‘Poor lass,’ Mum said while the twins were having breakfast the next day. ‘It’s a miracle that Zoe wasn’t killed, by all accounts. Somebody told us the driver must have been doing at least sixty. He ought to be locked up.’
The twins kept quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. They were glad to have prevented the fire, but still wondered whether they could have done something else to stop Zoe from being hurt.
There was a special assembly at school that morning to pray for Zoe’s recovery, but it meant more to some than others.
‘I saw you in assembly, Jacko,’ sneered Luke outside their lockers at lunch. ‘Hands tight together, eyes shut, praying like mad.’
‘So? I just want Zoe to get better,’ Chris retorted. ‘Don’t you?’
Luke shrugged in response. ‘She always rode her bike like a maniac,’ he muttered. ‘It was only a matter of time before she got knocked over.’
Only a matter of time.
The words stung and Chris could not stop himself. He grabbed Luke by the front of his jumper and shoved him backwards against the wall.
‘What do you know about time?’ he demanded fiercely. ‘Nothing!’
‘What you on about, Jacko?’ cried Luke, wriggling out of his grip. ‘You’re as mad as her.’
Chris scowled and slouched off outside to a corner of the playground. He needed more time to think and wished he hadn’t left the Timewatch at home.
He was still in a bad mood that afternoon during an art and craft session. The teacher suggested to the class that they all made or painted something that he could take into hospital to show Zoe, which would perhaps cheer her up a little.
Chris’s artwork, however, would not have cheered up anybody. He painted a blood-red scene of flames with stick-like figures scurrying to and fro in panic through the smoke and sparks. Then he finished it all off by pouring water over it, just as he had hosed down the bonfire at the farm.
‘What on earth is that mess meant to be, Christopher?’ gasped Mr Samuels as he walked between the tables, checking on progress.
‘Not sure, really,’ Chris said, feeling more at peace with himself now, as if the water had also quenched his own anger. ‘Just putting out a fire.’
‘Well,’ sighed the teacher, giving Chris a strange look. ‘I don’t think it’s quite the thing to give to Zoe, do you?’
Chris shrugged. He was not too bothered whether she saw it or not – but he liked to think it was the kind of thing that zany Zoe might well have done herself.
By contrast with her twin, Becky still felt vaguely guilty, as if the accident were somehow their fault. Her own artwork had taken the form of a Get Well Soon card, but it wasn’t enough. She decided that the watch had to go.
‘Maybe Zoe’s accident wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t interfered,’ she said to Chris when they were discussing the situation again after tea.
‘Interfered?’ he repeated, turning up the volume on the television so that they couldn’t be overheard from the store. ‘You mean, do nothing and let the farm burn down?’
‘There you are, then,’ he said, cutting her short. ‘Anyway, that speeding driver might well have gone and hit somebody else instead.’
‘That’s just it,’ she stated. ‘All these possible knock-on effects of changing things – they’re out of our control.’
Chris spread his hands in a helpless gesture. ‘That’s just down to chance – or fate,’ he said. ‘Being in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
‘Yes, like us,’ she told him. ‘We’ve been in the wrong too, going back and trying to put things right – and perhaps making them worse.’
‘So what are you suggesting?’
‘Let’s destroy the Timewatch!’
‘What!’ exclaimed Chris. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘I’m deadly serious. It’s more trouble than it’s worth. Just imagine if someone like Luke got hold of the watch and found out what it could do…’
Chris refused to listen any further. ‘I’m going out,’ he muttered. ‘On my own.’
He went upstairs to collect the Timewatch. He wanted to take it with him for safekeeping in case Becky tried to carry out her threat. He opened the top drawer of his bedside cabinet and rummaged among his socks and hankies, but the watch wasn’t there. In desperation, he threw open the other drawers, and then he began to panic.
‘Becky!’ he cried, thundering down the stairs. ‘Where’s the watch?’
He was too late.
Click!
Becky used the perfect escape route, slipping back in time, if not actually finding herself very far away. She was in the garden, playing ball with Tan again, while Chris was round at a mate’s house.
‘Oh, well,’ she sighed, realising that their argument had not now taken place. ‘At least Chris doesn’t yet know that I want to get rid of this thing.’
She stared at the watch in her hand. It was very tempting to go and throw it away, but she didn’t really want to do anything like that without his agreement.
‘C’mon, Tan, let’s go out for a little walk,’ she said. ‘We’ve got time.’
‘Don’t be long,’ said Mum when Becky told her what she was doing. ‘I’ll be starting tea soon.’
Tan was in for a disappointment. It began to rain before they reached the fields and Becky decided to call on her aunt, who lived nearby, instead.
‘Hello, my dear. This is a pleasant surprise,’ Auntie Jean greeted her. ‘Come in and I’ll put the kettle on. We haven’t had a good old chat for ages.’
Becky quite enjoyed her aunt’s company – and her baking. A big tin of buns was placed on the table and Auntie Jean began to prepare the drinks, putting a bowl of water on the floor for Tan too.
‘Can I ring Mum to let her know where I am?’ Becky asked.
‘Of course, my dear. The phone’s in the hall.’
Becky wanted to avoid going home for another meal and told Mum that she was having tea with Auntie Jean instead, which was true up to a point – tea and buns!
When she returned to the kitchen, Auntie Jean handed her a plate. ‘Do help yourself to the buns, my dear, and tell me what you’ve been up to recently.’
Becky was careful to make no references to the watch and confined her tales to events at school, boasting of her goals in yesterday’s football practice.
‘I don’t know,’ said her aunt, shaking her head. ‘Girls playing football! It was never heard of in my day. Netball, that was my favourite game…’
Now it was Becky’s turn to listen to Auntie Jean. She knew all her stories about playing for the county netball team, but was content to sit back and enjoy the buns.
When the grandfather clock struck six times, Auntie Jean put a hand to her mouth in alarm. ‘Oh, my goodness!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve forgotten to go out and buy a ticket,’
‘Ticket?’
‘Yes, you know, for the Daily Draw.’
‘Oh, right, the county lottery. It’s OK, the store’s still open.’
‘I’m afraid it’s too late now, my dear. Six o’clock is the evening deadline so they can go ahead and make the draw. Your uncle normally picks up a ticket on his way home from work, but he’s doing a spot of overtime and asked me to get it today.’
‘Have you ever won anything?’
‘Only twenty pounds once,’ Auntie Jean admitted. ‘But I don’t mind. Most of the money goes to support local charities and that’s the main thing.’
‘How much is the top prize?’
‘Ten thousand pounds.’
Becky let out a low whistle. ‘What would you do with all that money? Go on a world cruise or something?’
‘Oh, no! Nothing so selfish, I’m sure,’ she chuckled. ‘We’d share our good fortune with the rest of the family. We always have the same numbers, you see, family birthdays like yours.’
The conversation moved on to other matters, including Zoe’s accident, and it was only when Tan started to bark that they realised Uncle Dave had arrived home.
‘Not a word to your uncle about the ticket, remember,’ said Auntie Jean, pressing a finger to her lips. ‘He’ll never know I forgot!’
As soon as Uncle Dave walked in, Tan gave him a loud, boisterous welcome and then more drinks and food appeared, as if by magic. He switched on the radio before settling himself in his favourite armchair with the evening paper.
‘Let’s check whether we’ve won the draw!’ he said, jokingly. ‘You never know, Becky love, you might have brought us a bit of Lady Luck!’
Becky exchanged a furtive glance with her aunt and crossed her fingers that she hadn’t done so.
There was no need for Uncle Dave to see the ticket. He knew the numbers off by heart. He was only half-listening to the radio, but as the winning numbers were read out, some of them sounded familiar enough to gain his full attention. He stared at his wife, who had turned decidedly pale, and then he jumped to his feet.
‘C’mon, man!’ he shouted at the radio. ‘Say ’em again, will you!’
When the announcer duly obliged, repeating the five lucky numbers, Uncle Dave could hardly believe his ears. ‘We’ve won, Jean!’ he cried, giving his wife a big hug as Tan added her barks to the excitement. ‘We’ve gone and won the thing! We’ve got all five numbers!’
It was some while before he had calmed down enough to allow her to break the bad news. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she confessed. ‘With young Becky coming, I clean forgot to go and buy the ticket. Sorry!’
Her husband was so shocked, he could not even find the words to respond. He just shuffled out of the house and went into the back garden to try and swallow his disappointment. Even Tan realised that something was wrong and crouched under the table, tail between her legs.
‘Not much of a Lady Luck, was I?’ murmured Becky, knowing that she could not even use the watch again to repeat the past hour.
‘It’s not your fault, my dear,’ Auntie Jean told her, forcing a false smile. ‘Just one of those things.’
Becky put on her coat and trailed slowly home with Tan. She felt terrible. She knew that their loss – and hers, too, with no share of the winnings – was indeed her own fault. But she also knew what else was to blame.
It lay like a great weight in her pocket – the Timewatch.