‘You did that?’ Lydia was stunned.
Mrs Joyce nodded slowly, her expression contrite. ‘My God, I was such a schemer!’
‘That’s why my brother hates you, isn’t it?’ Lydia realized. ‘Because of what you did to me.’
‘When the Tyrant first arrived here and I realized who he was, it . . . it felt as if I’d been kicked in the stomach. I tried to see him, to tell him how sorry . . . But he wouldn’t even see me. Why should he?’ Anne smiled with self-contempt. ‘“Sorry!” – it’s such a useless word . . . And bit by bit, he started taking over this town and making my life and my son’s as miserable as possible. I loathe him for that,’ Anne said, bitterness twisting her face. ‘For dragging my son into this.’
‘Because of what you did, you ruined the lives of everyone in my family,’ Lydia pointed out coldly.
They watched each other like opponents sizing up one another in a boxing ring.
‘And why did you tell everyone that I’d pushed Frankie in the car-park?’ Lydia asked, her eyes blazing.
‘I thought you’d pushed her, I really did,’ Mrs Joyce replied quietly. ‘From where I was, I saw your hand out and Frankie falling. It was only when Frankie woke up and said what’d really happened that I realized my mistake.’
‘You wanted to believe I’d pushed her,’ Lydia countered bitterly.
Mrs Joyce didn’t deny it. She reached out a tentative hand towards Lydia’s face, then dropped her arm to her side without touching Lydia.
‘Are you . . . are you a ghost?’ Mrs Joyce asked.
Lydia was about to deny it, but then she said, ‘If a ghost is someone who’s out of place and out of time then I guess maybe I am.’
‘D’you want to know something funny,’ Mrs Joyce said sadly. ‘When we all got back to school after Christmas and heard what had happened to you, Frankie just looked at me. I remember she didn’t say a word, she just looked. After that she never said another word to me. So I lost my best friend anyway. I didn’t want to share her with you and as a result I ended up losing her completely. And then when she married Shaun, he didn’t want anything to do with me either – at least not until the Tyrant arrived. Then we had to be on the same side.’
Lydia glanced at Fran who was watching her closely. Mrs Joyce turned to Fran as well.
‘When Mike and Fran became good friends I thought . . . it was as if what I’d done in the past was being made right . . .’
‘I knew you were the one who put the sports cup in my locker. I just knew it.’ Lydia shook her head. ‘If only I’d been able to prove it.’
‘You never did,’ Mrs Joyce said. ‘I remember that before the end of term, you pushed me into our classroom one lunchtime to get me alone and confront me. I think you just wanted to hear me say it, to hear me admit the truth – just once. I was so angry I blurted everything out, to gloat. So you always knew I’d done it but no one believed you.’
Lydia didn’t say a word. She studied Mrs Joyce, her face a mask.
‘We’d better get back to town. There’s a lot to do if we’re going to launch a surprise attack on my brother,’ she said at last.
‘You’re still going to help us?’ Fran asked.
‘Of course. I know where Mike is so I’ll be responsible for trying to get him out,’ Lydia replied.
‘We’ll have to go across the moors and through the town,’ Fran frowned.
‘Can’t we use the tunnels?’ Lydia asked.
‘We’d better not. They’re not as safe during the daytime. We’d be too easy to ambush,’ Fran explained. ‘During the night it’s the other way around. We rule the night.’
Lydia nodded but said nothing.
‘I’m so sorry, Lydia,’ Mrs Joyce said. She tried to put a hand on Lydia’s shoulder but Lydia pulled away.
‘We’d better get going,’ Lydia said. ‘We’ve got a lot to do.’
All the way back to town, Lydia was aware of the wary looks Fran kept directing at her. She knew that Fran would’ve loved to know what she was thinking. Lydia smiled without any real humour. How could Fran know what she was thinking when Lydia herself didn’t even know?
‘Mrs Joyce, you should walk directly in front of us and I’ll walk on the outside, beside Lydia. Lydia, make sure you walk in perfect step with me. That’s the only way we’re going to get away with this. If this works the Guards in the camp will only pick up two images on their mobile radar and gate monitors instead of three. Of course, this is all academic if there are actually Guards by the gates on look-out. Let’s hope we’re lucky.’
‘We need to get off the street as soon as possible,’ Mrs Joyce said, worried.
Fran agreed. They walked slowly past the Night Guards’ camp. Lydia could see the beads of sweat trickling down Fran’s forehead but she didn’t even raise a hand to wipe them away.
‘Across the street. We’re being watched,’ Fran whispered.
A Guard directly opposite had turned around and was now watching them.
‘Stop walking, or they’ll see that there’s three of us,’ Fran urged.
They all stopped walking. Mrs Joyce turned around and pretended to start a conversation with Fran. Lydia held her breath.
Turn away . . . Oh please, turn away . . .
‘You two! Let me see some ID.’ A Guard called out from directly opposite.
Mrs Joyce turned around and slowly they all carried on walking.
‘You two! Didn’t you hear me?’ the Guard shouted.
Without warning, Lydia pushed Fran out of the way and ran across the street to the Guard.
‘Help me! Help me! I’m the one Daniel Henson wants,’ Lydia screamed out.
She ran straight to the startled Guard who grabbed her by her arm.
‘Security to sector 2-R. Repeat! Security to sector 2-R.’ The Guard spoke into the transmitter strapped to his arm.
‘Lydia, you traitor!’ Fran yelled.
Lydia turned back, just in time to see Fran’s look of loathing before she and Mrs Joyce raced off in different directions. The Guard released Lydia and pointed his laser-gun at Mrs Joyce.
‘No!’ Lydia knocked his arm up, spoiling his aim.
Furiously, the Guard swung around to her, his gun levelled straight at her head. Lydia froze. She didn’t even dare to blink. Time slowed down so that every second lasted a lifetime. Lydia watched as the Night Guard’s finger tightened slowly but surely on the trigger. And this time, she knew that the gun wasn’t set on stun.
Chapter Nineteen
You’re Still My Sister
A blast came out of nowhere and knocked the Night Guard flying up into the air. He fell in a crumpled heap about a metre away from Lydia. She stared at him, too afraid to even blink.
‘Are you all right? Did he hurt you?’
Lydia was turned around to face Daniel Henson who was surrounded by bodyguards on all sides.
‘Is . . . is he dead?’ Lydia looked back at the Night Guard who hadn’t moved.
‘No, he’s just stunned,’ Daniel said scornfully. ‘But I would’ve killed him if he’d harmed a hair on your head.’
Lydia took a quick step back, away from Daniel. He saw it and his lips tightened to an angry slash across his face.
‘I don’t know you.’ Lydia shook her head. ‘And I don’t like you. My brother wouldn’t hurt anyone. He was funny and kind and he didn’t even like stepping on ants. You’re not my brother.’
‘Lydia, things happen which change us – all of us,’ Daniel said quietly.
Lydia looked up at her brother. ‘Not that much, Danny. You shouldn’t have let anything, not even my death, change you that much.’
‘You’d have done exactly the same for me, if our positions had been reversed.’
‘No way!’ Lydia denied vehemently. ‘I wouldn’t have turned into a bully and a tyrant.’
A very peculiar smile played over Daniel’s face.
‘Lyddy, you sound very sure of that.’ Even though he was still smiling, Daniel’s voic
e was tinged with something else. Regret? Sadness? But then Lydia realized something else.
Lyddy . . . He’d called her Lyddy. And what he’d said . . . It’d only just sunk in.
‘You . . . you believe me? You believe that I’m your sister?’ Lydia asked, amazed.
‘Of course. I have proof now,’ said Daniel.
‘What proof?’
‘The wound on your arm.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You have a wound on your arm, don’t you?’ asked Daniel. ‘It’s shaped like an S on its side, like a Sidewinder snake.’
‘So?’ Lydia asked.
Daniel nodded. ‘I think it’s time you learnt the truth, Lydia. Come with me.’
Lydia followed Daniel to his private car. She climbed into the back next to her brother but made sure not to touch him. She didn’t want any part of his hatred or need for revenge to rub off on her. It was only when she sat down in the soft, comfortable seats that she realized just how tired she was. When was the last time she’d been asleep? When was the last time she’d eaten? Not that she could eat much anyway. She was too tired. One of Daniel’s bodyguards got into the driver’s seat and started the car. Lydia looked out of the window, holding her breath as the car took off vertically before it flew like an arrow over the houses below.
‘Only four of us in this town – besides the Night Guards – have private air cars. They’re very expensive to buy and to run,’ said Daniel. ‘Plus I’m the one who has to authorize the car permits.’
Lydia frowned at him but said nothing.
Daniel shook his head and smiled with wonder. ‘I still can’t believe you’re here. It’s a miracle. I don’t understand . . . but enough of that. There’s plenty of time for explanations later. Lyddy, there’s so much I want to tell you, so much . . .’
But Lydia hardly heard him. She struggled to keep her eyes open but it was no good. Seconds later she was fast asleep.
‘Lyddy, wake up.’
Lydia opened her eyes slowly. Daniel’s face was smiling down at her. She sat up slowly and looked around. She was on a sofa, back in Daniel’s mansion.
‘Here. Eat this.’
Lydia looked down at the plate Daniel was carrying. A small but thick foil wrapper sat in the middle of the plate.
‘What is it?’
‘A synthetic meat sandwich. What flavour of meat do you want?’ asked Daniel.
‘I don’t understand . . .’
‘Ham? Beef? Chicken?’
‘I’d like ham,’ Lydia said doubtfully.
Daniel put the plate with its foil wrapper into what looked like a small microwave oven. He pressed a couple of buttons. The oven beeped and whirred for a few seconds. Daniel opened the door again and took out the plate. Thick slices of ham spilled out between two thick slices of brown bread. Daniel handed over the plate.
Lydia picked up the sandwich and examined it doubtfully. Synthetic meat . . . That didn’t sound too appetizing at all! Daniel laughed at the expression on her face.
‘Go on! Try it,’ he urged.
Lydia bit gingerly into the sandwich. It was delicious! The moment she started to chew, she realized just how hungry she was. It took all her will-power not to wolf it down.
‘Where’s Mike?’ Lydia asked, between bites. ‘Is he OK?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘You . . . you won’t hurt him.’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I promise,’ Daniel said.
‘How long have I been asleep?’
‘A couple of hours.’
Daniel sat down next to Lydia and waited for her to finish her sandwich. Lydia avoided his gaze. All kinds of other questions about the future came into her head now. Like what had happened to their mum and dad?
‘Mum and Dad . . .’ Lydia began slowly. ‘Are they . . . are they still alive?’
After a brief but definite pause, Daniel slowly shook his head.
‘How did . . . ? No, don’t tell me.’ Lydia didn’t want to know what had happened to their parents. The phrase ‘a little knowledge is a dangerous thing . . .’ spun round in her head. There were so many things she wanted to ask. Years and years’ worth of questions – like were there any tigers or rhinos or elephants or whales left in the world? What had happened to London and the government and the Houses of Parliament? Were there any time machines? Was Coronation Street still on the telly? Could manned Earth spaceships visit Mars yet? Had aliens from other planets visited Earth? Why was everyone so afraid? What had happened to their mum and dad . . . ? What had happened to Daniel? Was there any way that she could change time to stop the motorway accident in the past . . . ?
‘D’you want another sandwich?’ Daniel smiled.
Lydia shook her head. She looked up at him. He looked more like the brother she knew now. Somehow his face seemed softer, less harsh.
‘Has something happened?’ Lydia asked.
Had the Resistance already attacked while Lydia had been asleep? Was that why Daniel was smiling? Because he’d beaten them?
‘Like what?’ Daniel asked.
‘Why’re you being so kind to me all of a sudden?’ Lydia said, bluntly.
‘You’re my sister. This is a really strange situation but you’re still my sister.’ Daniel shrugged. ‘Lyddy, I want you to know that no matter how things look to you at the moment, I do care about you. I’m doing all of this for you.’
‘If that’s true, then will you stop hounding everyone in this town if I ask you?’ Lydia asked. ‘I don’t want you to do it any more. I want you to stop. If you started this for me, you’ll stop for me.’
‘I can’t do that, Lyddy,’ Daniel sighed.
‘Why not?’ Lydia asked unhappily.
Daniel didn’t answer.
‘I didn’t understand why I was brought here, to the future, but I do now. It’s to stop you. To get you to change your mind. Please, Daniel. I’m asking you to stop,’ Lydia pleaded.
‘Come with me.’ Daniel beckoned.
Lydia stood up and followed Daniel out of the room and across the hall. They went upstairs in silence and then along the long, narrow landing to the room at the far end of the corridor. After a brief look at Lydia, Daniel knocked at the door.
‘Come in,’ a woman’s voice summoned.
The voice sent Lydia’s heart racing. All at once, her palms were sweaty and her heart was pounding. Surprised, Lydia realized that she was actually frightened. But why?
Daniel opened the door. Lydia followed him in.
The room was cold, gloomy. A single lamp at the other end of the room gave off the only light. It took several seconds for Lydia’s eyes to adjust to the darkness. This room was filled with books like the one downstairs but, unlike the one downstairs, this room smelt lonely and dark. That was the only way she could describe it. A couple of chairs decorated the room. The floor was polished wood and in the wall adjacent to the door was an unlit fireplace.
With a start Lydia realized that what she had first believed to be a long shadow in the corner of the room was actually a person. Someone was standing there watching her – an old-looking woman leaning heavily on a walking-stick, her face shrouded in shadow. The prickling all over Lydia’s body was back with a vengeance and her blood roared in her ears.
The woman started walking towards her. Her stick made a dull thud as it hit the wooden floor with each step. She was wearing a long dark skirt which reached down to the floor and a white shirt buttoned up to her neck. With each step, the lamplight stole slowly up her body until only her face was still in darkness.
Even when Lydia realized that she was holding her breath, she still didn’t dare to release it. She glanced at Daniel. He, too, was watching the woman as if he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Lydia turned back to the woman, who was once again moving forward. Then all at once Lydia could clearly see her face and her breath came out in a horrified gasp.
The woman’s face was horrible – not so much her
face as her eyes. They seemed to burn right through Lydia’s body. The woman’s face was all deep creases in her forehead and permanently turned-down lips. A scar ran from her right eye across to her right ear, but that wasn’t what made the old woman ugly. It was her expression, full of bitterness and pain and overwhelming hatred. She stared at Lydia and, not once, not once did she blink.
Lydia moved closer towards Daniel. She was trembling and couldn’t stop. She wanted to close her eyes and turn away from the woman before her but she couldn’t. It was as if an invisible clamp had locked onto her head and was stopping her from looking anywhere but at this old woman.
The woman made her slow, painful way over to Lydia to stop directly in front of her. Without a word she unbuttoned her left shirt sleeve and pushed it up past her elbow to her shoulder. Then she turned her arm slightly so that Lydia could take a closer look. Lydia’s heart leapt. The old woman had a smooth, deep-brown scar on the slightly lighter-brown skin of her arm. The scar was shaped like an S on its side, like a Sidewinder snake.
Lydia looked down at her own arm. She unbuttoned her left shirt sleeve cuff and pushed it up. Under the medical staples, beneath the slight smear of blood where the wound had started to seep again, was the identically-shaped scar. Lydia’s was a fresher wound and it hadn’t yet healed, but there was no doubt about it. The scar was the same shape and in exactly the same place.
With horror, Lydia looked into the woman’s face.
‘Hello, Lydia,’ the woman said.
‘No, it can’t be . . .’ Lydia looked up at Daniel but he looked away, unable to meet her eyes.
Lydia shook her head. It couldn’t be, it just couldn’t. It was impossible and yet . . . Lydia stretched out her hand and touched the scar on the old woman’s arm. The scar was warm and smooth, unlike the skin surrounding it. Lydia’s arm fell slowly to her side. The scar, just like the old woman, was very real.
‘I didn’t die in a car crash . . .’ Lydia whispered, totally shocked. ‘You’re . . . you’re me!’