The Turnarounders and the Arbuckle Rescue by Lou Heneghan Page B

you.’
    And with that, he thrust a domed helmet on the top of his head, picked up the scythe, the cloth bag and strode into – into nothingness. The flaps either side of the hole fell back against each other and the light winked out.
     
    For a long time they just stood there. Eventually, Ralf went over to inspect the wall. He touched it gingerly, expecting it to be hot. But the cloth was just cloth.
    ‘He was very good wasn’t he?’ Seth said.
    ‘Say again?’
    ‘He was good, Ambrose I mean. He really had us going didn’t he? When he convinced us we were all talking a different language. There was a point back there when I actually believed him!’
    ‘But, the tapestry – ‘
    ‘CGI,’ said Seth. ‘All you need is a good P.C. If I could just find it…’ and he was up searching the tent for a computer Ralf was sure would not be there.
    ‘How can you not believe him?’ Ralf shouted. ‘He’s just walked through the wall of the tent into another Time!’
    Seth looked from Ralf to Leo as if he was missing a joke. ‘It’s all some kind of trick! I’m not saying I know how he did it, but all those things he said can’t be true. It’s just not logical!’
    Valen sniggered. ‘That’s the point isn’t it, Seth? We can’t explain what’s happened to us today can we? The Saxons? The dinosaur? Doh! No one could fake that.’
    ‘Er – everyone?’ Alfie had been wandering round as they talked and was now at the door of the tent. No one seemed that keen to listen to him though, they were all focused on Seth.
    ‘Leaks in time?’ said Seth. ‘I happen to know a bit about physics and –’
    ‘Burrowes said you were a genius –’ said Valen.
    ‘Yes, well,’ Seth gave a little smile. ‘I do know that you’d need an event equivalent to an exploding star to create enough energy to open a wormhole big enough to theoretically transport you in time and space. And then –’
    ‘Yo! Guys?’ Alfie’s voice sounded shrill.
    ‘ – then, even if you managed to create a wormhole, there’d be no way you’d be able to predict where you’d end up with any kind of accuracy. It must all be –’
    ‘SHUT UP!!’ Alfie was practically screaming, his face drained of all colour. ‘Bluds, you gotta come see this!’
    They rushed to the door of the tent, Ralf’s mind churning with new disasters that might have happened while they’d been inside. He gasped as he raised the tent flap then shakily stepped outside. The others followed.
    Swann’s Circus was gone. There wasn’t a sweet wrapper or a hoof print or a patch of flattened grass – no sign that it had ever been there. Instead, they were in the middle of a broad stretch of green in the slowly turning shadow of the London Eye. People were strolling down the side of the Thames. Birds were singing. Traffic droned in the distance.
    Seth shrugged. ‘I’ve got a problem explaining this, I admit. Unless we’ve all had some kind of joint hallucination…’
    ‘Do me a favour!’ said Alfie. ‘Oh, wait up, I’ve left my hat.’ He dodged back into the tent behind them but emerged a second later hatless and hopeless. ‘Gone!’
    ‘It must be there somewhere,’ said Valen, impatiently. ‘Have you looked under the cushions?’
    Alfie shook his head. ‘What cushions, though? All gone. All different. Trust.’
    Sure enough, the sign outside the tent now read: ‘Local Artists. Work for Sale.’ Inside the tent was light and airy; there was no fire, no table, just rows of paintings and a frosty looking woman who obviously suspected they were not art lovers.
    Back outside Seth was turning in circles and scratching his head. Valen was grinning madly. Alfie, meanwhile, seemed to have forgotten all that had happened and was just scowling and kicking the grass at the loss of his hat. Leo, looking more like his old self, asked, ‘What now?’ But Ralf didn’t know how to answer him. He was trying to get his thoughts in order when he registered the smell. That sharp