by Heather Dyer
CHAPTER 7
HOME AGAIN
Hannah’s father came downstairs looking puzzled. “They aren’t here,” he said. “They’ve gone.”
“Gone?” said Hannah’s mother. “Don’t be silly. Did you check the bathroom?”
“Yes. They aren’t in the front room, either. Or the garden. They aren’t anywhere.”
Hannah’s heart thumped. She would have to tell her parents everything. But just as she opened her mouth, the doorbell rang.
“Perhaps that’s them,” said her father.
They all went hopefully down the hall, but when they opened the door they found a solemn-looking police officer on the step.
“Mrs. Grubb?” he said. “Are these two yours?” And out from behind him stepped Jake and Simon.
“Jake! Simon!” said Aunt Rachel. “Where have you been?”
“I found them on the South Circular,” said the officer, “having a picnic.”
“A picnic!”
“Look at you! You’re soaking wet,” said Hannah’s mother. “And where are your shoes?”
“We didn’t think we’d be walking far,” said Jake, stiffly.
At least they were safe, thought Hannah. But where was the carpet? She glanced down the path. There was no sign of it. Had they lost it? Or had it been taken from them?
“Go on in, then, boys,” said the officer, “before you catch a cold.”
Simon ran straight upstairs with his backpack bouncing. Jake stomped up wearily in his soggy socks.
“We’re very grateful, officer,” Aunt Rachel said. “We’re not from here, you see. We’re visiting. Please come in and have a cup of tea.”
“Thank you,” said the police officer, “but I can’t stop. We’ve got our hands full this morning. You’ll have heard about the UFO, I take it?”
“Yes!” said Hannah’s father. “What do you think it is?”
“Some sort of hoax. Couple of kids, probably.”
“Well, I hope you find them, officer.”
“Oh, we will,” said the police officer, and off he went.
“A picnic?” said Hannah’s father, in disbelief.
“You don’t think they were running away, do you, Rachel?” said Hannah’s mother.
“No, no!” said Aunt Rachel, shocked. “They were probably just exploring.”
“Exploring? This is London, Rachel! They can’t just go exploring whenever they like. Anything could have happened.”
Aunt Rachel sighed. “I know, I know. I’ll have a word with them.”
They went back toward the kitchen, talking. Hannah waited until they had gone, then she ran upstairs to the boys’ room and burst in without knocking. “Where is it?” she demanded.
“Where’s what?” said Jake. He was hopping on one foot, trying to extricate the other from his wet jeans.
“The carpet!”
“Oh — that. It’s outside.”
Hannah went to the window. Sure enough, there was the carpet. It was rolled up against the wall, beside the garbage cans.
“You can’t leave it there,” said Hannah. “What if someone takes it?”
“No one will take it,” said Jake. “It’s soaking wet.”
“You got it wet?” cried Hannah.
“It rained,” explained Simon. “That’s why it won’t fly anymore.”
“You mean it’s ruined?”
“It wasn’t intentional,” said Jake, climbing into bed.
All of a sudden Hannah felt like crying. Ever since she’d woken up, she’d been imagining that the boys had either been drowned at sea or were lying on the ground somewhere with their heads smashed open. Now here they were, without a scratch on them. It hadn’t occurred to them to apologize for leaving her behind, or to thank her for keeping their secret — and to top it off, they’d ruined the carpet! She yanked Jake’s duvet. “Get up! We’ve got to bring it in and dry it out.”
Jake snatched his duvet back. “We’ll bring it in later.”
“Later will be too late.”
“Well, we can’t bring it in now, can we?” said Jake.
“Why not?”
“For starters, your mother will see.”
“See what?” said a familiar voice, and they all looked around to see Hannah’s mother standing in the doorway.
“You’ll see how tired we are,” said Jake. “It must be jet lag.”
“The cure for jet lag,” said Hannah’s mother firmly, “is to adapt to the local time zone as soon as possible. Get up, come downstairs and have some breakfast. Hannah, let’s leave the boys to get dressed, shall we?”
Hannah shot Jake a dark look, then followed her mother downstairs.
***
Absently, Hannah resumed tapping the top of her boiled egg with the back of her spoon. Perhaps the damage to the carpet wasn’t permanent. Perhaps, once she’d dried it with her hair dryer, it would be all right again. But first they would have to get the carpet upstairs without her mother noticing.
“Are you going to eat that egg, Hannah?” said her mother sharply, “or just keep tapping it?”
Hannah put down her spoon and began picking off the shell. If they did get the carpet flying again, just imagine where they could go! She could see herself flying over the Alps wearing her woolly hat and winter coat. Or skimming the treetops of the Amazon forest at dusk. Or crossing the Sahara desert at dawn. Or —
Just then, Jake and Simon came thundering down the stairs.
“Ah. Here you are,” said Hannah’s mother. “Would you like a boiled egg, boys?”
“Yes, please,” said the boys.
To Hannah’s astonishment, her cousins no longer looked tired or wet. They ate their boiled eggs, and then Simon downed a glass of orange juice and started tucking into a bowl of cornflakes. Jake ate two pieces of toast with butter and jam and then asked Hannah’s mother if she had any granola. And all the while he was bombarding Hannah’s father with questions like, “Where’s the Bank of England?” and “How much are the Crown Jewels worth?”
“Jake! Let your uncle read his paper,” said Aunt Rachel.
“I don’t mind,” said Hannah’s father, who was happy to answer all of Jake’s questions at length. “It’s good to see a thirst for knowledge.”
Hannah frowned. Jake was up to something, she was sure of it. But what?
As soon as they had finished eating, Jake and Simon ran back upstairs.
Quickly, Hannah scooped up the last few spoonfuls of egg, then pushed back her chair and went after them.
“Tell the boys we’re leaving in five minutes, would you?” her mother called.
But Hannah had already gone.
CHAPTER 8
THE STOPWATCH
Hannah found the boys sitting on the floor of their room with a collection of maps and guidebooks lying open between them. They had their coats on, and Jake had a large camera hanging from a strap around his neck.
“We’re leaving in five minutes,” Hannah informed them. “We have to bring the carpet in before we go.”
Jake waved his hand dismissively. “Relax,” he said. “There’s plenty of time.”
“No, there isn’t!”
“Yes, there is,” said Simon, grinning. “We’ve got all the time we want, now that we’ve got this.” He showed her the stopwatch. “It stops time. Philippe Fontaine gave it to me.”
Hannah stared at the stopwatch. It was the one she’d found in the boys’ room while they were out on the carpet. “You can’t stop time,” she said, uncertainly.
“Actually, you can,” said Jake. “We just did.”
“When?”
“Just now. We went downstairs and got some orange juice. Then we came upstairs again and had a nap.”
“I didn’t see you,” said Hannah.
�
�That’s because you were stopped,” said Jake.
Hannah frowned. She had pressed the button last night, but nothing had stopped then. Or had it? Her parents had been sleeping very soundly.
“Hold on to my sleeve,” said Simon, “and I’ll show you.”
“Show me later,” said Hannah. “There isn’t time now.”
As if to prove it, they all heard Hannah’s mother shouting, “Ready, boys?”
“Coming!” said Jake. But he made no move to go downstairs. Instead, he linked his arm in Simon’s. “Well?” he said to Hannah. “Are you coming, or not?”
“No!”
“Suit yourself. Ready, Simon?” said Jake.
“Ready,” said Simon.
“No. Wait!” Hannah reached out to stop him, but just as she touched Simon’s sleeve, he said, “Time is motion,” and pressed the button on the stopwatch.
Instantly, everything was muffled. It was like when you put your head under water or put your fingers in your ears. “What happened?” said Hannah. Her voice sounded strange, and she waggled her jaw to make her ears pop.
“Time has stopped,” said Jake.
Hannah went to the window. Her father was standing beside the car. She opened the window and leaned out. “Dad?” she shouted. Her father didn’t move. Nothing did. The traffic had stopped. Mrs. Miles from next door had paused in the middle of hanging out her washing. Even the clouds were stationary. It was as though the whole world was just a stage set.
“It’s all right,” said Simon. “It all comes back when the stopwatch gets to zero.”
But Hannah had already rushed downstairs. She stopped in the kitchen doorway. Her mother had paused in the middle of making egg-and-cress sandwiches, like a clockwork toy whose batteries had died.
“Mum?” said Hannah. Her mother didn’t turn around. Hannah crept closer and tugged her mother’s sleeve. “Mum!”
Slowly, her mother began to topple. If it hadn’t been for the boys rushing in just then, she might have crashed to the floor. But just in time, Jake caught her and set her upright.
Furiously, Hannah turned on him. “Bring her back again!”
“We can’t,” said Jake.
“Not until the numbers get to zero.”
“When will that be?”
“Not long,” said Jake. “We’ll be back before they even notice that we’ve gone.”
“Gone? Where are you going?”
“To the Bank of England,” said Simon.
“The Bank of England!” cried Hannah. “What are you going there for?”
But Jake was already heading to the door.
“Wait! You can’t leave me here on my own! Anything could happen.”
“Nothing will happen,” said Jake. “When the stopwatch gets to zero, everything will start up again, just like before.”
“What am I supposed to do till then?”
“I don’t know. Read a book or something.”
They both went out. Hannah heard the front door bang behind them. Then silence. She studied her mother’s unresponsive face. There was something unnerving about being alone with someone who was neither awake nor asleep. Hannah stood for a moment, dithering. Then she shouted, “Wait for me!” and hurried out after her cousins.
CHAPTER 9
THE SILENT CITY
Jake and Simon had already wheeled the bicycles out of the garage and were cycling down the street. Jake was on Hannah’s father’s mountain bike, and Simon was flying along behind him on Hannah’s old pink bike with training wheels. The boys rounded the bend and disappeared.
Still wearing her pink robe and monster-feet slippers, Hannah hurried to the garage, got out her own bike and, forgetting all about the magic carpet, pedaled after the others. She caught up with them at the end of the street, and they cycled on in close formation.
The world was still and silent, like early on a Sunday morning when everyone is still asleep. Nobody spoke. The only sound was the whir of their tires on the asphalt and the flutter of the little pink windmill on Simon’s handlebars.
Hannah glanced up at the windows of the houses on either side. Had the people inside all just ground to a halt in the middle of talking on the phone or having a shower or making a cup of tea? And what about the people in the banks and the restaurants and the factories? Was everybody motionless? What about the gorillas in the zoo? The fish in the sea? The boats and the trains and the airplanes? Was it possible that everything had stopped?
They overtook a woman sitting on a motionless bike, and two small boys on scooters, both with one leg poised behind them, mid-kick. They cycled across busy intersections, through red lights and in and out of stationary traffic. The closer they got to the center of London, the more crowded the streets became. Soon the sidewalks were full of people who had all paused in mid-stride: business people with briefcases, parents with strollers, schoolchildren crossing the road. Hannah stopped her bike to stroke a fat Dalmatian on a leash, but it felt hard and cold, like stroking a sofa, and Hannah quickly drew her hand away. They passed a sidewalk café full of people holding cups of coffee and forkfuls of cake halfway to their mouths. And then they came to a jewelry store with a display of watches in the window.
Jake braked.
“What are we stopping here for?” said Hannah. “I thought you wanted to see the Bank of England?”
“Wait here,” said Jake. “I won’t be long.” He laid his bike on the sidewalk and went into the shop. The door banged shut behind him.
Hannah looked at Simon anxiously. “What’s he up to?”
Simon shrugged.
“I’d better go and get him,” said Hannah.
“I’ll come, too,” said Simon.
So they laid their bikes next to Jake’s and went inside. They found him peering into a glass case displaying necklaces and rings. There was no one else in the store except for an old man in a purple tie standing like a mannequin behind the counter.
“I told you to wait outside,” said Jake, annoyed.
“Why? What are you doing?” said Hannah.
“Just looking,” said Jake. He tried the door of the display case, but it was locked. “It’s not fair,” he said. “All those necklaces, just sitting there. I bet each one of them costs more than a house. If I could only —”
Then it happened. There was a blast of air, like when you’re waiting at the station and an express train rushes through, then all the sounds were back. A voice behind them said, “Can I help you?” and they turned to see the old man with the purple tie smiling at them.
“No thanks,” said Hannah, flushing.
“Take your time,” said the man. “If you need anything, let me know.”
“We were just leaving,” said Hannah. She took Jake’s sleeve and pulled him outside. Time was marching on again, and so were the pedestrians. But where they had left their bikes, a crowd had gathered. “Oh, no!” said Hannah.
An old woman was being helped up off the ground. She had dropped her bag of groceries, and potatoes were rolling in all directions. “I didn’t even see those bikes!” she was saying. “They just appeared.”
A man in a suit was sitting on the sidewalk with his trouser leg rolled up. He was dabbing at his knee with a tissue. “Are these your bikes?” he said. “They’re a safety hazard.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Hannah. Her face was scarlet.
“You can’t just leave them wherever you want, you know,” said someone else. “People could get hurt.”
“People have been hurt!” said the man.
The children helped the old woman retrieve her groceries, and she hobbled away. The business person rolled his trouser leg back down, glared at them and limped off. One by one the bystanders departed, and soon the sidewalk was a river of faces once again.
“We need more time,” said Jake. “Simon, where’s the
stopwatch?”
“We can’t do it here,” protested Hannah. “Everyone will see.”
“No, they won’t,” said Jake. “Look.”
Hannah saw that he was right. The passersby were looking straight ahead, thinking only of their destinations.
“Ready?” said Jake.
“Ready,” said Simon.
Just in time, Hannah grabbed Simon’s arm.
“Time is motion!” said Simon, and pressed the button.
Instantly, the world stopped. The pedestrians were now as lifeless as an army of waxworks from Madame Tussauds.
“Let’s go,” said Jake.
“Don’t you think it’s time we were getting home?” said Hannah.
But Jake had already mounted his bike and was pedaling away. Hannah hesitated. She had noticed a stray potato on the ground. Not knowing what else to do, she picked it up and put it in the pocket of her robe. Then she got on her bike and cycled after the others.
CHAPTER 10
BUCKINGHAM PALACE
They crossed Vauxhall Bridge, weaving in and out of stationary vehicles, and went down Vauxhall Bridge Road and along Spur Road. And then there it was, right in front of them: Buckingham Palace. It looked just like it did on the postcards. The palace guards were standing at attention in their red tunics and bearskin hats, and the Royal Standard on the roof was as stiff as the flag on a sandcastle.
“She’s home!” said Simon, braking.
“Who is?” said Hannah.
“The queen. That’s the Royal Standard. It means she’s here.” Simon dismounted and leaned his bike against the gold-tipped railings.
“What are you doing?” said Jake. “We’re supposed to be going to the Bank of England.”
“We can go there later,” said Simon. “I want to meet the queen.”
“Forget it,” said Jake. “We haven’t time.”
