‘Imagine what it was like …’ he began, but Martin cut him off.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ he warned. Martin knew him too well.
Tommy sighed. They walked in silence for a moment, each thinking about their time-travelling adventures. Then Martin asked: ‘Do you think we should tell Francis?’
Tommy scowled in the dark. They’d had this conversation before. Francis knew that Tommy and Martin had a big secret from him, but never in his wildest dreams would he imagine what their secret was: that they could travel back in time. Martin wanted to tell Francis, but Tommy was reluctant. He knew that it hurt Francis to be left out. But Francis would never believe their story – not in a million years!
The only way they could let Francis know was to show him – to take him with them. But that was something that Tommy was afraid to do. Francis got into enough trouble as it was. He was always getting detentions for talking back to the teacher, or climbing trees, or skipping classes, or picking fights … or just about anything! Just imagine if he was in the company of an armed robber! One part of Tommy feared that Francis (who was a bit of a hot-head) would stir up trouble and get them all shot. But a bigger part feared that his friend would join forces with the bushrangers!
Francis loved excitement and he was not afraid of danger. He also liked to break rules. Taking Francis back to colonial times was a risk that Tommy was not willing to take. Tommy shook his head and reminded Martin of all these reasons not to let Francis know their secret.
‘Besides,’ he said (for the hundredth time), ‘How could we take Francis back to the past? Your boots are too small for him, and if I lend him my hat, I won’t be able to go back to the past with him. And there’s no way I’m going to let Francis go alone!’
But Martin sighed and kept insisting in his quiet way. The trouble with Martin was that he trusted people too much; he couldn’t see how much trouble Francis could cause. The argument was making Tommy grumpy.
‘Well, if you’re so keen, why won’t you come back to the past with me now?’ he sulked.
Even in the dark, Tommy could see Martin’s face turn pale.
‘I … I can’t,’ he stammered. ‘My boots are back at the motel.’
‘Fine then,’ said Tommy. ‘I’ll go by myself.’
And then, partly to annoy Martin, but mostly just because he couldn’t resist an adventure, Tommy put the hat on his head.
Normally when he put the hat on, the world would seem to black out, and then Tommy’s head would clear again and he would find himself back in the nineteenth century. But this time, when Tommy’s head cleared, it was still dark. The moon was still glowing big and heavy in the night sky. At first, Tommy wasn’t sure if anything had changed. The hat had failed once before, when he was locked up in a room; would it also fail in the dark?
‘Martin?’ Tommy whispered, but there was no reply. The hat had worked after all.
Tommy felt a bit bad about leaving Martin alone in the strange night-time street, but he told himself not to worry. When he disappeared into the past, time seemed to stand still for those left back in the present. Martin would hardly notice that he was gone.
Tommy walked carefully along the deserted street. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the dark. A shaft of moonlight beamed onto the village, and here and there he could make out the hunched shape of a building: a sloping roof, a little porch. The smoky air brought to his mind’s eye an image of families snuggled in front of fireplaces, all cosy in their humble cottages.
The crunch of footsteps nearly startled Tommy right out of his skin. He ducked behind a bush, suddenly afraid. He peered out between the leaves to watch. He saw the figure of a man; the figure turned and stopped at the door of the building directly across the road from Tommy. The man raised a hand and Tommy could hear the jangling of keys.
Then a blur of movement made Tommy gasp. The hunched figure of a second man was creeping silently up behind the first. He was bigger than the first man, and his right arm was raised high. There was something bulky in his hand. With a shock, Tommy realised it was a gun.
What should he do? Cry out and warn the man at the door? Or wait and watch? The glint of moonlight on the gun’s barrel made up his mind for him: he’d stay hidden for now!
Through the cold night air, the attacker’s voice carried clearly.
‘Don’t make a sound,’ he said, placing his gun at the other’s head, ‘or I’ll knock you down.’
The man had a strange accent – soft and singsong. The man on the doorstep froze.
‘We’ll go in,’ said the man with the gun, ‘and you’ll give me the gold or I’ll shoot you.’
As the door opened and the men shuffled inside, Tommy edged closer. A robbery was in progress! Tommy dashed across the road and hid behind another bush, where he had a better view of the building. Over the front door was a sign that said London Chartered Bank.
Tommy was still creeping closer when the door swung wide again and the men spilled out. The victim was standing in front and, now that Tommy could see his face, he realised that the man was much younger than he had at first imagined. He was only a teenager. He was slim and blond and he looked terrified. The robber stood behind him, holding the gun in one hand and a sack in the other. His eyes were
