who are newly married (and I guess who can afford it) go to the north of Finland for their honeymoon and stay in little glass-roofed houses – so that the Aurora Borealis flashes down on them and blesses them and the child they are going to have!!! I suppose the Japanese people believe an Aurora child is very special.
Gran is calling me. Have to go. Supermarket time. I must ask her to buy batteries for my torch.
12
I walked along the strange lanes, keeping close to Ness and feeling pretty shaken by my near-miss with the horse. Ness pointed to the lanes on the road for horse riding and bike riding, and the one we were supposed to be in that had a picture of somebody walking. “Here,” he said, “is our place.” People streamed past us on horses, on amazing-looking lightweight bikes and some, like the pumpkin lady, walking. They all stared. I seriously needed a wig. Everybody, like everybody , had long hair.
There were no cars. No buses or lorries or vans. That was the confusing thing about the roads. There was all this space to walk in, but you could only walk in the walking lane. People were moving quite fast, but not shut in their own little car. We were all out in the open where you could really see people. And it was much quieter even though it was busy.
I made a list in my head of all the things I would tell Agnes. Children work in the fields, I would tell her, but they seemed happy about it. And you can get to Edinburgh in under ten minutes. But there’s no cars. And I saw a bee. Peebles was warmer. Actually it was so warm I really wanted to take my hoodie off, but then everyone would see my short hair, and my skateboarding T-shirt – the one I thought was so cool back in 2015. Probablyin 2115 I looked like I was dressed up for some “Let’s pretend we’re old-fashioned” party! I was lost in all these thoughts and must have wandered again onto the wrong side of the path. Whatever happened I didn’t hear the bike behind me.
“Saul!” Ness yelled. “Wake up!”
Too late.
A boy screeched. I felt the front wheel of his bike wedge into the back of my legs. My knees buckled, I crumpled and he flew over my head. I heard a horrible snap sound as he landed. I groaned and felt this hot throbbing pain in the back of my legs. But compared with the boy I was fine. He was lying at the side of the path moaning. It was worse when he stopped moaning. I staggered to my feet. Nothing felt broken, I was just going to be seriously bruised. I hurried over to the boy on the ground, really scared I might find him dead.
His ankle was twisted in a weird shape and it looked like he had fainted. His I-band had fallen off and his long hair fell over his face. Ness was already by his side. I groaned, bent down and touched the boy’s wrist, feeling for his pulse the way we were taught to at school. There was a flutter of beating life. He wasn’t dead. Though I was no doctor, I could tell his ankle was badly twisted, maybe broken. I saw his eyelids flicker. Then he opened his eyes and looked at me. “Sorry,” he whispered. I followed his gaze to where his crumpled I-band lay on the ground. Ness was already on his feet. He grabbed the I-band then ran back to the injured boy and carefully put the I-band round his head. Right away the boy looked better. He breathed deeply.
By this time more bike riders had appeared. I sat back amazed. They were like Formula 1 tyre-changers the waythey worked on the injured boy. They got off their bikes, put their hands on his legs, and somebody moved his bike out the way. Ness touched the boy’s arm. The boy put his hand up to his I-band. In about one minute, even though I was pretty sure he’d had a very badly sprained ankle, he stood up. He gave little bows to all the other bikers. He bowed to Ness and Ness bowed back. Then he bowed to me, picked up his bike, got on it and rode off.
The throbbing pain in my leg had gone too. And there were no bruises. Weird. Very weird. But after that I