felt as confident.
Wesley disappeared outside. Owen stood in front of the fire, watching the steam coming off his still-damp trousers. When Wesley came back he brought several fresh fish, cleaned and ready to cook. He put them on a stick and started to grill them over the fire. As the smell filled the room, Owen realised he was starving.
Cati had brought some bread in a leather bag which had somehow remained almost dry. They ate the fish and bread with their fingers, in silence. Owen couldn’t remember eating anything more delicious.
When they had finished every scrap, Wesley stood up and stretched. His ribs showed through his ragged clothes and worry made his face look even more gaunt than usual.
“We should get back to the Workhouse,” Cati said. But Wesley had gone to the window and was staring out to sea. “What is it?”
“Look!” he said. In the distance a group of seals were racing across the ocean surface. “Killer whales chasing them,” Wesley said. “Which is odd. Too far north for a whale this time of year.”
Owen joined them at the window. He could see the whale fins cutting the water behind the seals who raced frantically towards a bank of rocks. Just when he thought they had made it, a killer whale burst from the water beneath the seals. It seized one in its jaws and rose high in the air, the seal writhing frantically.
“The poor seal,” Cati breathed.
“It’s the way of the sea,” Wesley said.
The whale rose several metres from the water and turned as if to crash down nose first. But as they watched, it they found they were watching not a live whale, but an enormous skeleton, hanging for a moment in mid-air, the seal still held in the jaws of bone. Then, with a strange, muted splash, the bones plunged to the ocean and were gone.
Wesley stared at Owen and Cati, grim-faced. “We’re in big trouble, ain’t we?”
Mary White knew that it had to be now. She had gone out to her garden that morning. Normally it was her favourite place at this time of year, full of ripe fruit and autumn reds and browns. But now all was grey and withered. She usually kept the radio on in the house for company and this morning she caught snatches of it coming through the window. They were talking about unexplained crop failures, death of livestock.
It is happening quickly, she thought. Her contribution would be small and would cost her dear, but she had to act now.
Mary checked the front of the shop. Johnston’s lorry was no longer there. He probably had plenty of spies around during the day to let him know if she ventured out, but she didn’t care if they saw her. All she had to do was get to Owen’s house. It didn’t matter what happened on the way back. She put on her coat and took a walking stick from the stand in the hall. Then she took a deep breath and stepped out into the road.
It was quiet. The road was never busy. Mary put her hand up to her hair, to make sure the ornate hairpin was still there, and started to walk. She could feel her heart beating in her chest. The world seemed more alive than she had ever known it, and more under threat. You just do your part, she said to herself, and let others worry about the rest of it.
It was only a few minutes to Owen’s house, but it seemed to take for ever. And the garden gate squealed so loudly. Fit to wake the dead, Mary thought, then shuddered at the idea. She followed the overgrown garden path around the corner of the house and slipped in through the kitchen door. She heard a gentle humming sound from the living room and followed it.
Owen’s mother was standing at the table arranging a vase of flowers. The room was untidy and dusty. There were dirty dishes on the floor and one of the curtains hung limply from a broken rail. But Owen’s mother did not seem to notice. In contrast, the flower display was beautiful and delicate.
“Hello, Martha,” Mary said gently.
Owen’s mother turned round, smiling when she saw the old woman. “Mary, it’s good to see you!” she said. “Come into the kitchen and I’ll make you some tea.” She looked worried then. “I’m not sure if there is any tea. But anyway. You look great.”
“So do you,” Mary said, though Martha looked pale and in need of make-up and a hairbrush. When Owen called at the shop, Mary always asked after his mother and his silence told her that things were not well. As she watched, Martha moved her hands in front of her face distractedly, almost as if invisible cobwebs were hanging in her face and tickling her.
“Come over here and sit down,” Mary said, taking Martha by the hand. She led her to the sofa, where she had to clear away old magazines and clothes from the cushions first. “Tell me, what do you remember?”
Owen’s mother’s eyes met hers. “Remember?” she asked. “What do you mean? I… what do I…? I was married once. Mary, do you remember him? We got married in… Where did we get married?”
Mary sighed. There was a lot to do. Martha’s mind had been frozen all the way through. But she had to be brought back and it would take all the strength that Mary possessed, that and more perhaps. With a surprisingly strong grip, she took hold of both of Martha’s hands and started to talk.
After a few minutes, Martha began to shake her head, trying to break the old woman’s grip, but it was no good. Tears streamed down her face and then she began to wail.
Owen, Wesley and Cati moved upriver swiftly and silently. They didn’t see any more signs of what was happening to time. They didn’t need to. Owen thought that the sight of the skeletal whale would stay with him for ever.
When they reached the Skyward they found Dr Diamond surrounded by dusty volumes piled high on the floor. The walls were covered in maps. Some were ancient with strange astronomical symbols. Others looked more modern, with titles like Strata in Time: A Mapmaker’s Approach and Timetrails of the Late Period. The cover of one well-thumbed paperback showed a wintry city scene and the title Hadima: A Street Guide Including Restaurant Supplement.
Owen was bursting to tell Dr Diamond what he had found, but had to wait as the man shook Wesley’s hand gravely. Wesley told him about the sleeping children and the decay which surrounded them.
Dr Diamond nodded. “Something similar is happening in our own Starry. We have to move quickly. I’ve been checking the books. They all point towards the same thing. The flow of time into this world is slowly but surely drying up—”
“Owen found the entrance to the City of Time,” Cati interrupted.
“Did he now,” Dr Diamond said, wheeling around sharply.
Quickly, Owen told him about the earthquake and the water that swept him into the storm drain, and what he had found beyond it.
“So the tremor unsealed the entrance?” Dr Diamond asked, his shrewd eyes flickering from one to the other.
Owen looked the doctor in the eye. “No,” he said. “I guessed where it was and fired at it with the magno gun, which weakened the wall.”
“You heard what I said about not reopening it?” Dr Diamond said sharply. Cati had never seen him like this. His eyes bored into Owen.
“I heard,” Owen said quietly.
“It was forbidden,” Dr Diamond said. He turned to Cati. “Your father would never have permitted this!”
Owen could see tears spring to her eyes. “I didn’t ask for permission,” he said angrily. “It was nothing to do with her! Besides, her father sent the message.”
Dr Diamond glowered at him. “You will have to answer for this to the Convoke.”
“There won’t be any bleedin’ Convoke if we don’t do something!” Wesley broke in. “What’s done is done. Let’s get on with