The Accidental Time Traveller Page 8

  I could hear Mum clattering away with the dishes. She was whistling and the kettle was boiling. I needed to narrow things down a bit, so I keyed in

  SEARCH: time travel Peebles

  That narrowed it down loads. Only one thing came up, which was a scan from some big library collection of a boring-looking old fashioned letter.

  From George Macrimmon,

  it said at the top,

  Peebles, Scottish Borders, 1953.

  What people do not understand is that transportation through time is in fact achievable.

  I wished I was faster at reading. I could hear Mum making tea. She’d be through soon.

  Travelling through time is a science not new to the men of Peebles. Few now remember these early inventors and bold souls. Yet research handed down through many generations shows that to travel through time is not dependent upon outer para…

  something or other. I scrolled down fast, trying hard to understand the words.

  The method requires unpara…

  something

  …concentration and purity of intention. The mind free of clamour focuses on the intended voyage. The purified heart opens, pouring love and will on the time and the place to be visited. And the body knows without a grain of doubt that success in the voyage will prevail. Thus the traveller of pure body, mind and soul unites fully to the purpose and hears the echo of times past. And follows it.

  So very simple,

  the letter said at the end,

  yet almost impossible.

  I read the letter four times and tried to memorise it. The more I read, the simpler it seemed. If you really want to time travel, you can. At least that’s what I made of it. “Two minutes, Saul,” Mum called from the kitchen.

  I felt exhausted. Quickly, I typed in

  SEARCH: gold Peebles

  Cash for your unwanted gold

  flashed up on the screen.

  Tilly’s Pawn Shop, 79 Northgate, Peebles.

  “Right, Saul, turn it off now.”

  I memorised the address. Then I turned the computer off, and thought about George Macrimmon and how the heart had to fully unite with the intended voyage.

  I could turn off the computer but I couldn’t turn off the shiver that kept running up and down my spine. It was still tingling there later when I tried to get to sleep.

  Waking up the next morning, I immediately scribbled down the words that I remembered:

  The mind focuses. The heart opens. The body knows.

  “It’s breakfast time,” Mum called through from the kitchen. I rolled the scrap of paper into a scroll and put it in my rucksack.

  15

  There wasn’t time to go to the den before school but I was planning on nipping out at lunchtime and using my leftover £1 to buy Agatha a ham roll. She’d told me she loved them.

  The pavements were slushy and all the hills around Peebles were white. As I walked to school, breathing in the chilly morning air, I felt excited. I’d found a way to help Agatha get back home to 1812. And as far as the history prize went, maybe I had already learned enough. So much had been going on I didn’t know whether I’d actually ever really get round to writing the essay. I dandered a bit, thinking about stuff. School was ok. Not that I was top of the class or anything like that. Bottom more like. But break was good, and football, and basketball, and storytelling. Me, Robbie and Will sat at the back in class having a laugh, but hopefully not annoying Mrs Veitch so often that we ended up getting into trouble. The swots sat at the front, always sticking up their hands to answer every question. I never did. I gave that up in Primary 2. Actually, perhaps it’d be best not to do that essay. If I handed in something extra like that, it’d give Mrs Veitch the shock of her life.

  The absolute best thing about school is the big hill at the back. It’s great for bikes, and Robbie did a really high jump using it as a ramp. So did Will, but then he went and fell and hurt himself, so the school banned the hill. But me and Will and Robbie still go.

  Anyway, that Monday morning, I decided that if Agatha was going to zoom back to history any day now, I should at least let her have a day in a school of the future. She’d told me girls hardly ever went to school in 1812 and not that many boys went either. When I asked her how come she knew so much stuff, she said when her mum was alive and the family had a bit more money she’d had a governess who taught her reading and handwriting and numbers at home.

  Other kids at my school had brought visitors before. Will once brought his cousin who was over from South Africa. He was called Merl and he sat between me and Will and drew a giraffe. I didn’t know whether you could just turn up with your visitor, or whether you had to get a note about it or something?

  When I got to school, I could tell Robbie was itching to tell me all about Winter Wonderland, but I didn’t ask. I pretended I had forgotten he even went there. He looked a bit miffed, especially when I started talking to Will.

  I told Will how Randolph wanted to come to school, and Will said it was allowed but you did have to get a letter from your parents. It was Will’s idea to make Randolph my cousin. At break I went on the computer and typed one up. I kept it short.

  Dear teachers

  Saul’s cousin is on a visit from London. He is called Randolph. Could he visit the school for a day please on Tuesday?

  Thank you

  Mrs Martin

  It looked fine, except I wished I had made Randolph come from somewhere else, like Outer Mongolia or Romania. Mr Bradley, the deputy head, came from London. He might ask Randolph questions about it – then we’d be stumped! Anyway, I handed the letter in at the office, and that lunchtime ran to the den to tell Agatha all about it.

  Except when I got there, Agatha was busy playing flap the fish. “I cut one for you,” she cried out as I burst into the den. There was Miss Agatha Black, down on her hands and knees, banging the palm of her hand on the wooden floor to make a paper fish jerk forward. “Then we can race,” she said, “which is by far the best fun. Here Saul,” she beckoned for me to kneel down beside her. “This is your fish. Bang hard, but you may not touch it, ok?”

  “Ok, Agatha!” I flung down my rucksack, yanked off my gloves and lined up my fish. Then we were off. What a racket. Agatha had obviously put in a lot of practice. She managed to make her fish flap like a wild thing. My fish just bumped up and down really slowly. “I win!” she yelled, then we did the hand-shaking thing. Then I told her about school.

  She was so excited she ran out of the den and danced about the garden. Then she practised speaking like me. We were so carried away about the school visit that I almost forgot the scrolled up paper I had in my rucksack. Agatha was sitting on the fallen tree trunk, tucking into her ham roll when I fished it out of my bag. “I think I know how to get you back home,” I said.

  She gulped on her ham roll and gazed up at me. “What?”

  “Remember how I told you about technology? Well, we’ve got this thing called the internet. You can find out about everything. So I found out about time travel.” I was leaning back against a tree, slowly un-rolling the paper. “The mind focuses. The heart opens. The body knows.” I looked at her and smiled. “It’s simple,” I said, not mentioning the impossible bit. “What it means,” I went on, feeling like I was Mr Macrimmon, “is that basically you have to really want to travel back through time. You have to love it, and you have to totally trust with every bit of you that it’s going to happen. At least, I think that’s what it means.”

  “Have faith, you mean?”

  “Yeah, something like that.” I handed her the paper. “So, maybe if I can get all the other stuff, we can try it in a couple of days?”

  “The gold also?” She stared at me, her blue eyes like huge pools.

  I shrugged. I had been so excited about Macrimmon’s plan I had forgotten about Agatha’s obsession with gold. In the distance I heard the church bells. I had to go soon. “I haven’t figured that bit out yet.”

  Agatha’s face fell and the scroll drop
ped from her grasp. “Then it willna work.”

  “But this man says if you totally believe, it will work. Agatha, he was from Peebles, this professor man,” I said, as if that made it all ok.

  “As was Mister Albert Black, may I remind yea.” She gazed glumly down at the sheet of paper.

  “Agatha, listen. I know you’re lost and all that, but Mister Albert Black did manage to put you into the future. I mean, let’s face it, that is pretty incredible.”

  Agatha didn’t look too impressed.

  “And you know,” I went on, “the letter didn’t mention Albert Black exactly, but it kind of did.”

  She eyed me quizzically.

  “Yeah,” I said, trying to sound cheery, “it said men in Peebles had been working on time travel for a long time. I’m pretty sure they meant Albert Black. I think he is a bit famous.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  She chewed her lip. After a while she smiled up at me. “Saul, I am heartened indeed, yet I will feel better by far when we have proper gold. With faith and gold I will surely return home.” Then she made an effort to cheer up. “But in the meantime,” she grinned, “I am so very merry to be a schoolgirl. It will indeed give me majestic pleasure!”

  “Good!” I scooted up the garden and into the den to grab my gloves and head back to school.

  Agatha ran after me, eager to show me what she’d been up to. She spread paper out on the floor.

  “Afore yea hasten away, pray look,” she said, her face flushed and her eyes shining. She was so excited about showing me her drawings she seemed to have forgotten all about the lack of gold. She fell to her knees and pointed. “Here I have tried to make the pretty Christmas lights.” She gave me two seconds to look at that one, then pointed to another one. “And here the magic cinema doors.” She had loads of drawings of really ordinary stuff. But they were terrific. I was seriously impressed. “See here, Saul, this one is of the large roaring carriage.”

  “That’s a lorry,” I told her, giving her the thumbs-up approval. Though Agatha Black had never seen lorries till a few days ago, her drawing of one was bang on.

  “And this is the striped boilings in the glass jar.”

  “Looks like sweeties to me.”

  “Sweeties,” she repeated, licking her lips like she was tasting the word. “Now, pray, close your eyes.” I did but then I peeked, so she found her handkerchief and tied it round my head, over my eyes. I heard her fumble with a sheet of paper and wondered what was coming next. “And now, you may look!” She pulled off my blindfold.

  “Jeez! That’s me!” There I was on the floor, staring back up at me. Weird!

  “Do you like it? I did take many hours over this.”

  “Wow! It’s good. I mean, Agatha, you’re a great artist. It’s like I’m looking into a mirror.”

  She blushed and shook her head. “Tis a pastime, nothing more.” Then she folded up the drawing of me and slid it and the handkerchief under her dress and flouncy hat.

  I really had to go. Quickly, I gave her the rest of the food I’d managed to sneak out of the house, and told her I’d see her at half past eight the next morning, outside the launderette. I wittered on about how I was sorry but I had basketball after school, then after that Mum wanted me to help her with the twins, and then…

  “Dinna worry about me, Saul,” Agatha said. “I am right content here. I have much to draw, and much to think on, and am now so very at sixes and sevens about school. I will need to spend hours practising my speaking, and all manner of things. I will be as busy as a little bee, and it will be the morning before I know it. And besides, your sleeping-sack is warmer than my blanket at home.” She waved to me as I slung the rucksack onto my back. “I am here but a short time,” she said, smiling at me, “I must savour each moment.”

  16

  “Hiya, Saul.” Agatha was standing outside the launderette next morning, hoping from foot to foot – with excitement or cold, I couldn’t tell. “Are you doing ok?”

  “Never been better,” I lied, but I was impressed with her speaking. It sounded like she’d been practising all night.

  She skipped over to me. “Oh, I am that awfa much in a spin about school,” she said.

  I started walking down the street and she fell into step beside me. “Me too, Randolph,” then after a moment I added, “Umm, don’t say much, ok? And don’t gaze around all the time, pop-eyed, like you just landed on the planet.”

  “Sure,” she said, giggling, “I will do as you do.”

  I laughed. It came out sounding all nervous. I walked fast and Agatha slithered about in the snow trying to keep up. I wanted us to get to school early, and slip into the building before everybody else. “You’re my cousin, remember?”

  “Sure,” she said, again.

  “Your name’s Randolph. You’re from London. You haven’t been too well, and you’re in Peebles to get better. And you’ve had tonsillitis and your throat is sore. Got that?”

  Agatha nodded and flashed me her brightest smile. She looked really healthy. “And don’t smile so much.”

  She frowned. “Pray I never catch the measles. Little Bessie from next door died of the measles. There isna an epidemic in the school, is there, Saul?”

  I laughed, though it wasn’t funny. “Nobody dies of measles now,” I said, and we went through the big iron gates into the cemetery. I usually cut through the cemetery to get to school. It’s the fastest way. But now I got the creepiest feeling as we hurried past all these old gravestones. I imagined Bessie in a little white coffin, dead with the measles. “Come on, Randolph,” I said, and ran the rest of the way.

  When we reached the playground there was hardly anybody about. So far, so good. Agatha asked if she could look around and I said she could, if she was quick about it, before folk arrived. She gazed down at the hopscotch markings on the path. “I know this,” she squealed. “We have this too.” Before I could stop her she jumped and hopped up the squares. Then she stared in wonder at the massive wooden climbing frame. “May I?” she asked. I shrugged and off she went, like a soldier clambering over the ropes and wooden slats.

  Then I waved for her to come back. Kids were beginning to stream into the playground and I wanted Randolph to attract as little attention as possible. Next thing we were standing in front of the school building. I wished Kingsland was old fashioned but it wasn’t. I wished it had proper old-fashioned doors that couldn’t swing open by themselves. Ghost doors, Agatha called this kind. And I wished the bell didn’t screech. I gave Agatha a pair of Mum’s wax ear-plugs I’d found in the bathroom cupboard. She shoved them in her ears – just in time because the bell screeched like a fire alarm. When we stood in the corridor taking our jackets off, Agatha leant over and winked at me. “I willna let yea down,” she said.

  “Ah! Your cousin I take it, Saul.” Mrs Veitch strode up to Agatha who stuck out her hand. The teacher paused for a second, then smiled and pumped Agatha’s hand up and down. “Now that’s what I like in a boy: manners. And while you are visiting us, Randolph, perhaps you might teach Saul here a few.” Then she strode off. Agatha winked at me again and we followed Mrs Veitch to the classroom.

  I ran to get a spare seat and wedged it in next to my desk. I gestured for Agatha to sit down and what was so funny about that I don’t know, but Robbie got a fit of the giggles. I glowered at him and he shut up. Then it was writing time.

  Mrs Veitch gave us half an hour to write a story. The week before in school we had all watched a film about animals. Now we were to write about a day in the life of an animal. I chose a guinea pig but hardly wrote anything. I was too busy looking at what Agatha was writing. Actually, it was more her handwriting that got me. It was all loops and hoops. It was a dead giveaway. I scribbled at the bottom of my guinea pig story,

  don’t write so fancy

  and pushed it over to her. She blushed.

  “What are you up to, Saul?” the teacher said. She’s got eyes like a hawk.


  “Nothing,” I mumbled. That’s what I always say: “Nothing.” Not: “Actually, Mrs Veitch, I’m telling Agatha here to pretend she’s a boy. And to pretend she comes from London and not 1812 and to stop showing off her handwriting skills.”

  “Well, let Randolph do his best.”

  I did, and as far as I could make out, Randolph wrote about how monkeys like dressing up, just like we do! And she knows of one with the name of Pug who does wear a red waistcoat and loves everyone to watch him!

  ***

  We made it to break and nothing bad had happened. Robbie and Will were building a snowman and shouted for us to join in. I could tell Robbie was still itching to spill the beans about his trip to Edinburgh. By this point I was feeling pretty torn between all my pals. “Come on, Randolph,” I said, tugging at her arm, “let’s make snow monkeys with Will and Robbie.” Agatha laughed. I think she was really enjoying being at school, but she shook her head. She didn’t want to make a snow monkey. Instead she kept staring at a shy girl from our class who was hunched over a book across in the bike shed.

  “Who is she?” Agatha asked.

  I shrugged. “Dunno, Nessa or something like that. She’s got lice. And she never joins in with stuff.” I’d never talked to Nessa or given her much thought. She never spoke in class or put her hand up. Will says she’s really clever. But she’s a weirdo. She’s got no friends. It was Robbie who’d told me she had lice. And Will also said that her mum is dead.

  “She looks nice,” Agatha pulled away from me and ran over the snowy playground to where the girl who’s always left out was reading.