The Time Spell Read online

  I was rewarded with a small miaow, and a second later Saturn was peeping over the side of the lifeboat.

  ‘You don’t deserve it, but I’ve brought you some food,’ I said, as I climbed up on to a railing.

  I put the food on to the ledge where Saturn was sitting. He sniffed at it for a few minutes.

  ‘Ha,’ I said. ‘Stop pretending to be so fussy. You ate every scrap of food that Mikey gave you.’

  At the mention of Mikey’s name, Saturn looked up at me. I wondered what was going on inside his head. Did the word ‘Mikey’ make him think of the kind boy we’d known, or did it just make him think of bread scraps mashed up with milk?

  Anyway, whatever he was thinking, Saturn licked his lips and then began to gobble up the food.

  As soon as he had finished eating, Saturn purred loudly and jumped into my arms. I couldn’t resist hugging him tightly. I buried my face in his soft fur.

  ‘I’m so scared, Saturn,’ I whispered. ‘I know you’re the one who got me into this whole mess, but maybe it isn’t your fault. I suppose you can’t help being some weird, time-travelling cat, can you?’

  Saturn purred again and licked my face.

  I hugged him for a long time. His warm body was comforting and the beating of his heart next to mine made me feel the tiniest bit better.

  After a while, I gave Saturn one last hug and lifted him back into the lifeboat. I unrolled the towel I had ‘borrowed’ from the laundry room and used it to make a soft bed.

  ‘There, Saturn,’ I said. ‘Now you’ll be all warm and comfy. You just stay here and have a nice sleep. I’ve got something very important to do. When I get a chance, I’ll come back and let you know how I got on.’

  Then I jumped down from the railing and set off on my quest.

  Much later I found myself leaning over another railing and gazing down into what looked like the control tower of the ship. Inside were five men in uniform.

  It didn’t take me long to decide that the man with the beard was the captain. He had the fanciest hat, medals on his jacket and the most stripes on his sleeves. (And besides, he looked exactly like the captain in the film.) I watched him for a while, trying to decide what to do next.

  While I was still making up my mind, the glass door opened and the man with the beard came out.

  ‘Goodnight, captain,’ called one of the others, and I smiled to myself. Even when your life is in danger, it’s nice to be right.

  The captain opened a gate in the railings and walked towards me. I had no time to plan what to say, but I couldn’t let him go right past me. I might not get another chance.

  I cleared my throat and tried not to notice the shaking in my voice as I spoke.

  ‘Er … excuse me, captain,’ I said.

  He stopped walking and looked at me. He didn’t seem to notice that I wasn’t dressed like a First-Class passenger.

  ‘Well, good evening, young lady,’ he said in a kind voice. ‘And what can I do for you?’

  I tried to think of what to say next, but was distracted by the thought that the captain looked exactly like the guy on the fish fingers packet.

  For one second, I thought of home, and dinner with Mum and Dad and Amy and Stephen. There would be three fish fingers each and a big pile of baked beans.

  Then I pushed that thought from my head. If I didn’t do something quickly, I might never get to eat another fish finger.

  (I don’t even like fish fingers all that much, but the thought of never eating another one was just too sad.)

  ‘Er … captain, can I speak to you for a minute?’ I said. ‘It’s very, very, very important.’

  The captain smiled at me. ‘If it’s that important, then I insist that you speak to me. Now what is it that you need to say?’

  I thought hard. My next words were going to be very significant– for me and for thousands of other people. These were probably going to be the most significant words I had ever spoken.

  I took a deep breath and began. ‘I know you’re going to think I’m crazy, but I’m not, I promise. It’s just that … well … I know for sure that on Sunday night, this ship is going to hit an iceberg. And then it’s going to sink, and –’

  The captain put his hand up to stop me.

  ‘Now, now,’ he said. ‘Enough of that nonsense. That’s not going to happen. This is the Titanic. They don’t call this ship unsinkable for nothing. It’s been specially designed. Even if it did hit an iceberg, it still wouldn’t sink.’

  I struggled to remember the boring bits of the film – the bits with all the charts and diagrams, the bits Tilly and I usually fast-forwarded through.

  ‘I know they thought the Titanic was unsinkable,’ I said. ‘I remember the kind engineer guy in the nice black suit was explaining it all to Kate Winslet …’

  ‘Who on earth is Kate Winslet?’

  I shook my head. ‘You wouldn’t know her, but anyway, I know this ship has all these special underwater section thingies.’

  ‘Compartments?’

  ‘Yes, that’s it. Thanks. I know it has all these underwater compartments. But the iceberg is going to be massive and it’s going to make a huge big hole. A few of the compartments are going to be damaged. I’m afraid I can’t remember how many …’

  ‘You can’t remember something that hasn’t happened yet?’

  I hesitated. ‘It’s very complicated. But anyway, no one had thought of more than one or two compartments being damaged. But that’s what’s going to happen, so this ship is going to sink, and loads and loads of people are going to die, and …’

  I stopped talking and started to cry.

  The captain patted me on the head.

  ‘Now, now,’ he said. ‘A little girl like you couldn’t begin to understand the details, but trust me, the best designers in the world worked on this ship. It is absolutely unsinkable. Now you stop worrying your pretty little head and go back to your family.’

  I’d love to, but no one in my family has been born yet.

  ‘You have to believe me!’ I said. ‘I know for sure that it’s going to happen.’

  He smiled. ‘How could you possibly know what is going to happen in the future?’

  Because it’s not my future. Because for me this is the ancient past! I’ve read the history books and watched the movie – done everything except buy the T-shirt.

  ‘I just know,’ I said lamely. ‘I can’t explain how, but I just know.’

  The captain started to walk away, but I grabbed his arm.

  ‘Please listen to me,’ I said. ‘Tell the driver to go slowly. Tell him to watch out extra-carefully for icebergs – especially on Sunday night. Tell him …’

  The captain pulled his arm free. He looked a bit impatient now.

  ‘I’m a very busy man,’ he said. ‘I have a ship to run and I don’t have time for this. Be a good girl and go back to your family, like I told you before. Stay with them and enjoy your trip. In a few days this ship will arrive in New York, and think how silly you will feel then. You’ll know that you’ve been making a big fuss about nothing. Now, goodnight, my dear, and please stop fretting.’

  He walked away.

  I thought about following him, but I knew it wouldn’t have made any difference.

  His soft whistling made it clear what the captain thought of my story. He had decided that I was a silly, nervous child, and nothing I could say was going to make him change his mind.

  Why couldn’t I have had the Titanic DVD in my pocket when I got whisked back in time? And a fully charged portable DVD player.

  Would the captain have listened to me if I could have shown him the movie, or would he just have thought it was all some crazy, futuristic notion, dreamed up by some weird kid in a shabby brown dress?

  It didn’t matter anyway. All I had in my pocket was my mobile phone that didn’t have a signal.

  I was hopeles
s and helpless.

  Suddenly I wanted to be with Mary.

  If this was going to be one of my last nights ever, I wanted to spend it among friends.

  I made a quick detour to hug Saturn goodnight. He opened his blue eye when I stroked him.

  ‘It didn’t work,’ I whispered. ‘I did my best, but the captain didn’t believe me.’

  Saturn didn’t look surprised. (But then, he never looks surprised. He always just looks mysterious. Sometimes I wonder if he practises that look in the mirror when I’m not watching.)

  I wrapped the soft towel round him. ‘Now,’ I whispered, ‘you be a good cat and don’t move. That way, you’ll be cosy and warm for the whole night, and I’ll come and see you in the morning.’

  Saturn wriggled until he was comfortable and then closed his eye.

  ‘Goodnight,’ I whispered, and then I made my way back to the Third-Class section.

  I found Mary in the big dining hall.

  ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Lauren,’ she said. ‘I’ve got the cough medicine for your mother.’

  She held a small brown bottle towards me. I felt embarrassed. I wasn’t an expert on 1912 finances, but Mary and her mother didn’t look like rich people. They probably couldn’t spare this medicine.

  Then I realized that, whatever happened to them in the next few nights, this medicine wasn’t going to be a whole lot of good to them.

  A private lifeboat would have helped. Or a rescue helicopter.

  But this sticky brown bottle was going to be no use at all.

  So I took the medicine from Mary and tried to look grateful.

  ‘Thanks, Mary,’ I said. ‘I’ll go and give it to my mother, and I’ll meet you back here.’

  Minutes later, I was back with Mary.

  ‘That was quick,’ she said.

  That’s because all I had to do was dash round the corner and shove the bottle into the nearest bin.

  ‘My mother says to say thank you,’ I said, feeling guilty about the lie. ‘She said she feels better already.’

  Mary smiled.

  Suddenly I yawned. It had been a very long day and I was ready for bed – if only I had a bed.

  ‘I think it’s going to be hard for me to sleep with my mother coughing so much,’ I said.

  ‘I thought you said she was feeling better after taking the medicine,’ said Mary.

  ‘Oh, she is,’ I said. ‘But she was very bad before, and now she’s not quite so bad, but she’s still coughing a lot.’

  Mary smiled happily. ‘There are two spare bunks in my cabin,’ she said. ‘You would be welcome to sleep with us.’

  I felt like hugging her. ‘That’s totally great,’ I said. ‘I love sleepovers.’

  ‘Sleepovers?’ said Mary, with a puzzled expression on her face.

  ‘You know – when you go and sleep in your friend’s house?’

  Mary still looked puzzled. ‘Why?’

  So you can watch DVDs and check out your favourite websites and listen to music and make popcorn.

  ‘So …’ I didn’t know how to finish.

  Then Mary gave a sudden smile. ‘I slept in my cousin Julia’s house the night Baba was born. Uncle Denis played the fiddle all night long, and Julia and I danced until our feet were sore.’

  I smiled. ‘Yeah, that’s the kind of thing I’m talking about. That sounds exactly like one of my sleepovers.’

  Then I couldn’t hold back a huge yawn.

  ‘I’m a bit tired,’ I said. ‘Will we go to bed now?’

  ‘Don’t you need to tell your family where you are?’

  She was right. I sooo needed to tell my family where I was.

  But they weren’t in a cabin round the corner. They were miles and years away, and I had no idea how to reach them.

  ‘Oh, it’s OK,’ I said. ‘I told them I might find somewhere else to sleep. They won’t be worried.’

  Mary looked doubtful. ‘If you’re sure,’ she said.

  I tried to smile. ‘Sure, I’m sure. Now can we go?’

  Mary’s cabin was small. It had two sets of bunk beds, a tiny sink and nothing else. There was a loud throbbing sound from the ship’s engines.

  Mary’s mother and the baby were already asleep in one of the bottom bunks. Baba was curled up in his mother’s arms, with one chubby hand resting on her cheek.

  Mary and I climbed into the top bunks.

  Still wearing Mikey’s mother’s dress, I slipped under the thin blankets and made myself as comfortable as I could on the hard, narrow bed.

  Mary and I whispered together in the darkness. It was like being on the weirdest sleepover ever.

  I remembered the last sleepover Tilly and I had. We had both laughed so much, we’d almost made ourselves sick.

  Where was Tilly now? Was she worried about me? Was I ever going to see her again? How long would it be before she made a new best friend?

  Soon Mary gave a big yawn and turned to face the wall. When I was sure she was asleep, I pulled my phone from my pocket and switched it on. There was only one bar of battery left.

  I flicked through my old text messages. There were lots from Tilly. There was one from Dad, with a vaguely funny joke that he thought was totally hilarious. There was one from Mum, sent one afternoon when I’d been at Tilly’s house. Dinner’s ready. Time to come home.

  ‘Oh, Mum,’ I whispered to myself. ‘I wish I could come home. I miss you all so much.’

  I carefully typed out my reply. Sorry, Mum. On the Titanic. Home ASAP.

  I pressed Send and smiled sadly to myself when the inevitable Sending failed message popped up. Then the battery died and the screen went black.

  Soon hot, silent tears were pouring down my cheeks. I was in a room with some of the kindest people I had ever met, and still I felt lonelier than I ever had in my whole life.

  I woke to see Mary sitting up in the bunk opposite mine. She grinned when she saw that I was awake.

  ‘Good morning, Lauren,’ she said. ‘Aren’t we so lucky to be waking up here on this big, exciting ship?’

  Er … no.

  ‘They call it the Ship of Dreams, you know.’

  She wouldn’t have said that if she knew what I knew. Ship of Nightmares would have been a much better name.

  I stretched and sat up. ‘Do you know where the showers are?’

  ‘Showers?’

  ‘Er, I mean the baths.’

  ‘You want a bath?’

  I nodded.

  ‘But why?’

  Because I shower every morning.

  Mary’s mother joined the conversation. ‘There is one bath for Third-Class women,’ she said. ‘It’s on the next deck. But we don’t plan to use it. We all had baths before we left home on Wednesday. We’ll be grand until we get to New York.’

  Clearly they had different ideas of hygiene than I was used to. I had a funny feeling that the one bathroom wouldn’t be equipped with fancy shampoo and conditioner and bath oils. So I waited my turn and washed myself as best I could at the tiny sink.

  After breakfast, Mary helped her mother with the baby, and I sneaked off to feed Saturn. He was still curled up in his towel, looking like a very unusual, odd-eyed baby. I fed him and talked to him for a while. Then he curled up for another sleep.

  ‘Well, you’re a great help. Not,’ I muttered as I climbed back down to the deck.

  When I got back, Mary was waiting for me.

  ‘Let’s explore,’ she said.

  I went along with her, even though I already knew every inch of the Third-Class area.

  I showed Mary the storeroom I had found.

  She stroked the soft towels and the crisp linen sheets. ‘When I grow up, I’m going to have sheets and towels like this,’ she said.

  I felt like crying. There was a real danger that this girl was never going to grow up.
/>   ‘Look,’ I said, pointing. ‘This door leads to the First-Class area.’

  Mary’s eyes opened wide, like I’d just shown her the door to Paradise.

  ‘Let’s go there now,’ I said.

  Mary shook her head with a worried look on her face. You’d think I’d suggested robbing a bank.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t dare. They’re all fancy people up there.’

  I didn’t feel like arguing with my new best friend. So instead, we borrowed two blankets, and then we went and found ourselves a quiet place on one of the Third-Class decks. We sat down, and wrapped ourselves up to protect ourselves from the strong wind.

  ‘Being here with you is so nice, Lauren,’ said Mary.

  I didn’t answer. Sitting on the Titanic had never been top of the list of things I’d been hoping for in my life.

  ‘You know, Lauren is the prettiest name,’ said Mary then. ‘I’ve never heard of it before. If I ever have a little girl, I’m going to call her Lauren. Then I’ll always remember you.’

  Mary’s long curly hair blew around in the strong wind. Her eyes sparkled and her thin face became alive when she talked of her dreams of the future.

  ‘I’m going to go to school in America,’ she said. ‘Daddy has it all arranged. And when I finish school, I’m going to work in a hat shop.’

  I thought back to my only trip to America. All I could remember were shops selling tracksuits and hoodies and designer handbags.

  ‘I don’t think there’s much of a market for hats in America,’ I said, forgetting for a moment that this was 1912.

  Mary shook her head.

  ‘You’re wrong. A lady is never fully dressed without a hat,’ she said primly. ‘And I’m going to design my own hats. I’m going to trim them with lace and feathers and pearls and I’m going to be the most famous hat-maker in all the land.’

  I smiled, not trusting myself to speak.

  ‘What about you,’ she said. ‘What do you plan for the future?’

  How could I answer that?