‘Did he try to shoot you?’ said Bigmac.

‘He threw stones!’

‘Hah! I got shot at!’ said Bigmac, with a sort of pride.

‘All right,’ said Kirsty. ‘We’re all here. Let’s go.’

‘You know I don’t know how!’ said Johnny.

The bags lay there in the trolley. There were the words ‘Shop At Tescos’ on a piece of metal on the front of the wire. Probably Mr Tesco just owned a tiny grocery shop or something back here, Johnny thought wildly. Or hadn’t been born yet.

‘It’s your mind that works it,’ said Kirsty. ‘It must be. You go where you’re thinking.’

‘Oh, come on,’ said Yo-less. ‘That’s like magic.’

Johnny stared at the trolley again. ‘I could … try,’ he said.

A police car went by, a street away.

‘Let’s get somewhere more hidden,’ said Yo-less.

‘Good idea,’ muttered Bigmac.

A cinder path went around the back of the little church, to an area with dustbins and a heap of dead flowers. There was a small green door. It opened easily.

‘In those – in these days, they didn’t lock churches,’ said Yo-less.

‘But there’s silver candlesticks and stuff, isn’t there?’ said Bigmac. ‘Anyone could walk right in and nick ’em.’

‘Don’t,’ said Johnny.

They manhandled the trolley into a back room. It contained a tea urn on a trestle table, a pile of battered hymnbooks, and not much else except the smell of old embroidery, furniture polish and stale air, which is known as the odour of sanctity. There was no sign of any silver candlesticks anywhere—

‘Bigmac! Shut that cupboard!’ said Yo-less.

‘I was only looking.’

Johnny stared at the sacks. All right, he thought. Let’s say they’re full of time. It’s a daft idea. After all, they’re quite small sacks—

On the other hand, how much space does time take up?

Perhaps it’s compressed … folded up …

Mrs Tachyon collects time like other old ladies collect string?

This is daft.

But …

There was a deep, rumbling sound. Guilty had sat up in the trolley and was purring happily.

Johnny took a sack and held it carefully by the neck. It felt warm, and he was sure it moved slightly under his grip.

‘This probably won’t work,’ he said. ‘Should we hold on to the trolley?’ said Yo-less.

‘I don’t think so. I don’t know! Look, are you all sure? I really don’t know what I’m doing!’

‘Yes, but you’ve never really known what you’re doing, have you?’ said Kirsty.

‘That’s right,’ said Yo-less. ‘So you’ve had a lot of practice.’

Johnny shut his eyes and tried to think of … 1996.

The thought crept into his mind from somewhere outside. It’s not a time, it’s a place.

It’s a place where the model of a Space Shuttle on the ceiling hangs by a bit of red wool because you ran out of black thread.

And the model’s got streaks of glue on it because you always get it wrong somewhere.

It’s a place where your mum just smokes a lot and looks out of the window.