‘Oh, I asked for it just to make the point,’ said Wobbler. ‘I’m not allowed to eat them. Good heavens. I have a diet. No sodium, no cholesterol, low starch, no sugar.’ He sighed. ‘Even a glass of water is probably too exciting.’

The manager of the burger bar had at last plucked up the courage to approach the table.

‘Sir John!’ he said, ‘this is a such an honour—’

‘Yes, yes, thank you, please go away, I’m talking to my friends—’ Wobbler stopped, and smiled evilly. ‘Fries all right, Bigmac? Properly crisp?’ he said. ‘What about that milkshake, Yo-less? Right sort of texture, is it?’

The boys glanced up at the manager, who suddenly looked like a man praying to the god of everyone who has to work while wearing a name-badge saying ‘My name is KEITH’.

‘Er … they’re fine,’ said Bigmac.

‘Great,’ said Yo-less.

KEITH gave them a relieved grin.

‘They’re always good,’ said Yo-less.

‘I expect,’ said Bigmac, ‘that they’ll go on being good.’

KEITH nodded hurriedly.

‘We’re gen’rally in most Saturdays,’ added Bigmac, helpfully. ‘If you want us to make sure.’

‘Thank you, Keith, you may go,’ said Wobbler. He winked at Bigmac as the man almost ran away.

‘I know I shouldn’t do it,’ he said, ‘but it’s about the only fun I get these days.’

‘Why did you come here?’ said Johnny quietly.

‘You know, I couldn’t resist doing a little checking,’ said Wobbler, ignoring him. ‘I thought it might be … interesting … to watch myself growing up. Not interfering, of course.’ He stopped smiling. ‘And then I found I wasn’t born. I’d never been born. Nor was my father. My mother lived in London and was married to someone else. That’s one thing about money. You can buy any amount of private detectives.’

‘That’s nonsense,’ said Kirsty. ‘You’re alive.’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Wobbler. ‘I was born. In another time. In the leg of the trousers of time that we were all born in. And then I went back in time with you all, and … something went wrong. I’m not sure what. So … I had to come back the long way. You could say I had to walk home.’

‘I’m sure that’s not logical,’ said Kirsty.

Wobbler shrugged. ‘I don’t think time is all that logical,’ he said. ‘It bends itself around humans. It’s probably full of loose ends. Whoever said it shouldn’t be? Sometimes loose ends are necessary. If they weren’t, spaghetti would be merely an embarrassing experience.’ He chuckled. ‘Spoke to a lot of scientists about this. Damn fools. Idiots! Time’s in our heads. Any fool can see that—’

‘You’re ill, aren’t you,’ said Johnny.

‘Is it obvious?’

‘You keep taking pills, and your breathing doesn’t sound right.’

Wobbler smiled again. But this time there was no humour in it.

‘I’m suffering from life,’ he said. ‘However, I’m nearly cured.’

‘Look,’ said Kirsty, in the voice of one who is trying to be reasonable against the odds, ‘we weren’t going to leave you there. We were going to go back. We will go back.’