Saving time

By E.K Lea

Saving Time

2

For Kia, Kyron and Kyle, my test subjects, and their

mum for letting me borrow her twelve year olds.

With special thanks to Rachel, Hellen and Gill for all

their help.

And my lovely mum, for design and support.

Saving Time

3

Reading Room Cafe Project Publishing

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material

protected under the International and Federal Copyright

laws and Treaties.

All content remains the property of E.K. Lea.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in

any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or

otherwise, including photocopying or recording, or by any

information retrieval or storage system without the

express written permission of the author.

Copyright Emma Kendall Lea 2015

readingroomproject@yahoo.co.uk

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Chapter one……………………………….…page 5

Chapter two ………...…………………….…page 13

Chapter three…………………..…..…………page 27

Chapter four……………………………….…page 43

Chapter five……………………....……….…page 51

Chapter six……………………..………….…page 61

Chapter seven………………..…………….…page 69

Chapter eight…………………………..….…page 85

Chapter nine……………………………….....page 91

Chapter ten………………………………….page 107

Chapter eleven…………………………...…page 115

Chapter twelve…………………………...…page 127

Saving Time

5

Chapter One

Escape

As the sunlight faded and the street lights blinked into

life, Tag darted across the road and skidded into the

darkened doorway, his heart pounding in his chest. He

was breathing heavily and gulping for breath. He was

almost caught that time. Tag grinned. Almost, but not

quite. He looked about him - this was no place to be

hanging about. The thieves could come around that

corner any time. He could feel the package tucked in

his coat pressing against his side. He slid his fingers

into the lining and stroked the leather wrapping. He

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6

had to see what it was, he needed to know what he’d

taken.

The heavily rusted grate rumbled back into place

above him as he skidded into the safety of the

sewerage tunnels that wove their way beneath the city.

The rain had poured in and the water swished around

Tag’s feet and soaked into his socks as he ran to the

security of more familiar, slightly higher ground. The

huge echoing cavern below the university was always

a good place to find a friend with a fire to sit by. A

friend who wouldn’t ask questions about Tag’s – not

stolen, definitely not stolen, perhaps the word was

recovered? – Tag’s recovered package.

Aldo Reloj was a gammy old Spanish soldier who’d

found himself living, like so many people since the

government began its new levy on the poor, in the

manmade catacombs below the world of the more

fortunate. His fire was built from the driest debris he

could lay his hands on and his pile of treasures was

legendary – the strangest things washed their way

down here to the subterranean realm of the forgotten.

Aldo Reloj’s treasures were famous among the

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urchins and the vagabonds of the city, as was his

generosity with his time and his fires. His wild white

hair was tangled into his straggly beard and his mouth

was almost entirely bereft of teeth – he had only three

left at the front, two at the top and one bottom, making

his sallow cheeks sink into his face giving him a

hollow look, he reminded Tag of a skeleton he’d once

found, shrivelled in a chimney. He was hunched over

on his log, the firelight dancing over him and casting

strange shadows in the gloom. He heard Tag’s

footsteps echoing along the passageway long before

the boy burst out into the wide open gallery. He didn’t

look up.

“Slow down, boy.” he croaked, still staring into the

fire. “You slip and fall, floor very slipsy in the rain.”

“Sorry, Aldo. Can I come and sit by your fire?” Tag

slowed to a stop a few metres away from the old man.

“Come away from the cold. Is very cold today, no?”

“Thank you, it is. Very cold.” Tag shivered, suddenly

aware of the chill that had soaked its way into his

bones. He approached Aldo and the fire cautiously,

he liked the strange man, but he was never sure of him.

Not completely. There was something in the way he

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8

never made eye contact. Tag sat on the log next to the

old man, opened his coat and retrieved the package.

Aldo Reloj remained transfixed with the twirling

flames. “The summer is too cold this year.”

Tag carefully untied the leather wrapping and took out

the item. He sighed. The thieves had been very

excited by it. Perhaps they’d taken the wrong thing.

Perhaps he’d risked life and limb for nothing.

“It’s just a book.” Tag visibly sagged.

“What is?” Aldo muttered.

“This is. I thought it was something good.”

“Book is something good. Let me see.” he held out

his hand.

Tentatively, Tag passed him the book.

Aldo’s thin, cracked lips pealed back over his three

rotting teeth and he grinned a revolting grin. “You

visit over city?” his tiny dark eyes twinkled with an

unusual new light. “You go to university library?” he

grinned and raised his eyebrows. “You take this

book?”

“I didn’t know it was a book. I didn’t steal it, not

really, I just…” he petered out into silence.

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The elderly Spaniard chuckled and shook his head,

casting his white hair tumbling around his face. “So

you take book from those men? The ones who you

take jewels from last year?” his toothless grin spread

wider and he sighed. “You know they beat you, if they

catch you. Brave or stupid? Hum?”

“I, erm…” Tag gulped. “I think probably stupid.” he

licked his lips, nervously. “Sorry.”

Old Many riffled in his pockets, the strange contents

spilling onto the floor. A deck of cards, the skull of a

bird, a sovereign ring, various papers, a feather. “You

read?” he asked. Tag nodded. He read. Just about,

but he read. He longed to go back to school, to be able

to do all of the things that the older children could

already do by his age.

Aldo stuffed the book back into the boy’s hand along

with a small scrap of cloth. He stared at Tag. Tag

looked up at Aldo. His eyes were like a jumble of cogs

– like clockwork. The greens and reds behind the

copper gears just sunk away into the depths, deep into

the past, into the mind. Ringed with gold and bronze,

he stared into the mechanisms of this old man’s sight.

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“Take book here. In morning. Sleep first. Get cold

out of young little bones.” then he looked back at the

fire, haunted by its beauty and movement.

That night Tag slept on a pile of rags laid out for him

in front of the fire by the ancient mariner, as the

multitude of other waifs and strays crept in around

them to warm themselves by Aldo’s fire.

Tag awoke the next morning to find himself alone,

abandoned in the biting darkness as the sewers

emptied of its people, who had all gone back above to

eke out a living from the meagre scraps cast off by

those from the world above. He shivered, though the

embers of the fire still glowed. There was the end of

a loaf of bread on the log beside him. Good. He was

hungry. In his hand he found the piece of cloth given

to him the night before. There was an address.

A noise, a crash from somewhere off in the darkness

echoed and clattered towards him. Tag froze in the

shadows and held his breath.

“It must be here somewhere.” hissed a new and angry

voice. “The dog has its scent.”

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“It could be confused. There’s a lot of stink down

here.”

Tag snatched up the book and his coat and disappeared

into the obscurity of blackness behind him. He was

running again, as quietly as he could, leaping over the

standing water as he sped through the gloom, then

hauling himself up through the grate and out into the

blinding early morning light and onto the street. He

was alone and afraid once again – that was his lot. But

there was an address.

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Saving Time

13

Chapter Two

Rest

It was a shop on a side street near the school Tag had

once gone to, before it was closed down. The school

inspectors said it was failing, because the exam results

weren’t very good. Of course the exam results

weren’t very good. No one could learn in this day and

age. Even for those lucky few who had enough to eat

there was no heating in the school anymore so no one

could think properly. Have you ever tried to work out

the length of the long side of a triangle – the

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hypotenuse – when your lips were blue with cold?

Then the school had closed. Tag had been eight. So

he could read and do sums. He wasn’t stupid. But

there had been no money for a new school, so he

hadn’t been for four years. He could read well enough

to find that little shop, though. The street was cobbled

and all the other buildings were ordinary houses, but

one of them, on the far end, was a shop.

Tag sighed. He wished he’d eaten some of the bread

he’d found by the dying fire. His stomach growled

angrily and he felt sick with hunger. Too late now.

The shop bell tinkled as he opened the door

cautiously. It was warmer and darker in here. There

was a strong smell of mould and dust. Red rugs

festooned the warped wooden floor, which creaked

underfoot, and bookshelves and cases were piled high

along a narrow walkway that was just about clear. The

cases contained all sorts of things, from animal

skeletons to marionette string puppets. A clockwork

heart beat away in one corner. Tag swallowed

nervously and took a deep breath. Aldo Reloj could

have sent him anywhere, and he was never sure of him

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– no eye contact. Something moved in a dim corner.

Tag crept closer. It was an ornate brass bird cage,

swinging in the draft. Taxidermy – the art of stuffing

and preserving dead animals – had always fascinated

him and he leant in close for a better look. A long

dead crow clung to the perch. Through the gathered

dust the bird’s silky black feathers shone and the beak

was smooth and sharp.

“Caw!”

Tag jumped and spun around to see a live bird heading

straight for him at speed. He gasped and dropped to

the floor sending up a cloud of dirt around him.

A deep, kind laugh erupted from the other room. “He

won’t hurt you boy.” the voice was deep and crackly.

Tag recognised an accent, only faint, but he thought it

was German, even though he hadn’t heard a German

voice in a long time.

The boy stood up, gingerly. He brushed himself down

and looked into the soft, grey eyes of this wizened old

man, not much taller than he was, who leant heavily

on a cane. It was a beautifully ornate cane, carved at

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the handle with faces of animals. Tag looked away

from the old man and stared at it. The ancient wood,

the bone handle, the faces. It was striking. The bird

fluttered and the spell was broken.

“What’s it doing in here?” He asked.

“What are you doing in here?” croaked the crinkly

man, still smiling.

Tag looked nervously at the bird. “You promise it

won’t get me?”

“He’s very well mannered. He was a gift, from an old

Spanish sailor I know.”

Tag’s eyes widened. “Not Aldo Reloj?” at last.

The man nodded. “That’s the one. You know Reloj?”

“He sent me to find you. I have this book, I, erm…

found it.” he reached into the dark recesses of his coat,

his hand felt the paper and it was a shock – he must

have left the leather wrapping behind. He fished out

the book and handed it to the man.

“My name is While. Fitz While.” he held out his free

hand.

“I’m Tag.” Tag shook Mr While’s hand. This was

already a strange day. People didn’t shake his hand.

They didn’t touch him, he was grubby and he smelled

bad. Even he knew that. Perhaps the old man was

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mad. Or anosmic. Anosmia stops people being able

to smell properly. There had to be something wrong

with him, anyway.

“Hello Tag. It’s very nice to meet you. Any friend of

Reloj is a friend of mine. The bird is Mortimer. Shall

we go through to the kitchen and look at your book in

there?”

The kitchen was in the back of the shop, through a

beaded curtain. It was a strange room that seemed to

also be the dining and living room. There was a sofa

against one wall, a large table in the middle, an oven,

fridge and set of cupboards against another wall and a

sink and some more cupboards next to the window

wall that must have been the back of the house. The

window itself overlooked a small yard. The sun was

out at last and a girl was pegging some washing up in

the bright, breezy morning.

Before the third term, when Tag had a home, had

family, had a mother, she had pegged out their

washing in their yard like that. Once upon a time.

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She was a young girl, the girl in the yard now, maybe

she was younger than Tag. Girls Tag’s age were

mostly taller than he was but this girl was small. She

was a beautiful, wild looking creature – there was a

huge mop of tightly curled black hair scooped together

in a ribbon on the top of her head, she wore mud

splattered tights, the hem on her skirt was torn and her

shirt was old and obviously far too big for her. Tag

stood at the sink looking out at her, transfixed.

“Come and sit down,” Mr While began. “I’ll make a

pot of tea. Lila made cake, would you like some?”

Tag turned around. Mr While reached up and opened

a cupboard. He took down a tin and placed it on the

rough wooden table. It was a strange set up, with

mismatched place mats and an empty dimply glass in

the middle, on a little wooden pedestal.

Tag sat down while the old man filled the kettle from

a noisy old tap that banged and spluttered and placed

it on the stovetop. Tag peeked over the top of the tin.

The cake was half eaten, it smelled of lemon and was

sprinkled with little black spots. “Seed cake.” Mr

While cut a wedge of cake and lifted it onto a small

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plate in front of the boy. “Eat up. It won’t last long

anyway. I had forgotten how much children eat until

Lila came here.”

“She’s the girl out there? Your granddaughter?”

“My Goddaughter. Sweet child. Takes very good

care of me, makes my hair grey, though.”

Tag smiled. He was beginning to like this old man.

He pulled the plate towards him, leaned over the table

and began to shovel the cake into his mouth. It was

delicious. Sweet and sharp and moist. The seeds on

the top were crunchy and nutty and stuck between his

teeth as he ate. His tummy growled appreciatively.

The tea was hot and sweet and milky and chased the

cold, at last, from his aching bones. The heat from the

stove dried the last of the damp from his clothes. Tag

sighed.

“Now,” Mr While scraped his chair across the stone

floor as he sat down at the table opposite Tag. “We

should look at your book. More cake?”

Tag smiled and nodded.

The door swung open and the girl, Lila, skipped in

laughing. “You’ll get fat, Opa!” the bird swept to her

with a flash of feathers. “Who is your guest?”

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Tag recognised her now, out of the bright sun. Del, he

called her. She was a monster! She pulled hair and

ran with wild dogs. Or at least she had, until she

disappeared from the sewers about 11 months ago.

She was less skinny now, looked a little further from

death, her hair was clean, but Lila was Del, it was

definitely her.

“This boy was sent to me by an old friend.”

Tag stared at the girl. She knew he was… what did

she know? well he wasn’t a thief, not really, but adults

wouldn’t understand about that. And she knew. She

stared back at him.

“Does he have a name, this boy?” she asked, winking

at Tag and looking innocently at Mr While.

“Tag.” he said. “The boy’s name is Tag. He’s brought

me this book, which he found.” the old man looked,

for the first time, at the book. “Oh my…” he said in a

whisper. “Vas is das?” he opened the cover delicately.

“Das Totenbuch…” he swallowed hard. He looked at

the children. “Das ist schlecht, sehr schlecht.” he

cleared his throat loudly. “Where did you get this

book from, Tag?” he asked kindly.

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“I, erm…” Tag thought franticly. “Well, I was going

to the, erm…”

“You won’t be in trouble,” Mr While began. “I just

need to know where this has come from.”

“I don’t know. That’s why I don’t know anything

about it, I didn’t even know it was a book. I don’t…”

“Calm down, boy.” snapped Del, or Lila as she was

now. “Just tell him.”

“I didn’t get the book from the, erm… owner. Not the

real owner. I don’t take things from their real owners,

it’s erm…”

“Who did you get the book from?” coaxed the old

man, kindly. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“There’s a house, down the road from the church,

three men live there, I don’t know who they are. I

don’t know. But I know that none of the things there

belong to them, not really. Sometimes I, erm…”

“You pinch things from the Church Street Gang when

you think they aren’t looking. Mostly they don’t

know it was you.” Lila said. “Mostly.”

“Dear boy! They could hurt you…” the old man’s

face went white. “They could kill you!”

Tag swallowed again. “I…”

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“Don’t worry, Reloj was right, you were right to bring

it here. I wonder why they took this book…”

“Hot tea for the shock, Opa?” Lila had already turned

to the stove. Mr While stood up and joined her.

Tag helped himself to another piece of cake and

strained his ears. He knew to listen to hushed words.

He knew to listen when backs were turned. He knew

to listen when a girl he knew changed her name and

moved in with a strange old man to live above his

curiosity shop.

“Perhaps he could be hilfreich.” the old man said in

hushed tones. “He could help with the problem I was

telling you about.”

“He might not be …hilfreich – helpful isn’t always…”

“Lila, that hour, if it isn’t returned, Lila, eine

Katastrophe, Lila, oh Lila!”

“When you say my name like that, Fitz, it makes me

worry for you. Sit down. Calm down.”

“Is everything ok?” Tag asked loudly, shifting

uncomfortably in his seat.

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“The old man has a weak heart.” Lila said angrily.

“And since my mother went to prison Opa Fitz is all I

have. I won’t have him upsetting himself.”

“Is it anything I can help with? I’d help with anything

for more of this cake.” he smiled. If there was a way

to get more cake, Tag would find it. “I’m good at

erm…”

“Getting back stolen goods?” Lila smiled at him and

raised an eyebrow.

“Um. That’s the one.”

“What do you know about British Summer Time?” the

old man asked.

“Opa, are you sure about this?”

“I can’t have you going alone Lila, it’s not safe, a

delicate young girl like you.”

Tag suppressed a snigger, he knew Del. He’d seen her

knock down boys much bigger than herself, she was

not, in any way, delicate.

“He’s just a child too, Opa, just a little boy.”

“Lila, I am not having this discussion with you,” Mr

While shook his head and sighed. “Not again.”

Mr While moved his chair in close to where Tag was

sitting and leant on the table. “Let me tell you a story,

boy, a story about the changing of time.

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“You know, that in the spring, at the beginning of

British summer time, an hour is taken out of time

itself, it jumps from midnight to 1am in the blink of an

eye, and then, at the end of British summer time, it is

put back in, it is returned in the middle of the night

and it is like it was never gone. Well during that time,

I look after the hour. I keep time.”

“Time and clocks aren’t the same, no offense, old

man, but an hour isn’t a thing. Its’s… it’s…”

“A construct. An idea made by man to measure out

the day. Well it is. But not, you see, if you believe in

a thing. If you believe in a thing strongly enough, the

thing can come to be. People put so much importance

in time, in being on time, in not being late, in clock

watching, that time has intertwined with clocks and

they have become the same. So someone has to keep

it, to look after the hour and put it back at the end of

the summer.” the old man’s voice was soft and kind,

but it still made Tag angry.

“That doesn’t make any sense. Time doesn’t work

like that.” Tag shook his head.

“Of course it does!” laughed Mr While. “Time is a

fabric, a cloth, and when you cut a piece out you can

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stitch it back in.” the old man reached to the empty

glass, the dimply one in the centre of the table. “And

it belongs in here.”

“In there?”

“It’s my hour glass.”

“That’s not what an hour glass is, an hour glass is a

curvy thing, with sand in, it measures out an hour…”

“And you’re an expert in that sort of thing, are you

young man?”

“Well…”

“See Opa! He won’t be any good. He isn’t…” then

she looked at the old man. Really looked at him and

her face changed, she smiled and changed tack. Mr

While really wanted this boy to find the hour and he

wouldn’t let her go without him. She could see that.

She could use that. Well then, she’d make the boy

want the adventure too.

“He isn’t clever enough.” she blustered. “Even if he

did believe in the fabric of time, which he doesn’t so

this is a pointless conversation, he wouldn’t be able to

understand what he needs to do, he wouldn’t be able

to work anything out.”

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“Yes I would. I could do it. I’ll do anything, I’m just

as clever as her!”

“Are you indeed?” she smirked.

“And what will be your reward, Tag?” Mr While

asked, kindly.

“Seed cake. And dinner. Every week.” the boy

nodded to himself. “Every week.”

“Excellent. I must tell you what I know and what it is

that I need you to do, you and my little Lila, but first,

go up the stairs and have a bath, you stink to high

heaven!”

“A bath? No one has enough hot water for a bath these

days, and I don’t really fancy a cold bath, I don’t mean

to be rude… but…”

The Old man smiled kindly, again, as he interrupted

the child. “The aga has a back burner. The water for

the bath will be hot. And there should be some clean

clothes that will fit you somewhere, Lila can dig them

out while you’re washing.”

“I can, can I?” Lila pouted indignantly.

“Yes dear.”

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Chapter Three

Sleep

Mr While gave Tag a scrubbing brush on a stick, a

bottle of soap and a clean warm towel and Tag ran up

the stairs and drew himself a hot bath.

He lay in the piping water, soaking away months of

tension and grime and he wondered. He wondered

what the old man wanted him to do. It had to be

something bad. And he wondered why the old man

thought he’d have some clothes that would be Tag’s

size. There were no boys living here, as far as he could

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tell. Just Del. Del. Why was she calling herself Lila

now? He wondered that too. The water lapped about

the tub as he moved to rub soap into his longish, blond,

greasy hair.

By the end of the bath the water was grey with filth

and beginning to cool.

Tag smiled, content. The towel was thick and soft

against his bony body and drew the water from his

skin quickly. He pulled on a pair of socks that weren’t

his and a new pair of underpants that he took from the

packaging. The trousers were a little large but were

warm and strong. They’d been patched at the left front

pocket, but neatly, and they were clean. The shirt was

stiff. He wasn’t used to wearing a shirt, but it wasn’t

too smart and he thought he’d probably get away with

it. The jumper that he’d been given was thick and the

sleeves were long and, if pulled down hard enough,

would cover his hands.

Last of all, Tag reached for his boots, checked the

strapping. He sighed. It was still there. His fingers

felt the cold metal of his knife. His knife. If things

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29

went badly with this he was pretty confident he could

get out of it. The knife was the only thing he owned.

He pulled on the boots. They were tight and still

damp, but the clean dry socks felt good on his clean

dry feet. He wriggled his toes. He sighed again.

Clean and warm and dry Tag crept down the stairs as

quietly as he could. Not that he wanted to spy on the

mysterious Mr While and the girl with two names, but

he didn’t want to disturb them, either. The delicious

smell of cooking met him as he descended. He was

still full of cake and tea from the breakfast. His mouth

watered though. He paused on the bottom step and

breathed in the hot steamy air. If lunch was ready it

was time for him to go. People didn’t let strangers

stay for two meals in a row, no matter how kind they

were. Being kind didn’t stop people from being poor.

“We have to trust him, child. He already has the book,

so he’s already part of this.”

“What is the book?”

“You’re too young. It’s dangerous.” Mr While hissed

through is teeth.

“I’m the same age as Tag.”

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“Well then! I’m not going to tell him either.”

“You’re being ridiculous. It’s a book. How

dangerous can a book be?”

“Ridiculous? Ah! You are a child. You say

ridiculous. You have no idea!”

“Then tell me! I have no idea because you have not

given me an idea to have. If I have no idea it’s your

fault!”

“Oh, oh dear girl. It’s so hard. I need to protect you

from so much. I need to keep you safe. I promised

your mother that I would keep you safe. If I tell you

about the book, if I let you go out there for the hour, I

will have failed her, failed you.”

“If you don’t tell me I’ll go.” deli’s voice was just as

stubborn as it ever had been.

“Go where? There is nowhere else for you.”

“But I’ll go all the same, and the police won’t look for

me – they don’t look for missing orphans, and you

know it. There’s no money in finding missing

orphans. I’ll be gone. And then you’ll have broken

your promise good and proper. Ha!” she stared

harshly at the old man, seething with hot, loud rage.

She was furious now and this was the worst threat she

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knew to make to him. There was a moment too long

of quiet. They stared at each other.

“You are not an orphan, child, your mother…”

“I’m not an idiot, Fitz.” she said, as kindly as she

could muster, suddenly aware that it wasn’t this old

man’s fault that her life had spiralled into the sewers.

“I know that people don’t survive prison. Not

anymore.” she smiled a sad smile and put her hand on

the old man’s arm. Sometimes, more often now than

she had before, she wished that she was an idiot. “I

know that the government gives the prison some

money to keep the prisoners. If they spend all the

money on keeping the prisoners safe and fed there

would be no money left over for the people who own

the prisons.” she paused. She looked at the ground.

“If prisoners die…”

“Lila…”

“No. If prisoners die and the prisons don’t tell anyone

they keep getting paid.”

“Oh Lila, you sweet, clever girl.” Mr While shook his

head, sadly. “I’m so sorry.”

“If she isn’t dead yet she will be soon.”

“I’m so sorry.”

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“Tell me the connection, at least, between Tag’s book

and the missing hour.”

“The book that Tag has is a magic book. It contains

much magical knowledge.” Tag did his best not to

snort. What a stupid thing to say! “With an hour cut

out of time and that book a person could live for ever.

Unfortunately, it is meant to be an hour cut out of their

own time, out of a single life. As there are very few

people left who could do that, the only hour available

is my missing hour, but that is an hour out of all of

time. If that hour is used up by a spell, the

consequences could be catastrophic!

“If it isn’t returned in time, autumn will not come and

there will be no harvest, no food, and since Britain has

been cut off from trade with the other nations by the

sanctions against us, there would be no way to import

more, not legally. The entire food trade would be

controlled by gangs. Even more of us would starve.

“If it is used up in the spell there will be no way of

putting it back, no way to end the summer. The

damage will be irreversible.

“Then there is the other possibility. If the hour is

destroyed in the spell, it could be even worse than all

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33

of those things. Time will stop. Freeze. All of life on

earth will pause. We would all blink into a stand still.

We need to get that hour back. And to keep Tag’s

book away from whoever stole that hour.”

“It’s not my book.” Tag interrupted, stepping off the

stairs at last. “And if it’s going to cause all that

trouble, couldn’t we just… destroy it?”

Lila and the Mr While stared at Tag. Then Mr While

looked back at Lila, then to the empty glass on the

dining table. He swallowed and cleared his throat. He

licked his dry lips. And in a moment that seemed to

drag out for an age he, made a decision.

“Lila, put the kettle on. I’ll get the birds out of the

oven.”

Lunch was, it turned out, roasted pigeon with

dandelion root and fresh leafy greens. Ammunition of

any sort was very hard to come by these days, but Mr

While was a crack shot and none was ever wasted.

There were three golden birds on a roasting tray and,

though he was still full from breakfast, Tag could feel

his mouth starting to water.

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34

“You’ll join us for lunch, boy?” Mr While asked,

grinning a strange grin. “I like to see a child eat.” Tag

smiled back and nodded.

That explained why Lila was looking so much better

than she had when he’d last seen her. A healthier diet

with more fat and meat in it.

“I keep time. That is my purpose here. That hour is

mine to protect until the autumn and it is put back in

at the end of British summer time. Without that hour,

time will not work properly, the summer will stretch

out and drought will dry the land and without the

winter to rest, the ground will become barren. The

insects that usually die off in the winter won’t do, and

we’ll be overrun with plagues of them and the little

food that does grow will be picked off. The rats that

hibernate or die off in the winter won’t do, they’ll

carry on breeding and spreading until there is no place

safe from the biting vermin. Have you ever been

bitten by a rat?”

The children shook their heads. “Well, when I was a

baby in Germany, in 1942 a rat bit off my toe! When

there are large numbers of rats and the people are

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weakened, the rats become bolder, more aggressive.

And as people begin to starve they will become more

aggressive. The more people who die the more

frightened and dangerous those who are still alive will

become. Soon there will be no one clearing the bodies

from the houses or the streets and the gangs of cats

and dogs that already terrorise us will grow as they too

feed on the debris of humanity. Even without the

threat of magic, life without that hour will be more

brutal than it already is.”

The children sat in stunned silence. Lila’s hands,

clenched around her hot tea, were white with tension.

Tag’s face was stony still. This wasn’t how adults

spoke to children. Adults didn’t admit the imminent

danger of it all, they sugar coated things or they lied.

Mr While looked at their innocent little faces and

sighed.

“What does this have to do with my book?” Tag asked

at last. “I mean, if I’m honest I heard about the magic

and everything, but couldn’t we burn it or

something?”

“Books,” Mr while said. “Are a strange and

wonderful thing. Even ordinary books have magic.

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Once a word is written down it exists. Words are

supposed to be spoken, heard and either remembered

or forgotten, but humans are so… creative and

inventive. Since words have been written down they

have begun to exist. Do you understand?”

Tag and Lila shook their heads. “Not really.” Lila

admitted. “It’s all a bit… I don’t know. It’s gone

weird. It seems like something from a fairy tale…”

“Don’t get me started on fairy tales!” Mr While stood

up and reached to Tag’s plate. He took a knife and a

fork and began stripping the meat from the bony little

bird. “Fairy tales! A whole other kettle of madness!

Fairies!” he passed the plate back to Tag. “Eat. I’ll

tell you why we can’t just destroy your book, boy.

“Once words are written down they exist. Once

something exists, even if it is not alive it can have a

will, it wants to carry on existing. And magic words,

well, magic words can make themselves stay. Even if

their earthly book were to be destroyed, the words

would stay and seek revenge. And to destroy a book

with fire! Oosh no. No that would not do at all. Fire

has a power all of its own. Fire is hypnotic. It can get

into a brain. Vengeful magic words with fire on their

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side could be very dangerous. Very dangerous

indeed.”

Tag thought back to Aldo Reloj, transfixed by the fire.

There was something, now he thought about it,

haunted about the way the old man had looked into

those flames with his mechanical eyes. ‘It can get into

a brain.’ He breathed deeply.

“So what do we do?” Lila asked, her voice shaking

Tag from his thoughts.

“We find my missing hour and put it back where it

belongs.” Mr While said. And we get this book

somewhere safe. It belongs in a magical library

somewhere.”

Tag looked at the book. If magic were real, how could

any of this be happening? How could there be a Third

Term? How could the government be so corrupt and

so in league with such large tax dodging companies

and so in control of mass media? If there was magic,

surely it would have been used to stop all of this?

The questions must have been written clearly on his

face.

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“Who says magic is always on the side of good? You

think all magicians were like Merlin? Magic is like

music. In the right hands it is beautiful, in the wrong

hands it can be the worst thing you could imagine.”

Mr While smiled. “I have a good idea who could keep

the book safe. Would you stay here this afternoon and

this evening, and possibly tonight as I’ve never really

done anything like this before, while I sort everything

out? Then in the morning, if you want to help, Lila

and you can go out into the world to take the book to

safety. I can put myself to work to find out where the

hour is.” he smiled at Tag. “Will you still help?”

“Yes. But I don’t believe in magic. I won’t believe in

magic, it’s ridiculous. I do believe though, that the

men who are after me are dangerous and that anyone

they might be working for could be dangerous too.”

“Now you know the dangers, do you want to revise

your terms?”

“Two hot meals a week. And a hot bath. And a wash

of my clothes. Each week.”

“That sounds fair.” Mr While smiled and looked at the

children. “We’ll go over the logistics of it this

afternoon and you two can make a move in the

morning…”

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39

“Logistics?” Tag asked. He’d heard the word and

knew sort of what it meant but he wanted to know for

certain.

“The travel and timing details. Lila, could you go and

make up a bed in the spare room for our guest? And

light a fire in there? The summer is very cold this

year…” his brow wrinkled above his eyes. Very

cold… like it knew it had time for a long run up.

They spent the afternoon pouring over maps and

packing as many provisions as could easily be carried

into two small backpacks and sewing secret pockets

into the inside of coats and clothing.

Mr While had been very young when he had first

travelled, shrouded in fear, alone to an uncertain

destination. In Germany when he was a child…

almost 80 years ago. He had fled with his sisters and

hadn’t packed well. There were several times they

would have died had it not been for the odd kind

stranger risking their own lives to feed three starving

gypsy children. He wondered, not for the last time, if

he was doing the right thing.

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40

Tag fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. The

clean crisp sheets and warm air and soft duvet took

him back three years to when he’d had a home and his

kind foster mother had tucked him up and read him a

story. Before the government had changed the criteria

for foster-adoption and he’d been sent back to the

group home. He, apparently, didn’t require fostering

with a family and a view to adoption anymore. He

was too old and should live in a group home. No one

mentioned that this would be cheaper. And since 4-

tech had taken over a lot of privately run foster homes

there was a real push to fill them up. But for now he

slept. This little lamb, too grown up for his age, with

all of the responsibility but none of the power. He

slept and dreamt of magic.

Delilah Hackathon, Del to some, Lila to others, smiled

to herself. What a clever ruse, to get her godfather to

let her on the adventure. She would save the day and

everyone would be proud of her and forget that it was

her fault her mother went to prison and was probably

dead and that her father had gone to Europe and would

probably never come home. Yes. She’d save the day

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and prove to everybody. She was a good girl. They’d

all see.

Everyone thought she was so young and fragile. Well

twelve isn’t all that young. She’d show the lot of

them. She smiled and fed the raven, Mortimer, who

cawed quietly in the darkness. She’d show them all.

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Saving Time

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Chapter Four

The Beginning

After a good night’s sleep and a large breakfast the

children waved good bye to Mr While and headed out.

They were going to take the book to safety with a

woman twenty three miles away who lived in and

protected what the old man called a “fortified library.”

neither Tag nor Lila knew what that meant, and he’d

explained that it was strong and made stronger and

would be easy to defend, like a castle. They would

have to walk for a couple of days to get there.

It would only be half an hour away by train but the

trains were no place for unaccompanied children in

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44

this day and age. Neither were the streets, not really.

If it looked like no one would miss you, you could be

sold to the highest bidder and sent to the country to

work on one of the farms. Tag wasn’t really sure what

farms were for, but he knew he didn’t like the sound

of it. Labour was in short supply now the migrant

workers had been sent back, and children were cheap.

So they dropped into the sewers as soon as they could

to make their way to the river bank that way. It was

warmer today and even underground the heat above

took the chill out of the air.

“Want to tell me what that’s all about then, Del?” Tag

asked once they were on their way. “Or should I say

Lila?”

“He’s an old friend of mum’s or something.” she said,

watching her elusive footing on the slippery ground

carefully. “After dad went off and mum went down, I

had nowhere to go, so I lived down here with you lot.

Then about a year ago I got word that my mum sent

me a letter. I went and picked it up.”

“What? From the post office?”

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45

“I know, weird lot they are. Anyway. The gist of it

was that she’d tracked down some old man she knows

and he’s promised to look after me. I just have to help

him out in the shop. Turns out the old boy lived here

all along! Can you imagine? I’ve been scratting

around for over two years trying to hang on to my food

and my boots and fighting anyone who’d try and take

them off me and I could have been up there, in the

world with him!”

“Bit weird, though, that. You going to live with an old

man. And where does he get his money from? There

are four bedrooms in that house and I never saw one

customer in the shop all of yesterday.”

“What are you saying?” Del demanded as they

rounded the corner to Aldo Reloj’s cavern. “You

think because he’s not suffering and dying like

everyone else that he’s some sort of crook? You’re a

stupid boy. You really…” she froze.

Tag took a couple of steps more than she had and had

to turn around to face her. “What now? You’re not

falling out with me are you?”

“Tag.” she whispered. “When you turn around you’re

going to want to scream or shout or make a lot of

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46

noise. Don’t. Just turn around slowly and keep quiet.

Just look once and then we’ll run.” deli’s voice was

quiet and frightened. Tag had never seen her afraid

before. He’d seen her angry and frightening, but never

afraid. “Or don’t look and we’ll just run.” she

continued. “But do whatever you decide to do

quietly.”

Tag turned round and stared out of the darkness into

the jumping flames that climbed the walls of Aldo’s

cavern. The whole place was ablaze and the light

threw long shadows from the three men who stood at

it’s base and picked through what remained of Aldo’s

things. Tag opened his mouth to speak and found

Deli’s hand across it, pulling him back, deeper into the

shadows. “Let’s get out of here.” she whispered. So

they ran.

They ran down the gloomy passageways under the

town and along the way to where the sewers spat out

by the river.

“Those men, they’re with the Church Street Gang.”

Tag spluttered as he struggled to get his breath back.

“And they killed Aldo Reloj!”

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“The fire could have been an accident…” Del began,

but she doubted it.

“He knows about fire, though. You know that was

well as I do. He’s good with fire. He understands it…

understood it…”

And they sat on the bank of the river and cried. Tag

would always have a tear in his eye when he thought

of his friend, when he grew up and had children of his

own he would tell them this story, of how he saved the

world, and he never left out the gory bits. He’d hug

them close when he got to this part, when he and Del

sat on the river bank and cried for an old man who had

been so kind.

The wild flora along the river bed had grown out of

control into a jungle. The hogweed and Japanese

balsam grew across the muddy path, churned up by

dirt-bike gangs and the ground was carpeted with

ferns and bracken. Summer, though it was not as

warm this year as it should be, was giving life to the

most incredible, impossible things. The size of the

hogweed and the speed at which they appeared as if

from nowhere was like a trick. If you ever see them,

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remember that they’ve grown to that size since the

spring, and disappear completely over the winter.

They are spectacular, if dangerous, plants and Tag and

Del stared up at them in wonder.

“I feel like a little doll, standing here.” Del said.

“Me too.”

“When we get to the river turn left, Opa pa said.” Del

took a deep breath and scrambled to a better position

on the bank. “Are you ready for this?”

They walked all day: though the mud, scratched at by

brambles and burnt by the spatters of giant hogweed

sap that flicked into their faces and onto their bare

arms. When the light started to fail they stopped under

a bridge. They were muddy and bloody and cold and

hungry. They had walked for eight hours and the

scenery, it seemed, hadn’t changed much at all.

“I don’t feel like we’ve got very far.” Tag said, easing

himself down onto the rocks below. “I just feel sore.”

“We’ll feel better when we’ve eaten.” Del pulled a

small, cold pie out from her pack and bit into it. “Eat.”

she said. “Then we’ll work out where we are.”

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The two children sat under the bridge in the dying

light and ate. They took off their boots and rubbed

their feet. They put their boots back on. The put salve

on their cuts and burns. They argued about whether it

was twelve bridges they’d passed or thirteen. They

looked at the map and decided it was, actually, only

eleven. And then, at last, they slept.

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Chapter Five

The River

It was Tag who woke first. The sleeping rolls they’d

brought with them were thin and, Tag decided,

useless. His bones ached from the rocks he’d slept on

and he cursed the ground. It was only then that he

realised they weren’t alone. A woman had built a fire

next to them in the night and now sat on a bolder

eating a fish.

“Mornin’, young’un.” she said without looking up

from the flames. “You hungry?”

“I, er…” Tag shook Del awake. “I’m not up yet.” he

said, suddenly glad that they had decided to sleep in

their boots. “I don’t usually eat until I’m up…”

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“Who the hell are you‽” Del shouted, jumping to her

feet and pulling her knife from her boot. “And what

do you want? And why have you lit a fire next to two

sleeping kids in the night? That’s very creepy, lady.”

“I’m Jen.” said the woman, smiling. “I suspect we’re

traveling in the same direction and the people looking

for me don’t know what I look like and aren’t looking

for a woman traveling with children. I lit a fire

because you were cold. Do you want some fish?”

“No we do not want some fish!” snapped Del,

lowering the knife and shaking her head in a mixture

of confusion and disbelief. “Do we want some fish‽

Bloody hell.”

Tag smiled. There was something about Del when she

was cross that made him laugh. He opened his pack

and took out some oat cakes. “Do you want one? You

could put some fish on it?” he asked, offering one to

the woman, Jen.

The three of them ate the oat cakes with the fish on

and discussed their plan.

“We’re going that way.” Tag pointed along the river

with his knife. “Keeping the water on our right.”

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“That suits me, if you don’t mind some company for

a while. I can fish and keep guard.”

“We can look after ourselves.” said Del, haughtily,

siting up straighter. “Thank you.”

Jen laughed. “Well of course you can. But there’s

more safety in numbers…”

“Especially for you.” Tag joined in again, looking at

his cross little companion. “You said someone’s after

you.”

“Um… the police. I escaped from prison. They think

I’m a danger to society.”

“Why?” Del leaned closer – eyes widening. Her

mother had been a danger to society too.

“I protested against the selling off of the schools and

hospitals and prisons, young’un. I’m a danger to

society.”

Del grinned. “You can come with us, then.”

“What?” Tag stared at Del. “Have you gone mad?”

“It’s best to have dangerous women on your side than

against you.” Del looked at the woman. If she could

escape from prison, maybe others could too.

“I’ll travel with you a little way. No one is looking for

a woman traveling with two children. Do you know

where you’re going from here?”

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“We don’t know, well...” Tag trailed off. “We’re

going down stream until the two rivers merge. Then

we should follow the other river back up the other

fork. Does that sound like it could be the way

somewhere?”

“You’re going to the Library?”

“Do you know the way?”

“Yes. If it’s ok with you I’ll travel with you most of

the way, once the Library is in sight, though, I’ll have

to leave you.”

So the three of them set out towards the Library. Jen

told the children about her escape from the prison and

her life before she’d been sent down. About her baby

boy, who would be nine now, but who she hadn’t seen

since he was born.

“Can they do that, then?” Del asked, horrified. “Can

they just take a baby away?” but they’d taken her

away, hadn’t they? It wasn’t the same because she

wasn’t a baby, but they took her away.

“He was born in prison, it isn’t safe for little ones

there. And I think my husband is dead, now. So I’m

going to find my boy.”

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Tag and Del looked at each-other, then at the ground.

They knew the chances of finding a child alive in all

of this. The world, Tag thought, is too broken for that.

But out loud he said “When we’re done with our thing,

we could help.”

“When you’re done with your thing I’ll be long gone.

But thank you.”

“What’s his name and we can keep an eye out for him,

at least.”

“James.” she said, smiling. “James Peterson. I saw a

picture of him once, he has ginger hair and a cleft lip.

I think it’s been repaired, though.”

Del looked at Tag. At least the boy was distinctive,

but he wouldn’t have been adopted, he’d be in a group

home somewhere, or he’d have been left on the streets

to fend for himself. A child with a scar like that would

be easy to spot, but not easy to place. They didn’t

repair cleft lips as well as they used to. And people

were crueller now.

“We’ll definitely keep an ear out.” Tag said, as

cheerily as he could manage. “I’m sure you’ll find

him soon, though.”

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“And if we find him, we’ll keep him safe at the

Curiosity Shop on Brook Street.”

And so it was that they were distracted when three

men jumped out of the bushes and tackled them to the

ground.

“We know you took it, boy.” snarled the smallest man.

“We know you took it and now we want it back.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” screamed

Tag. “What do you want?”

“Leave him alone!” shouted Jen. “He’s just a little

boy.”

“Give me the book, boy.” the small man knelt on

Tag’s chest and he could feel the pressure forcing the

air out of him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he choked

and spluttered. “I don’t…”

One of the other men pulled Del to her feet and

dragged her by her hair to the water’s edge.

“The book, boy.” Said the small man and punched him

square in the face. It’s only cowards who hit children

like that. In the old days Tag would have gone to the

police and the small man would have been done for

assault. Not anymore. Tag lay there, barely able to

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breath, bleeding from his nose and mouth, gasping for

air but only getting sprays of his own blood.

“Don’t worry about me, Tag.” Del said. “You don’t

have any book, I know this isn’t your fault.”

“Your girl is very brave, boy.” the small man grinned

a cruel grin. “It’s a shame she won’t live to be brave

much longer.” He turned to the man holding Del. Tag

turned his head in time to see Del being shoved into

the fast flowing water, her face confused and angry as

she disappeared into the white churning water.

The men were so busy crowing over their success in

pushing a little girl into a river that they didn’t notice

that Jen had got up from the grass. She kicked the man

who’d had hold of her in the front of his knee and he

dropped in agony to the ground, then she shunted the

other man over into the churning water. At last, she

crossed to the man who was knelt on top of Tag’s

chest and hauled him up by the hair.

“Tag, get Del.” she shouted as she dragged the man

stumbling across the gravel and up the side of another

concrete bridge. “You.” she was seething with rage.

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“Pick on little children. Hurt them. Well I’m bigger

than you, you little worm.” and she kicked him hard

in the chest, sending the small man toppling over the

edge towards the river. Tag heard a crack as the man’s

head hit a column of the bridge on his way into the icy

waters. And then Tag was in the water too, searching

for Del.

The cold bit into Delilah’s bones as she gulped

desperately for breath and splashed wildly to keep her

head above the crashing water. Tag had slipped under

the surface of the churning river when he jumped in

after her and she searched blindly for him as the water

thrashed against her little body. Then a warm hand

gripped her wrist and tugged her out of the river.

“Tag!” she shouted as she was heaved, spluttering,

onto the bank. “Tag!”

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“Shh.” Jen smiled, wading chest deep into the water

again and bracing herself against the current. “You

wait there, I’ll get him.” and she disappeared below

the surface.

The river bed was

strewn with debris and

the sinking boy was

bound to be caught up

on that, rather than

headed for the weir to

be dashed on the rocks like the men. Her head came

up above the water as she took another deep breath

before plunging back under the surface. Del was

cross. She didn’t know why, but she was cross that

this woman was saving Tag. Little did she know, but

she would have her chance, soon enough.

“Well…” Jen laughed. “Turns out you two are in just

as much trouble as me!”

“At least our bad guys aren’t the whole government.”

Tag giggled. “That’s over the top, you know that,

don’t you? It’s completely over the top.”

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The three of them lay panting on the warm grass and

for a moment, for one perfect moment as Jen looked

at the laughing children drying in the sun, she was

happy. Tag sighed. There could be families, he

supposed, that were more than the people you were

born with. He looked at Del and imagined having his

tea with her twice a week. He imagined the cake and

the hot fires and her.

The strange woman was true to her word and stayed

with the children until The Library was in sight. It

rose out of the lush green landscape grey and imposing

and ancient, like a castle from a fairy tale.

“I can’t come any further. I owe that woman in there

a favour. A huge favour, if we’re honest about it,

and I really don’t have time to pay it back at the

moment.” she smiled. “But you’ll be ok. Just don’t

use the path. And let her know you’re there as soon

as possible. So she can take down the defences.

She’s an odd one, a very odd one, that Librarian.”

Jen smiled a strange smile. “Odder than me, even.

Just be careful of her.”

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Chapter Six

The Library

The path stretched away up the hill to a high walled

building, peppered with towers, nestled in the foot of

the mountains. Three wide towers were visible from

the front of the building – one either side of the gate

and third larger tower off to the right. There were

more towers behind that, they could tell, The

windows started high up, Tag guessed the ground

floor wouldn’t have any, it would be dark in there.

“Libraries aren’t just for books, they sometimes store

other stuff.” Del said. “Sunlight can be bad for

paintings and things like that.”

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“So?” Tag couldn’t see what she was getting at. Her

brain whirred at a mile a minute.

“That’s why there are no windows on the bottom story

of the building.” she prompted.

“So?”

“If the Librarian’s as into security as that woman…”

“Jen.”

“As Jen says, well, where’s she going to be looking

out from?”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s bound to be something protecting that place,

I don’t fancy running into whatever that something

might be. Where will she be looking out from?”

“Let her know we’re here, Jen said.”

“Exactly.”

“Tower?” Tag pointed to the looming tower that grew

from the library building like some sort of monolithic

pillar.

They ran across the grass, keeping off the path,

shouting and waving up to the tower, trying to get the

attention of the librarian.

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They crashed, almost at the same time as each other,

into the solid chests of the Church Street Gang.

“No one to save you now, little rats.” the man was still

dripping wet.

The men were cold and angry and sore from being

buffeted in the river. One of the men’s arms hung

strangely in it’s socket.

Del bounced onto the ground and skidded across the

mud. The skinny man she’d crashed into retrieved a

sword from a loop on his belt. The fat one caught

Tag’s shirt as he fell and lifted him off the ground.

“You have something that belongs to us, little rat.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You stole the book from us.” said the fat man, pulling

a knife from his sleeve.

“Then call the police.” shouted Del. “Let them deal

with it. Put him down.”

“I’m not putting this little sewer rat down, girl, not

unless I can put him down at the vets.” he turned to his

colleague. “Should we take the rat to the vet so they

can put him down?”

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“I reckon we could call an exterminator to do it, it’s

not like he’s a pet, just a pest.” he grinned a yellow

toothed grin. “Unless he gives us our book. Then

perhaps we could just, you know, release him into the

wild.”

“What about the girl?” menaced the skinny one. His

sword touched Deli’s neck. She held her breath. She

closed her eyes. She thought frantically.

“I won’t tell you anything.” Tag stuck to his story. “I

won’t.”

“We don’t need you to say anything. We can just

search your things.”

Del swallowed hard and opened her eyes. The skinny

one stood over her with his sword at her throat. The

fat one held Tag by the shirt front with a knife at the

boy’s gut. The third one, the silent one, rummaged

through the bags with his one good hand. She looked

across the huge lawn. There was no sign of anyone

coming to their rescue this time. She put her hands

into her pockets, slowly, slowly. At last she breathed

out, then in again and held it. She felt for her gloves,

old and ugly but thick leather. She looked at Tag.

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Tried to catch his eye. No luck. Silently she counted

to three, winding herself up for action.

It came as such a shock when Del grabbed the sword

by its sharp blade and shoved the man back so hard

that he stumbled back and tripped. He was tall and

reedy and toppled easily. She snatched the sword

from his hands as he fell, hopped to her feet and

dropped the handle of the weapon into her right hand.

“Put him down!” she shouted, her voice was all

wobbly and she could hear her heart beating in her

throat. “Or, or I’ll…” she stopped. She wasn’t going

to stab the skinny man who lay sprawled on the grass.

She knew it. The silent one sneered, his greasy hand

grasping at Tag’s bag.

“You’ll what?” the fat one demanded, shoving Tag to

the floor and stepping towards her.

Del swallowed again. “I…” she looked at Tag, lying

there in the mud. She looked at his rucksack in the

hands of the sneering faced, silent one. She looked at

the cruel turn of the lips of the fat one. She looked at

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the skinny one at her feet and she realised he wasn’t

scared. He was laughing at her.

He was laughing at her and she was the one with the

sword. She leant a little, not hard, but a little, into the

handle and the point pushed into his chest. “I don’t

know what I’ll do.” she said, suddenly calm and

angry. “Who knows what I’ll do.” she leaned a little

harder and the skinny one stopped laughing.

“I think she means business!” he said. “I think she’s

crazy.”

“Who knows?” she leant a little harder and she felt a

little pop as the tip of the blade broke through the

fabric of his shirt.

He cried out in pain and he looked to his friends.

“Who knows?” she said again.

“Give them their bags back, let them go, she’s going

to kill me!” he shouted. Del smiled the small

beginnings of a cruel smile.

Tag scrambled to his feet and snatched up their bags

and the children ran towards the Library.

“You better hope she’s seen us!” Tag wheezed.

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“Hope?” Del laughed. “If hope’s all we’ve got we

might as well be dead!”

The two children hurtled along the grass. Mud flew

up and pelted their legs and the cool early summer air

caught in their lungs. At the Library the heavy dark

doors swung nosily open. A tall, cloaked woman

appeared with a rifle wedged to her shoulder.

“Hurry up.” she barked, gun trained firmly on the

three men who stopped in their tracks.

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Chapter seven

Libby

Through the door it was cool and dry and dark. Tag

stopped, suddenly blind now that they were out of the

bright sunlight. Del ran into him. They clattered over

the door mat onto the cold flag stones that covered the

floor of the entrance.

“Well.” the woman slammed the door shut and leant

against it, breathing heavily. “That was exciting.

Grab that lump of wood, could you?” she nodded her

head to a long rectangular beam that was lying next to

the wall. Tag lifted one end and Del dropped her

sword to get the other. The metal clanged on the

stone. “Slide it into this lock.” the woman said. Her

voice was deep and chocolaty and warm. The lock

was a series of four hoops, two on each door that held

the doors shut when they were pushed, or in this case

battered, from outside. “Ok, you pair, introductions

later, up the stairs and we’ll deal with this mess first.

Then you can explain what’s going on.”

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Del snatched up the sword again. The three of them

ran up some frankly unsafe looking stairs and the

woman threw open a window. “Pick up some of those

stones and start lobbing.”

“So, go on then. What are you doing here?” the

librarian sat the children down in a room at the top of

what seemed to be her main tower. The stone walls

were covered in places by hanging rugs and the

wooden floors creaked and groaned under the weight

of the heavy oaken table, with its strange carved legs.

The table itself was covered in crockery – cups, bowls,

plates, mugs, tea pots and jugs.

“We, erm…” Del stumbled over her words.

“Names then. I’m Libby.” said the woman, pouring

some tea into a large mug and setting it down. “Help

yourself to milk and sugar.” she gestured to one of the

little bowls and a small jug. “I look after the library.

I look after all of the stuff here.”

“I’m Tag and this is Del.”

“My guardian sent us here.”

“Who?” the woman’s face was written with doubt.

“He has a curiosity shop on Brook Street.”

“Fitz While?”

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“That’s him. He sent us…”

Libby frowned. “Ok,” a look of suspicion darkened

her pale face. “Who were those men? They looked

like Church Street Gang to me. What did you do?”

“I stole a book, well, they stole it first.”

“Book?” libby’s lip curled angrily. “That’s why old

man time sent you here? He thinks you can stash

stolen property with me just because it’s a book?”

Tag squirmed. This was not going well. He looked to

Del. She was looking at the floor. He reached into his

rucksack.

“Please, I think they killed my friend to find it, I… it

has to be for something. At least look at it. Mr While

said we couldn’t burn it, but I don’t want those men to

have it.” he handed the book to the librarian.

Her eyes widened. She reached out and plucked it

from his trembling hands.

“Oh.” she stared at the old leather cover. “Oh no.

This… this is a bad book, it’s, it’s bad magic, kids.”

“That’s what Mr While said.” Tag said, shaking his

head in disbelief. Magic indeed‽ “He said that this

book being stolen at the same time as the hour going

missing was bad news…”

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Libby’s eyes widened, “The hour’s gone?” she looked

at the book, then at the children. “Do you know about,

the… erm… oh, I don’t really know where to start

with this one.”

“The hour, the daylight savings hour, the one taken

out to make it British Summer Time, and the magic in

this book, it’s a bad mix.” Tag said, pouring tea into

his mug, trying to ignore the fact that he was up a

tower talking about magic with a mad woman.

“That’s a start, I guess.” she looked out of one of the

windows to the clearing below. “You’ll want some

supper and you’ll stay here tonight?” she said, turning

back into the room at last.

Tag suddenly realised they hadn’t eaten since

breakfast. Fish on oat cakes with Jen. Now the light

was fading, it must have been after 10pm. When he’d

had parents, a family, he’d have to be in bed by this

time. When someone had cared enough to tuck him

in and get him to sleep in time and tell him off for

sneaking out of bed. His tummy rumbled.

“It’s toast. And I think there’s some cake

somewhere.” the woman stood up and walked towards

the door. “Wait here.”

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They heard her footsteps on the stairs getting quieter

as she walked away.

“Well she’s clearly odd.” Del said. “I mean, I think

she’s nice enough, but that Jen woman was right –

she’s odd.”

“Umm.” Tag thought back to his own mother, who

had tried. He knew that she tried and it was hard for

her. She tried but she was odd. And people noticed.

“What are we going to do?”

“Well, give her the book, find out what she knows

about the hour and who might have it. Maybe we

should stay? She asked us.” Del chewed the inside of

her mouth nervously.

“I think so, I don’t fancy going out there to face the

Church Street Gang in the dark…”

“You won’t be out there at all.” came the chocolaty

smooth voice of the Librarian. “You’ll lay low here

for a while, let the heat die down a bit and then in a

few days I’ll show you another way out.”

The toast was warm and buttery and the cake was hot

and sweet. “What do you know about the location and

thief of the missing hour?”

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Tag looked at Del. She smiled a strange, quiet smile

and ate her toast. Tag suspected that Del believed this

magic nonsense and was just making him do the

talking so that he’d feel silly because he didn’t believe

it. How could he believe it‽

“Well, nothing, really. I don’t think it’s the Church

Street Gang. I think they were paid to steal the book

by someone who has the hour.”

“Good. What else can we assume then? What can we

work out?”

“Erm, well, it has to be someone who’s bonkers and

believes in magic.” Tag began. He cleared his throat

nervously and stared at Del, desperately hoping she

would help out. She smiled – she found it amusing,

watching him thinking on his feet like this. “And, they

also, erm, think it will work.”

“Good. What else?”

“They, erm, they don’t really understand magic,

though. They know a lot about it but don’t understand

it, not properly anyway.” Del spoke at last.

“Good. What else?”

“They’re callous.” she was angry. “They don’t care

about the consequences for other people. Either that

or they’re very stupid. Even an idiot could work out

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you don’t get more time for nothing. Whoever this is,

this thief, he’s a total moron or he’s cruel or both.”

“And it’s your plan, now that the book is safe, to get

the hour back?”

“If British Summer Time doesn’t end…” Del began.

She looked at Tag. “There will be no autumn, no

harvest.”

“Old man While has really made your mind up on this,

hasn’t he?” Libby sighed and shook her head. “Do

you understand everything that’s involved here? I

mean, really? Do you know the dangers involved?

You could die, doing this. People who will steal time

won’t be shy about killing a couple of street kids.

They don’t think you matter. They’re bad people.”

“If we don’t do it, though, who will?” Del yawned.

She was so tired.

“Ok. You’ll need to go and ask the witch, she’s the

most likely to know who would do something like

this…”

“Witch?” Tag laughed. “Are you mad? There’s no

witch.” he stood up. “There’s no magic. There’s not

really a scrap of time that’s been stolen. There are

some nutters, some criminals and some nutters who

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are trying to hurt some people and we’re just caught

up in it. This is what adults do!” he shouted. “You

mess things up and you get us into things that aren’t

our fault and it’s always us!” he rubbed his chin and

his mouth. “It’s always us who get hurt. Us who

suffer.”

Tag took a deep breath. He looked at Del, she was

smiling at him, but it wasn’t because she thought it

was funny. She looked proud. “And you lie about

witches and magic and missing things and glasses of

time. And you say you’ll fix it and you never do.” he

sat down again, feeling a bit stupid. “You never do,

so me and Del are going to fix it. So, erm…” his

mouth was dry and he was suddenly more tired than

he thought possible. For the first time in a long time

he wished he had a mother to tuck him in and make

him go to sleep. “So don’t say ‘witch’ even if you

believe it, which you clearly do, but you live in a

tower, so, anyway, say ‘woman’ or use her name.

We’re twelve, not stupid.”

Tag took a deep breath and leant his head, exhausted

and confused, on the table.

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“There’s a woman.” the Librarian shook her head and

sipped her tea. “She lives in the woods about eight

miles north from here. Her name is Lilith, she’ll know

who has the hour. Anything like this that happens,

she’ll know about it. I’ll get you a map and you can

have the run of the Library until you go. When you’re

ready I’ll show you the safest way out of the place.”

The rooms were warm and the beds were soft. The

children slept soundly. Libby the Librarian worried.

She worried about the two strange children sleeping in

her spare rooms. She worried about the men that were

chasing them. She worried about how the boy would

cope with the truth about Lilith. She worried about

the truly frightening way the girl went quiet when she

was thinking.

It was a perfect dream. He was safe at last. The light

flooded in and Tag stretched out under the sheets.

Any moment now he would wake up out of his

unspoiled slumber into the grubby reality of his

waking world where he would struggle and suffer and

survive. He turned his pillow over and breathed in

deeply. Lavender. Libby’s Library smelled of

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lavender. He rolled over and buried his face in the

cool, crisps side of the cushion.

A knock on a door broke the spell and he panicked.

The wooden floor hit him hard when he fell out of bed

and he spluttered. He looked up and waited for the

dream to fade, like it always did, into smoke.

“I managed to find some cereal.” the voice was warm

and chocolatey. “I’ve a goat up on one of the roof top

gardens, so the milk’s fresh.”

Tag blinked. The large, deep bed was still there. He

struggled to his feet. “What?” he shook his head,

bleary.

The door creaked open and in stepped Libby,

backwards, pushing the door out of her way with her

back. She was clutching a tray. On the tray sat a glass

of orange juice, a bowl of dry cereal and a bottle of

milk.

“You had a stressful day yesterday, I thought breakfast

in bed would be in order.” Libby grinned. “Children

like orange juice, don’t they?” she crossed the floor to

the bedside drawers where she set down the tray. “I

don’t really know what children eat. Mine are erm…”

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there was a long pause. Tag clambered onto the bed

where he sat staring at the tray.

“Where did you get real orange juice?”

“There’s a little orangery on one of the roofs. You can

have a look at it if you like. When you get up. When

you’ve eaten.” she smiled. “Little Delilah’s up

already. She’s in the main library. I think she’s

missed books. Missed all of it.”

“She’s smart. I think she misses school.”

“You don’t need to be in school to be smart. You

don’t even need to be good at the things they do in

school to be smart.”

Del was sat on the floor in the musty room surrounded

by open books, reading intently.

“Del!” Tag shouted from a balcony. “What are you

up to?”

Delilah grinned. Then she giggled. “Shh!” her face

was bright and happy and her smile was wide. “Quiet

please!” she shouted, grinning. “This is a library!”

Tag chuckled and turned to try and find some stairs

down to meet her. The Library used to be a castle and

the walls were heavy stone things – thick and cold. He

found a staircase, there was a worn red carpet running

down it held in place with brass metal rods.

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“You having fun, Del?” Tag smiled, sitting on the

floor next to his friend, surrounded by the books.

“Absolutely, it’s lovely here, isn’t it? So peaceful.”

“What are you reading?”

“Everything.”

Tag settled down, leaning back onto his elbows.

“Read to me.”

“You won’t like it.” Del said, “You’ll think it’s dull.”

“I don’t care.”

“Ok.” she looked back at her book. “There are no

known leaf insects that are native to the UK, but

because of their efficiency at camouflage there is no

way to know for sure that there are none.” she read.

From a balcony Libby watched and smiled.

That afternoon, as Del read, Libby took Tag up to the

roof of one of the towers. It was covered by a huge

glass dome and the air was hot and steamy. There

were plants up there the likes of which Tag had never

seen. There were huge wide leafed things that grew

up the supports and thin, tall dainty vines that crept

along the ground. In the middle of the greenhouse

structure were eight trees.

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“Those are fruit trees.” Libby said, smiling. “Oranges,

lemons, peaches and those two funny looking ones

there?” she pointed to some gnarled, squat trees with

beautiful, papery leaves. “They are avocados.”

“What?”

“They’re pale green and soft, sort of creamy. When

there was a baby here she used to love avocado when

she was learning to eat.”

Tag and Del spent another day exploring the library’s

various rooms and the roof top gardens. Tag was

transfixed by the things he saw up above the building.

There were open flat roofs with vegetables, others

with herbs and spices, and some with soft fruits. He

inspected the plants and lay among the foliage looking

up at the blue sky. There were tree empty roofs with

grass and sheds. There was one that was locked.

On the last roof top he visited had a large shed next to

the doorway. There was a large lawned area. There

were also three goats and, after he’d counted them Tag

was surprised to note, fourteen hens.

He clambered down the stairs and spent a good half an

hour trying to find the kitchen. It was vast – far too

big for a woman on her own with her books. There

were tables and cupboards covered in unwashed pans

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and pots and plates. A massive chest freezer stood

humming in one corner. Strange devices were

plugged in to the walls. An animal of some sort hung

by its feet from the ceiling. An angry cat yowled at

him, hunched over a dead rat. It was like no kitchen

Tag had ever seen. He found a basket and got lost

again trying to find the correct roof top. He collected

eleven eggs and then sat down again in the sun. This

was it. He lay on the cool grass and the warm sun beat

down on his face. He could live like this for ever.

The animal hanging from the ceiling turned out to be

a rabbit. Libby roasted it with vegetables and the

children had their first Sunday lunch in years.

“You have fourteen hens.” Tag said, wiping the gravy

from his plate with some delicious crusty bread. “But

there were only eleven eggs.”

“Yes, not all of the girls lay every day.” Libby said,

smiling. “Traditionally when they stop laying you’re

meant to kill them, but I haven’t the heart.” she

reached out and picked up a jug of purple juice.

“More blackcurrant?” she asked, pouring herself

some.

“Please.” Del held out her glass. “Your books, who

reads them?”

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“I do get visitors, still.” Libby said, pretending to be

offended. “I’m not a total recluse. I just don’t get as

many people through as I used to. There are some

people who live out on the flat lands who come often.

They bring me sacks of flour and grain. I give them

eggs and cake and they read my books. They come

whenever they can, when it’s safe.”

“Where do they get flour from?” Del asked. “There

are no shops in the flat lands.”

Tag looked at her, surprised. Did clever Del not know

where food came from?

“No.” Libby looked at Del and frowned. “No there

aren’t. Are you sure you want to go tomorrow?” she

changed the subject quickly. “You can stay longer, if

you want.” she cleared her throat. “You can stay as

long as you like. You, erm…” she trailed off.

“We’d better go.” Tag said, sadly. “If we stay any

longer we won’t want to leave.”

“Well you’re welcome to come back here any time.

You’re always welcome here.”

Tag smiled. He would want to come back here, if he

could. There was something so peaceful about this

place, with it’s books and it’s gardens and the animals.

Then he frowned. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can, and you may.” Libby grinned.

“What’s up on the locked roof?”

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There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

“Well you already know more than is good for you.”

the librarian sighed. “You might as well know my

secret. She looked about her conspiratorially. “What

do you know…” she paused, squinting, trying to work

out if she was doing the right thing. “About bees?”

Deli’s chair clattered to the ground as she leapt to her

feet. “Don’t be stupid!” she shouted, almost squealing

with excitement. “There aren’t any bees anymore,

that’s why we can’t grow our own food anymore.”

“Oh,” Libby smiled. “Oh but there are, and we can.”

Up on the roof top, after the librarian had unlocked the

many padlocks, the three of them stood and stared.

There were hives up here. Rows and rows of them.

“What do you do with all the honey?” Del asked,

doing a quick calculation in her head.

“Mostly, the bees eat it. I take a bit now and then for

cakes, but mainly they keep it. The real reason for the

bees is to pollinate my plants and to help my friends

on the flatlands to grow grain.”

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Chapter Eight

The Tunnels

The corridors were dark and cold and there was a

smell of damp in the air. Tag thought that they must

be underground. He knew about being underground,

about the air, about the smells (fear, loss, rage, and

rotting flesh) and the slimes that build up when the

cold spaces underneath the world were used by the hot

breathed mammals that belonged up in the fresh

breeze with the warm sun on their skin. Yes, he knew

all about it, and he wondered where this woman was

taking them.

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The tunnel system, as Tag now thought of it, was a

catacomb, a huge network of underground streets, like

the ones he’d lived in since his mother was taken. But

these streets showed no signs of use or life. The walls

were too dry and the mud on the ground was,

somehow, too clean. There was no smell of fear. Tag

tried to remember the way they were going, he was

suspicious of this going weird, or ending up back here

again with no way out, or of being abandoned

somewhere down here with no way out and no way

back. But how many left turns had they made? He

wanted to say four, but it could be five. There was a

line of yellow bricks around the edge of a turn off to

their left, but it wasn’t a turn off they were taking. Tag

held his breath and hoped with everything he had that

they were not about to be tricked again. Libby took a

little key out of her pocket and unlocked a large, heavy

door. Tag swallowed hard.

Dungeon. It had to be a dungeon. Now the Librarian

was leaning hard, shoving the door open. Now she

was behind the children. Tag felt her hand on his

back. Tag and Del stumbled forwards, tripping on tree

roots and the woman’s strong hands gripped their

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shirts, hauling them upright. Tag closed his eyes.

Dungeon.

And then the warm sun was on his face and a soft

breeze was in his hair. The three of them stopped,

blinded by the sudden light. They were in an open

field, the door behind them was hidden in the rock

face, obscured by trees.

“Welcome to the outside, chidelers.” Libby grinned.

“The outside of the tunnels?” Del asked, suddenly

short tempered. “I’ve been outside before.”

“The outside of your valley. There’s a whole wild

world out here.”

“But the towns are so… full.” Del looked out at the

field and into the flatlands.

“Umm. And that’s how they keep the lie going that

there is no more room in the country. They want

people to feel like that. They want the ordinary people

to be angry and afraid because of some imagined

foreign threat. ‘We’re full.’ they say. ‘There’s no

room.’ And because people think that they don’t look

for somewhere else with a bit more space.”

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Del looked at Tag with a raised eyebrow.

“Bit of a pet peeve, is it?” she chuckled.

“Bit of a favourite rant?” he grinned and nudged Del

with his elbow.

“Oh shut up. Do you want directions to the woods or

not?” Libby tried not to join in laughing with the

children. “Then come up here and sit down.” the

Librarian clambered up a bank of grass and

wildflowers.

The view from there looked out across abandoned

fields of wildflowers and gorse bordered by

overgrown hedges that rambled and roamed outwards

from their once neat lines. At the far edge of the fields

was a river. Behind them, though, towered the

mountains that loomed over their valley. Neither child

had ever been outside the valley before.

Libby pointed. “That river runs south from Lilith’s

house in the woods into the town. It runs from the

Solitary Mountain, through Lilith’s woods and back

through your town past Brook Street. Is that still

where old man While has his shop?”

Del nodded.

“I’ve a feeling that you’ll be heading even further

north from Lilith to find your missing hour. If you

come back through those woods, find yourself a boat.

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Find yourself a boat, there are boats washed up all

along the shores of that river, and get home as quickly

as you can. Get back to Fitz While. He’s a maddening

old fart but he’s good. He’s kind. He’ll protect you

from the dangers that I think you might face.

Something makes me worry for you little things.

When you have your hour back, or whatever you think

it is, Tag, get to the old man as quickly as you can.

And if you ever should find a weapon, of any kind,

you stash it about your person. Keep it in your boots

or your bags.”

Tag shivered, though it was a warm day. The Librarian

was definitely an odd one.

Del leaned back onto the grass and sighed. “My

sword, then?” she held out her hand.

Libby coughed. “Well, I’m not entirely sure it’s your

sword, but…” she reached into her cloak and

produced the little sword from the folds.

Del didn’t sit up, but reached out and felt the cold

metal of the handle in her little hands. She smiled and

closed her eyes. There was something about this

sword, more than her little knife, even, that she felt

connected to. There was something warlike about it,

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something wild and it made her tingle with

excitement.

“We can wait here, for a bit, can’t we? How far is

that?” she nodded to the woods. “It can’t be 8 miles

now.”

“No, it’s about five and a half. My tunnels brought us

quite a long way. And once you reach the woods you

need to be careful about sticking to the pathway and

it’s another mile. You can make it to Lilith’s in an

afternoon.” Libby unhooked a little key from a chain

around her neck and handed it to Tag. “You shouldn’t

need it, but here’s a spare to the tunnels.” then she

reached into her cloak again. “Jam sandwich?”

A crow circled overhead.

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Chapter Nine

The Woman in the Woods

The children chatted as they walked at an easy pace

through the gently waving grasses and flowers. It was

summer and the world, for a short time at least, wasn’t

such a threatening place.

“Maybe she’s right. Maybe this is the answer to all

that…” Tag grasped for the right word. “That squalor

we have to live in, is to leave it behind. Maybe we

should all move out here, into the fields.”

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“And live on what? We don’t know what’s safe to eat

out here. We don’t even know if there is anything safe

to eat out here.”

“They used to use these fields for that, I think.”

“For what? The ground can’t tell you what to eat.”

“No, I mean, I think they used to use the fields to grow

food and raise livestock.”

“Don’t be stupid. You can’t grow food. What’s

livestock, anyway?”

“Animals, for meat and that.”

“What? You couldn’t make pigeons and rats stay

here.”

“Bigger animals, cows and sheep and pigs.”

“I think you must have had some bad jam. You’re

talking nonsense. You’re just saying noises.”

“No, cows are beef and sheep are for lamb and mutton

and pigs are for pork.”

“Just saying noises again.” Del shook her head.

“No, that’s what people used to eat, we did too, when

we were little. And I think rich people still do eat

those things.”

“Well you’ve lost the plot.”

“But if it were true, if there was food out here, would

you come with me?”

“Where?”

“Here.”

“We’re already here, and you came with me.”

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“When this is over, though. If we could survive,

would you come with me?”

Del stopped and looked at him. They walked on in

silence for a while.

“When we get to the edge of the woods we need to

find the path.”

“I know. Del. Or Lila. Or, whoever you are. I was

there, I heard her.”

“Not this again. Look, Fitz just calls me Lila. He’s

always known me as Delilah or Lila.”

“But you lied!”

“To who? I never told anyone my name was Del.

People just call me that. And some other people call

me Lila. I never lied. You’re just angry.”

“Of course I’m angry, Del. Those men are trying to

kill us. They’re trying to kill you and it’s not your

fault. If I’d never stolen that book…”

“You didn’t, they did. Then you… liberated it.” Del

laughed. “You just liberated it from some seriously

nasty blokes.”

Tag laughed too. “And now there are loads of grown

men trying to kill us.”

“Because we have a book!” Del nudged Tag. “That

we don’t even have anymore.”

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“Do you think we did the right thing?” he looked at

her again. “Leaving the book with Libby? It could

put her in danger.”

“She’s a librarian. And she’s heavily armed. I think

she’s the perfect person to look after a book.”

The darkness of the woods took longer to adjust to

than they’d expected. The trees were heavy with

leaves and the canopy was dense. The ground wasn’t

as they’d imagined, carpeted with bluebells and ferns

– it was too dark. It was colder here, too. After their

eyes were used to the lack of light, Tag and Del

searched for the path. It was a well-worn dirt track,

not a stone or gravel path as Tag was expecting.

Even though they knew that it was still day time, the

children huddled together against the things that go

bump in the night and shivered. There was a little

more light along the pathway where the tree tops

didn’t quite meet, but that just made the rest of the

forest seem darker in contrast. But there were eyes

out there. Little pin pricks of light, pairs of them. And

they were following the children through the woods.

“Sh… should be somewhere along here.” Del

shivered.

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“We must be half a mile in by now.” Tag squinted at

the map. “It should be over a bridge. Can you see

anything that could be a bridge?”

“You kids lost?” the voice behind them was sharp and

broken. “Only people who ever make it this far into

these woods are lost.”

Del clutched Tag’s arm tightly with one hand and the

straps of her back pack with the other. Tag squeezed

her hand back. They looked at each other and together

they turned around.

“We’re erm…” Tag began. The man in the shadows

behind them was thin and pinched looking. He wore

a cloak, like Libby’s, with the hood pulled up forward

of his face casting it into shadow. Tag stumbled on

his words. “We’re looking for…”

“Blackberries. Or raspberries.” she darted Tag a look.

“Umm. Blackberries.” Tag agreed. “Or raspberries,

we’re not sure what we’ll find this time of year…”

something was coming back to him about wild fruits

having seasons. Maybe he’d gone fruit picking with

his mother, back when he had one. “We’ve been

busy.”

“Busy, eh?” the voice stabbed. “We don’t get many

busy children in these parts. Even fewer of them ever

leave.”

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A branch broke behind them and the children turned,

suddenly aware that they were surrounded. There,

shrouded in the gloom, stood a stag. The children

froze. They had never seen such a creature. A huge,

brown, horse-like animal with branches growing out

of its head. They huddled closer together and held

their breath. The animal stood and stared at them, its

shallow black eyes indifferent and uncaring. It looked

away, bounded off. They turned back to the cloaked

man.

And he was gone, like a wisp of smoke.

It was some time before they spoke again.

“Well.” Tag cleared his throat while he thought of

something to lighten the dark mood. “Good-job you

had your sword.”

Del did a sort of half laugh. “Shut up.” she smiled.

She’d grabbed Tag instead of the hilt of her weapon.

She would have to remember not to do that again. She

shook her head. “It’ll be fine, you know. One way or

another.” She looked around, Tag noticed something

new in her face, he didn’t know what it was, but

something about it unnerved him. “We just have to

keep a look out for strange men and weird tree headed

horses too now. As well as the bridge to find this

woman and the Church Street Gang and whatever

nutter wants the book and the missing hour which

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neither of us really believe is a thing.” she laughed

properly now. “What a perfectly normal thing to say.

What a perfectly normal life we live.”

“I don’t think it was a horse.”

“Shut up.”

The bridge was a small rickety wooden one held

together with rotting ropes. Tag smiled. Well this

wasn’t how he expected to die in this adventure, what

with the homicidal maniacs chasing him and the mad

woman with the gun and the weird cloak wearing men

and the tree headed horses. But, if he was going to

drown in a white water river it might as well be falling

from a decaying bridge. Why not?

That’s when he saw it. On the other side of the bridge

in a bright clearing, just meters away, a little old

cottage – the house in the woods!

“There it is, Del!” he shouted. “We’re so close!” he

looked at Del, her hand shot to her sword.

“We’re in real danger now.” she said, her wicked

smile illuminating her face in the murk. “Everyone in

the woods knows where we are and that little bridge

lies between us and either safety or of annoying

another of these crazy ladies we keep bumping into.”

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Three cloaked men suddenly stepped out of the

blackness to their left and a low growl emanated from

deep in the mass of trees to their right. Hundreds of

pairs of eyes blinked at them from the shadows. The

children were cornered. There were certainly

creatures watching them, and now the creatures had to

take their chances before someone else got to the tasty

children first.

“Oh bum.” Tag breathed. The girl was too pleased

about the danger for his liking.

“Oh bum indeed.” a woman’s voice behind them cut

through his thoughts. “If you care to cross the bridge,

you can come in for tea and cake and tell Lilith all

about it.”

The cloaked figures backed away.

“Come on over, the bridge is sturdier than you think.

You can make it.”

Tag looked at Del. Her black eyes were fierce and her

knuckles were white where they grasped the hilt of her

little sword. “You first.” she said, grinning wildly at

the retreating men. “Anyone tries to follow you and

I’ll start cutting hands off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Just go. I’ll catch up.”

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Tag turned and stepped tentatively onto the bridge,

gripping the slimy ropes on either side. Del backed

after him, holding the sword out in front of her.

Inside the little cottage was warm and a fire burned.

“Everyone who lets us in gives us tea and cake.” Tag

said, shovelling cake into his mouth gratefully. “Not

that I’m complaining. It’s great. And thanks.”

“Umm.” Del stared into her tea. “Thanks.”

“You were sent here by The Librarian?”

“Yes, miss. You see, I stole this book, well, liberated

it, really, from some thieves, and then my friend Aldo

said I should take it to Mr While and he said to stash

it at the Library and Del came too – this is Del – and

as we were at it we should find an hour he lost, or it

was stolen or whatever and so we took the book to the

Librarian, Libby, she’s nice, has a shot gun, though,

makes me nervous, and she said you might know

where the missing hour is and that you’re a witch but

I don’t believe in witches and I got cross and then I

asked Del to run away to the country with me and she

said we already had and then didn’t say anything and

then I got cross and then there was this man in the

woods and then there was a horse with a tree coming

out of its head…”

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“Stop.” Lilith said. Her voice was strange. Something

about it made Del feel uneasy. And it didn’t move

with her mouth as it should. “Too much truth in that

cake, I think. I forget about smaller doses for children.

And you are a hungry, hungry little thing. Adrenalin

will improve the appetite, I suppose.”

“Whose voice is that?” Del asked.

The woman flashed an angry look. The hair on the

back of Tag’s hands stood on end. “You think I stole

it?”

“I don’t know.” Del didn’t seem phased by the

woman’s anger. “I don’t know how these things work.

Maybe you borrowed it.”

“Borrowed it?” she chuckled. “Maybe I did.” the

woman smiled a broad, genuine smile. “I was talking

to a friend of mine.” she patted her chest. “She puts a

glamor on people she talks to.” the voice was different

now. Soft with a slight, unrecognisable, unspecific,

vague northern English accent. “Makes their voice

match her own, in case anyone is listening at her cell

door, they just think she’s talking to herself.”

“Listening at her cell?” Del’s heart jumped and her

mind danced.

“So you want to know who stole the hour?”

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Tag leaned forward. He was staring at them, horrified.

Truth cake. Borrowed voices.

The room span and Tag’s vision blurred.

***

He came round on a sofa. The fire was burning out in

the grate and the wooden floors glowed orange with

reflected light from the embers. A black cat dozed on

a red and brown rug next to the sofa where he was

sleeping. He could hear the woman, Lilith, and

Delilah talking in another room. Someone had put a

blanket over him. He balled up the blanket at one end

of the sofa and tiptoed towards the voices.

“Tell me about that horse thing, the one with branches

stuck in it’s head.” she was asking. “Is that why it’s

so cross?”

“It’s not a horse!” the woman laughed. “It’s a stag.

Have you never seen a stag before?”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s a male deer.”

“Deer? That’s just noises again. Tag was making

noises about animals too.”

“We’ll talk about this another time. I think you need

to sleep now. It’s late.”

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“Before I go, can I ask you something?” Tag leaned

closer to the crack in the door to hear what Del wanted

to know. “About you?”

“Go on.”

“Why do you live in the forest?”

“Honestly?” there was the sound of fabric rustling.

“I’m a fugitive.”

“A criminal?”

“My crime shouldn’t be a crime. But the law wants

me. They’ll never get me, though. No one would look

for me here.”

“People…” Del paused. “People know where you are.

We were sent to you, those men in the woods, they

know where you are…”

“The people who know where I am…” lilith coughed

uncomfortably. “Well, they erm, they aren’t the sort

of people who would go to the police.”

“The Librarian?”

“She’s considered a danger to national security. She

protects knowledge that the government want

removing. She’s dangerous.”

“And so are you?”

“In a different way. I am what they call a dissident.”

“What?” Del was getting angry. Tag smiled, he

thought she was cross because she didn’t like asking

what words meant. She was clever. Cleverer than

most people, anyway. “As if you’re some sort of

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political rebel?” Tag’s smile spread. His Delilah was

so clever.

“Well, there are laws I don’t agree with. This

government doesn’t like people who disagree with

their laws. You know it wasn’t always illegal to

campaign for the opposition.”

“Opposition?”

“That’s a fairy-tale for another day, lovely child.” the

woman’s voice was soft and warm. “Are you ok

sleeping on another sofa in the living room with Tag?

There are three sofas in this cottage but only one

bedroom. I should really do something about it.”

“That’s fine.”

Tag darted back to his sofa and pulled the blankets

over his head.

The morning sun streamed through the light curtains

of the witches cottage like refreshing a river, washing

over the two children and waking them so

reinvigorated for their days adventures that they had

no trouble getting up and dressed and feeding the cat

before leaving a note for Lilith, who was nowhere to

be found. The note thanked her for her hospitality and

kindness and explained where they were headed.

Rather cryptically, or so Tag thought, Del wrote, “I

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have kept my first promise, and look forwards to

finding out what my others are.”

There were two packs on the kitchen table, each with

one of their names on. They each contained a jar of

jam, a knife, though the Tag had his own and Del had

her sword, a pack of something called ‘butter’ which

Del assured Tag was delicious on toast, crackers or

bread, a lump of cheese, a set of lock picks and some

rope.

“Well,” Del looked at her array of goodies, “She

clearly thinks we’re going to run into trouble.”

“Do you know where we’re going?” Tag asked,

pulling on his boots, stowing his pack of stuff from the

latest mad woman in his backpack and helping himself

to another slice of cake.

“Yes.” Del announced proudly. “And I have a map.”

The children marched confidently out into the woods

away from Lilith’s little lodge in the opposite

direction to the one they’d arrived in.

“We just need to follow this path out of the woods and

head to the next mountain we see.”

“Oh,” Tag said sarcastically. “Very specific.”

“Smart Alec. There’s only one. The guy we want

lives up there. In a cave.”

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“Great. Another nutter. Do we know if he’s the cake

feeding type or the homicidal type? Or is it a lovely

surprise?”

“Don’t be stupid. The homicidal type. Obviously.”

she winked.

The forest opened up suddenly into dazzling sunshine

and Tag and Del danced, this time, out into the

brightness, happy for the blinding light, though it

made them stumble on the uneven rocks as they

shielded their eyes. There were no eyes out here,

watching without bodies. No hooded men. No

howling creatures hidden in the shadows.

Their eyes slowly got used to the sun as they skipped

away from the woods towards the one, solitary

mountain towering above them. From behind the

mountain the river snaked, glinting in the bright sun,

meandering into the forest behind them.

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Chapter ten

A Cave Mouth

The foot of the mountain met them like a wall when

they finally reached it. They looked at each other.

“Ropes?” Tag asked. “Is this why she gave us ropes?”

he began to unpack his ropes from his backpack. “I

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guess we tie ourselves to anything we can so that we

don’t fall too badly?”

“That’s the best plan we have so far. Can you see the

cave we’re looking for?”

“No idea. I can see some caves, but no one told me

what cave we were looking for.”

“Mu murmer mer.” Del moked.

“Well, go on then, what cave are we looking for?”

“It looks like a mouth. An open mouth. With teeth.”

They looked up at the mountain face above them and

searched the grey surface above them. They spotted

the cave and began to climb.

By the time the pair reached the cave-mouth they were

sweating and out of breath. Their backpacks were

heavier than they’d ever thought possible and their

hands were scraped raw on the jagged rocks. The

blood from their scratched hands ran onto the stone

and made them slippery.

They slid and skidded on slime containing moss, mud

and their own sweat and blood. There, dangling from

the boulders, Tag closed his eyes. He took a deep

breath and opened them, looking over at Del. She was

grinning. Her foot had found a little hold and she

shifted her weight to that foot and scrabbled with the

other leg to find another foot hold.

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“This is great.” she whispered. “We’re about to save

time, then everything will be fine. I bet Fitz would let

you come live with us.”

“Let’s just get the hour back. Whatever that is.” he

hissed. “Then we’ll think about the future.”

Deli’s foot caught her other foot in the hold she was

looking for and hauled herself up. “A future not in

this foodless countryside, you mean? A future in the

town? With Fitz?”

“Mr While.” Tag corrected as quietly and as calmly as

he could. “We can live with Mr While, if that’s what

you want, but first, let’s not get killed by whatever is

in this cave.”

Whatever was ‘in this cave’ turned out to be a very

angry man. He was taller than anyone Tag had ever

seen and he hauled the children up into the cavity in

the stone where they lay sprawled on the cave floor.

His face was a web of scars and white hot rage burned

in his eyes.

“You!” his voice echoed around the cavern. His face

was white – so white that the skin was almost see

through and his skull didn’t even try to hide behind it

– and written with rage. “I knew you would come for

my prize!”

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The children looked at each other. The man seemed

to know who they were, but that didn’t make sense on

any level. They had no idea who he was. The hood

on his cloak wasn’t like the one the men in the woods

wore, and his face was too recognisable to be one

they’d seen before – they would definitely have

remembered a face like that one.

“I think you’ve got the wrong kids.” Tag spluttered,

struggling on the ground where he was dropped. “I

think there’s been a mistake…”

“You’ve come to steal my hour!” the cave-man

shouted, his face pale and angry. “You’ve come to

spoil my plan!”

“Your plan is stupid and selfish.”

“How would you know, little girl?”

“I just know. I think you’ve read a lot of books, but I

don’t think you’ve understood it.” Del looked at Tag

in that way she had. Tag nodded and rolled as gently

and as slowly as he could towards the table set up

(with no other real furniture yet for some reason the

single table wasn’t supposed to cause suspicion) in the

far corner of the cave.

“You think I can read without understanding?”

“I think lots of people do.” Del rolled in the opposite

direction to the way Tag was wriggling. “I think

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adults go on about ‘what does this say’ and ‘what does

that say’ without stopping to see if anyone

understands anything. And I think you were taught to

read by an adult. Most people were.”

“What are you on about? You think I’m stupid?” the

man stepped over her.

“I think everyone’s stupid.” she held her nerve, trying

not to curl up or close her eyes. “It’s nothing

personal.”

The man smiled. “Why do you think I don’t

understand about the hour?”

“It’s not an individual hour. It’s not the right type of

hour.” she leant up on her elbows. “If you use this

time for extending your own life it could…”

“I know. Chaos. Destruction. But I will be ok.”

“You don’t care.” deli’s face went blank as she

realised the truth. “You know what it will do to

everyone else but you just don’t care. How can you

not care?”

“Other people…” the man said coolly. “Don’t matter.

Look out for number one, I say.”

Beside the table Tag was trying to concentrate on

finding something that could be the missing hour, or

whatever that thing really was. Tag suspected that it

would be some sort of treasure. Money. That’s what

adults treasured.

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The problem was that Tag had worked out that if he

stood up he would be noticed. I don’t know if you’ve

ever tried to search a table while lying on the floor, but

you can imagine how well it was going.

“How can you not care about what you’re doing? The

damage it’ll cause? People will starve!” Del lay on

the cold ground, her mind reeling at this new

information. She could understand stupidity – she

could forgive that. But she’d never really believed

that this was truly about cruelty and callousness.

“People will die.” she looked at the man, really looked

at him, for the first time.

Delilah Hackathon knew people, she knew them well

enough to know that even if there was such a thing as

magic, there was, is no such thing as evil. Not really.

Not real evil. So how was it, then, that as she looked

up into this man’s face she could see no compassion

at all? How was it that his sneer was genuine and he

really, she could see, didn’t care about all of those

people who would die because of what he was about

to do.

Something caught Tag’s eye. An iridescent scrap of

fabric was dangling tantalisingly close. It was

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beautiful. He looked at it and it looked, he couldn’t

understand how, but it looked like eternity. It looked

like for ever. He began to reach up as slowly as he

could manage.

“You have to look out for number one, in this life little

girl.” sniggered the man. “And if I’m going to live for

ever when this is all done I’m going to need money. I

can sell you and the boy.” the man turned. Tag lay

still and closed his eyes.

“He, erm, well he faints a lot.” Del explained. The

man turned to face her as she started to stand. “Maybe

don’t mention that to any slavers you want to sell us

to.”

“You have a sword, there.” he snapped. “Take it off.

Throw it on the floor.” he gestured towards a pile of

weapons on the ground to her left. She tossed it down

with a metallic clang.

A boulder in the back of the cave rolled open to

reveal a doorway. Del stared at the men who

emerged. The small, skinny one was first to step out,

followed by the silent one and the fat one. The three

men from the Church Street Gang who had been

following them for what seemed such a long time.

Had it really only been six days?

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Chapter Eleven

Dungeons

Delilah’s heart pounded in her chest. She could hear

the blood rushing in her ears. She slowed her

breathing as best she could to calm herself down. She

closed her eyes and listened to the air rushing in

through her nose. She opened her eyes again. It was

still dark. She felt around her to see what she could

find out about her surroundings. The ground was cold

and hard beneath her and her knees and hands ached

from crawling on it. Her fingers travelled cleverly,

deftly along the solid flags: feeling at the edges, noting

the smoothness here where feet had walked and

polished the stone, and here the rough, unworn edges

that suggested there would be a wall nearby. But that

was as far as she could reach. The icy bite of steal

tugged at her ankle – she was chained to something.

Del swallowed hard and blinked back her tears. There

would be time to cry later but right now Tag was in

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danger. She patted the metal around her ankle and

followed the chain with her hands to a sort of hoop in

the stone. The darkness rushed in at her again and she

sat on the freezing ground willing herself to think. But

she couldn’t. She was frightened and she was cold

and she was hungry. She was hungry but she had her

bag. They’d left her bag and there was food in there.

She reached in and rummaged about. She heard the

rustle of paper and found the biscuits. Feeling

carefully so as not to lose any in the blackness that

surrounded her she took one out and brought it to her

mouth. I don’t know if you have ever tried to find

your mouth in the dark. It’s very easy, you never can

see your own mouth. But bringing your hands

together is more difficult. Especially of you haven’t

seen either in a while and it took Del a while to open

the plastic box which had the cheese in it.

After she had eaten she felt better; calmer. She had

her bag. Of course, the men who were after Tag didn’t

think a little girl would be much of a threat, so they

hadn’t checked what they’d left her with.

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Delilah Hackathon was quite a good lock-pick, and

she had her picks in one of the pockets of her bag.

Finding and using them might be a little more difficult

given the light situation, but it was worth a try. If that

failed, she had her knife, she could dig the ring out of

the stone.

Delilah Hackathon was a dangerous enemy. She had

to find Tag. She had to save him. She had to get that

hour back. She had to take it to Mr While. She had

to save time. But she was a twelve year old girl, and

anyone who knows anything about twelve year old

girls knows that the most dangerous thing to do with

a twelve year old girl is to underestimate her. That

was her advantage.

In fairness to her captors, perhaps in explanation for

what was about to happen to them, it was only one of

her advantages. The children had come the quick way

out of the valley, through the mountains. The children

had also been able to stop and rest with the Librarian

and the witch. The men from the Church Street Gang

had travelled longer and father and they were tired.

The silent one still had a dislocated shoulder. Del also

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had her picks. She also had her knife. And she had a

new found cold rage building up inside her. Del was

so angry with these men: they locked her up, they

stole her sword, they took her friend and the idiots

expected her to do nothing about it. She felt her picks

at her fingers and she felt the clunky chain around her

ankle and she made short work of getting out of that.

Finding the doorway was a little more

difficult. She had to pat her way along

the cold, dank walls until she found a

gap and cold, hard stairs. They were

uneven and slimy and difficult to

climb. Del slipped and scuffed her

knees. Her hands were hot and sore by

the time she reached the top.

At last she felt the flaking paint of the door frame and

then the rough door. To Deli’s surprise and, if we’re

honest, at this point – annoyance, the door was

unlocked. She had been all ready to pick that lock too.

The cheek of it! Those idiots didn’t even think she’d

get out of the chains.

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It took a while for her eyes to acclimatise to the dull

light outside the cellar where she had been trapped. A

long stone passageway stretched out into the distance

with many doors leading off it and Del stared along it

into the dimness. She held her breath, hoping that

there was no one around to hear her. She couldn’t see

anyone, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be guards

or members of the Church Street Gang or some other

random men hanging about to make her life more

difficult.

Sticking to the edges of the passage and darting into

the shadows whereever there were any, Del dashed

along, looking through any doors she found until, at

last, she heard voices.

It wasn’t conversation that she heard, but a chilling

scream. There is something about that scream that she

never would forget. It would wake her up in the night

long into adulthood - that scream. She knew straight

away that it was Tag. She knew that it wasn’t just fear

in that scream, but pain. Forgetting about any idea of

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keeping herself hidden, Del ran full pelt towards the

scream.

At the door she came to a sudden stop and knelt down

under the small, glassless window. She peered up into

the room.

Tag was tied to a chair and three men were standing

over him, shouting and asking and hitting. None of

their questions met any answers before another

question was asked, or another blow landed. Del got

even crosser. They didn’t want answers any more.

Only to hurt her friend.

“Where’s the book?” “Where’s the hour?” “Who else

knows?” “What does it do?” “Who is that old man?”

And in between the shouting only pain.

Deli’s left hand wrapped around the door knob. She

held her breath and looked along the corridor again.

No one there. She closed her eyes and her right hand

clutched her knife. She decided there and then that

she would punish anyone who ever hurt Tag again.

And she did. For the rest of their lives Delilah

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Hackathon took revenge on anyone who hurt her

friend.

The three exhausted men, the members of the Church

Street Gang who had begun this whole, sorry tale,

didn’t have time to adjust their thoughts before the

little girl was in the room, shouting with rage and

swiping wildly with her knife.

She ran with her head down and knocked them to the

ground – using her low centre of gravity and smashing

the men to the floor where they lay, for a moment,

stunned. She trampled them viciously with her hard,

heavy boots to get to her bruised and battered friend.

Her quick little knife sliced through the heavy ropes

that bound Tag’s wrists. He reached down to his boots

and retrieved his own knife to cut his feet free as Del

turned her rage back to the men, sprawled on the

ground in shock, stamping on hands as they grasped

at her feet and feeling the snapping of their fingers

though her shoes.

“Shut me in a cellar, will you?” she shouted, booting

one man in the chest as he struggled to get up. “Chain

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me to the floor?” Del stamped hard on an ankle,

smiling as it cracked. “Beat my friend?” her little

knife was cold in her hot hand. Her breathing was

heavy and she gasped at the air. “Three grown men?”

she brought her feet down hard on legs and wrists and

chests, jumping furiously, crunching bones. “Against

two little children?” she thrashed out with her feet,

kicking now, with everything she had. The men

curled on the floor, trying to protect their faces with

their broken hands.

There was no sign of the pale man with the transparent

skin.

Tag stood up slowly. His lips were split and his eyes

were black and bruised. He felt sick with pain and his

stomach scrunched itself up. He staggered. A red

flame flashed brighter in Deli’s eyes when she looked

at him and she picked up the chair he’d been tied to.

“Look what you’ve done!” she screamed. “I hope

you’re proud of that.” her voice levelled out and her

eyes met those of the skinny man lying at her feet.

“That could be the last thing you ever do.” and she

smashed the chair down over him.

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123

“Deli…” Tag breathed at last. “Del please, let’s get

out of here. Please.”

Del reached down and snatched up the keys from the

man’s pocket.

“I could kill him, Tag.” she said, calmly, her knife in

her hand. “I could kill them all.”

The children looked around at the three men on the

floor, two clutching their broken bones, one

unconscious.

“Please…” Tag begged. “Let’s just go.” He gestured

to the cuff of his shirt with his eyes and Del grinned

wildly. He had it: the hour.

So they left. Del got a few more digs in with her boot

before they got to the door. They locked it behind

them.

Del grabbed Tag’s hand and hauled him behind her

into the cave. She paused to retrieve her little sword

and scooped up a handful of the other weapons from

the pile where she’d been forced to leave hers. They

scrambled and tumbled down the mountain side.

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Tag couldn’t move very fast, but they got across the

open grass lands and onto an island in the middle of

the river.

There was an old shed there, but they didn’t think it

had been put there on purpose – the floor wasn’t level

and there was silt from the bottom of the river inside

it. The children decided that it must have washed up

there from a flood last winter.

Del said that they couldn’t have a fire – those men

would eventually get out of that room and despite the

beating she’d given them would probably be able to

move quite fast. But for now, in the middle of that

rushing river, shivering in the dark, they were, more

or less, safe.

Del had some ibuprofen gel in her bag – there was a

big stash of it in her room at Mr While’s house. She

sighed. That life seemed a world away.

She stashed the scrap of magical fabric, the fabric of

time, in her pocket and made Tag pull his jumper and

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125

shirt off so that she could put the gel on it to slow the

swelling and take the edge off the pain.

His little body was black purple with bruising. Del

was sick on the wooden floor.

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126

Saving Time

127

Chapter Twelve

Escape?

In the morning, though, Tag

wouldn’t wake. He was

breathing with a shallow gurgling sound, so Del knew

he wasn’t dead, but she couldn’t wake him. She

wanted to pull him upright and slap him awake, but

there was nowhere on his face that wasn’t already

bruised and swollen, so she gently rolled him onto his

side and rubbed his back.

This life wasn’t safe for children. Del had seen more

death than a twelve year old should. But hers is a story

played out all over the world. She’d seen a kid die

from a beating before, and he’d slept too. And gurgled

like Tag. The man from environmental health who’d

come to dispose of the body had said there was blood

in the kids lungs and that he’d drowned.

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Del rubbed his back and he coughed weakly. She

mopped the blood from around his mouth with her

sleeve. She needed to get him to someone who knew

what to do. If Tag was bleeding into his lungs she

couldn’t keep him alive on her own, not for long. The

town was too far away, and she didn’t have money for

hospital anyway. Lilith. Libby had said she was a

witch. In some cultures, Del knew, witches were a bit

like doctors.

The little girl spent hours scouring the river banks for

something that might serve as a boat – the river they

were hiding on was the river that ran through the

woods. There was hope, still, then. Just a glimmer,

but there was some hope.

It took half an hour for Del to move the sleeping body

of her friend onto the little boat that she had found.

She loaded their bags and split a dried out branch to

use as a paddle. She had her friend, the book was

safely locked away in the Library, the hour was

stowed in her pocket and they were heading away

from that cave.

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Del shook her head as they floated down stream

towards the woods. “If hope’s all we’ve got,” she said

again “we might as well be dead.” this time there was

no one to laugh with. The little boat turned gently as

it drifted dreamily away from the mountain. She

closed her eyes and held his hand. “If you wake up, I

promise when this is over I’ll come with you out here.

Just wake up.” she could only hope that Lilith was the

right sort of witch. And that Tag was wrong about

magic.

There was no way that she could have known how

wrong Tag was. About the situation. About magic.

They were both wrong.

In a tree overhanging the water a crow cawed and

ruffled its feathers.

The end

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130

Available August 2016 – A Stitch in Time

Available January 2017 – No Time Like the Present

Available October 2017 – Out of Time