‘It’s a bit off’f a bomb!’ said the boy. ‘Nearly the whole tail fin! I don’t know anyone who’s got nearly a whole tail fin!’

He zoomed the twisted metal through the air again.

‘Er … kid?’ said Wobbler.

The boy lowered the fin.

‘You know about … motorbikes?’ said Wobbler.

‘Oh, no,’ said Bigmac. ‘You can’t tell him anything about—’

‘You just shut up!’ said Wobbler. ‘You’ve got a grandad!’

‘Yes, but there has to be a warder there when I go an’ see him.’

Wobbler looked back at the boy.

‘Dangerous things, motorbikes,’ he said.

‘I’m going to have a big one when I grow up,’ said his grandfather. ‘With rockets on it, an’ machine guns and everythin’. Eeeooowwmmmm!’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ said Wobbler, in the special dumb voice for talking to children. ‘You don’t want to go crashing it, do you.’

‘Oh, I won’t crash,’ said his grandfather, confidently.

‘Mrs Density’s daughter’s a nice little girl, isn’t she,’ said Wobbler desperately.

‘She’s all smelly and horrible. Eeeeeoowwmmm! Anyway, you’re fat, mister!’

He ran down the far side of the heap. They saw his shadow darting between the firemen, and heard the occasional ‘Voommmm!’

‘Come on,’ said Bigmac. ‘Let’s get back to the church. The man said they thought there was an unexploded bomb—’

‘He just didn’t want to listen!’ said Wobbler. ‘I would’ve listened!’

‘Yeah, sure,’ said Bigmac.

‘Well, I would!’

‘Sure. Come on.’

‘I could’ve helped him if only he’d listened! I know stuff! Why won’t he listen? I could make life a lot easier for him!’

‘All right, I believe you. Now let’s go, shall we?’

They reached the church just as Johnny and the others came running up the street.

‘Everyone all right?’ said Kirsty. ‘Why are you covered in soot, you two?’

‘We’ve been rescuing people,’ said Wobbler, proudly. ‘Well, sort of.’

They looked at the wreck of Paradise Street. People were standing around in small groups, and sitting on the ruins. Some ladies in official-looking hats had set up a table with a tea urn on it. There were still a few small fires, however, and the occasional crash and tinkle as a high-altitude cocktail onion fell back to earth in a coating of ice.

Johnny stared.

‘Everyone got out, Johnny,’ said Wobbler, watching him carefully.

‘I know.’

‘The siren was just in time.’

‘I know.’

Behind him, Johnny heard Kirsty say: ‘I hope they get counselling?’

‘We found out about that,’ said Bigmac’s voice. ‘They get a nice cup of tea and told to cheer up because it could be worse.’

‘That’s all?’

‘Well … there’s biscuits, too.’

Johnny watched the street. The firelight almost made it look cheerful.

And his mind’s eye saw the other street. It was here, too, happening at the same time. There were the same fires and the same piles of rubble and the same fire engines. But there were no people – except the ones carrying stretchers.

We’re in a new time, he thought.