‘Look lively, lad. You’re half asleep.’
‘Sorry, Dad,’ Chris said automatically. He seemed to spend most of his time at home apologizing to his parents.
‘Got something on your mind, have you?’
Chris smiled to himself. He could hardly try to explain about the Timewatch, as he had begun to call it. He was so keen to use it again, it was almost burning a hole in his pocket.
‘Er … just some work I’ve still got to do for school, Dad,’ he said as an excuse, glad that the watch could now give him any extra time he might need.
‘Aye, well, you should’ve done it earlier like your sister.’
‘Sorry, Dad.’
‘Now get those tins finished and then put the cereal boxes over there,’ Dad told him, pointing to an empty shelf on the other side of the store.
Chris continued to stack the tins of soup, tomatoes and baked beans on the shelf behind the main counter, ensuring that all the labels were facing the front.
‘If folk can’t see it, they can’t buy it,’ Dad always said. ‘Second law of shopkeeping.’
Dad had lots of these laws and was quick to remind Chris of them whenever the chance arose. Chris deliberately put a tin of chicken soup the wrong way round to see how long it would take his father to notice.
‘Come and give us a hand a minute, lad. Need you to hold these steps steady while I tidy that top shelf.’
‘I don’t know why we have stuff right up there. Nobody can reach it.’
‘No, but I can with the steps. All they need do is point. What’s the fifth law?’
Chris did a quick check down his mental list of laws. ‘Er … if folk want it, we get it – right?’
‘Right, good lad,’ Dad beamed, putting his weight on the rickety wooden stepladder and climbing halfway up.
‘Isn’t it about time we got some new steps, Dad? These always wobble.’
‘If they were good enough for your old grandad, they’re good enough for me,’ Dad told him, starting to take the cartons off the shelf one by one, give each a rub with a cloth and then put them back in exactly the same place.
Chris wondered idly how many of the ever-growing list of laws had been passed on by Grandad. He gave a yawn and thought he might make his own list of things to do with the Timewatch. That would be a very long list as well…
…he could use it in class to redo a test and put right any mistakes…
…and double the time of his favourite PE sessions…
…and even replay a football match if his school team were losing…
…and then at home he could perhaps delay bedtime by an hour…
‘Aaargh!’
Dad’s shout and the crash of the steps brought Becky, Mum and a barking Tan rushing into the store. Tan reached Dad even before Chris could scramble over the broken tangle of wood. She was yelping in alarm and trying to lick the man’s face as he lay on the floor behind the counter.
‘Are you all right, Dad?’ cried Chris, pushing Tan away.
Dad groaned as his wife propped him up against a cabinet for support. ‘Think I’ve gone and bust a leg,’ he grunted, his face screwed up in pain.
‘Whatever happened?’ asked Mum, her own face white with shock.
‘It was my fault,’ Chris admitted. ‘I wasn’t holding the steps properly.’
‘Nonsense, lad,’ said Dad. ‘You were right. They’re too old. Should’ve got rid of ’em years ago.’
Becky crouched beside her father, stroking his arm for comfort and gripping Tan by her collar to keep the dog at bay.
‘What were you doing, Dad?’ she asked.
‘Stretching too far, lass. Overreached myself and down I went.’
‘I’m really sorry, Dad,’ said Chris, as Mum went off to phone for an ambulance.
‘Nothing you could have done, lad. Even if you were half asleep!’
‘Maybe not,’ Chris murmured. ‘But there is something I can do now.’ He took out the Timewatch and glanced at his sister, who nodded her approval.
Click!
Chris suddenly found himself on his own in the stockroom an hour earlier. He gave a little shake of the head in wonder and put the watch back in his pocket. Then he picked up a box of soup tins to take into the store, knowing exactly what Dad was about to say.
‘Get started on those tins, lad. Time is money, remember. Third law. I don’t want to be here all night.’
‘No, and I bet you don’t want to spend it in hospital either,’ Chris muttered under his breath.
As Chris set about his tasks again, he was planning how to prevent the accident. But he still remembered to put the tin of soup the wrong way round to test his father’s powers of observation. He also took the chance to go and tell Becky about the steps, realising that this time she had not travelled back in time with him for some reason.
‘Why didn’t you come with me?’ he said, almost accusingly.
‘I didn’t even know you’d gone,’ she retorted. ‘It hasn’t happened yet.’
Chris nodded slowly. It all seemed very confusing. ‘Anyway, it just shows how useful this watch is,’ he said. ‘Y’know, the way it can let us stop people getting hurt, for instance.’
‘Of course,’ she agreed. ‘So long as we do only use it in emergencies.’
‘Depends what you mean by emergencies.’
Becky looked at him suspiciously. ‘And just what do you mean, little brother?’
Chris turned away to avoid having to confess all the things that would be added to his list – like having enough time to finish his homework, for a start.
Dad’s own work was interrupted by the occasional customer coming in for drinks or items of food that had run low over the weekend.
‘Just sold Mrs Brown that loaf I thought I’d have to throw out,’ he chuckled. ‘Her old man’s going to get some stale sandwiches in his packed lunch tomorrow.’
‘You didn’t have to sell it,’ Chris said, knowing the answer.
‘First law of shopkeeping, lad. The customer is always right,’ Dad said and then gave a grin. ‘Even when they’re wrong. Business is business.’
Having worked a little quicker this time around, Chris was already dealing with the cereal boxes when Dad called him over to help.
‘Come and give us a hand a minute, lad. Need you to hold these steps steady while I tidy that top shelf.’
‘Isn’t it about time we got some new steps, Dad?’ Chris said for the second time.
‘If they were good enough for your old grandad, they’re good enough for me.’
That was the cue for Chris to take decisive – and dramatic – action. Before his dad could mount the steps, he jumped up onto them and deliberately made them wobble.
‘Be careful!’
Dad’s warning was to no avail. The steps tottered and then collapsed, but Chris was ready, leaping off and rolling away across the floor so they wouldn’t land on top of him. The crash brought everyone running, as before, and a noisy, nosy Tan was soon on the scene, licking Chris’s face.
‘Get off, daft dog,’ he cried, struggling to get up.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Dad anxiously as Mum fussed over him too.
‘I’m OK,’ Chris insisted, putting on a brave act, but slipping Becky a sly wink. ‘Just a few bruises in the morning, I expect, that’s all.’
‘What on earth were you doing?’ said Mum.
‘Just doing my bit,’ he said. ‘Y’know, trying to help Dad, like.’
‘Aye, well,’ Dad sighed. ‘You were probably right about those old steps. Should’ve got rid of ’em years ago.’
‘I’ve been telling you that, too,’ said Mum. ‘If it’d been you falling off them, you might have broken your neck.’
‘Or a leg,’ put in Becky. ‘Dead easy!’
‘Right, come into the kitchen, Chris,’ Mum told him, ‘and let me have a look at that arm, just to make sure there’s no real damage done.’
‘Oh, just one thing before you go, lad.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Put that tin of soup the right way round, will you.’
Chris grinned. ‘Sorry, Dad.’