by Janis Mackay
I laughed nervously. “Well to start with, stay off the road, ok? Jeez, you gave me a fright.” She nodded, squeezed my hands then stared again at Mrs Singh’s shop. I took a deep breath. “I thought you said this was your home – right here?”
She was creeping me out, but I didn’t mind her holding my hand.
She shook her head. “It is and it isna. It was my home. Oh mercy, I need to return back, Saul. It was to be but a brief journey. I imagine yea canna understand. I have to hasten back! And the gold is quite lost.”
Everything was turning quiet, the way it does with snow. “Back?” I repeated, feeling that shiver up my neck again.
She gazed at me with her pale eyes, nodded her head then said in a low voice, “Aye, Saul, back to 1812.”
I couldn’t help laughing, but it came out kinda squeaky. “He-he-he!” I stared at her. She wasn’t laughing. “So, Agatha, you’re kidding me, right?” She shook her head so her long hair swung. Snowflakes landed on her eyelashes. My heart was beating hard. She kept hold of my hand but said nothing. “You’re s..s..serious?” I stammered.
She nodded.
I gulped. “How… how come?”
She sighed. “Ach Saul, tis an awfa long story.” Lowering her voice to a whisper she said, “Yea see, Saul, I am the dutiful daughter of Mister Albert Black.”
She stared at me like she was waiting for something. For me to nod my head, laugh and say, “Oh, right, the Albert Black? Him?” But I didn’t say a word. When it was obvious the name Albert Black meant nothing to me, she cast her eyes down and wrung her small hands together. “He,” she continued, “is a time traveller – or I should say, an ill-starred apprentice, eager to master the hidden art of travelling through time. And I, his sole child, am his assistant!”
I nodded, as though I understood, which of course I didn’t. Maybe I was still on my beanbag, dreaming? But I wasn’t. We were standing on the pavement, in the snow. This was real. Agatha sighed again. “So now Saul, perhaps yea comprehend my predicament? ‘Tis an awfy pickle.”
Miss Agatha Black knew some big words. She talked like an old granny, not a child. She rolled her Rs like a motorbike revving over cobbles. Prrrrrrrrredicament. And what the heck was predicament anyway? “The fact that yea havna heard of Mister Albert Black puts me in the doldrums, Saul,” she said. “It tells me he failed. He was ever thus, born under a halfpenny planet. He didna succeed to shine out in the great books of history as he so desired. He has much to learn regarding the secret art of time travel and, what’s more, he has left me here – an experiment gone horribly wrong, lost in the future.”
And we were left standing in the falling snow outside the shop, me and this strange girl, who had just told me, with her hand on her heart, that she came from two hundred years ago. The snow fell faster and thick flakes swirled around us. I felt a bit embarrassed with her staring helplessly into my eyes, but in a strange way I was excited too, like I’d just landed in a real adventure. Mad as it sounded, and I wasn’t ruling out the possibility that Agatha was totally off the rails, part of me believed her – or wanted to. She seriously sounded old fashioned. She looked the part and didn’t seem to have a clue about the Highway Code. I had to get Mum’s newspaper and Jaffa Cakes, but bumping into a girl from another time was definitely the most interesting thing that had ever happened to me, and I decided to play along with Agatha’s story.
“Wanna see what your house is like now?” I suggested, trying to sound breezy. She nodded, slipped her hand under my elbow and in we went.
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Copyright
Kelpies is an imprint of Floris Books
First published in 2014 by Floris Books
© 2014 Janis Mackay
This eBook edition published in 2014
Janis Mackay has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act 1988 to be identified as the Author of this work.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without the prior permission of Floris Books, 15 Harrison Gardens, Edinburgh www.florisbooks.co.uk
This publisher acknowledges subsidy from
Creative Scotland towards the publication of this volume
British Library CIP data available
ISBN 978–178250–145–9
