The Time That Never Was E-Book

Steve Nallon

• Herausgeber: Luath Press
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

He can't lie, he can't harm but he can save lives William Arthur is no ordinary teenager. He is a Swidger who can sense future catastrophes and so change your Timepath from certain peril. Only now he's discovering that his time-bending powers go far beyond mere accident prevention. After a mind-boggling incident leaves him confused and questioning his place in the world, William is rescued by a wise and bizarre lady by the name of 'Granny'. Together they embark on an epic journey of hilarity, danger and intrigue. Will he learn the true nature of his gift? And can he evade the dark forces that would use his powers for evil? All will be revealed... IN TIME

Leseprobe

STEVE NALLON has been a writer and performer in the world of comedy for over forty years. Steve began his performing life with his own comedy act on the Northern Working Men’s Club Circuit in Yorkshire back in the 1970s. After gaining a degree in Drama and English at the University of Birmingham, Steve became a founding member of the television series Spitting Image, where for over a decade he voiced many of the programme’s most iconic characters, including Margaret Thatcher, Alan Bennett and The Queen Mum. Steve’s acting work now ranges from theatre, film and television, to video games, puppetry and audio books. As a playwright and comedy writer, Steve has a considerable body of credits to his name, including plays and series for BBC radio, three one-man theatre shows and the satirical book I, Margaret, which he co-wrote with the novelist Tom Holt. Over the years, Steve has contributed to numerous periodicals such as The New Statesman and Musical Stages, and is a much sought-after speaker on the lecture circuit for his insightful and amusing talks.

Twitter: @SteveNallon

Praise for Swidgers

‘Grabs you from the beginning and doesn’t let go. Steve is a master mimic and uses all his skills to create a powerful and dramatic tale of mystery!’ Rory Bremner, BAFTA winning writer and performer

‘A rambunctious riot of a book with a totally unpredictable plot – I never knew where I was going to be taken next! Granny is a joy of a character; delightfully irreverent with wicked one-liners.’

Joseph Elliott, YA author of The Good Hawk, The Broken Raven and The Burning Swift

‘This brilliant story whizzes along and follows William’s transformation from nervy kid at the back of the class to fully fledged adventure hero. We see this wonderful adventure through William’s eyes and share the adrenalin rush from his perspective. This is a great story forYAreaders and grown-ups who, like William, find themselves caught up in the whirlwind of life. I loved it!’ Sonia Beldom, author of the popular children’s book series Granny Franny’s Big Red Bus

‘I loved it. As a former teacher, the parent teacher meetings struck a particular chord.’ Geoff Northcott, comedian, writer and broadcaster

‘Steve Nallon is an experienced and formidable talent and this departure intoYAfantasy may win him a whole new generation of fans.’ Jenny Lecoat, screenwriter, novelist and author of Hedy’s Girl and the movie Another Mother’s Son

‘Steve Nallon has always been very good at everything he’s done but this first novel could be his finest hour! From the very start, it is intriguing, innovative, snappy and witty. Nallon writes with a compelling sense of rhythm and just makes you want to keep reading and going further into his magical world. It really does gallop along. Granny is a great creation and a magnificent character in every sense: engaging, shocking, loveable, embarrassing, bright and very, very funny! It’s all very impressive!’ Alistair McGowan, BAFTA winning writer and performer

‘The Time That Never Was is the marvellous story of a boy growing up with a very special power. He is a Swidger and Swidgers can see into people’s timelines and perhaps alter them. But who, or what, is watching them? Exciting, often very funny and always gripping, this is a book about adventures in time – Past, Present and Future. And in the future? Well, the good news is that there is already a sequel on the way.’ William Palmer, novelist and author of The Contract, The India House, Four Last Things, The Good Republic, The Island Rescue

‘Beguiling, inventive and magical: Nallon has conjured up a perfect world and a perfect read. A dazzling piece of fiction.’ Jonathan Maitland, author of the play Dead Sheep and presenter of ITV’s current affairs series Tonight

What younger readers have said about Swidgers

The Swidgers book series has been enjoyed in book clubs and reading groups in schools in Manchester, London and Luton. And here’s a selection of what young readers have thought:

‘What struck me most about reading ‘Swidgers’ was just how funny it was. I didn’t expect to laugh quite so much when reading a story about a lonely boy with special powers… ‘Granny’ was hilarious and meant that the book never became too dark, despite the more troubling tense chapters where we feared for the characters’ lives. One of the things that makes the book so original is the mixture of fantasy, sci-fi, adventure and comedy, so you never know what to expect next… I found the book exciting, entertaining and very, very funny and wouldn’t hesitate to recommend it to my friends.’ Year 10

‘I loved reading the story. It was creative and different from any other books I’ve read… I also found it very inspiring because I felt the message behind the story was to do with trust and friendship. When I was reading the book I was there because I could picture the events so clear. It was like I was watching a movie… It was a really good read and I would definitely buy the book. Thank you.’ Year 8

‘I liked the suspense at the beginning that makes you want to read on… I thought it progressed well and was clear what was happening. Furthermore, I thought the characters were well thought out and their characteristics and personalities were established at the beginning. Overall, despite being something I wouldn’t usually choose to read, I enjoyed the book. I would recommend it to people between the ages of 11 and 14.’ Year 9

‘I think that the storyline of the book was great and that there were some great characters… A brilliant book… I really enjoyed the book and would definitely read the rest in the series.’ Year 7

‘It was a really good book with really imaginative twists. By using great metaphors the author helped me picture the scenes very effectively. It was a real page turner and I look forward to reading the next in the Swidgers!’ Year 8

‘I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book due to the amazing storyline, character, humour and general style of writing. The characters were well crafted, with every character being given unique appearances, behaviours and traits. This made the book all the more entertaining. A good example of this of this was Granny’s character, with her bizarre quirky appearance and eccentric way of speech… I thought the storyline of the book was compelling and made the book hard to put down at times… perfect tension and abundance of carefully placed cliff-hangers which created a very engaging read… I loved the brilliant cliff-hanger at the end and can’t wait to see what’s next for William and Granny. Well done!’ Year 10

‘I feel that this is an excellent teenager book and if you are into mysteries and horror, this book is perfect for you.’ Year 7

‘I really enjoyed the book and I thought the main character was unusual and interesting. I really wanted to find out why he had the strange powers and discover his history. The story moved along really fast and made me want to read on. Overall, the plot was really good.’ Year 8

‘I found this book to be interesting and funny. I also found this book used a number of different emotions which drew me in to the story.’ Year 7

‘I personally enjoyed the book a lot, especially at the beginning of the story. I enjoyed that part because it gets you hyped for the rest of the story and does not fail to keep your attention. It leaves you wondering what is happening and does it in a way that keeps you reading… I’d recommend it to my friends as I think they’d like the mystery and adventure but also find it funny. It’s a really original idea and I found it really entertaining. I’d definitely be interested in reading more books by the author.’ Year 9

‘I really like the concept. I thought that it was an original idea. My favourite character was Granny because I thought she was funny. The opening was really good and got me immediately interested… I really liked the story.’ Year 8

First published 2022

ISBN: 978-1-80425-032-7

The author’s right to be identified as author of this book under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 has been asserted.

Typeset in 10.5 point Sabon LT Pro byMain Point Books, Edinburgh

© Steve Nallon 2022

Contents

CHAPTER 1 Saving the Man

CHAPTER 2 The First Attack

CHAPTER 3 The Get Well Card

CHAPTER 4 The Australian

CHAPTER 5 The Lightning Flowers

CHAPTER 6 The Wasps

CHAPTER 7 The Wasps Bring a Friend

CHAPTER 8 Those Amazing Green Eyes

CHAPTER 9 In the Park with the Trees

CHAPTER 10 Granny Laughs

CHAPTER 11 The Brownies

CHAPTER 12 Stray Currents

CHAPTER 13 The Clapping Game

CHAPTER 14 The Rainbow Boy

CHAPTER 15 Echo

CHAPTER 16 The Fire on the Beach

CHAPTER 17 Beneath the Tiger

CHAPTER 18 Piccadilly Circus

CHAPTER 19 The Third Eye

CHAPTER 20 The Glass Bottle

CHAPTER 21 Questions to Teacher

CHAPTER 22 And the Band Played On

CHAPTER 23 Two Equals One

CHAPTER 24 The Chimes of Big Ben

CHAPTER 25 Seeing a Rainbow

CHAPTER 26 The Tunnel

CHAPTER 27 Gravestones

CHAPTER 28 The Seagull

CHAPTER 29 Gibble and Rutley

CHAPTER 30 The Red-Faced Man

CHAPTER 31 The Loud Knock

CHAPTER 32 Aloysius

CHAPTER 33 A Pile of Dirt

CHAPTER 34 The Oak Tree

CHAPTER 35 The Door with No Key

CHAPTER 36 Hands

CHAPTER 37 Beer and Porridge

CHAPTER 38 Pontefract Cakes

CHAPTER 39 As You Like It

CHAPTER 40 The Shoebox

CHAPTER 41 In the Moonlight

CHAPTER 42 The Gong Clangs

CHAPTER 43 Cobwebs

CHAPTER 44 Edwin and Elwin

CHAPTER 45 The House Cries

CHAPTER 46 The Seagull Cries

CHAPTER 47 Sir Isaac Newton

CHAPTER 48 The Seagull Cries Again

Thought Notes

Acknowledgements

Resources

For Doreen Mary

CHAPTER ONE

Saving the Man

LIKE LIGHTNING. SO sharp, fierce and bright it blinded. And it’s that flash where I must begin my story. I couldn’t tell at first where it came from… except I knew, somehow, it wasn’t the sky…

I was there that Saturday because, for me, a busy street is better than my empty house. Why the house was empty, well, that can wait. It’s not important anyhow. All that mattered that sunny morning was – The Man.

I should say to you straightaway that our kind usually do what we do and then move on. Yet that day, something made me keep on following. Even after my task was complete. And that one thought changed everything. My whole life. And yours, too.

This is what happened. I was standing outside the Crossed Keys pub. By the door. Well, they’d never let me into the bar. Not then. Too young. Besides, by the door is a good place to wait. So many people passing by, so many lives to change.

The High Street in Chipping Barnet is on a hill and the Crossed Keys pub is about halfway between the underground station at the bottom and the old church at the top. It’s a steep walk up and people normally take it slowly but when I saw The Man, he’d already passed the Post Office. Getting faster and faster with every step. That pounding stride men have when they’re late for something. Yes, it’s the ones who rush who can be the worst.

I didn’t know when the harm would come or what it would be. We never do. But I did know it was vital to stop The Man and The Accident coming together in Time. You see, that is what our kind do. We change Timepaths. We hinder. Block. Impede. Or simply just get in your way. And it’s those precious seconds that will save you from whatever danger is ahead. That is the gift our kind offer humans. Or try to.

Oh, but this guy – The Man – is quick. Only a few steps away now. I need to stop him before it happens.

But what delay to use?

Dropped wallet?

No, left that back at the empty house.

Shoelaces undone?

Not an option. Today I’m wearing slip-ons. And I’m only a boy, so can’t ask for a light. Not that I smoke or ever would.

Oh no, he’s about to pass me.

Yeah, there he goes.

But what’s that he’s carrying across his shoulders? A holdall? I hadn’t noticed it before. Looks heavy. A tool bag, I think. I’m guessing he’s on his way to work. Even on a Saturday morning.

Oh, but I should’ve stopped him by now.

Yes, I could just bump into him but the pavement’s bursting with people and it’s his Timepath alone I must alter, no one else’s.

I walk close behind him, matching his every step. That tool bag of his has slipped a bit down his back and now I can see a wooden handle sticking out. A hammer, I suppose. No, too heavy. He’d feel me take it. And our kind must avoid being noticed. What else is there? Pieces of copper pipe. He’s a plumber, I guess.

Wait… is that a metal file?

Yeah, that would work. He’d hear that when it hit the ground.

But do it quick, William, do it quick. Whatever is about to happen to The Man could happen any second.

I’m just a pace behind him. I fix my eyes on that metal file sticking out of his holdall. Tricky, but possible. Don’t think he’ll be able to tell it was me, not with so many distractions.

Just ahead there’s someone in a pink rhino costume, collecting with a charity bucket. Hah! My plumber does a side-step to avoid it. But that’s good because now I have a chance to reach inside. Yeah, I was right, it’s rough and scratchy. A workman’s file. I carefully pull it away with my fingers and then gently let it drop to the pavement.

My idea was good. The Man should have heard it clang and so turned back to pick it up. Those seconds would have been enough. But that never happened because, right at the wrong moment, a car blasted its horn and the clang was drowned out.

Why do humans rush so much? Always battling against Time. Yes, there he goes, marching on.

I’ve said it’s best if our kind don’t draw too much attention to ourselves, but there are moments when we have no choice. Like right now.

‘Hey, Mister!’ I call. ‘You’ve dropped something.’

My plumber half turns his head but still carries on walking, so I pick it up and shout, ‘This metal file. It fell out your bag!’

Has he heard me? Yes, he’s stopped.

At last, The Man’s Timepath has been altered.

‘Thanks, mate!’

Australian. I didn’t expect that. Not sure why.

Of course, it would have been better if he had come to me – extra seconds always help – but no, he was one of those that just stood there so it was up to me to walk up the hill and hand the file over.

‘Life of their own, these,’ said the Aussie. ‘Second one gone walkabout this week.’

I watched as my plumber put his metal file securely back in his bag.

‘Cheers, kid,’ he said. And with that, he was on his way up the hill again.

Well, that should have been it. Timeline changed. Task complete. Move on. Yet that day my eyes stayed on him and I saw what I hoped I would not see: he started to run.

Oh no, The Man was trying to make up the Time he’d lost. The precious seconds I’d just given him.

This sometimes happens. But you accept it. You’ve done what you had to do and should do no more. That’s just the way things are. If The Man wishes to catch up with Time, then so be it. He doesn’t know that today Time will not be his friend. Nor that those precious seconds I gave him would have saved his life –

Hang on a second… What was that? Save his life! Where did that thought come from? And how could I know? Because our kind never know.

This isn’t right. Not right at all. We change Timepaths, but to feel what will happen next – the fate we’re saving you from – impossible. Never had I had such thoughts before. Yet now I did. Somehow, I knew.

The Man is running to his death.

What to do? Turn and go? But how can I? I mean, this a human life at stake. Yet to run after him would go against everything I’d ever done before.

So, what would it be, up the hill or down? Scurry away or follow? Well, sometimes in life there never really is a choice.

As soon as I chased after him, I knew in that moment that my world would never be the same again. I couldn’t tell you why. Just felt it inside. I could not yet know the battles I would live through or the horrors I would witness. Nor how I would become somebody I never expected to be. Perhaps you think I’m making too much of such a moment, but I tell you, I’m not, because, as my story will reveal – just one thought can change everything.

I’m tall for my age, not as fit like some of the lads at school, but I can run fast when I need to. As I do now.

Bit too quick. Nearly knock over a small boy. Oh, but he’s too busy pretending to shoot his daddy with a toy pistol so doesn’t see me. I have to swerve though, and when I do, I bump into the postman with his sack of letters. He does see me. And what a strange look I get.

As I dash and dart among the shoppers, I catch sight of my plumber. He’s now nearing the top of the hill where there’s a bend in the road and the street turns. Opposite is the old church, looking grey and tired. Along its wall are roadworks with men in yellow hats digging a deep trench. Good, it’s blocked off that side, plus the temporary traffic lights are now on green, which means my plumber can’t cross.

Yes, I’m right. My Man has had to stop by the coffee shop.

But wait, maybe this is where whatever it is will happen.

I feel something… and it’s getting stronger… stronger than anything I’ve sensed before. Oh no! Death is right there waiting for him. But how will it happen? No, no, I can’t sense that yet…

Not that I can do anything about it because I’m still a bit of a distance from The Man. Plus there’s a crowd of people in the way.

I try and ease myself between the Saturday shoppers who, like him, are waiting for those lights to change. And as I do, I glance into the coffee shop full of Saturday mums and dads and their playful toddlers. An old lady in a big purple hat with her back to me moves a pram away from the door so she can leave.

But what I see stops me in my tracks. A reflection in the coffee shop front window. The glass is slightly angled so the window acts like a mirror and what it reflects isn’t so much the church opposite, but its roof and the sky above, bright and open. And right now something is hurtling down through the air, heading straight towards the church. It’s big. A rock? No, it’s gleaming white with jagged edges. More like a crystal.

Then I realise – ice! A huge boulder of ice. And it’s about to hit the church roof.

What’s strange, as I think back now, is that it seemed as if my mind’s eye were witness to what would happen even before it struck. I could see it all – the crystalline ice would pierce a hole in the slates as if it were a bullet. The wound would be deep, but there’d be no yawning gash, for the hit would be precise and exact. Almost as if the ice had known all along the job it had to do.

Someone I was yet to meet would often tell me that all human life was at the mercy of the next tile that fell. Ah, but you must wait to hear from her. Yet she was right. Chance is everywhere.

I now spin around from that reflection in the coffee shop window and see the impact of the ice on the church roof for real. The roof tiles are already falling everywhere and the workmen below are forced to clamber out of their trench. Those yellow hats won’t be enough to save them. In the scramble, a workman knocks over a sign that says: DANGER: EXPOSED ELECTRICAL CABLES.

But what happened next, I did not foresee, for from the sky now comes a huge boulder that strikes the tarmac right in front of me, scattering ice like diamonds.

There’s screaming all around. From a mother with an already crying child. From a little girl who, without thought, lets go of her balloon. From a man too drunk even to know why he is even screaming. The postman I bumped into earlier now stands beside me. He doesn’t scream, just stares ahead, a letter yet to be delivered in his hand.

People don’t know where to turn. And nor do I, but through the many cries I hear something only I could. Another strike of ice. Smaller than the first two but with it comes danger… No, more than danger: Death.

I can feel it. The Man is about to die and only I can save him.

CHAPTER TWO

The First Attack

THE STRIKE FROM the sky on the church roof had startled everyone and the crash onto the tarmacked road brought panic, but in the commotion no one but me had heard that third hit of ice on the roof of the coffee shop. And that was the moment I knew it would be a falling tile from that roof above us that would kill The Man. For it would land exactly where The Man was standing. Where he is will be where he’ll die.

Without thought, just the instinct that makes us who we are, I grab at his tool bag and pull it towards me. The Australian is strong and fit, but that unexpected tug does what it was meant to do. He loses his balance and falls backwards. A split second later the tile flies by, passing before his eyes like the blade of a guillotine. The grey tile then crashes onto the hard Yorkstone paving and shatters into a dozen harmless fragments.

And all my plumber says is, ‘Jeez!’

Well, he was an Aussie. So that was that. My job, I thought, was finally done. I could walk away and that would be that. Oh, but how wrong I was. For in truth, a whole new life was about to begin.

You see, in the reflection of the window, I saw another loosened tile on the church roof beginning to pull itself away. Most of the others had landed harmlessly on a pile of rubble nearby, yet, as this last one slid over the ridge of the roof, it was as if it already knew its target, for it shot through the air, pointing like an arrow with its aim in sight. And, as it disappeared into the trench, a cold wave of fear washed over me.

It was then it happened.

That flash. Blinding. Penetrating. Like lightning. Only… not lightning.

Something more powerful. Something somehow released. And with that burst of light, came a menacing noise, like the cracking of a whip.

My eyes adjusted. It was then I realised. That strange and frightening light just now hadn’t come from the sky. No, its genesis was that dugout pit beside the church.

Creeping and threatening, out from that hollow ground emerged two lengths of electrical cable, spewing sparks. Each had a severed end like the mouth of a snake and the flares spat out were not white and pure but green and vicious. These cables, muddied orange in colour, now twisted and curled – as if alive! Not really cables at all but two venomous vipers in battle.

One rose high in the air and struck its coiled twin down with a blistering bolt, but its foe fought back with its own strike and once more they were evenly matched. The first rose up high again and then hit its rival with such a mighty blast that it fell back, shaken and wounded. The attacker then moved in for the kill, with a vicious bolt cracking through its opponent’s head. The victor now raised itself higher, twisting this way and that, as if on the lookout for fresh prey.

The cable snake grew tall and lifted itself high above us all. It was clearly able to strike out at any moment and in any direction, and so much so, that those nearby could do nothing but watch in helpless desperation. Among them, that postman, still gripping his letter, and the little girl who had lost her balloon. Only now she was terrified.

‘Whaaaah! Wah!’ she cries.

Don’t do that, I think, or the serpent will notice you.

Too late, it has, for it now moves towards her, spitting venom.

‘Ahhssss! Ahhhsss! Ahaaarrssssshhhrrrr!!’

The serpent’s mouth widens, as if ravenous and ready to kill.

Is the viper about to strike?

Yes, it is! I turn away in horror. And yet again I see it all in the refection of the coffee shop window. The cable, snake, or whatever it was, strikes and in an instant the little girl becomes no more than charred and blackened cinders.

I feel a deep empty pain within me, the like of which I have never lived before. A dark shadow spreads far and wide that seems to last beyond forever.

But then everything suddenly stopped. And I mean, really stopped. No noise, no movement. Not from anywhere. Not from anyone. It was as if people all around me had become cast in fear like statues.

I then turned away from the coffee shop window, but as I did, the world came alive again – and there was the little girl. Living and breathing!

How to explain the impossible? Had Time somehow moved backwards? Or had what I’d seen in the window reflection been some sort of a vision?

But there was no time to make sense of it, for the cable snake was already on the move. After a bend and a stretch, it began to advance in my direction, with its head pointing straight at me. Only then it began to swivel its neck, as if examining and curious.

All of a sudden, it turned away and fixed its glare instead on the postman who, without thought for himself, now grabbed the little girl and flung her behind him. She screamed and screamed and screamed some more but at least now seemed safe from further harm. The postman then took his sack from his shoulders and threw it to the pavement. He opened his arms wide as if to say to the devouring monster, ‘Take me, not the child!’

The cable snake swung its head from side to side, as if, this time, deciding what to do next. ‘Will I? Won’t I?’, it appeared to be thinking. It then stretched itself to full height – and spat out a vile green blast of light.

Again, I spun about in fear, for again, I couldn’t watch. Yet once more I saw what was happening in that strange window mirror of the coffee shop. The poor postman – not old, not young, nor thin, nor fat, just, I thought, an ordinary everyday man – was no match for that flashing rod of lightning. It pierced his chest with a strike so powerful I could hear bones break. Scorched and seared, his body then suddenly splattered into a mass of burning red and black.

In that moment it was not pain or grief I felt but a strange absence. A loss of something not yet understood. And then once more, everything froze. There, right in front of me, was the exploding body of the postman, suspended in mid-air. The world again had become a landscape of petrified silence.

What was happening? Had the minutes and seconds somehow – I don’t know – stopped? Or was I in some sort of Circle of Time?

So confused, I didn’t know what to think. The reflections in the coffee shop window couldn’t be true, yet they felt so real. None of this was happening and yet it was. All I knew for sure was that never had I been so afraid.

Perhaps, I thought, if I close my eyes it’ll go away.

So I do. But now I feel an unearthly bitter cold more frightening than whatever was in front of me. I open them again and turn from the window.

The impossible has happened once more. The postman, back on his feet and alive. The little girl, still there, and still screaming.

The only way I can describe all this is that it was as if The Now, the moment we live in, was ever changing. As if Time itself was somehow shifting between What Is and What Could Be. At least that’s what I thought. I wish I could explain it better, but I can’t. What I can tell you is it felt like the beginning of madness.

Then I sensed it. The way our kind do. Something truly terrible was about to happen…

Oh no… was it my own life that was about to end?

Would the next strike be my Now? Not the little girl’s, not the postman’s. Mine. If I’m struck down there’ll be no coming back for me. Better that way, I think, because it is for the human world that our kind exist. Yes, I might look like a boy, a young lad you might see every day, but I am not what I seem. Besides, my short life has been lived unnoticed and unwanted. There’s little to leave behind. The house I left this morning was – and always is – empty. Loveless, too. Few will miss my passing.

And so I shut my eyes again and accept my fate. I then sense the snake coming nearer and nearer.

Oh, it’s close, so very close!

Yet nothing happens. I open my eyes. The snake pulls away. I watch as it jerks its head side to side then up and down.

What’s it doing? It’s almost like it’s mocking me. Laughing even.

That head now twists itself towards the mother and her crying child, then back to the postman, as if to say, ‘I can take her if I like. Or him.’

But then it stills. It has decided. The cable snake rises high and lurches back upon itself. And strikes! It’s scarred and molten mouth flies past my head to attack whoever stands behind me. I turn.

It is The Man! The plumber.

But as look again I see the snake hasn’t aimed at his body – more his bag of metal tools. There’s a sudden blazing green light as the snake’s mouth hits its target. The canvass bag explodes in incandescent flames. The plumber is thrown back by the shock.

I reach out to help, and for all I know I do touch him, but I feel nothing except a tingle as he speeds by. His body lands on the Yorkstone slabs. Is he alive or dead? I cannot tell. Is it pain or loss I feel? Neither. Just defeat. Somehow, I’ve been tricked.

Just for a moment I have hope. Perhaps, I think, Time will shift once more and the Now will change again and I will see the plumber back on his feet as I had with the postman and the little girl.

But that Now does not happen. And Time moves on.

The dirty coil has done its worst and it slowly drops to the earth. Its severed end lands where the ice had fallen on the road. Sparks fly, briefly, as it makes contact with the melting water. And then it seems to die. No more a snake, just a grubby, muddy orange cable.

Then – SMACK!

A hit. Like one almighty punch. Something heavy landing on my head. A yellow hat comes running towards me. No, two yellow hats. I blink.

There’s something in my eye. A thick, blurry crimson. I wipe my face. My hands are red. Blood? I fall. And as I do, I wonder, ‘Will anyone even come to my funeral?’

And with that final thought the blurry crimson fades and is replaced by blackness.

CHAPTER THREE

The Get Well Card

‘OH, THE SLEEPER doth awake,’ speaks a voice with a soft Irish lilt.

I open my eyes. A woman in green stands over me.

‘Well good mornin’ to you, young sir.’

A uniform with a white band round its edge. A nurse? I look around. Yes, I’m lying in a hospital bed, wearing a patient’s gown.

Well, I’m alive. Or at least I think I am. But I suddenly feel a terrible ache. And can’t even tell where it’s coming from.

‘You’ve made the newspaper!’ says the nurse, pointing to The Chipping Express spread out on a table beside my bed.

‘Just the local. Don’t be imaginin’ you’re big enough news for the nationals!’

News? I don’t want to be news.

I have so many questions but there’s only one that matters.

‘Did the plumber live?’ I ask.

She comes closer. The name on her hospital badge reads, Molly, and underneath that, Senior Nursing Sister. I like Nurse Molly. She has a warm tone to her voice. A nice smile. And smells of talc.

‘And what plumber was that?’ she asks, her head now to one side, the way heads often are when examining you.

‘The plumber attacked by the snake!’ I answer.

Oh, why did I say that? But I know why, because that’s the image that keeps coming in my mind.

I look into her eyes. They’ve seen it all, haven’t they? Perhaps that’s why she doesn’t seem that surprised by what I’ve just said.

‘A snake, was it? Oh, maybe that bump on your noggin is worse than the good doctor thought.’

Bump? What bump?

I lift my hands to my head. Bandages.

‘Do you remember a postman?’ Nurse Molly inquires.

Yes, I say to her, I did. A man struck by an electrical bolt, burnt to a cinder, who then came back to life again. Only I don’t tell Molly that bit.

‘Well,’ she goes on, ‘the postman came with you to the hospital. With you and the other fella. But no snake. And no plumber. The postman though, he did leave you this.’

Nurse Molly picks up a sealed envelope lying on the table next to me.

‘Shall I do the honours?’

I nod and she opens it. Inside, a Get Well card with a cartoon yellow sun in top hat and white gloves with tiny dancing feet beneath.

‘Oh, it’s our best seller. But no name, though. See, it’s just signed “The Postman”. Oh, but very concerned, he was.’

Nurse Molly then stands the card on the table and seats herself on a chair next to my bed.

‘So, m’treasure, tell me all about this snake of yours.’

By then, I was becoming more awake. Of course, it wasn’t a snake. I knew that. It was just an electrical cable. But the way it spat out those sparks – like molten venom – and how it seemed to think – then pounce…

Nurse Molly sat waiting for my reply. Perhaps she saw how unsettled I had become and so held my hand for a moment.

‘Now I’d say you’re far too young to be having acid flashbacks. And not yet old enough for the cheese to have fallen off the cracker. So could it be that you dreamt this snake of yours?’

Dreamt? If only she knew. You see, our kind never dream. But I couldn’t tell her that either.

‘I meant it looked like a snake,’ I explained. And that was true.

‘What looked like a snake?’

‘The electrical cable.’

‘And what is the very last thing you remember?’

‘A man in a yellow hat. No, two hats. Two men.’

‘And before that?’

‘The electric cable,’ I nearly said attacked but caught myself in time, ‘it struck the plumber. Is he all right?’

‘Do you remember being hit on the head?’

‘No – I mean yes. There was this big flash. Cables came out of the roadworks. They were moving everywhere… and then… and then… and then there was another flash and the plumber fell. After that I felt this punch on the head. I think. I’m not sure. It all seemed to happen so quickly.’

‘Well, this may explain it,’ she said, picking up the local newspaper from the side table. ‘I was reading the very page when you woke up. Where is it now? Oh yes, here we are. To answer your question, the plumber is fine. Only, he isn’t a plumber. See.’

Nurse Molly then pointed to the headline.

‘I GOT THE SHOCK OF MY LIFE’, SAYS ELECTRICIAN.’ Ha! Ha! I bet they came up with that one. But save your eyes, young fella, I’ll tell you all about it.’

Molly’s face then disappeared behind The Chipping Express and she began to read aloud.

‘“Aussie electrician, Jayden Mitchell, twenty-eight” – oh, and quite a fit fella he is. I’ve taken his pulse! – “is recovering in hospital from burns as a result of a severe electrical shock following what has been called “a freak accident”. A live electrical cable in the High Street roadworks was severed by falling tiles from the roof of St John’s church.”’

Nurse Molly then peeked her head over the open pages.

‘Oh, I tell you, those old slates are sharper than you’d think. And heavy, too. Easter, I’d say it was, we had a poor fella in here with his arm nearly sliced off from one that fell right outside his own front door.’

She then disappeared again behind her newspaper.