First published in Great Britain in 2021 by Canongate Books Ltd, 14 High Street, Edinburgh EH1 1TE
canongate.co.uk
This digital edition first published in 2021 by Canongate Books
Copyright © Patience Agbabi, 2021
The right of Patience Agbabi to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available on
request from the British Library
ISBN 978 1 78689 990 3
eISBN 978 1 78689 991 0
LEXICO’GRAPHER. n.s.
[λεξιχὀυ and γφάϕω; lexicographe, French.]
A writer of dictionaries; a harmless
drudge, that busies himself in tracing
the original, and detailing the signification
of words.
– Dr Johnson
Thirty days hath September,
April, June and November.
All the rest have thirty-one,
Excepting February alone,
Which hath twenty-eight days clear
And twenty-nine in each leap year.
– Anon
To Jeremy, for reminding me that history is not what happened but a story of what happened.
Chapter 01:00
STOP, THIEF!
Chapter 02:00
ACTION REPLAY
Chapter 03:00
MC2 MINUS THE SQUARED
Chapter 04:00
CONFESSION OF A CAT BURGLAR
Chapter 05:00
THE LEAPING LAMBORGHINI
Chapter 06:00
THE VICIOUS CIRCLE
Chapter 07:00
CODE-BREAKING
Chapter 08:00
ANNO, ANON AND NONA
Chapter 09:00
MELTDOWN
Chapter 10:00
THE LITERATI
Chapter 11:00
THE LITTERATI
Chapter 12:00
12 SECONDS DEAD
Chapter 13:00
PORTIA
Chapter 14:00
PRIME SUSPECT
Chapter 15:00
FRANCIS
Chapter 16:00
BAMBOOZLED
Chapter 17:00
THE UNEXPECTED EXITING OF EIGHT
Chapter 18:00
ABOUT TIME
Chapter 19:00
MAKING HISTORY
Chapter 20:00
THE 2ND OF SEPTEMBER 1752
Chapter 21:00
CARNIVAL OF THE CALENDAR
Chapter 22:00
THIEF-TAKING
Chapter 23:00
THE PRESENT
Chapter 00:00
THE FUTURE
Acknowledgements
Chapter 01:00
STOP, THIEF!
It’s summer solstice, the longest day, Monday the 21st of June 2021. The sun rose at 4:43 this morning and won’t set till 9:21 this evening. Today, I’m going on a school trip to the Museum of the Past, the Present and the Future. I’m so excited that I got up with the sun and couldn’t eat any breakfast even though Grandma woke early to cook it.
I place the mozzarella onto the white flatbread, fold it and squeeze it into my white lunchbox. As I close the lid, Grandma stops my hand.
‘Elle, this your cheese sandwich not enough. Pack some fruit-o!’
‘There’s no time to chop the apple, Grandma. We’ll be late.’
I look at my best friend, Big Ben, who is sitting at our table. He’s just finished eating MY breakfast, fish fished from the pepper soup with fresh boiled yam, and he didn’t cough once! He’s already had porridge and two slices of toast at home. He doesn’t usually collect me from The Mush-Rooms before school but today’s a special day and demands the special-day routine. We have to leave at 8:25 exactly. I won an annual poetry competition and I’m going to read my poem at the museum. I’m nervous as well as excited but if we stick to the special-day routine, it will help me stay calm.
Grandma does big-eyes.
‘Leapling never late.’
I smile. She has a point. Big Ben and I are both Leaplings with The Gift, which means we were born on the 29th of February and have the ability to leap through time to any year, date or hour we want. Only a tiny percentage of Leaplings have The Gift. Those Leaplings and their families all swear the Oath of Secrecy to protect us from exploitation. If bad Annuals found out about our Gift, they might kidnap us and make us commit crimes that the normal police would never detect. We must be discreet when we leap and reserve our talent for when it’s absolutely necessary. Leaping takes it out of you.
Grandma pulls a transparent fruit carton out of the fridge.
‘White grapes,’ she pretends to read.
I smile at her joke. Grandma can’t read but she hopes I’ll eat them if it SAYS the grapes are white even though, strictly speaking, they’re green. Only Grandma can get away with that. I’m autistic and she knows wordplay’s one of my favourite things ever. I mainly eat white food, otherwise I get sensory overload from the sight, smell and taste of it. But over the past few months my sensory issues have been less severe and I’ve been a bit more confident trying new things, so I think maybe I’ll let her pack them today. I nod and she begins washing the grapes under the cold tap.
‘My Chronophone says 8:22,’ says Big Ben.
He’s autistic too and loves to time things. Thank goodness he said that – I almost forgot to pack my own phone. I turn from Grandma to run my hand under the sofa bed where I sleep and there it is, my silver Chronophone. It’s just like a mobile phone, but it can send messages across time. Holding it, I remember my leap-birthday celebration at this table last year when Big Ben and I were 3-leap, which is 12, and our friends MC2 and GMT were 4-leap, 16. That’s when MC2 gave me and Big Ben these special phones. They weren’t a birthday present. We helped break up a crime ring working under Le Temps, who took orders from the big bad boss, Millennia. Millennia’s old and well-spoken and looks respectable but she’s evil incarnate and threatened to DESTROY me. The Chronophones marked our status as Level 1 Infinites.
I LOVE being an Infinite. The Infinites are a youth group who fight crimes on the timeline for a better, greener future. We work for Infinity but no one’s ever seen her! Our symbol is the infinity sign: ∞. We each have a code name based on our real name. When you say Elle, it sounds exactly the same as my code name: L. This is all TOP SECRET. Promise you won’t tell anyone!
I pack my Chronophone and lunchbox into my rucksack and Big Ben stands up. He’s so tall and Grandma’s so small, it’s like he’s twice her size. Grandma hugs me extra tight because she’s so proud I won the poetry competition and knows I’m nervous with excitement about reading my poem. She waves at Big Ben. As the two of us walk down the stairs, I hear her voice behind me.
‘Be strong and of a good courage,’ she says.
It’s the first day of Time-Travel Week when we’re off school timetable for five days. We won’t LITERALLY travel through time every day; sometimes it’s workshops where we think outside time and space. Big Ben and I reach school at 8:55 so we’re not late but everyone else attending the trip is already outside on the school field.
We’re the only two day-pupils; all the other children are boarders. Jake and Maria wave us over. Jake’s brown fringe is longer than ever and his freckles stand out more in the summer. Maria’s just had her long black hair cropped short so she doesn’t have to tie it up when she high jumps. We sit down with them on the grass, which is already dry. It’s going to be a very hot day.
I’m in Eighth Year at Intercalary International now. The whole class and three grown-ups
are assembled: Mrs C Eckler, Mr C Eckler and Mrs Grayling. Mrs C Eckler, my form tutor, teaches Past, Present and Future (aka PPF) so she arranged the trip and I can tell she’s nervous because she keeps twiddling the flower in her pinned-up ginger hair; Mr C Eckler’s coming to help out, wearing his sunglasses as usual but at least it’s summer; and Mrs Grayling teaches maths, is tall and strong like a javelin thrower and loves the year 1752. She’s been there so many times she keeps bumping into different versions of herself. Which must hurt!
As we’re a large group and it’s sunny and dry, Mrs C Eckler says leaping from the school field is better than leaping from Block T. Block T’s the only school building you can leap from and to. The rest of the school is coated with Anti-Leap, a special material used for the prison and other important Leapling buildings to stop people breaking in or breaking out. It can be activated or deactivated like an alarm. Here it’s supposed to protect pupils from Leapling intruders at all times. It’s also supposed to stop pupils leaping away but I managed to do it last year by mistake!
Mrs C Eckler checks we all have a packed lunch then makes us stand to form a Chrono, a circle for leaping.
‘It’s summer solstice. We can pretend to be the standing stones of Stonehenge.’
Stonehenge is Mrs C Eckler’s favourite place ever. She says it’s best at winter solstice when it’s dark and cold and quiet. At summer solstice there are too many tourists. I check my watch. It’s 9:00. My hair is cornrowed tightly against my head and I’m wearing my long-sleeved white tunic and matching trousers to keep me cool. All eighteen of us hold hands in the Chrono. Big Ben’s on my right; Mrs C Eckler’s on my left. Big Ben sneezes and I feel sorry for him being outside in the field in the middle of summer. His hayfever gets quite bad but thankfully he’s OK when he’s running or leaping. Mrs C Eckler makes sure I’m wearing my leap band so I don’t get leapsickness. It works like a travel-sickness wristband but looks like a gold bangle.
‘Close your eyes, everyone,’ she says, ‘and concentrate on the Museum of the Past, the Present and the Future. Allow us to guide you to the landing spot.’
She means the adults. None of us pupils have been to the museum before. I feel my body go fizzy with energy and squeeze Big Ben’s hand tight. He enjoys the excitement of leaping and so do I, but my sensitivities kick in so I always find it challenging. Hopefully the leap band will work this time. At least it’s only leaping through space, not through space and time. Mrs C Eckler clears her throat.
‘We’ve arrived. That only took a few seconds. Well done, everyone. You may open your eyes but please remain holding hands.’
I slowly open my eyes and blink. Our circle is surrounded by a much larger circle of stones obviously based on Stonehenge, except these stones look like giant ice cubes. Not the clear ice cubes you’d put in a drink, they’re cloudier than that, but not totally white like snow blocks either. They dazzle so brightly, I have to squint to appreciate them. They look like they’re melting in the sun but when I touch one, it’s totally dry. Then I get it. This is an outdoor sculpture to symbolise global warming.
Our visit will begin in the 1752 Gallery, which is in the basement. The museum arranges everything by floor, so when you enter at ground level it’s The Present, which changes annually, then each level you go up, it gets more futuristic. They even have a Chronophone that an explorer brought back from 2440; it’s made of materials no one’s invented yet! Big Ben starts to climb the spiral staircase two steps at a time with his long legs because he’s excited about the far future artefacts but I pull him back. We have to follow the plan and the tour begins with the past. I look down at page one of the itinerary; I’m on it!
9:15 The 1752 Gallery Introduction: Mrs Zhong
9:25 The Story of an Object: Anno (Music, Maths and Movement School)
9:30 1752 Poetry Prize Presentation (2021): Elle Ifíè (Intercalary International School)
Big Ben and I jog down the spiral staircase, which is a bit naughty because you’re not allowed to run in a museum, but we’re athletes so we sometimes forget we’re not in training! We slow down before we reach the bottom stair. The 1752 Gallery is circular, its walls lined with objects in glass cases like teapots and snuff boxes and hanging ballads, poems they sang about prisoners to entertain the crowd before they were hung! But the museum assistants don’t make us sit in a circle, they make us sit in rows like in school, in case we accidentally hold hands in a Chrono and end up in another time and place! I don’t think they trust schoolchildren very much. I’m glad when they leave the room to go back to their offices.
The first session begins. The curator, Mrs Zhong, is small, wearing a black skirt suit and heavy black-rimmed glasses. She looks stern and has a slight accent.
‘Welcome to the 1752 Gallery. As you may know, 1752 was a very special leap year. Raise your hands if you know why.’
‘The 11-day leap,’ says Jake, without putting his hand up.
Mrs Zhong frowns at his disobedience. ‘Could anyone tell me the significance of the 11-day leap?’
I know the answer. On Wednesday September the 2nd 1752, EVERYONE in England leapt 11 days into the future! That night, Leaplings and Annuals went to bed and when they woke up, it was Thursday September the 14th! Leaplings didn’t hold hands in a Chrono and transport all the Annuals in the middle like luggage. This was a leap by law. The government changed from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar and to make it work, they cut 11 days in time!
But I don’t put my hand up to say this out loud because I’m so nervous about doing my reading. If I speak, the words will come out in the wrong order or jammedtogetherinonelongword-likeGerman.
I zone out of the discussion until Mrs Zhong says something about 1752 being the favourite holiday destination for Leaplings with The Gift and notices Big Ben has raised his hand.
‘Is that why Mrs Grayling goes there 23 times in 10 years?’
I look at Mrs Grayling. She’s gone bright pink but she’s smiling, knowing Big Ben didn’t mean to be unkind. Everyone knows she’s been to 1752 a lot but Big Ben’s the only one who’s kept tabs whenever she’s spoken about it. He must be feeling relaxed to ask a question in a place he’s never visited before. Mrs C Eckler twiddles her hair flower.
‘Perhaps, Mrs Grayling, you could tell the children about the Carnival of the Calendar.’
Mrs Grayling is a paler shade of pink now. ‘Very well, since my secret’s out. I visit 1752 to attend an event on the eve of the 2nd of September called the Carnival of the Calendar. It’s an outdoor festival of music, poetry and dance to celebrate the 11-day leap. Mostly Leaplings attend but a few local Annuals help organise it. It’s hidden from the 1752 population but, to be honest, most of them were a bit cross about losing out on the 11 days so the last thing they’d want to do is celebrate.
‘It’s almost impossible to obtain a ticket and impossible to sneak in. I’ve only managed to attend twice; maybe I’ll never be able to attend again.’ Mrs Grayling sighs. ‘Leaplings come from all over the timeline so they had the wisdom to severely limit the numbers. Remember, the past is fixed. You can’t change it. If a thousand people attended that night, that’s what happened.’
Mrs Zhong raises her eyebrows ever so slightly like she disapproves of the Carnival. But I LOVE the sound of it. When I listen to music, I feel like I’ve gone back in time to the place it was made; poetry’s like spells that only work if you say them out loud; and dance is what MC2 and Kwesi do when they’re signing together. Kwesi’s an Infinite too who speaks with his hands. I can’t imagine Mrs Grayling dancing but I like her a bit more now I’ve seen her other side. Thinking about that helps me relax. Mrs Zhong continues her talk.
‘Leaplings, there are plenty more important historical reasons to visit 1752. Many tourists wish to see their favourite museum artefacts when they were new. We get lots of donations.’ She smiles. ‘I work with a very specialised time-travel team to authenticate them. Every object has a story; we have to make sure the story is true. An
d check the objects haven’t been stolen. Any questions?’
Several hands go up but I find myself on my feet. I didn’t mean to stand up; it’s just habit. Mrs C Eckler has been helping me break it. We always had to stand in primary school but we don’t in secondary. I sit down, embarrassed. But Mrs Zhong smiles at me.
‘You must be Elle. I’ve read your poem; it’s unique. Please ask your question.’
‘Do you get lots of stolen goods?’
‘Rarely stolen. We get lots of 1752 artefacts that are of no use to us. A time-tourist might purchase a rag doll in 1752 for their child back home in the present but their child rejects it. They donate it to us. The problem is, the item’s brand new. It hasn’t aged 269 years, so we reject it too. Whereas if someone discovers or inherits an object passed down through generations, my experts check out its history.’
Big Ben is shuffling in his seat. I can tell he’s desperate to ask another question. He raises his hand and I’m pleased Mrs Zhong chooses him again.
‘Do people steal from the museum?’
‘A very good question. Thefts are very rare. Rarer than Leaplings with The Gift! We’ve only ever had two burglaries, both from this gallery, many, many years ago.’
‘What did they steal?’ Jake, and he didn’t put his hand up. Again!
‘Sorry, we’re not allowed to disclose the details to the general public.’ Mrs Zhong purses her lips like she’s stopping the words coming out by mistake. As she says this, I’m aware someone just leapt into the corner of the room. She’s tall and tanned with long black hair wound up on her head in an elaborate sculpture of the Eiffel Tower that reminds me of Season, our friend from 2048, but this woman is younger. She could be the same age as Mrs C Eckler, which is 37. Her mid-blue jeans and jacket are made of a shimmering fabric that hasn’t been invented yet. I watch closely in case they change colour. She walks into the centre of the room like she owns it and holds out her hand to Mrs Zhong.
‘Anno. And you must be Mrs Zhong. Sorry I’m early, something cropped up. I need to speak NOW so I can attend an important meeting.’
The Time-Thief Page 1
