And, with that, the two of them walked off into the night, taking Joan with them.

Smith waited until they were gone, and then dropped his head to the ground in despair.

Chapter Twelve

Knock Knock

Tim ran through the orchard, cursing himself, the Pod, everything.

It was all falling apart. That stupid man Smith had wanted to give their enemies the Pod. That couldn’t be allowed to happen. He didn’t know why, it just couldn’t. The timing wasn’t right.

So he was running pointlessly again.

Or so he thought.

Ahead, some of the apple trees which had been felled by the blast had fallen across the top of some large object.

Some large blue object.

Timothy cautiously walked around the obstruction, until he could see what it was.

A police box.

Not much like the ordinary kind, but recognizable none the less. He rubbed the grey dust away from the notice on the front: Call here for help.

‘What’s a police box doing in the forest?’ he asked the Pod. The thing felt… special.

Full of possibilities. It reminded Timothy of October teatimes, while his mother had still been alive, eager walks through leafy fields, back for tea and bread with condensed milk. It reminded him of being read to, of being safe.

Gingerly, he touched the surface of the box. It was vibrating gently, humming even.

He knew what the box was, then. It was somewhere to run to, somewhere that would always be there, no matter what else was spoilt.

It was magic in a corner of a cold world. It was home.

Timothy put his arms around the box and hugged it.

And then a telephone began to ring.

Timothy looked around incredulously, trying to find the source of the sound. It seemed to be coming from the box, from behind the sign.

He fumbled with the edge of the plaque and it swung open on a very rusty hinge.

Inside was a blue telephone, and that was what was ringing. The Pod was vibrating in time with the sound.

Timothy had never answered a telephone before. He picked up the receiver.

‘Hello?’ Then, a moment later: ‘If that’s where I have to go. Why do you want me to show him that? All right. Who is this?’

He shook the telephone, and found that it was dead.

Bernice, Alexander, Rocastle and the boys were taking a careful route back towards the pub, walking slowly down the forest slope rather than risk the school road.

Rocastle was dawdling in the middle of the group, smiling at the boys sadly and walking with his hands in his pockets. That was a posture Bernice had never seen the Head use before. He was certainly in some sort of shock.

‘What are you going to do when we get back?’ she asked him.

‘Oh, I don’t know. I can’t think of anything further than⁠ —’

‘Oh my God, look out!’ Alexander shouted.