‘I blame Mr Chamberlain,’ said Mrs Tachyon.

A bell tinkled.

‘Oh dear that’s the end of visiting time my word don’t the hours just fly past what a shame,’ said Kasandra, standing up quickly. ‘Nice to have met you Mrs Tachyon sorry we have to be going come on Johnny.’

‘Lady Muck,’ said Mrs Tachyon. She nodded at Johnny.

‘What’s the word on the street, mister man?’

Johnny tried to think like Mrs Tachyon.

‘Er … “No Parking”?’ he suggested.

‘That’s what you think. Them’s bags of time, mister man. Mind me bike! Where your mind goes, the rest of you’s bound to follow. Here today and gone yesterday! Doing it’s the trick! Eh?’

Johnny stared. It was as though he had been listening to a lot of static on the radio and then, just for a second, there was this one clear signal.

The other Mrs Tachyon came back.

‘He’s mixing sugar with the sand, Mr McPhee!’ she said. ‘That’s what you think.’

‘What did you have to go and give her them for?’ Kasandra hissed, as she strode out of the ward. ‘She needs a proper healthy balanced diet! Not hot chips! What did you give her them for?’

‘Well, I thought hot chips would be exactly what someone’d like who’d got used to cold chips. Anyway, she didn’t get any supper last night. Hey, there was something very odd about—’

‘She is very odd.’

‘You don’t like her much, do you?’

‘Well, she didn’t even say thank you.’

‘But I thought she was an unfortunate victim of a repressive political system,’ said Johnny. ‘That’s what you said when we were coming here.’

‘Yes, all right, but courtesy doesn’t cost anything, actually. Come on, let’s get out of here.’

‘Hello?’ said someone behind them.

‘They’ve found out about the chips,’ muttered Kirsty, as she and Johnny turned around.

But it wasn’t a nurse bearing down on them, unless the hospital had a plain clothes division.

It was a young woman in glasses and a worried hairstyle. She also had boots that would have impressed Bigmac, and a clipboard.

‘Um … do you two know Mrs … er … Tachyon?’ she said. ‘Is that her name?’

‘I suppose so,’ said Johnny. ‘I mean, that’s what everyone calls her.’

‘It’s a very odd name,’ said the woman. ‘I suppose it’s foreign.’

‘We don’t actually know her,’ said Kasandra. ‘We were just visiting her out of social concern.’

The woman looked at her. ‘Good grief,’ she said. She glanced at her clipboard.

‘Do you know anything about her?’ she said. ‘Anything at all?’

‘Like what?’ said Johnny.

‘Anything. Where she lives. Where she comes from. How old she is. Anything.’

‘Not really,’ said Johnny. ‘She’s just around. You know.’

‘She must sleep somewhere.’

‘Don’t know.’

‘There’s no records of her anywhere. There’s no records of anyone called Tachyon anywhere,’ said the woman, her voice suggesting that this was a major criminal offence.

‘Are you a social worker?’ said Kasandra.

‘Yes. I’m Ms Partridge.’