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watching her histrionics. Some were amused; others mildly irritated. She insolently out-stared them all.
    For a split second she looked directly at Jo before sweeping the rest of the audience with a contemptuous glare. Jo was left reeling.  For a moment she thought she might faint with shock. Her head was spinning, her pulse was racing and her hands were clammy. It was like looking in a mirror. The angry girl had Jo’s auburn curls and green eyes. Instinctively Jo hid her own hair under the hood.
    She was thinking furiously. Her mind seethed with questions. Who was the sulky girl? Where was she? Not only that, what year was it?
    1957, dummy.
    The petulant girl was staring at Jo again. Immediately Jo shielded. The other girl stuck out her tongue and it was all Jo could do not to laugh out loud. Somewhere in the back of her mind the date rang a faint bell, but the memory remained elusive.
    A sharp reprimand of, ‘Behave yourself, Lethe, or you will miss the presentation,’ answered her first question. Jo was dumbfounded to realise she was staring at her mother and aunt when they were children, and their parents, the grand-parents Jo had never known. As she studied her handsome grand-father it was evident that he was the reason for the copper curls that ran in the family.
    She was glad when the lights dimmed and covered her confusion. A single spotlight shone on Titus Stigmurus as he stood in front of a vast white screen.
    He looks older in 1957 than he does now marvelled Jo. Whatever Mirabel does to stop him aging wasn’t happening then.
    Everyone concentrated as Titus started to speak. His voice was compelling and his manner confident. He effortlessly exuded power.
    ‘Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to Stigmurus Enterprises. As you undoubtedly know, the 1954 Atomic Energy Act promotes the peaceful uses of nuclear energy through private initiative, allowing the Atomic Energy Commission to license private companies such as mine to use nuclear materials and build and operate nuclear power plants as part of President Eisenhower's Atoms for Peace programme. I am privileged to be playing a small part in this exciting work. Before our tour of this section of the complex, I intend to show a film of the origins of the nuclear industry and some footage never before seen. After a delicious lunch we will demonstrate our Borax-III reactor – hence the protective clothing. Better to be safe than sorry, although the dangers from nuclear fall-out have been much exaggerated. Only two years ago the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission assured us that the path of fall-out does not constitute a serious hazard to any living thing outside the test site.’
    ‘Tell that to the down-winders,’ shouted a man in the audience. ‘Tell that to the mothers who miscarried or delivered dead babies. Tell that to the observers with flash-blindness and the troops with bone cancers and leukaemia.’
    Titus was urbanity personified. ‘You raise interesting points, my friend, but I fear you are misinformed. There is no evidence to suggest the nuclear testing causes the dangers you describe.’
    ‘There is no evidence,’ replied the protester angrily, ‘because there has been no research.’
    ‘Perhaps we can continue this fascinating discussion later, Mr …?’
    ‘My name is Silver Lightning,’ came the reply. Another jolt as Jo recognised the proud voice of her father’s uncle. ‘My tribe is Lakota. Our whole nation has suffered from the use of our land for your vile testing. Our crops, milk and livestock have been contaminated and our children sicken. The government and private companies like yours have disregarded and broken treaties, and ridden roughshod over our sovereignty in order to dispose of your nuclear waste . And now you and your kind add insult to injury with the Redwing Project and other tests named after my nation. Cherokee. Lacrosse. Seminole…’
    Silver Lightning got no further. Armed guards converged on him from all