‘We’d better get going. The Resistance are close behind us,’ Daniel said.
‘How will you two get away from them?’ Lydia asked.
‘If we succeed in getting you back to your own time, we won’t have to. You’ll change your future and none of this as you’ve seen it will happen.’ Daniel smiled.
The electrical storm was less than two hundred metres ahead. Looking at it dazzled Lydia’s eyes and made her head ache. Muted shouting had Lydia and everyone else turning around. Approaching fast were the group from the Resistance.
‘Lydia, hurry. We won’t get a second chance,’ Daniel said quickly.
Lydia looked from the storm to the Resistance group behind her and back again. Even racing flat out, there was no way she could reach the storm before the members of the Resistance got to Daniel and Fran. All it would take was one well-aimed blast from a laser gun and Lydia would never see her own time again . . .
‘Lydia, go!’ Daniel urged.
Lydia took a deep breath. She’d have to run like she’d never run before. But before she’d even taken a step, a high-pitched whooshing sound filled the air. Lydia turned around. An air-car flew over the heads of the Resistance members and came to an abrupt landing, directly between them and Lydia, Daniel and Fran. The car door opened and slowly Old Lydia emerged.
‘Lydia, get out of there. Lydia . . .’ Daniel shouted out.
Old Lydia did a strange thing. She turned her head and smiled. And in that smile there was the first trace of what Old Lydia might have been, the first trace of what she once had been. The Resistance slowed and stopped several metres away from Old Lydia, unsure of who she was and what she was doing.
Old Lydia turned to Anne Joyce. Lydia heard her say something but was too far away to hear what it was. She took a step forward. Danny placed a restraining hand on her shoulder.
‘Go Lydia. Go now,’ Daniel told his twelve-year-old sister at his side.
‘I can’t leave. They’ll kill her,’ Lydia said.
‘Not if you get back to your own time and change this. GO!’
Lydia quickly turned to Fran and hugged her.
‘Thanks for your help, Fran,’ Lydia said. ‘You’ve been a true friend . . . just like your mum.’
‘You’re welcome,’ Fran replied. ‘I hope everything works out for you back in your own time.’
Lydia released her quickly, then looked up at Daniel. She had so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to ask, but she’d run out of time. Lydia smiled. Daniel smiled back. Then he bent down and they hugged each other tightly.
‘You’re the best brother in the world, Danny,’ Lydia whispered.
Daniel straightened up. He looked towards the storm.
‘This had better work,’ he said drily. ‘We’re all in deep trouble if it doesn’t!’
Lydia laughed. She couldn’t help it. She took one last look at her grown-up brother. Then as he raced forward to be with Old Lydia, the twelve-year-old Lydia turned towards the storm and ran. She ran like the wind, praying that she wasn’t wrong about the storm, praying that she’d make it back to her own time. Behind her, Lydia heard the familiar whistle of laser-gun fire. Lydia wanted to turn around – she burned to see what was happening, but she forced herself not to look back. She didn’t want to see Danny injured or Fran hurt or herself dead . . . Too much knowledge . . .
And still she ran.
Even though every hair on her body, every drop of blood within her, screamed for her to turn back.
Running into the storm was like stepping off into another world. A world of fire which burnt her from the inside out as she stepped into it. Just when Lydia thought she’d die from the pain, suddenly it was gone. Cool air rushed to meet her and drops of water splashed on her forehead and her cheeks.
And still Lydia ran – on and on, until it felt as if she wasn’t running on the ground any more but on the very air itself. Lydia slowed and turned but the whole world was a swirling mass of colours. The air was getting colder and a high-pitched whine filled the air, getting louder. So loud in fact that Lydia had to put her hands over her ears. The wind grabbed her and tossed her up into the air as if she was on a trampoline. Lydia closed her eyes tight and held her breath. The high-pitched whine was now a painful shriek in her ears. And the rain was getting heavier. Lydia spun around and around until she had no idea which way was up.
Suddenly all sounds stopped. Lydia struggled to open her eyes but each eyelid weighed a ton. The world was perfectly dark and still. Then Lydia heard voices, faint at first but growing more distinct with each passing second. Someone was calling her.
‘Lydia . . . ? Lydia . . . ?’
After a supreme effort, Lydia managed to open her eyes. Directly above her was the night sky, full of stars. Lydia tried to prop herself up using her hands, but her strength was gone. Then she realized that the ground was soaking wet. She slowly moved her fingers around. The earth was definitely wet. And she had on her winter jacket and her original shirt and jumper. Did that mean . . . ?
‘Lydia . . . ? Lydia, answer us.’
‘Dad . . .’ The word came out in little more than a croak. Lydia coughed to clear her throat and tried again. ‘DAD!’
Streams of torchlight bounced towards Lydia. She struggled to sit up and called again, ‘MUM! DAD!’
A crowd of people gathered around Lydia. Someone placed a blanket around her shoulders.
‘Lydia? Lydia, darling are you all right? Speak to us. Are you hurt? Lydia?’
And all at once, there they were. Hugging her and kissing her and pushing her soaking wet hair back off her face – Lydia’s mum and dad.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Back At School
The next few days were a blurry haze to Lydia. She remembered being freezing cold all the time and a flurry of people swarming around her. She remembered dropping off to sleep, only to be woken up by someone who would insist on holding her wrist to take her pulse or else on sticking a thermometer into her mouth. She remembered a constant heavy feeling on her chest that made it hurt terribly to even breathe. And all the time it was so, so cold.
Then one morning Lydia woke up and for the first time in a long time she was actually comfortable. She savoured the feeling for several seconds, feeling snug and safe. She opened her eyes and saw a bright, multicoloured curtain hanging on one part of the rail that surrounded the bed. The ceiling and walls were cream-coloured and there was a very peculiar smell around, like flowery disinfectant.
I’m in hospital, Lydia realized.
She looked at the curtains again. The same colours and patterns swirled and spiralled on the curtains as had been present on the moors during the electrical storm.
I wasn’t dreaming. I couldn’t have been dreaming . . . could I? Lydia wondered.
But how could she tell?
My arm . . . Lydia remembered.
Pushing down the blankets that covered her, Lydia twisted her left upper arm slightly and strained her neck to see it. A large piece of lint covered her arm, kept in place by two strips of tape. Lydia peeled back one of the bits of tape, wincing as it tore some of her hairs out by the roots! And there it was – an S-shaped wound like a snake crawling across her skin.
‘It did happen,’ Lydia breathed.
‘Lyddy? Lyddy, you’re awake!’
Lydia heard a voice she hadn’t heard in a long time. She turned her head – and there was Danny. Ten years old and just as scabby as ever.
‘Danny . . .’ Lydia breathed.
Danny raced from the room. ‘Dad! Mum! Lyddy’s awake!’
Seconds later, Lydia’s family surrounded her bed.
‘Lydia, how’re you feeling?’
‘You look a lot better . . .’
‘We were frantic . . .’
They all spoke at once.
‘What happened?’ Lydia whispered.
‘You went missing. We found you lying on the moors, soaked through to the bone and freezing cold,’ said Dad.
‘You’ve been in hospital for six days,’ sniffed Mum. ‘I’ve never been so worried.’
Dad put his arm around Mum and hugged her to him. It didn’t do any good. Tears rolled down Mum’s cheeks.
‘You didn’t have to worry, Mum,’ Lydia smiled. ‘Danny and I live for ages yet.’
Mum and Dad looked at each other. Lydia’s eyelids fluttered shut but she forced them open again. Mum busied herself by tucking in the sheets around Lydia. Then she saw that Lydia’s bandage was loose.
‘You mustn’t worry about that,’ Mum said, pressing the tape back down onto Lydia’s skin. ‘You hurt your arm on the moors. You must have hit it against a rock or something. The stitches will be out soon.’
‘What happened to the staples?’ Lydia asked sleepily.
‘What staples?’ asked Dad.
Lydia smiled. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
She realized that the staples must have disappeared as she came back in time. That was the only explanation. As medical staples of that kind hadn’t been invented yet, they couldn’t really come back with her! Lydia looked around the room. Her own time had never looked so amazing – so wonderful!
‘Is . . . is Frankie awake yet?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact, she is,’ said Dad. ‘She woke up the day after her accident. No bones broken luckily. Just a concussion.’
‘She told everyone it was an accident,’ Mum added.
‘If that reporter prints one word to the contrary, I’ll sue him and his paper for every bloomin’ penny they’ve got,’ Dad said belligerently.
‘I don’t mind – not any more.’ Lydia’s eyelids fluttered again as she fought to stay awake.
‘Danny, come here,’ Lydia sighed.
Danny moved to stand in front of his mum and dad.
‘Come closer,’ Lydia breathed.
‘Why?’
‘Stop arguing with your sister. Can’t you see she’s sick,’ grumbled Dad.
‘Yeah! Sick in the head!’ Danny muttered so everyone could hear him, but he did as asked and bent over Lydia so that his ear was close to her lips.
Lydia kissed his cheek, grinning broadly when he sprang back as if scalded.
‘Yeuk! Yeuk!’ Danny yelled, rubbing his cheek vigorously. ‘Don’t do that!’
‘That’s for being a good friend,’ Lydia said.
‘You’re crazy!’ Danny was still rubbing his cheek.
Lydia burst out laughing at the incredulous expression on her brother’s face, but her laughter soon turned into a coughing fit.
‘That’s enough excitement for one day,’ said Mum firmly. ‘Lydia, get some rest. We’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘What’s today’s date?’ Lydia asked, suddenly.
‘The twenty-ninth of November. Why?’ Dad frowned.
Lydia smiled. ‘Brilliant! I can go back to school before the end of term.’
Danny looked down at his shoes. Mum and Dad exchanged a look and Lydia caught it all.
‘What’s the matter?’ Lydia asked.
‘Lydia, you’re not going back to that school.’ Dad’s voice was rock hard. ‘If they hadn’t bullied you and made your life such a misery then you wouldn’t have run away.’
‘H-How d’you know about that?’ Lydia said.
‘Someone in your class finally told your teacher what was going on every breaktime,’ Mum replied angrily. ‘The teachers swear that they didn’t know what was happening. What kind of school is that?’
‘You’re not going back there, and that’s final,’ Dad insisted.
‘Who told Mr Fine what was going on?’ Lydia asked.
Dad shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Someone with a bit more courage than the rest of them in your class.’
‘Let’s get off unpleasant subjects, shall we,’ Mum sniffed. ‘Lydia, we’ve got wonderful news.’
Lydia held her breath. Something told her that the news wasn’t going to be as wonderful as her mum and dad thought.
‘As soon as the term is over and Danny’s finished school, we’re all going down to your Auntie Vanessa’s. We’re going to spend Christmas with her in London,’ smiled Mum. ‘I think we’ve all had about enough of this town for a while.’
‘How are we going to get there?’ Lydia whispered.
‘To your aunt’s?’
Lydia nodded.
‘By car of course,’ Dad said.
Lydia’s heart began to hammer in her chest.
‘I don’t want to leave Collivale School,’ Lydia said slowly. ‘I want to go back just as soon as I can.’
‘But Lydia, you’ve been pestering me to go to another school ever since . . . ever since that wretched cup was found in your locker,’ argued Mum.
‘I know, but I’ve changed my mind. Please don’t take me out of Collivale.’
‘But . . .’
‘Please . . .’
‘Lydia, I don’t think . . .’
‘Please.’
‘You are a strange child, Lydia.’ Mum sighed.
‘Does that mean I can stay at school until the end of term?’ Lydia asked, tearfully.
‘Yes, I suppose so. If it means that much to you,’ said Mum reluctantly.
‘And Dad, do we have to go to Aunt Vanessa’s this Christmas?’ Lydia began. ‘Can’t we stay in Hensonvi . . . I mean, Tarwich.’
‘No, we cannot,’ Dad replied. ‘I’ve had enough of this place, even if you haven’t.’
Lydia opened her mouth to argue, but then decided that now was not the time.
First things first, Lydia thought to herself.
Before anything else, she had some things to take care of back at school.
Chapter Twenty-Four
With A Little Help
Lydia took a deep breath, then another. Wiping her sweaty hand on her skirt first, she opened the classroom door. It was as if a radio had been suddenly switched off. All the chatting and laughing suddenly stopped. Lydia’s face burned.
Mr Fine smiled. ‘Welcome back, Lydia.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Lydia replied, her voice little more than a squeak.
She looked around. All eyes were on her. Anne and Frankie were sitting together. Frankie didn’t smile but she did look pleased to see Lydia, which was more than could be said for Anne.
‘Sit down next to Shaun,’ Mr Fine pointed.
Lydia did as she was told. Shaun pulled his chair away from Lydia and scowled at her. Lydia lowered her head. With that one little thing, Shaun still managed to get to her, even though Lydia had promised herself that she wouldn’t let anyone upset her. Then Lydia remembered how Shaun had looked as a grown-up, with a balding head and a bulging beer belly, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing out loud. Lydia risked a glance around the room. Even though Mr Fine was talking, everyone was watching her. Lydia stared straight ahead. Let them stare. Lydia didn’t care.
‘Could Barry Finley please report to the school secretary during today’s lunch break.’ The school secretary’s voice rang out over the PA system as she repeated the message.
Lydia shook her head. It was almost as if she’d never been away. Today was like any other school day, except for one thing.
Today, she had a number of things to set up. Before the week was over, she was going to sort this thief business once and for all. The only trouble was, she couldn’t do it alone. She needed help. Would she be able to find it?
Lydia leaned against the wall outside her empty classroom, her head tilted back, her eyes closed. And she waited. It’d been two days since she’d returned to school. The name calling had stopped. She was no longer surrounded in the playground and taunted. Instead, no one but the teachers talked to her. It was as if she was a ghost that no one could see. Conversations flowed over and around and through her. No one stopped talking when Lydia approached any more. They didn’t have to. Lydia was treated as if she just wasn’t there. In a way that was even worse than before. Lunchtime smells wafted across the quad from the canteen. They made Lydia feel s
lightly sick. Her heart was pounding with anticipation. This was it. The only chance she’d get to prove her innocence.
Quick footsteps echoed on the floor. Lydia opened her eyes. Anne was walking towards her. She didn’t even bother to disguise the huge smirk on her face.
‘I want to talk to you.’ Lydia stepped out in front of her.
‘I’m meant to be meeting Frankie here, not you. I don’t have anything to say to you – thief!’ Anne tried to step past Lydia.
Lydia blocked her way.
‘Tough! ’Cause I’ve got plenty I want to say to you,’ Lydia replied.
She grabbed Anne’s arm and pushed her into the deserted classroom. Anne snatched her arm out of Lydia’s grasp.
‘Just what d’you think you’re doing?’ Anne asked indignantly.
‘Anne, I know how you did it,’ said Lydia.
‘Did what?’
‘I know how you put the cup in my locker,’ Lydia said.
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Yeah! You unscrewed the backplate of my locker and put the sports cup in that way.’
Anne stared at Lydia, surprised. Then she pursed her lips. ‘Don’t talk rubbish. Look! I’ve had enough of this.’ Anne pushed Lydia out of her way. Lydia pushed her back.
‘Oh no, you don’t. I want to know why you did it. D’you really hate me that much?’ Lydia said. ‘What did I do?’
Anne didn’t reply. Lydia was getting desperate. It wasn’t working.
‘It’s because of Frankie, isn’t it? You were jealous, weren’t you?’
‘Me? Jealous of you? Do me a favour!’ Anne snapped angrily.
‘That’s it . . . You were jealous,’ goaded Lydia.
‘Frankie is my friend, not yours,’ Anne said icily. ‘It served you right – trying to take Frankie away from me.’
‘So you put the cup in my locker?’
‘Of course I did,’ Anne scoffed. ‘I knew you wouldn’t take it, you prissy sissy. I even slipped a message under Mr Simmers’ door saying that the sports cup was in someone’s locker.’
‘You’re a real cow, Anne!’ Even though Lydia knew it was true, it was still hard for her to believe that anyone could be so spiteful.