The TV Time Travellers (3 page)

I said, ‘If I’d known I was going to meet you, I’d have brought you something, Solomon.’

‘Call me Solly,’ said the puppet seal and his head darted forward coyly. ‘Now tell me, did you walk down the stairs like that for a bet?’

‘Oh, I can see I’m going to have to watch you, Solly,’ I said, quickly glancing down at my legs, which to my huge relief were only shuddering very slightly now
.

‘Yes, I can see we’re going to have hours of fun with Solly,’ said a voice behind me. ‘We won’t miss telly and the X box, not with a talking sock to entertain us.’

I turned round to see a dark-haired boy
with
sparkling, mischievous eyes. ‘I’m Leo, and I’d like to welcome you to the world of wacky weirdos.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ I cried
.

‘I am. I’m here because I’m a genius at something.’

‘What’s that, then?’ I asked
.

‘At annoying people.’

‘Oh, great,’ I laughed
.

And then a shriek alerted us to the arrival of the fifth (or sixth, if you count Solly) evacuee
.

‘Oh, I’m not the last, am I?’ she burbled and then danced ever so elegantly down the stairs. You could tell she’d spent a ton of money on her designer clothes. In fact, she was like a life-size Barbie doll. Even her teeth gleamed and shone as if she was someone off the telly. ‘I’m so happy to meet you all,’ she shouted as if she was talking to us all in the middle of a howling gale. ‘I’m Harriet, by the way.’ She went round all the evacuees, all breathy and thrilled. She came to me last of all. ‘Fab to meet you, Izzy – isn’t this just too exciting?’

‘I may pass out any second,’ I murmured
.

Then Leo whispered to me, ‘I can see you two girls are going to be super-close chums,’ and laughed loudly
.

‘Just as you’re going to love hanging out with Shorty Pants over there,’ I whispered back, nodding at Zac, who was spinning about like a child at his first-ever party
.

But Leo kept on grinning as if everything was just one big joke
.

Then a floppy-haired young guy in a T-shirt and jeans bounded down the steps and came beaming over to Leo and me. ‘Hi, folks, I’m Sig, short for Siegfried, and I’m the presenter of
Strictly Evacuees.’

‘Hi, Sig, what’s popping?’ asked Leo
.

‘Well, I’m about to formally announce the start.’ Then he peered at the name tag. ‘So you’re Leo?’

‘Well, on the street I’m known as Leo the Legend . . . and sometimes just the Legend.’

‘On the street,’ I laughed. ‘You little liar.’

Leo grinned and Sig smiled a little uncertainly. ‘Let me just shake you by the hand, Leo, and a little handshake from
you
too, Izzy. Excellent. Now I’d better go and mingle with the others.’

He raced around the three other evacuees – and even had a brief chat with Solly too. Next he got us all to stand in a row for some pictures for the press. He said it so casually too, as if being in the newspapers was just a normal everyday thing. My heart started racing again until I told myself: Come on, be cool, be cool
.

Then Sig cried, ‘All right, guys, I shan’t see you again until the first eviction, but now your big moment has come. So, say goodbye to 2009 – you’re about to cross over to 1939.’

CHAPTER FOUR

‘Even My Name Changes’

Izzy

THE NEXT BIT
was just horrible. Harriet and I were taken into this pokey little dressing room. A solemn, unsmiling woman said she was going to cut our hair. She ignored my protests – said it was in the rules – and soon it was cut in this truly awful 1939 style: so short and prim and with the most revolting bow you’ve ever seen
.

As for the clothes . . . a woollen jersey and a dress that was the colour
drab.
The woman saw my horrified face and said, ‘You’ve got to remember, clothes had to be used over and over, that’s why they look so
faded.
But let’s have no more face-pulling.’ Then she handed me some knee-high, brown socks and lace-up shoes
.

But even worse than all that was the fact I couldn’t be called Izzy any more. Apparently this wasn’t a name anyone knew back in the dark ages. So instead I had the scratchy old name of Isobel. And there was this big brown label with ‘Isobel’ scrawled over it stuck on my jersey. I was given an identity number disc to put round my neck too – and told to memorize immediately what my number was (I never did)
.

Then I was handed a cardboard box which looked as if it was about to fall apart. Inside was a gas mask. I had to try it on. It had a horrible rubbery smell and made me want to cough. But I was told I must keep it with me at all times. So round my neck that went too
.

‘Isobel,’ I muttered to my hideous new reflection. ‘Just looking at you makes me want to throw up. You look such a miserable cow.’ I turned to Harriet. ‘Don’t we look truly terrible?’

She looked nearly as bad as me – they’d
even
somehow got rid of most of her fake tan and they’d put her hair in plaits. But she just laughed chirpily
.

‘No, come on, we do,’ I said
.

She laughed again, even more irritatingly than before and said, ‘It’s all good, babe, it’s all good.’

I knew I wouldn’t like her. I don’t like girly girls much anyway. But really iffy ones who pretend to be all happy and jolly all the time are even worse. Still, I reminded myself it was the other evacuees who decided who was up for eviction. So I had to try and get on with everyone, even Little Miss Sunshine. So I swallowed hard and said faintly, ‘Yeah, all good, that’s right.’

Of course, we couldn’t take anything of 2009 with us. We were frisked to check we hadn’t, and we were told that anyone discovered smuggling in any illegal goods would be evicted immediately
.

We were allowed to take in one book each: they had to have been published before 1939 and a range were left on a table in case we hadn’t had time to pick one out before. Mum had given me a
really
old book which had first belonged to her grandmother called
The Family from One End Street
by Eve Garnett. Zac had brought in one of the
Just William
books and, to my great surprise, Leo had chosen a massive book called
Arthur Mee’s Encyclopaedia.
Surely he wasn’t going to read all that?

Then the boys reappeared. And I burst out laughing. They had pudding-bowl haircuts (although Zac had that already) with their hair slicked right back. Their jeans, of course, had been banished too. Now they had on those funny, baggy trousers which only reached their knees. They wore jerseys too, over dull-looking shirts, and leather lace-up boots
.

They seemed about three and forty-three at the same time
.

Leo looked at Harriet and me and grinned. ‘Loving your new style, girls, loving it. Still, don’t be depressed, I’ve discovered something really good.’ Then he picked up his gas mask and blew hard inside it. At once this farting noise came out of it. Everyone fell about. Even Zac smiled
.

Of course Solly Seal had to see what was happening. ‘Do it again,’ he piped up
.

Leo had just started his second command performance when a voice called out, ‘Who is making such a disgusting sound?’

A very large woman came charging towards us like a mad rhino. She had a helmet of grey hair – and thick-rimmed glasses
.

‘Come on,’ she demanded. ‘Own up. Who is being so rude?’

‘It was me,’ said Leo. ‘And I didn’t know it was rude, as my dad’s always making that noise. You should hear him first thing in the morning.’

I started to laugh and Solly let out a high-pitched squeal
.

The woman clapped her hands. ‘I shall count to one. After which all this riotous behaviour shall
stop.
One . . .’

There was silence now. The woman started walking round us, as if we were on parade in the army. ‘Well, we haven’t got off to a very good start, have we?’

‘No,’ squeaked Solly
.

‘My name is Miss Weed.’ She glared
around
as if daring us to laugh at that. No one even smirked, though I longed to. ‘And I shall be travelling with you and teaching you.’ Suddenly she sighed right in my face. ‘I don’t think I have your full attention.’

‘Oh, yes, you do.’

‘Yes what?’

‘Yes, Miss Weed,’ I cried
.

‘Now pay attention, all of you, to what I’m telling you next, as it is very important. Maybe in 2009 you’ve said this to your parents or poor teachers. “You can’t tell me what to do. I know my rights.” Well, never say that sentence here in 1939, because you don’t have any rights.’

I opened my mouth to argue. ‘But surely—’

‘Not one,’ she said crisply. ‘Your parents signed them all away. Now we shall set off for the station. There you will meet the controller, Mr Wallack.’

‘Controller?’ I echoed
.

‘Well, headmaster,’ she said briskly. ‘But this whole series is his brainchild. And he is also the executive producer: a remarkable man. Now, our destination is
Little
Milton, a village in east Devon. We will be billeted at a small farm there. Are there any questions?’

I raised my hand: I had tons of questions. ‘First of all,’ I asked, ‘our clothes, our modern clothes. What’s happened to them?’

‘They will be taken to the farm in Little Milton by
Strictly Evacuees.
If you are evicted – or when you win – you may change back into your usual clothes. Now there’s no time for any more questions. But one thing I’d advise you to remember: expect the unexpected. Now, good luck to you all – I think you may well need it.’

CHAPTER FIVE

My Own Magic Carpet

Zac

IT WAS QUITE
a long walk to the station and some people were grumbling about that until I explained, ‘Everyone walked far more in 1939 – as most people didn’t have cars then, and if they did there was petrol rationing. Most people didn’t have telephones either and even a train journey was a special occasion.’ I paused. ‘Sorry if I’m going on too much, but I could talk about this time for hours.’

‘Well, you just talk away,’ said Leo, ‘until you notice us slipping into a boredom coma.’

Trying to be friendly, I said, ‘It’s incredible really; we’ve travelled back in time seventy years – and no jet lag.’ But Leo didn’t even smile at my little joke. And I decided I didn’t like him very much – too sneery. But Harriet laughed when I told the same joke to her. She asked me loads more questions too. I think she was highly impressed by my knowledge.

At the station we tumbled into our carriage, which was marked:
FOR EVACUEES ONLY
.
I gave a little shiver of delight when I saw that. There was a cameraman in the carriage too, operating a smallish portable camera. ‘Hey there, how’s it popping?’ said Leo to him.

The cameraman put his finger up to his mouth and this voice roared, ‘You never,
ever
address any camera operator. Surely you have been told that.’ Someone had been sitting so still in the darkest corner of the carriage that no one had realized he was there. Now he shot to his feet and bellowed, ‘And how dare you all charge in here like that. All go out and come in again properly.’

Even Leo looked a bit scared by this furious character. We quickly exited and came back in very quietly. The man stood watching us, still bristling with fury.

We guessed, even before we were told, that he was the person Miss Weed had called the controller: Mr Wallack. He wasn’t especially tall, but he had an enormous bright red face with a small, neatly trimmed moustache and piercing eyes which seemed to stare right through you.

He reminded me of those nervous, twitchy dogs which you approach very warily, because if you alarm them even a tiny bit, they’ll leap up and attack you.