The Accidental Time Traveller Read Online Free PDF

with myself. Then I stuck a pink one onto the end of a twig. “Ever seen this, Agatha?” Grinning, I thrust the marshmallow into the flames. Right away it blackened and drooped. “Here.” I offered her the burnt goo. As she licked it I watched her face contort with the sweetness.
    “It is an unexpected pleasure,” she said, her little mouth puckered.
    “‘Yummy!’ is what we say,” I told her, getting the next one ready. “Or scrummy.”
    “Yummy, scrummy,” she repeated, and laughed again.Then me and Agatha had a bit of a picnic. She was, in her weird 1812 way, ok for an old-fashioned girl. She wouldn’t drink Irn-Bru though. The very smell, she said, was ungodly! Instead she cupped up fresh snow with her hands and sucked it. It was peaceful there in the rambling old garden by the fire.
    “It is wondrous.” She brushed pork pie crumbs from her coat. “This could as well be 1812.” She swept her arms to the sides and gazed at the garden. “Forbye Grandfather’s lovely house is no more, little else here is altered.”
    I stared into the flames and nodded, glad Agatha couldn’t see the rubbish buried under the snow. I was glad the noise of distant traffic was quieter than usual and glad there was no car alarm going off anywhere or siren screaming. “Timeless,” I said, dreamily, “that’s what Dad says when we go up into the hills. He says it’s timeless.”

6
    For a while the two of us said nothing. Then Agatha placed another log on the fire, shook out her long red hair and said, “My father, Mister Albert Black, comes from a distinguished family. He has six brothers.”
    This seemed to be the beginning of something, and I leant back on the pillow. The clock in town struck half past two. I had a bit of listening time, if Agatha was going to tell me about 1812. “Six?” I exclaimed. “Really? Wow! That’s a lot. I’ve not got any.”
    “Me neither. But Father has six. All of them successful gallant gentlemen. Some do wear monstrous large wigs. Oh, they have honours for leading men in battles in the French wars, for sailing fine merchant ships, for building spinning mills, for conducting orchestras, for keeping law and order with the militia. And every brother, you know, rides a fine thoroughbred horse. Alas poor Father, the black sheep – their success simply makes plain his failure. He tries so hard to gain their approval, but every scheme he turns his hand to ends in trouble and disappointment. He tried to become a physician but fainted at the sight of blood. He tried to make the pianoforte trill, but the gentlewomen rushed from the parlour howling like dogs. And dear Fatherhas no horse. He has never had great luck, but now, since dear Mother died, it seems he is all at sea and canna do anything right. ‘Tis dreary indeed.”
    I never know what to say to people if their Granddad dies. It’s even worse if it’s their mum. “What a shame,” I muttered.
    “Aye, a terrible shame indeed,” she said and fell silent. For a while the two of us just stared into the flames. I thought about my mum. If she died, who would look after the twins? Dad would never manage on his own. I would have to help him. I batted the thought away and poked at the fire with a twig. “Twas three years ago she departed,” Agatha continued, “and now she is with the blessed angels in heaven.”
    I nodded, but wasn’t really sure about heaven and angels.
    “Aye,” Agatha went on with a sad kind of laugh, “and doubtless she is gazing down upon Mister Albert Black and shaking her pretty head. He was ever thus: a failure!”
    It seemed a bit harsh to be calling your own dad a failure. “But he’s probably good at some things,” I protested, weakly.
    Agatha nudged me in the ribs. “Ach Saul, he is a dear man and a good man, but luckless. Were it not for his wealthy brothers, especially Uncle Duncan, we’d be hiring ourselves out as servants. Twas Duncan’s cutting remarks that made poor Father determined to