Billy had become good at pushing any worries to the back of his mind, but his fear-filled night had seemed so real he was still jittery at school the following morning. At break time, as they sat on a low wall swapping Robo-warrior trading cards, Tom tried to convince him to stay over on his birthday once again.
‘Go on, it’ll be great. We’ll be able to p-p-play all night!’ said Tom, but Billy wasn’t about to have a change of heart.
‘Sorry, I just can’t,’ he said, feeling nauseous with worry and rubbing the tick-like scratch on his wrist that had begun to sting again. Then the bell went and they ambled in for afternoon lessons.
Tom was quiet all afternoon, and on the way home Billy could sense he was still disappointed.
‘I tell you what,’ he said. ‘I could come over during the day. Mum says my cousins probably won’t arrive till teatime.’
‘Really? Excellent!’ said Tom, brightening up immediately. ‘Come as early as you can. I’m getting the latest F1 game, and I b-b-bet I’ll beat you every time.’
‘No chance,’ laughed Billy, glancing into the convenience store as they passed by. He was glad to see that Mrs Rutland was back at work, and she gave him a cheery wave.
‘See you tomorrow, then,’ Billy said as he turned into Merlin Place and Tom carried on along Park Street. He checked his new pocket watch. It was four thirty and the little window in its face was now showing a radiant sun in a blue sky. Good, there was time for a computer game before tea.
He hurried up the drive, but before he reached the front door he heard a loud tapping noise. He was shocked to see a bird was trapped inside their front room. It was frantically pecking at the pane, trying to get out. It was a large bird – a jackdaw, Billy thought, and it was obviously distressed.
Whack! Billy jumped as the jackdaw hit the pane, leaving a smear of blood on the glass, its beady eye wide with terror.
‘Calm down,’ he cried, sure the poor thing would kill itself if it didn’t get out soon. He opened the front door and hurried inside.
‘Mum, there’s a bird in the house,’ he called, dropping his school bag on the floor and going into the kitchen. But his mum wasn’t there. ‘Mum!’ he yelled up the stairs, but there was still no reply. Perhaps she had popped to the shops.
Billy searched his bag for his mobile, to see if his mum had sent him a text – but now he could hear the jackdaw crashing around the front room and flailing against the door. He had to get the bird out, before it hurt itself. He turned the handle and flung the door open. The jackdaw came hurtling across the room towards him, its sharp beak open in a strident shriek. ‘Carck!’
‘Get off!’ Billy cried, and staggered backwards into the hall, fending off the jackdaw as it flapped and clawed at his face. He fumbled for the front door, tugged it open and rushed outside. As the bird flew off with a cackling laugh, Billy opened his eyes, and froze. A wave of fear surged through his body and his knees turned to jelly – for he had stepped out of the house and into the dark!
Billy couldn’t believe his eyes. He was still on the street where he lived – there was Mr Taylor’s house, and over there the builder’s truck parked on the verge as always. But a moment before everything had been bathed in sunshine, and now it was all in darkness. Apart from the sound of the wind in the shrubs, everything was deadly quiet. What had happened – was it some sort of eclipse? With a trembling hand he checked his pocket watch. It still said four thirty, but now the little window was showing the night scene.
A knot of fear rose in his throat, bursting from his mouth as a terrified yell.
‘HEEEELP! Is there anybody there? MUM, DAD. Please, somebody, HELP!’
Silence. There was no answering voice, no light came on in a window, and no dog barked in response.
His street was on a steep hill, and Billy could just make out the rest of the town from the glow of a weak moon. Everything looked the same, but not a single street lamp glowed.
Then, as his eyes got used to the dark, he gasped in horror. Looming over his town like a bad dream was a gigantic building, an edifice of granite and slate that looked as forbidding as a medieval fortress. Towers and turrets soared into the sky and battlemented walls coiled through the familiar streets like an octopus’s tentacles.
In a blind panic Billy pushed against his front door, but it had shut behind him and now his key wouldn’t turn in the lock. When he rushed around to the back door he found that was bolted too. Billy picked up a large stone and hurled it at its frosted glass panel. It bounced off with a reverberating CLANG! The same thing happened when he tried to smash the glass in the patio door. The house was impregnable.
He had been locked out of his own home. His own world.
Overwhelmed, he sank to a heap on the doorstep. Something terrible had happened, and he hugged his knees and hid his face in the crook of his arm as his shoulders began to heave with sobs.
