The Accidental Time Traveller Read Free Page A

“because if so, I’d like some warning.” She flashed her big beaming smile. “You know – to put on a touch of lipstick!”
    I shrugged my shoulders and laughed, the way I did when I was feeling nervous, then quickly took a packet of Jaffa Cakes and a Milky Way from the shelf. The Milky Way was 29p. I still could, I thought, throw 1p in the Tweed and make my Christmas wish. The river wouldn’t know the difference. Mrs Singh took the money, whispering as she put the things into a bag, “Has the actress never seen a shop before?” Just at that moment, Agatha appeared by my side, her face all flushed and her bottom lip trembling like she might cry. She ran her fingers over the plastic counter, winced, then pulled back, looking seriously confused. Next thing she started gaping at a box of oranges like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. With a shaking hand she reached out and stroked the dimpled orange peel. Then she bent forward and sniffed it.
    “She’s getting into the part,” I replied hurriedly, thinking it was high time me and Agatha Black made a rapid exit.
    “So I can see. But, film or not, the lassie needs a coat. It’s snowing outside.” Mrs Singh was a kind woman and though she loved Scotland’s history she wasn’t a great fan of its weather. She hurried into the back shopand was out again in half a minute with an old coat. “Someone left this here,” she explained. “They never did come back to find it, so here you are, Agatha, put that on. It’s a bit big, but it’ll keep you warm.”
    “Thanking yea kindly,” Agatha said.
    Mrs Singh looked perplexed, then her face broke into a smile. She bowed her head and replied, “Yea are most welcome.”
    I took Agatha and her coat and propelled her out of the shop, calling, “Bye Mrs Singh,” over my shoulder. Agatha, I thought, could be a major embarrassment.
    Out on the snowy pavement she struggled into the big brown coat. The bottom of it trailed along the ground making her look like a child tramp. We hurried along the street, with Agatha nearly tripping as she gazed around – at the houses, the road, the parked cars, the television aerials, the street lamps. Sometimes she lifted her hand to catch a snowflake.
    My mind was in a whirr. No way could I bring this nutty girl home. Mum would go all health-and-safety and poor Agatha would be carted off to some children’s home. Then she’d never get back to 1812. No. I found her. She asked
me
to help her. I took a deep breath and smiled at poor bewildered Agatha, who flashed me such a sunny smile back that I decided there and then I
would
help her.
    Den, I thought. “Come on Agatha,” I said, steering her up past the launderette. Huge washing machines chugged away inside, steaming up the windows. Agatha pressed her nose up against the glass and stared, until I pulled at the sleeve of her baggy coat. “We’ve got to hurry,” I said urgently. “Come on. Trust me; thelaunderette’s no big deal.”
    Agatha, looking totally gob-smacked, didn’t agree. But she followed me up the lane. I felt excited. Something big was happening. I didn’t know what, but my heart was racing. We ran over the snowy slippery cobbles. Despite her little black lace up boots, long dress, shower cap hat and now long baggy coat, this Agatha Black was a fast runner. We slithered on the cobbles, climbed the wall and ran over the wasteland which was now white with snow. And all the time I could see Agatha, wide-eyed, gazing around her. She’s taking notes, I thought, so she can tell her dad what she sees.
    We reached the hedge, found the secret gap and wriggled through. Me being the gang leader, of course I went first. I told Agatha to hang on to my scarf and follow me. My heart leapt seeing the den again. Apart from the snow on the squint roof, it was just like we’d left it. Crow hadn’t been there – phew!
    “Welcome to Pisa,” I said, sweeping my arm theatrically towards it. “Ta-da!” The den looked cool