‘It’s starting to happen,’ Johnny whispered, while the storm broke around him.

‘What is?’

‘The future!’

He blinked as the rain started to plaster his hair against his head. He could feel time stretching out around him. He could feel its slow movement as it carried forward all those grey bombs and those white doorsteps, pulling them together like bubbles being swirled around a whirlpool. They were all carried along by it. You couldn’t break out of it because you were part of it. You couldn’t steer a train.

‘We’d better get him under cover!’ shouted Yo-less as lightning hit something a little way off. ‘He doesn’t look well at all!’

They staggered on, occasionally lurking under a wind-bent tree to get their breath back.

There was a windmill among the Tumps. It had been built on one of the mounds, although the sails had long gone. The others put their arms around Johnny and ran through the soaking heather until they reached it and climbed the steps.

Yo-less hammered on the door. It opened a fraction.

‘Good lord!’ said a voice. It sounded like the voice of a young man. ‘What’re you? A circus?’

‘You’ve got to let us in!’ said Kirsty. ‘He’s ill!’

‘Can’t do that,’ said the voice. ‘Not allowed, see?’

‘Do we look like spies?’ shouted Yo-less.

‘Please!’ said Kirsty.

The door started to close, and then stopped.

‘Well … all right,’ said the voice, as unseen hands pulled the door open. ‘But Mr Hodder says to stand where we can see you, OK? Come on in.’

‘It’s happening,’ said Johnny, who still had his eyes closed. ‘The telephone won’t work.’

‘What’s he going on about?’

‘Can you try the telephone?’ said Kirsty.

‘Why? What’s wrong with it?’ said the boy. ‘We tested it out at the beginning of the shift just now. Has anyone been mucking about with it?’

There was an older man sitting at a table. He gave them a suspicious look, which lingered for a while on Yo-less.

‘I reckon you’d better try the station,’ he said. ‘I don’t like the sound of all this. Seems altogether a bit suspicious to me.’

The first man reached out towards the phone.

There was a sound outside as lightning struck somewhere close. It wasn’t a zzzippp – it was almost a gentle silken hiss, as the sky was cut in half.

Then the phone exploded. Bits of bakelite and copper clattered off the walls.

Kirsty’s hand flew to her head.

‘My hair stood on end!’

‘So did mine,’ said Yo-less. ‘And that doesn’t often happen, believe me,’ he added.

‘Lightning hit the wire,’ said Johnny. ‘I knew that. Not just here. Other stations on the hills, too. And now he’ll have trouble with the motorbike.’

‘What’s he going on about?’

‘You’ve got a motorbike, haven’t you?’ said Kirsty.

‘So what?’

‘Good grief, man, you’ve lost your telephone! Aren’t you supposed to do something about that?’

The men looked at one another; Girls weren’t supposed to shout like Kirsty.