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no,’ Uncle Percy
replied casually. ‘Kareem and Jawna have been travelling companions for
decades. She’s an old pro. Anyway, shall we check out the party?’ He set off in
the direction of a set of large doors at the far end of the room.
    As Becky trailed him,
her gaze was drawn to a most unexpected object, painted luminous green, set
beside a stretch black limousine. ‘Is – is that a public toilet?’
    ‘It is, but personally
I wouldn’t use it.’
    ‘Why not?’ Becky
asked.
    ‘Because you might
find yourself in Nanjing, China in 1375... that public toilet is Dilbert Wong’s
time machine.’
    Becky’s crumpled her
face. ‘Really?’
    ‘His time machine’s a
bog?’ Joe said with delight.
    ‘That’s one way of
putting it, Joe,’ Uncle Percy said disapprovingly. ‘With respect to Dilbert,
he’s got a weak bladder and a strong sense of propriety. I suppose he doesn’t
want to be stuck in Bronze Age Bavaria without a suitable place to visit when
needs must. You know what they say, when you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go...’
    Becky was about to
respond when a loud crack echoed to their left. A giant tractor had
materialised in an adjacent parking bay.  A man dressed as a deep-sea
diver leapt down and landed with a clank beside them. He was wearing a copper
helmet, which he removed to reveal a mass of curly orange hair and a wild,
tangled beard spotted with grey, behind which sat a wide grin.  ‘Halifax,
me old mucker,’ the man said. ‘Good to see you and Merry Christmas.’ He
extended his hand.
    Uncle Percy shook it.
‘Merry Christmas, Malcolm. Becky, Joe … can I introduce you to Malcolm Everidge
– a very old friend, unparalleled expert in medieval history, esteemed time
traveller and a fellow OTTER.’
    Everidge’s eyes shone
as he looked down at Becky and Joe. ‘Well, bless my soul,’ he said warmly. ‘I
was chuffed to bits when I heard you’d be coming. Merry Christmas to you both.’
    ‘Merry Christmas,’
Becky and Joe said simultaneously.
    Everidge’s eyes fell
on Joe and he paused for a moment. ‘My goodness, young man, you really are the
spitting image of your father.’
    ‘Thanks,’ Joe replied.
    Everidge opened his
mouth as if to say something else but seemed to change his mind, turning
instead to Uncle Percy who looked strangely flushed.
    ‘Anyway … must dash,’
Everidge said, the words tripping quickly off his tongue. ‘It’s not every day
you get to witness a musical treat like this and I’ve already missed most of
the first half. See you later, kids.’ And he hurried away as quickly as he
could.
    Uncle Percy watched
him leave. ‘I have to agree with Malcolm about the musical treat. Come on.’ He
turned quickly and marched off, leaving Becky and Joe to exchange puzzled
glances.
    ‘What d’you reckon
this musical treat is?’ Becky said in a low voice.
    Joe shook his head.
‘No idea,’ he whispered back. ‘But if I know Uncle Percy’s oddball mates it’s
probably a Brontosaurus playing the bongos.’
    Becky and Joe had only
advanced a few feet when the sound of music met their ears. With each step, it
grew louder all the time.  By the time they had reached the door, Becky
could make out guitars, drums, and singing, punctuated by loud hollers of
approval from what sounded like a large gathering of people.
    Stopping at the door,
Uncle Percy’s eyes sparkled. ‘Welcome … to this year’s GITT Christmas party.’
He pushed the door open.
    Following him inside,
Becky’s legs turned to jelly. She was in an enormous glass-domed room, its
walls decorated with murals depicting nautical scenes – a submarine painted
egg-yolk yellow, a dolphin being tickled by a Mermaid, hundreds of golden starfish
– and arched windows, through which she could see huge shoals of fish drifting
across an endless seabed.
    Looking round, she saw
hundreds of people dressed in the most wonderful costumes sitting at round
tables - some in sumptuous dinner gowns and suits,