In the morning, Aunt Cathy impatiently called Jezebel down for breakfast. Jezebel noticed through the window as she entered the kitchen that it was gently raining outside. She shared a small smile with Aunt Cathy as she sat down at the kitchen table next to Tibbar. She felt a little tired compared to Aunt Cathy, who was wide awake.

  “Good morning, Jezebel!” smiled Cathy.

  “Good morning,” yawned Jezebel.

  “Well, I suppose there was no sleepwalking last night?” grinned Cathy.

  “No,” giggled Jezebel. “You’re up early, Tibbar?” she said, rubbing her eyes.

  “It’s good getting up early,” explained Tibbar.

  “Hmm. So what are we going to do today?” asked Jezebel, looking at Tibbar.

  Aunt Cathy said nothing. She wondered what it was Tibbar was going to have to do for Jezebel.

  “What did you decide you would like to change today?” asked Tibbar, cleaning his fur.

  Aunt Cathy sipped quietly on her tea and listened.

  “I think I’d like to change what happened to me at school last month,” said Jezebel.

  “What happened?” interrupted Aunt Cathy, placing her sister’s Royal Albert teacup back onto its saucer.

  “When I was at school…” Jezebel stopped for a moment. “I wasn’t going to tell you. I asked Mum and Dad not to tell you,” she explained sadly.

  “Oh,” sympathised Aunt Cathy. She liked seeing Jezebel’s vulnerable, cute expression. “I’m sorry.” She leaned over and placed her hand on Jezebel’s shoulder. “Do you want to keep it a secret between you and Tibbar?”

  “No. Not anymore,” said Jezebel, rubbing her face. “I tore my dress at school. It caught on a nail when I stood up from a bench when we were having morning tea.”

  “Oh, that’s terrible,” commiserated Cathy.

  Jezebel was finding it hard to tell Aunt Cathy, but she persisted.

  “You could see how badly it was torn. Millie Clannery yelled out that I’d torn my dress for everyone to hear. She’s such a cow— I better not say that.”

  “Jezebel?” laughed Cathy.

  “But she is. I really don’t like her. I had to wear three safety pins to keep it together. I was so embarrassed.” Jezebel winced. “Lots of kids still pull at my dress and make fun of me nearly every day, pretending that it might still be torn. They’re not being nasty about it. It’s just super annoying.”

  “Would you like that not to have happened?” asked Tibbar.

  Jezebel snapped out of her insecurity and glared at Tibbar.

  “Of course. Could you do that?” asked Jezebel hopefully.

  “Could you, Tibbar?” asked Aunt Cathy, sounding very surprised.

  “Yes,” said Tibbar.

  Aunt Cathy stared at Tibbar and Jezebel in shock. She had never known him to say such a thing.

  “When can we do it?” pleaded Jezebel. “Today?”

  “Now, if you wish,” said Tibbar.

  “All right. Can I have breakfast first?” smiled Jezebel.

  “I will wait,” nodded Tibbar, cleaning his long ears.

  Jezebel poured herself a bowl of cereal and ate happily. Cathy said nothing for a while, until she couldn’t stay silent any longer.

  “How on earth are you going to do that?” asked Aunt Cathy, pretending not to be nervous.

  Tibbar said nothing and simply watched Jezebel eating her breakfast.

  Aunt Cathy tried to relax and made herself another cup of tea. Jezebel hummed to herself as she finished eating, ignoring Cathy’s weather talk completely.

  “I’m ready!” announced Jezebel, innocently taking her bowl to the dishwasher.

  “Good. Then if we’re ready to go, let’s go back to that day,” said Tibbar, raising a paw.

  Aunt Cathy took a breath and closed her eyes tightly. Nothing happened.

  “We will need your car, Cathy. Because that’s how we’re going to get there. This time,” giggled Tibbar.

  Aunt Cathy and Jezebel opened their eyes.

  “I did wonder,” laughed Aunt Cathy, tentatively.

  Cathy buttoned her brown suede jacket and locked the front door behind her, then followed Jezebel to her car, passing her fingers through her light brunette hair. Tibbar jumped effortlessly into the back seat as Cathy opened the door.

  The car started and slowly they drove along the driveway and onto the road.

  “Turn left,” said Tibbar.

  “Left, Cathy! Didn’t you hear him?” asked Jezebel, desperate to change her past.

  “No, sorry,” frowned Cathy.

  Cathy turned left and drove slowly to the end of the road. At the intersection Tibbar spoke again.

  “Turn right.”

  “Okay. I heard him that time,” said Cathy, turning the wheel.

  At the end of the road they could see the old windmill beside the narrow river. It still had its torn sails out in a fleeting attempt to catch the wind. The sails didn’t turn anymore. The only thing they caught were falling leaves from the maple trees lining the far side of the riverbank, or occasional snow.

  Aunt Cathy drove over the rough path that led to the windmill. She felt tremendous excitement building within.

  She stopped the car right by the windmill.

  “It should be fine,” said Tibbar. “Follow me slowly around the windmill. When we come fully around, we will be in the same day that Jezebel wants to change.”

  Aunt Cathy had not been able to remove the smile from her face for some time now. Or was it a nervous smile? She took a firm hold of the steering wheel again.

  “Should we do this, Jezebel?” whispered Cathy, looking straight ahead. Her eyes lost at some point in her past, remembering Tibbar as a child.

  “Let’s go,” said Jezebel.

  Slowly her foot squeezed down onto the accelerator. The yellow Volkswagen convertible’s wheels turned slowly around following Tibbar.

  Aunt Cathy felt determined at first, then began to feel a little dizzy. The windmill seemed to grow taller as she looked at it through the windscreen. She turned to look at Jezebel, who seemed to be looking paler. Onwards Tibbar hopped. Jump by jump.

  She caught a quick peek of herself in the rear-view mirror. She had to look hard to see herself, for she seemed to look fainter. The music from the disc seemed to slow to a single held note, then stopped.

  Cathy and Jezebel jumped with fright as the whole album played backwards in seconds at full volume.

  Tibbar ceased hopping. Jezebel opened the passenger door and he hopped into the back seat.

  Aunt Cathy turned the air-conditioning on and began to drive back to the bitumen road, pushing the open button on her CD player to find the disc was no longer in the player. It was back in its cover from three weeks ago.

  Cathy was still feeling disorientated when, from a distance, she could make out Brian washing the Land Rover in front of the garage.

  “Why is Brian home? They’re not supposed to be home till much later today,” said Aunt Cathy, slowing down.

  “Don’t stop!” warned Tibbar.

  “Why?” asked Aunt Cathy.

  “Because we are now passing through a day that happened three weeks ago,” said Tibbar.

  Aunt Cathy gave a muffled scream. Her road navigator was now exactly three weeks ago.

  “Oh my goodness!” said Cathy. “It’s the ninth of October! Again! Jezebel, it’s true! We’ve gone back in time!” she blurted, terrified at first, then enthralled and excited all at once. She pushed the accelerator down and the car sped quickly past.

  “Oh my, oh my. I hope he didn’t see us?” said Cathy.

  Brian turned to look at the car with some annoyance for going too fast along the road.

  “Can they see us, Tibbar?” asked Jezebel, turning about to look at Tibbar, who was sitting up and sniffing the air.

  “Yes.”

  “Good question,” grimaced Aunt Cathy. “We can get back… can’t we? Oh my.”

  “Yes. When we go back to the windmill. Do not worry. Drive to Jezebel’s school, Cathy.”

  They soon drove into the village. Everything looked the same except it all seemed to be a little dimmer and fainter. She looked down at her road navigator.

  Aunt Cathy brought the car to a sudden stop on the main street. A car was parked right in the middle of the road. She scratched her head and looked around. No one seemed to be paying any attention to the red sports car blocking their way.

  Cathy watched as a woman wearing sunglasses climbed out of the passenger seat in white leather pants, jacket and boots, and walked up to Jezebel’s window and tapped on the glass. Cathy let down the electric window.

  “Can we help you?” asked Cathy.

  “Hi ya, Jezebel!” beamed Karen.

  “Wow!” smiled Jezebel. “Karen! How did you find me?”

  “Tibbar told us where you’d be. Hello. You must be Aunt Cathy? I’m Karen, Jezebel’s friend.”

  “Oh yes,” replied Cathy, looking impressed at the tight-fitting racy white faux leather outfit. She wore large dark brown metal-rimmed sunglasses which only partially revealed her intense brown eyes.

  Suddenly Cathy was startled by a tap on her window. She let it down to a cool-looking man also dressed in leather with dark sunglasses.

  “Hello, ma’am. My name is Elvin. I’m a friend of Jezebel’s. If you’d like to just park your car up to the side there, we have something Tibbar would like us to help you with.”

  Aunt Cathy was speechless. She turned to Jezebel looking for some kind of reassurance.

  “Where do you know…?” began Cathy.

  “Elvin, ma’am.”

  “Yes… and…?”

  “Karen,” smiled Karen brightly.

  “Park the car, Cathy,” said Jezebel.

  “Right,” nodded Cathy.

  With the yellow beetle safely parked, Jezebel carried Tibbar from the car and Cathy got out and walked over to where Karen, Elvin, Tibbar and Jezebel stood waiting outside a shop.

  “This is the place,” said Elvin, hands on hips, looking up at the sign outside the door which read Bet?Fred.

  “What are we going to do here?” asked Cathy.

  “Come on, gal. I’ll show you,” said Karen, taking Cathy by the arm and walking her briskly inside.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Karen, Elvin, Jezebel, Cathy and Tibbar looked around at all the television screens showing horses with jockeys racing around various tracks. After a minute, Elvin handed Karen a betting slip. Karen filled it out, then handed it to Cathy.

  “Come on, you,” smiled Karen.

  They walked over to the counter and Karen fed the betting slip into the automatic machine in front of the attendant.

  “That’s twenty pounds, Miss,” said the attendant.

  “Well go on, Cathy. Give the man the money. I don’t have any English notes on me. But I could sing a few. La?la?la,” smiled Karen.

  Cathy opened her purse and saw it held a single twenty?pound note. She uncomfortably brought it out and handed it to the man.

  “Right. That should do it,” smiled Karen, nodding at Elvin and rubbing her hands together excitedly.

  “You need money, honey, if you want to get along with me,” grinned Elvin.

  “I do?” asked Cathy, still unsure.

  “Oh sure,” affirmed Karen.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” said Elvin, taking Cathy’s purse from her floral Gucci shoulder bag. He unzipped it, placed the betting slip inside, zipped it up again, then pushed it down into her Gucci bag.

  “Done,” smiled Elvin.

  “But you don’t have to do this, you know. I’m getting by,” suggested Cathy.

  “Why not!” gloated Karen.

  Karen and Elvin shared a high?five then walked out of the betting shop.

  “Goodbye,” waved Karen.

  “See you later on, Jezebel,” pointed Elvin.

  “Hang onto that ticket, Cathy. It will be worth money tomorrow,” said Tibbar.

  “Really?” asked Aunt Cathy, hopeful she had heard Tibbar correctly. Even getting her twenty pounds back tomorrow sounded good.

  Elvin and Karen had already left by the time they came out of the shop. They made their way back to the yellow beetle and promptly continued on.

  “You can’t stop again on the way to Jezebel’s school, Cathy, or we’ll miss the opportunity to stop Jezebel tearing her dress.”

  “Will do,” smiled Cathy, trying to sound like Karen for a laugh.

  Cathy turned on the radio and listened to the news from three weeks ago. Jezebel laughed a moment remembering one story about a cow going into the fruit and vegetable shop and eating the cabbages.

  “How are we going to stop my dress from tearing?” asked Jezebel, looking ahead from the passenger seat to the sight of her school getting closer at the top of the hill.

  “There is a hammer and a bag in the cargo area. Take it to the seat and bang the nail down. Take no more than one minute to bang the nail down. Also, you must ignore Principal Douglas when he asks you what you are doing. Don’t look at him. Come straight back.”

  Jezebel and Aunt Cathy looked at each other.

  “Did you get all that?” asked Cathy, unsure.

  “Take the hammer in the bag. Bang the nail down in one minute. Ignore Principal Douglas. Come straight back.”

  “Wow, that sounds right. I do have a small hammer in the cargo area,” agreed Aunt Cathy, as she parked across the road from the school under a beautiful autumn tree.

  Aunt Cathy put the small hammer into the bag, went around to the open passenger?side window and looked at Jezebel.

  “Right to go?” asked Cathy, passing her the bag.

  “Yes, I want to do this so much,” said Jezebel excitedly.

  Jezebel hurried out of the car, walked over the crossing and went straight through the open school gates.

  Several students noticed Jezebel walking through the school grounds but said nothing to her. She had to pass by several full classrooms on either side of a long undercover worn cobbled pathway. When she reached the end, there in front of her was the dreaded bench seat, just off in the gardens.

  As she stood before it, Jezebel saw the nail protruding out about an inch. This was an odd sight, because last week groundsman Bob had banged it back down. Jezebel boldly pulled the hammer from the bag and began to hammer the nail back in.

  Jezebel found that the nail was very stubborn and only went down very slowly with the light hammer.

  “Hello? What do you think you are doing down there?” came the voice of Principal Douglas from his upstairs office. Jezebel nearly turned about, but remembered what Tibbar had said and kept hammering the nail.

  “Excuse me?” yelled the principal loudly.

  Jezebel knew she was only two or three swings away from having the nail fully in. Principal Douglas walked quickly from his office and headed downstairs in a hurry towards this offensive student in an outdoor eating area.

  Just before he reached the door, the sound of the school bell rang for morning tea. Students began to come out of their classrooms. He opened the doors and ran outside, clumsily bumping into students in a most undignified manner.

  The girl student was gone, and he knew he would not catch her here, for pupils filled every place he could now see. Yet Principal Douglas wasn’t the principal for no reason. He had his suspicions whom he had seen, all right, and headed straight towards Mrs North’s classroom.

  As Jezebel came out of the classroom with her friends Monica and Stephanie, Principal Douglas came to stand in front of her.

  “Wait over there a moment please, girls. Mrs North? Can I have a word with you?”

  Mrs North left several children quickly to talk to the principal.

  “Yes, Principal Douglas?” asked Mrs North. “What’s the matter? You look upset.”

  “Why?” blurted out—then in a more controlled whisper—“Why was Jezebel York using a hammer on a bench in the outdoor eating area?”

  “When?” asked Mrs North, quite surprised.

  “Not two minutes ago,” explained Principal Douglas, wiping some sweat from his brow, trying to regain his composure.

  “That’s totally impossible. Jezebel York has been in my classroom for the whole subject without leaving. She was only a few minutes ago reading in her lovely way to the whole class. She is an excellent reader and student. Whoever it was, it certainly wasn’t her.”

  Principal Douglas raised his eyebrows and looked perplexed. He pulled his glasses from his top pocket and cleaned them before placing them on.

  “Thank you, Mrs North,” he smiled awkwardly. “That is all for now.”

  He walked past Jezebel without saying a word but noticed her hair was now in ribbons. He continued on to his office. Once there, he observed the school grounds from his window and kept a lookout for the troublesome pupil with his glasses on. He just knew there wasn’t another girl who resembled Jezebel York.

  Jezebel joined her friends at the outside eating area and chatted. As she stood up this time, no nail tore her dress while Millie Clannery walked past.

  “I did it!” smiled Jezebel.

  “Yea!” clapped Aunt Cathy, giving Jezebel a big hug. “Can we go home now?”

  “Indeed,” nodded Jezebel, looking exhausted. “I’m so relieved.”

  “The deed is done,” said Tibbar. “The torn dress is no more.”

  Cathy pulled the gear stick to drive and indicated out onto the road, taking an immediate left. They passed happily down into the village and wondered how life could be so enchanting. Everyone in the street seemed to inspire and touch them in a gentle nostalgic way. This was history.

  When they drove past Jezebel’s house and saw that both Brian and Pamela were by the garage cleaning the Land Rover, Jezebel and Aunt Cathy ducked down. Cathy felt lucky she had not told her sister about her new car.

  Aunt Cathy turned onto the rough and dipping road that led to the base of the windmill. Jezebel opened the door and Tibbar hopped out. This time he went to the right of the windmill. Aunt Cathy didn’t need time to think as she accelerated slowly after Tibbar, with her fingers crossed, holding the steering wheel.

  The heat seemed to decrease now and a certain amount of colour was returning to their faces. The interior of the car was more in focus again. The scenery had lost its hazy appearance and was crisp and colourful. Tibbar finished going all the way around and Aunt Cathy brought the car to a stop.

  Cathy got out of the car, fell to her knees and was sick. She stood up and shivered a moment. It was much cooler again. The leaves on the trees were back to looking more yellowish with the approaching winter.

  “Woo!” shouted Jezebel, running once around the windmill. “We did it! We did it! We did it!” She ran several times around Tibbar before stopping. “When can we do it again, Tibbar?” asked Jezebel, overjoyed.

  “Oh no. I don’t want to do that again,” insisted Aunt Cathy, rubbing her eyes while fetching her water bottle from the car.

  “Why not?” complained Jezebel. “Tibbar could take us anywhere we want to go.” Jezebel twirled around again.

  “Because…” Aunt Cathy looked up at the windmill and was nearly sick again. She sat back down and looked off towards the river.

  Jezebel stopped celebrating and sat down quietly next to Cathy. For five minutes they sat without talking. Cathy sipped her water and poked at the earth with her shoes. Jezebel stroked Tibbar and felt she was stronger than Cathy. For Fariddion she had to be.

  The wind blew around the windmill’s sails that creaked slightly. The river flowed slowly to the sea. Eventually Cathy sighed and looked at Jezebel.

  “I was worried we wouldn’t get back,” said Cathy quietly.

  “It’s understandable,” agreed Jezebel. “Are you alright?” she asked gently.

  “Yeah… this is big, Jezebel… and it’s happening to us!” said Cathy thoughtfully.

  “That’s true,” agreed Jezebel. “It’s massive. You know, Cathy, you’re going to need all of that adventurous spirit of yours for what’s coming your way.”

  “Okay…” smiled Cathy, slowly standing up. She stretched her hands high above her head, brought them slowly down, breathed out — and coughed.

  “Right. Come on,” laughed Cathy, taking Jezebel’s hand.

  Together they ran around the windmill yelling and laughing with joy.