you to return to your time you need to find the one thing that links you back to the future.’
‘Like the movie?’
‘How do you mean?’ George looks at me with a puzzled expression.
Argh!
George is so infuriating. One minute he seems to know so much about what is going on, and the next he appears to know nothing.
‘Never mind that now. What sort of a link?’
‘A link that will help you find what it is you need to know,’ George replies even more cryptically. ‘We know that part of your link to the future is the zebra crossing because that’s where you arrived from the first time it happened, but we don’t know why or when your link might appear again.’
‘Can’t I just step out on to the crossing again in front of a car?’ I suggest hopefully.
‘Unless you want to die a very painful death here in 1963, I wouldn’t recommend it, no.’
I somehow knew it wouldn’t be that easy. ‘So what do I have to do, then?’
‘I don’t know exactly. It’s always very vague. Different for everyone that comes.’
‘What do you mean,
everyone
? Do you mean there are more people like me wandering about here?’
‘Not here necessarily; most go back.’
‘Most?’
George takes a sip of his tea. ‘Like I say, it depends on whether they figure it all out.’
‘Yes, but figure
what
out?’
‘The reason they’re here.’
I shake my head. This is all just madness. And George seems to be the only person who knows anything about it. And that doesn’t appear to be much.
I open my mouth to question him further, but another customer enters the shop.
‘Hadn’t you better be getting back to your office?’ George asks as he stands up to greet the lady. ‘You’ve been here for half an hour – you’re going to be very late back.’
I glance at the clock on the wall. ‘Damn, you’re right! I’ll be back again soon, George, I promise.’
‘I know you will, Jo-Jo,’ George nods, as I dash out of the door and up the King’s Road, the shop’s bell still ringing in my ears. ‘Of that I have no doubt.’
Six
I throw myself out of the doors of the train at my tube stop, and I’m so glad I’m wearing flat black boots, not high heels, with my pink and black Jackie Kennedy-inspired suit, as I run back towards the office, glancing at my watch every few paces. I haven’t lost my hatred of tardiness during time travel, and arriving back at work fifteen minutes late from lunch – an extended lunch too – simply isn’t acceptable for me.
There’s no one in reception as I enter the building, so I quickly hang my jacket behind my chair, shove my bag in one of the deep drawers in my desk, and flatten down my wayward hair while I assume my position on my swivel chair, ready to begin receiving visitors again.
‘Long lunch, Miss McKenzie?’ a voice enquires through the double doors.
‘Mr Maxwell!’ I jump. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘You can tell me why you were away from your desk for so long, that’s what you can do.’
‘I thought Vera was covering my lunch break.’ I’m trying to speak normally but I’m still out of breath.
‘She was for your allotted hour and a half that Miss Field gave you. But then she had work of her own to attend to, so I sent her back to her desk.’
‘I’m very sorry I’m late back, Mr Maxwell, but I had to go all the way over to the King’s Road, and… there was a hold-up on the way back on the tube.’
Mr Maxwell eyes me suspiciously. ‘What sort of a hold-up? Whenever I travel by tube train, which, thank heaven, isn’t too often, they always run frequently and on time.’
‘Leaves on the line!’ I improvise.
‘How can there be leaves on an underground line?’
‘I’m not too sure myself, but that’s what the announcement said. Maybe there was a strong wind and it blew them down the tunnel?’
Mr Maxwell’s face contorts, and I wonder if he’s about to have a fit or something. But I suddenly realise he’s trying to smile.
‘Young lady,
‘Like the movie?’
‘How do you mean?’ George looks at me with a puzzled expression.
Argh!
George is so infuriating. One minute he seems to know so much about what is going on, and the next he appears to know nothing.
‘Never mind that now. What sort of a link?’
‘A link that will help you find what it is you need to know,’ George replies even more cryptically. ‘We know that part of your link to the future is the zebra crossing because that’s where you arrived from the first time it happened, but we don’t know why or when your link might appear again.’
‘Can’t I just step out on to the crossing again in front of a car?’ I suggest hopefully.
‘Unless you want to die a very painful death here in 1963, I wouldn’t recommend it, no.’
I somehow knew it wouldn’t be that easy. ‘So what do I have to do, then?’
‘I don’t know exactly. It’s always very vague. Different for everyone that comes.’
‘What do you mean,
everyone
? Do you mean there are more people like me wandering about here?’
‘Not here necessarily; most go back.’
‘Most?’
George takes a sip of his tea. ‘Like I say, it depends on whether they figure it all out.’
‘Yes, but figure
what
out?’
‘The reason they’re here.’
I shake my head. This is all just madness. And George seems to be the only person who knows anything about it. And that doesn’t appear to be much.
I open my mouth to question him further, but another customer enters the shop.
‘Hadn’t you better be getting back to your office?’ George asks as he stands up to greet the lady. ‘You’ve been here for half an hour – you’re going to be very late back.’
I glance at the clock on the wall. ‘Damn, you’re right! I’ll be back again soon, George, I promise.’
‘I know you will, Jo-Jo,’ George nods, as I dash out of the door and up the King’s Road, the shop’s bell still ringing in my ears. ‘Of that I have no doubt.’
Six
I throw myself out of the doors of the train at my tube stop, and I’m so glad I’m wearing flat black boots, not high heels, with my pink and black Jackie Kennedy-inspired suit, as I run back towards the office, glancing at my watch every few paces. I haven’t lost my hatred of tardiness during time travel, and arriving back at work fifteen minutes late from lunch – an extended lunch too – simply isn’t acceptable for me.
There’s no one in reception as I enter the building, so I quickly hang my jacket behind my chair, shove my bag in one of the deep drawers in my desk, and flatten down my wayward hair while I assume my position on my swivel chair, ready to begin receiving visitors again.
‘Long lunch, Miss McKenzie?’ a voice enquires through the double doors.
‘Mr Maxwell!’ I jump. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘You can tell me why you were away from your desk for so long, that’s what you can do.’
‘I thought Vera was covering my lunch break.’ I’m trying to speak normally but I’m still out of breath.
‘She was for your allotted hour and a half that Miss Field gave you. But then she had work of her own to attend to, so I sent her back to her desk.’
‘I’m very sorry I’m late back, Mr Maxwell, but I had to go all the way over to the King’s Road, and… there was a hold-up on the way back on the tube.’
Mr Maxwell eyes me suspiciously. ‘What sort of a hold-up? Whenever I travel by tube train, which, thank heaven, isn’t too often, they always run frequently and on time.’
‘Leaves on the line!’ I improvise.
‘How can there be leaves on an underground line?’
‘I’m not too sure myself, but that’s what the announcement said. Maybe there was a strong wind and it blew them down the tunnel?’
Mr Maxwell’s face contorts, and I wonder if he’s about to have a fit or something. But I suddenly realise he’s trying to smile.
‘Young lady,
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