"Bike? A bike? That's all?"

"It's a motorbike," said the policeman, giving her the nervous looks everyone eventually gave Kirsty.

She just stared at him.

"It's a Blackbury Phantom," he added still further, in a tone of voice that suggested this should impress even a girl.

"Oh? Really? Oh, that's a relief," said Kirsty. "I feel a lot better for knowing that. Really."

"That's right. There's nothing for you to worry about, love," said the policeman happily.

"I'll just go off and play with my dolls, I expect," said Kirsty.

"That's a good idea. Have a tea party," said the policeman, who apparently didn't know withering scorn when he heard it.

Kirsty crossed the road and sat down on the seat.

"Yes, I expect I should have a party with all my dollies," she said, glaring at the flowers.

Yoless looked at Johnny over her head.

"What?" he said.

"Did you hear what that ridiculous policeman said?" said Kirsty. "Honestly, It's obvious that the stupid man thinks that just because I'm female I've got the brains of a baby. I mean, good grief! Imagine living in a time when people could even think like that without being prosecuted!"

"Imagine living in a time when a bomb could come through your ceiling," said Johnny.

"Mind you, my father said he lived in the shadow of the atomic bomb all through the Sixties," said Kirsty.

"I think that was why he wore flares. Hah! Dollies! Pink dresses and pink ribbons. "Don't worry your head about that, girlie." This is the dark ages."

Yoless patted her on the arm.

"He didn't mean it ... you know, nastily," he said. "It's just how he was brought up. You people can't expect us to rewrite history, you know-"

Kirsty frowned at him.

"Is that sarcasm?" she said.

"Who? Me?" said Yoless innocently.

"All right, all right, you've made your point. What's so special about a Blackbury Phantom, anyway?"

"They used to make them here," said Johnny. "They were quite famous, I think. Grandad used to have one."

They raised their eyes to the dark shape of Blackdown. It had loomed over the town even back in 1996, but then it had a TV mast.

"That's it?" said Kirsty. "Men just sitting on hills and listening?"

"Well, Blackbury wasn't very important," said Johnny. "We made jam and pickles and rubber boots and that was about it."

"I wonder what's going to go wrong tonight?" said Yoless.

"We could climb up there and find out," said Johnny. "Let's go and get the others-"

"Hang on," said Kirsty. "Think, will you? How do you know we might not cause what's going to go wrong tonight?"

Johnny hesitated. For a moment he looked like a statue. Then he said:

"No. If we start thinking like that we'll never do anything."

"We've already messed up the future once! Everything we do affects the future!"

"It always has. It always will. So what? Let's get the others."

Running Into Time

There was no question of using the roads, not with the police still looking for a Bigmac who, with a wardrobe of costumes to chose from, had chosen to go back in time wearing a German soldier's uniform.

They'd have to use the fields and footpaths. Which meant we'll have to leave the trolley," said Yoless. "We can shove it in the bushes here."

"That means we'll be stuck here if anything goes wrong!" said Bigmac.

"Well, I'm not lugging it through mud and stuff."

"What if someone finds it?"

"There's Guilty," said Kirsty. "He's better than a guard dog."

The cat that was better than a guard dog opened one eye and yawned. It was true. No-one would want to be bitten by that mouth. It would be like being savaged by a plague laboratory.

Then he curled into a more comfortable ball.

"Yes, but it belongs to Mrs Tachyon," said Johnny, weakly.

"Hey, we're not thinking sensibly - again," said Kirsty. "All we have to do is go back to 1996, go up to Blackdown on the bus, then come back in time again and we'll be up there-"

"No!" shouted Wobbler.

His face was bright red with terror.

"I'm not stopping here by myself again! I'm stuck here, remember? Supposing you don't come back?"

"Of course we'll come back," said Johnny. "We came back this time, didn't we?"

"Yes, but supposing you don't? Supposing you get run over by a lorry or something? What'll happen to me?"

Johnny thought about the long envelope in his inside pocket. Yoless and Bigmac were looking at their feet. Even Kirsty was looking away.

"Here," said Wobbler suspiciously. "This is time travel, right? Do you know something horrible?"

"We don't know anything," said Bigmac.

"Absolutely right," said Kirsty.

"What, us? We don't know a thing," said Johnny miserably.

"Especially about burgers," said Bigmac.

Kirsty groaned. "Bigmac!"

Wobbler glared at them.

"Oh, yes," he muttered. "It's "wind up ole Wobbler" time again, right? Well, I'm going to stay with the trolley, right? It's not going anywhere without me, right?"

He stared from one to the other, daring them to disagree.

"All right, I'll stay with you," said Bigmac. "I'll probably only get shot anyway, if I go anywhere."

"What're you going to do up on Blackdown, anyway?" said Wobbler. "Find this Mr Hodder and tell him to listen really carefully? Wash out his ears? Eat plenty of carrots?"

"They're for good eyesight," said Yoless helpfully. "My granny said they used to believe carrots helped you see in-"

"Who cares!"

"I don't know what we can do," said Johnny. "But ... something must have gone wrong, right? Maybe the message didn't get through. We'll have to make sure it does."

"Look," said Kirsty.

The sun had already set, leaving an afterglow in the sky. And there were clouds over Blackdown. Dark clouds.

"Thunderstorm," she said. "They always start up there."

There was a growl in the distance.

Blackbury was a lot smaller once they were in the hills. A lot of it wasn't there at all.

"Wouldn't it be great if we could tell everyone what they're going to do wrong," said Johnny, when they paused for breath.

"No-one'd listen," said Yoless. "Supposing someone turned up in 1996 and said they were from 2040 and started telling everyone what to do? They'd get arrested, wouldn't they?"

Johnny looked ahead of them. The sunset sky lurked behind bars of angry cloud.

"The listeners'll be up at the Tumps," said Kirsty. "There's an old windmill up there. It was some kind of look-out post during the war. Is, I mean."

"Why didn't you say so before?" said Johnny.

"It's different when it's now."

The Tumps were five mounds on top of the down. They grew heather and wortleberries. It was said that dead kings were buried there in the days when your enemy was at arm's length rather than ten thousand feet above your head.

The clouds were getting lower. It was going to be one of those Blackbury storms, a sort of angry fog that hugged the hills.

"You know what I'm thinking?" said Kirsty.

"Telephone lines," said Johnny. "They go out in thunderstorms."

"Right."

"But the policeman said there was a motorbike," said Yoless.

"Starts first time, does it?" said Johnny. "I remember my grandad said that before you were qualified to ride a Blackbury Phantom you had to learn to push it fifty metres, cursing all the way. He said they were great bikes when they got started."

"How long is it till ... you know ... the bombs?"

"About an hour."

Which means they're already on the way, Johnny thought. Men have walked out onto airfields and loaded bombs onto planes with names like Dormers and Heinkels. And other men have sat round in front of a big map of England, only it'd be in German, and there'd be crayon marks around Slate. Blackbury probably wasn't even on the map. And then they'd get up and walk out and get into the planes and take off. And men on the planes would get out their maps and draw lines on them; lines which crossed at Slate. Your mission for tonight: bomb the goods yard at Slate.

And then the roar filled his ears. The drone of the engines came up through his legs. He could taste the oil and the sweat and the stale rubber smell of the oxygen mask. His body shook with the throb of the engines and also with the thump of distant explosions. One was very close and the whole aircraft seemed to slide sideways. And he knew what the mission for tonight was. Your mission for tonight is to get home safely. It always was.

Another explosion shook the plane, and someone grabbed him.

"What?"

"It's weird when you do that!" shouted Kirsty, above the thunder. "Come on! It's dangerous out here! Haven't you got enough sense to get out of the rain?"

"It's starting to happen," Johnny whispered, while the storm broke around him.

"What is?"

"The future!"

He blinked as the rain started to plaster his hair against his head. He could feel time stretching out around him. He could feel its slow movement as it carried forward all those grey bombs and those white doorsteps, pulling them together like bubbles being swirled around a whirlpool. They were all earned along by it. You couldn't break out of it because you were part of it. You couldn't steer a train.

"We'd better get him under cover!" shouted Yoless as lightning hit something a little way off. "He doesn't look well at all!"

They staggered on, occasionally lurking under a wind-bent tree to get their breath back.

There was a windmill among the Tumps. It had been built on one of the mounds, although the sails had long gone. The others put their arms around Johnny and ran through the soaking heather until they reached it and climbed the steps.

Yoless hammered on the door. It opened a fraction.

"Good lord!" said a voice. It sounded like the voice of a young man. "What're you? A circus?"