Free Crow Boy by Philip Caveney Page A

Cameron gave him a disparaging look. ‘You’re not ill, are ye? You seem to be . . . rambling.’
    â€˜No, it’s just . . . I’m mixed up, that’s all. You remember I told you yesterday . . . I mean, five days ago . . . that I was really from the . . . the twenty-first century?’
    â€˜Oh aye?’ Cameron looked as though he really didn’t want to be having this conversation.
    â€˜Well, I went back, didn’t I? I went back to Manchester.’
    â€˜Did ye, now? How long did that take?’
    â€˜I don’t mean I travelled there. It was . . . like, in my head?’
    â€˜Oh, in your head, right. That would take no time at all, would it?’
    â€˜Anyway, I was there and everything was sort of different. But in a good way, you know? Like, my Mum and Dad were successful and Dad, he had this BMW X5 . . .’
    â€˜A what?’
    â€˜It’s like a . . . posh carriage with no horses . . .’
    Cameron looked even more puzzled. ‘Why would he want a thing like that?’ he asked. ‘It wouldn’t go anywhere, would it? Unless it was on a hill or something.’
    â€˜Well, see, in the future, they have these things called cars? And they drive along, using horsepower. I mean, not a real horse, but this thing called an engine.’
    â€˜Like a steam engine? I’ve seen one of those. It didn’t go anywhere though. It was in a woollen mill. Everyone was saying it’s the future. It just made a lot of noise, as far as I could see.’
    â€˜Yeah, well anyway, I was back and it was mostly great but it didn’t feel real, you know . . . it looked real but it didn’t feel right . . . and there were bits of this world mixed in there too . . . like the guy with green teeth and that rat . . .’
    Cameron was starting to look weary. ‘Look, Tom, this is all very good but I’m really tired so if it’s all the same to you, I think I . . .’
    Tom ignored him, ‘The question is: is this really happening? Or am I asleep and dreaming it?’
    â€˜I wish I was asleep and dreaming it,’ complained Cameron, dismally.
    â€˜Or maybe this is happening and the trip back to Manchester was the dream?’ He thought for a moment. ‘Just a minute . . .’
    â€˜What are you doing?’
    Tom had leaned over the side of the bed and was feeling around for his clothes on the floor beside it. His hand brushed against a boot and he picked it up, pulled it close to peer at it. It was a red Converse.
    â€˜Yes!’ he cried. ‘I did go back, I really did. But . . . if this came back with me, that means the other reality was as real as real reality. So does that mean that if I go back now, I’ll be living in Wilmslow? What do you think?’
    Cameron sighed. ‘If you want to know the truth, I think you’re a bampot.’
    â€˜A what?’
    â€˜A bampot; an idiot. Now for heaven’s sake, let me get some sleep.’
    â€˜No, look, I can prove it to you!’ Tom put down the boot and scrabbled around until he found his blazer. He reached into the pocket and pulled out his mobile. ‘There, look!’ he said, holding it into the moonlight. ‘I bet you’ve never seen anything like that before, have you?’
    â€˜No,’ admitted Cameron. ‘What is it?’
    â€˜That’s a mobile phone. With that I can talk to people all around the world. I just press these buttons, see, and their voice comes out of this bit.’
    â€˜Go on then,’ said Cameron. ‘Show me.’
    â€˜Well, I can’t. There’s no signal here, but if there was . . .’
    Cameron let out a sigh. ‘Look, Tom, it’s late and . . .’
    â€˜All right, here’s something else for you. Look at this!’ He pulled the five pound note from his pocket and held it out for inspection. ‘Now, what do you make of that?’ he asked.
    â€˜Who’s that vinegar-faced old