And the Rest Is History(84)

Somewhat to our surprise, having loaded his plate with as much as it could hold Adrian pulled out an old-fashioned alarm clock – the sort with the big double bell on the top – and set it on the table in front of him.

I have to say, they both of them looked pale and heavy-eyed so perhaps they needed help staying awake. Like the dormouse at the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party. Please don’t tell Dr Bairstow I referred to him as the Mad Hatter.

Tim was eyeing the clock. ‘What’s that for?’

‘We only have two hours.’

‘Until what?’

‘Until the Time Police catch us. Sometimes a little longer – sometimes a little less – but usually about two hours. So we set the clock and when the alarm goes off – so do we. We have our own dedicated Time Police unit, you know. There’s four of them after us. And they haven’t caught us yet,’ he added proudly, if a little thickly, because all teenagers can eat and talk at the same time. It’s just a bit messy for everyone else. ‘Sometimes,’ he continued, ‘we leave them a note telling them where we’re going next and, every Christmas, we leave them a card with season’s greetings, so they know we’re thinking of them.’

I spared a moment to picture the Time Police reaction to this cheeky gesture of goodwill. Because if they were ever caught, it would no longer be a laughing matter … Not for these two, anyway. And they were so young.

‘How do they find you?’ persisted Peterson.

‘We don’t know,’ said Mikey cheerfully, barely visible behind a plateful of sandwiches and jam tarts. I had the impression the abandoned lump of cheese now lying forlornly on the grass was less than a memory.

‘I think I can answer that,’ said Dieter, appearing as if by magic. No mean feat when you’re that big. He was waving his wand around like a Teutonic Gandalf at Minas Tirith. ‘You have a radiation leak.’

Dr Stone stood up, leaned over, and peered at the readings. ‘Right, you two.’

They clutched at their plates, not moving.

He beamed. ‘I’ve always wanted to say this: Come with me if you want to live.’

They picked up their plates, still stuffing sandwiches as fast as they could go. If they were permanently on the run from the Time Police, no wonder they were starving. Still, they seemed very cheerful about it. It was rather good to meet people for whom the Time Police held no fear.

‘The resilience of youth,’ said Peterson, watching them go. ‘Remember that?’

‘Not recently,’ I said.

Dr Bairstow said, ‘Mr Dieter, how bad is their leak? Should I be evacuating everyone?’

‘Low level, sir, nothing for us to worry about, but prolonged contact is not doing them any good.’

‘Can it be repaired?’

‘I think so, sir. Can you keep them out of the way for an hour or so?’

Dr Bairstow picked up their alarm clock. ‘You have forty-five minutes.’

‘In that case, sir, if you will excuse me – I have a miracle to perform.’

He set off at a trot, closely followed by his team. They climbed into the teapot – and to this day I’m still not sure how they all got in, especially Dieter – and we could hear the sounds of metal hitting metal, together with a great deal of cursing, indicating that the Technical Section was at work.

I sat back to think. Adrian and Mikey – only a hop skip and a jump ahead of the people who would imprison them for the rest of their lives if they caught them. If they didn’t shoot them first, of course. Never staying anywhere for longer than two hours. Trying to eat and sleep in two-hour bursts. Struggling to keep their teapot together. Yes, it was fun now, but what would it be in five years’ time? Or ten? Would they still be enjoying themselves then? Because they could never stop. The minute they stood still, the Time Police would have them.

I looked across the table to Dr Bairstow and said, ‘Sir…?’

He can add mindreading to his list of achievements. ‘You may, Dr Maxwell. Go and organise something.’

I gathered up my dress in two big bunches and galloped off. I raced to Sick Bay where they were receiving – according to Dr Stone – Dr Stone’s patented anti-radiation medication. I added a shower and having their clothes washed to the list of medical treatment they would receive.

And back out to Dieter, who had emerged from the teapot and was easing his back.

‘Dieter – safety protocols?’

He said carefully, ‘They don’t appear to have any.’

‘Really? Good.’

He sighed and rolled his eyes. ‘Typical historian. Not good, Max. Not good in any way. Not good at all.’

‘Yes, it is,’ I said. ‘It means they can still jump if I load them up with supplies.’

‘You do realise that’s one of the main reasons the Time Police are chasing them. Because they could, if they wanted, walk off with the ‘Mona Lisa’ while the paint is still wet.’

‘But they haven’t, have they? Plundered the past, I mean.’

‘Not yet,’ he said grimly, ‘but they’re only two skinny teenagers and this pod thing,’ he gestured behind him, ‘could be taken from them at any time and used by others for nefarious purposes.’

I was gathering up my skirts again, poised for departure.