Page 95 of Right Place, Right Time
‘What?’ Adam asks.
‘The clock’s hands are spinning … backwards!’
We stop for a moment to look at the grandfather clock, whose hands haven’t moved since we originally dragged it into my shop back in early March. The hands are nowspinning freely around its face … but instead of going forwards, they’re going backwards.
‘Do you think this is a sign the portal might actually be working?’ I say, looking nervously at Adam.
He nods. ‘Let’s go before it changes its mind and stops.’
We rush down to the office and pause for a moment in front of the two wooden doors. Which, now they’re attached to the little cupboard in the wall, make up the two halves of an ancient carving of an oak tree. Before I can change my mind, I pull the doors open. With my torch lighting my way, I bend down, step through the doors and find myself in the tunnel.
‘Come on,’ I say excitedly to Adam when I realise he’s not with me. ‘We might not have much time!’
Adam hesitates in the doorway and suddenly I remember.
‘Would you prefer not to?’ I ask gently.
Adam forcefully shakes his head. ‘No … I’ll be fine,’ he says with determination. He looks fearfully inside the tunnel, as though he’s trying to weigh up whether it’s as bad as he’s imagining.
‘You stay here,’ I say, making a quick decision. ‘Someone needs to make sure I can get back, in case there’s a problem.’
‘No, I can’t let you go alone,’ Adam says with annoyance, at himself rather than me. ‘I’m coming.’ But as he bends down to step inside the tunnel, I can hear his breathing immediately become far too fast.
‘I’ll be fine, Adam. You stay here and if I’m not back in ten minutes, then you can come and rescue me. I might need someone to open the door at the other end.’
Adam steps back into the light of the office and nods.
‘Good luck,’ he says, looking very sheepish. ‘Be careful, won’t you?’
‘I’m only going back to February. It’s not like I’m going to the Middle Ages.’ I smile bravely. ‘I’ll be just fine.’
I turn around and, to my enormous relief, I find that once I’m properly inside the tunnel, I can stand up straight. I call back to Adam, ‘Shut the doors, in case that makes a difference.’
Adam looks reluctant, but does as I ask.
The tunnel is now fully in darkness, so I only have the light from my torch to guide me. It only takes ten seconds or so of cautious walking before I find myself at the other end in front of two more doors. There’s a couple of thick wooden planks placed horizontally across the doors to prevent anyone accessing the entrance from the other side, so I lift them off one by one and lean them up against the wall. Then, taking a deep breath, I gently pull one of the doors open.
Daylight floods into the tunnel and I find myself staring out onto the little alleyway that runs behind my shop on Clockmaker Court. It’s a dead end – probably used in the past for deliveries and such to the shops – so there’s no one passing by to see me emerge from the tunnel.
I wonder whether I should shut the door behind me – I don’t want someone stumbling upon the tunnel accidentally. But I’m very conscious that Dotty never returned from her last trip and I don’t want the same to happen to me. I see some abandoned pallets from a delivery to one of the market stalls at the end of the alleyway, so, rather than fully shutting the door, I quickly stack a couple in front of the opening, which allows me to wedge the door open a little – just in case.
‘Right,’ I say, taking a deep breath. ‘Let’s see if this has worked.’
I walk out onto the market square in Cambridge, which looks just like it always does on a weekday. There are shoppers browsing the various market stalls with bored-looking stall holders waiting to see if their customer actually wants to buy something or if they’re just looking. The only stall that looks particularly busy is the fresh fruit and veg stall. I shiver – it feels cold.Of course it is, you numpty. It’s supposed to be February now and you’re in a short-sleeved blouse, jeans and flip-flops!I notice then that everyone else walking about is well wrapped up for the cold in thick coats, scarves and gloves. I need to be quick, before I either freeze or draw too much attention to myself for wandering the streets of Cambridge in summer clothing on a cold February day.
I look for anyone carrying a newspaper, like Ben said Dotty did, but there’s no one. I could just ask someone the date, I think, but that, along with my strange attire, might draw far too much attention.I’ll pop into WHSmith just off the market square, take a quick look at their newspapers and then go back. That should do it.
I head quickly to WHSmith, find their stand of daily newspapers and lift one up –February 29, 2024it says at the top of today’s edition ofThe Timesnewspaper.
We did it.I gaze at the newspaper for a moment.We only went and actually did it! I’ve travelled back in time.As I’m staring at the newspaper, someone passing by on their way to the exit catches my eye.
It’s a woman wearing jeans, a long green coat and a patterned art nouveau scarf tied artfully around her neck. Her long dark hair is twisted up into a messy bun and she’s in a hurry.
It’s me.
I realise I’ve stopped breathing for a moment and I gasp suddenly to let in enough air.
I’ve just seen myself passing through WHSmith with a brand-new notebook, just as I did before I went to get the bus to Grantchester to meet Adam that afternoon. When we chose this date, I didn’t think of the possibility I might actually see myself. It just seemed like a familiar and safe date we all knew what had happened on.
