‘Tom, nip down to Doctor Atkinson’s and use his phone and tell the station ours has gone for a burton,’ said Mr Hodder, not taking his eyes off the three. ‘Tell them about these kids, too.’

‘It won’t start,’ said Johnny. ‘It’s the carburettor, I think. That … always gives trouble.’

The one called Tom looked at him sideways. There was a change in the air. Up until now the men had just been suspicious. Now they were uneasy, too.

‘How did you know that?’ he said.

Johnny opened his mouth. And shut it again. He couldn’t tell them about the feel of the time around him. He felt that if he could only focus his eyes properly, he could even see it. The past and future were there, just around some kind of corner, bound up to the ever-travelling now by a billion connections. He felt that he could almost reach out and point, not there or over there or up there but there, at right angles to everywhere else.

‘They’re on their way,’ he said. ‘They’ll be here in half an hour.’

‘What will? What’s he going on about?’

‘Blackbury’s going to be bombed tonight,’ said Kirsty. Thunder rolled again.

‘We think,’ said Yo-less.

‘Five planes,’ said Johnny.

He opened his eyes. Everything overlapped like a scene in a kaleidoscope. Everyone was staring at him, but they were surrounded by something like fog. When they moved, images followed them like some kind of special effect.

‘It’s the storm and the clouds,’ he managed to say. ‘They think they’re going to Slate but they’ll drop their bombs over Blackbury.’

‘Oh, yes? And how d’you know this, then? They told you, did they?’

‘Listen, you stupid man,’ said Kirsty. ‘We’re not spies! Why would we tell you if we were?’

Mr Hodder pulled open the door.

‘I’m going down to use the doctor’s phone,’ he said. ‘Then maybe we can sort out what’s going on.’

‘What about the bombers?’ said Kirsty.

The older man opened the door. The thunder had rolled away to the north-east, and there was no sound but the hiss of the rain.

‘What bombers?’ he said, and shut it behind him.

Johnny sat down with his head in his hands, blinking his eyes again to shut out the flickering images.

‘You lot’d better get out,’ said Tom. ‘It’s against the rules, having people in here …’

Johnny blinked. There were more bombers in front of his eyes, and they didn’t go away.

He scrabbled at the playing cards on the table.

‘What’re these for?’ he said urgently. ‘Playing cards with bombers on them?’

‘Eh? What? Oh … that’s for learning aircraft recognition,’ said Tom, who’d been careful to keep the table between him and Johnny. ‘You plays cards with ’em and you sort of picks up the shapes, like.’

‘You learn subliminally?’ said Kirsty.

‘Oh, no, you learn from playing with these here cards,’ said Tom desperately. Outside, there was the sound of someone trying to start a motorbike.