The Time Bubble Box Set 2, стр. 297

By the time the train pulled into Paddington, I had emptiedevery scrap of information I could remember about 2004 in to the notebook. Thattime spent at the laptop learning all this had been time well spent. But noneof it was going to be any good unless Rachel rang.

I had left my mobile on the table in front of me for thewhole journey, but still no joy. What was worse, my battery was down to 13% andI had no charger. From what I remembered, these old Nokias were pretty decenton battery life but even so, 13% was not going to last long.

I had filled about five pages of the notebook, and I cast myeye now over the first page, wondering if what I had written would be enough.It was heavily biased towards the start of the year, because I had concentratedon January for a reason. I had figured that if I ever needed to convinceanybody of my knowledge of the future, the sooner the events took place, thebetter.

There’s going to be a plane crash near Egypt on 3rdJanuary which will kill all 148 people aboard.

Harold Shipman is going to hang himself in prison on 13thJanuary.

Janet Jackson is going to have a wardrobe malfunction atthe Super Bowl on 1st February.

Manchester United are going to beat Millwall 3-0 in theFA Cup final.

And so it went on, for another four pages. It ended with adetailed description of the Boxing Day tsunami. If this didn’t convince Rachel,nothing would, but I still had to get it to her.

Just as I was getting off the train, my phone rang. It washer. The timing wasn’t great, as it was very busy and noisy in the station, butI just about managed to make out what she was saying.

“What’s up, little sis?” she said.

I could barely answer as I had become quite choked withemotion at hearing her voice for the first time in over twenty years. My sisterwas alive! Now that I had actually heard her speak, suddenly it was all real.

“I’ll explain when I see you,” I replied, trying to sound asnormal as possible. “I’m in London. Where are you?”

She was rather taken aback to hear where I was and didn’tsound too pleased. Rather than try and explain over the phone with the noise ofengines and platform announcements all around me, I got her to agree to meet mein half an hour beneath Nelson’s Column.

She was alone when I met her and looking none too happy.

“What’s all this about, Amy?” she demanded. “I had to cutshort lunch with friends to come and meet you.”

Her grumpy demeanour couldn’t dampen my mood. I was justoverwhelmingly happy to see my long-dead sister in the flesh once more. I ranup to her and almost knocked her over as I flung myself at her slender frame,burying my head in her long, wavy, dark hair that was just tinted with a hintof red.

“Whoa! Steady on, sis,” she replied, pushing me away andseeing the tears in my eyes that had welled up the moment I had grabbed hold ofher. I looked back into her piercing, green eyes, a mirror image of my own, andfor a moment, couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” she asked. “Mum rang mewhile I was waiting for you. She says some money’s gone missing from herpurse.”

“Does she think I took it?” I asked.

“She wanted to know where you were, but she never suggestedthat it was you. I doubt the possibility had even occurred to her that youwould do such a thing. It wasn’t you, was it?”

“It was me, Rachel,” I confessed.

“Oh Amy, how could you?” she replied, a look ofdisappointment in her eyes. “Stealing from our own mother? Why?”

“Rachel, it was an emergency, quite literally a matter of lifeand death. I had to take the money so I could get down here to see you. I hadto warn you that your life is in danger.”

That was possibly a little overdramatic as a look of fearflashed across her face.

“What is it, Amy? Does somebody want to hurt me?”

I had to be careful how I worded this.

“God, no,” I replied. “It’s nothing like that, but you haveto listen to me – please. Forget what you are meant to be doing today, this isfar more important. Let’s go and grab some lunch and I’ll explain it all.”

She looked back at me with those lovely green eyes, so fullof life, and now displaying more than a degree of curiosity. There was no way Iwas letting that life be snuffed out.

“Alright, Amy, you’ve got an hour, and this had better notbe a wind-up.”

We went into one of the many branches of Garfunkel’s in theWest End, ordered burgers and shakes, and I began the long process ofexplaining about the tsunami, and her involvement in it. Sceptical at first,she began to come around when I presented her with the notebook, but I knew itwas going to take time for her to fully believe because none of these eventshad happened yet.

“Just keep that notebook and don’t lose it,” I urged her.“When that plane crashes in three days’ time, you will know I am telling the truthand if that doesn’t convince you, there is plenty more that will. Above all,you have to promise me you won’t go to Thailand this Christmas.”

“OK, I won’t,” she said, still not fully convinced, “as longas the rest of this stuff comes true. But there’s one thing you haven’texplained about all of this. How did you come by all of this knowledge in thefirst place?”

I realised I was going to have to tell her the whole story,something I hadn’t done with anyone up until now. I had tried to tell my mothersome of it in my attempt to stop her drinking, but she had cut me off before Ihad been able to explain properly. Other than my seemingly futile letter toProfessor Hamilton, that was all I had told anyone.

Having kept all of this to myself for so long it was