie thumped me on the back and threw me our secret gang wink.

Mrs Veitch raced through taking the register then said, “Now, if there are any last entries for the Scottish Borders Young Historian of the Year competition, come forward and hand them in.” She scanned the room. “I need to collect them now.” I felt my face flush bright red. At the table at the back I saw Agnes pull an envelope out of her bag. I felt like an idiot. If she was going to enter, she would definitely win. I would probably come last. Then Dad’s voice was back: trying never hurt, son…

I made a grab for my envelope and dashed forward, feeling really embarrassed. I kept looking at the ground, so I didn’t see Mrs Veitch’s face but Robbie told me afterwards that she practically wet herself. I hurried back to my desk and slipped onto my seat, still bright red and totally embarrassed.

“Right. Goodness! Very good. Well – er – no one else?”

I shot a glance at the back table. I saw Agnes push her envelope back into her bag.

“Well then –
bonjour, toute le monde,
” sang Mrs Veitch.

“
Bonjour Madame Veitch,
” we all sang back.

“And I hope you haven’t forgotten: on Friday, the last day of school, it will be the shortest day of the year. Can anyone remember the name of it?”

Mrs Veitch got her second big shock of the morning. Yours-truly stuck up his hand and said, “The winter solstice!”

Agnes kept looking at me. I don’t know if she was also thinking about the solstice, or if she was thinking that me and her were pals now because she’d been up a tree with Agatha. I scowled at her. At playtime she was in her usual spot by the bike shed with her usual book to hide behind. Except she wasn’t reading the book. I know because it was upside down. But Will was seriously impressed by her. It was his idea that we go and hang out in the bike shed. I think he wanted to talk to her but he didn’t know what to say.

While Will was staring at Agnes, Robbie was interrogating me about the essay. “I practically fell off my chair,” Robbie said. “When you got up and actually handed in an
essay
! Man! I couldn’t believe it. Like, no one could. Sure, Will?”

Will stopped gaping at Agnes. “Sure. Jeez, you should have seen Mrs Veitch’s face. Her jaw dropped. She didn’t know what to say.”

“I thought she was going to have a heart attack. Serious. It was priceless. So what? You turned into some big swot?” Robbie nudged me and laughed. “I didn’t even know you could read! Only joking!”

“I told you I wasn’t lying.” I lowered my voice because Agnes, at the other end of the bike shed, was listening. “Agatha is from 1812 and she told me all about it. I just
wrote it down. It was easy. Anyway,” I whispered, “I’m going to get her back there.”

They gazed at me, doubtfully. “How?”

I shot a glance at Agnes who quickly looked away. I stepped in closer to Robbie and Will. “I’m going to do an experiment.”

And at lunchtime that’s exactly what I did.