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  Andrew Norriss was born in Scotland in 1947, went to university in Ireland and taught history in a sixth‐form college in England for ten years before becoming a full‐time writer. In the course of twenty years, he has written and co‐written some hundred and fifty episodes of situation comedies and children’s drama for television. He has also written many books for children, including Aquila, which won the Whitbread Children’s Book of the Year in 1997, and The Unluckiest Boy in the World, which won the Lancashire Schools Fantastic Book Prize in 2007.

  He lives very contentedly with his wife and two children in a village in Hampshire, where he acts in the local dramatic society (average age sixty‐two), sings in the church choir (average age seventy‐two) and for real excitement travels to the cinema in Basingstoke.

  ‘Norriss has a wonderful light comic touch’

  Sunday Telegraph

  ‘Andrew Norriss keeps the reader hooked through narrative that is both comic and touching’

  writeaway.org.uk on The Unluckiest Boy in the World

  Books by Andrew Norriss

  AQUILA

  BERNARD’S WATCH

  MATT’S MILLION

  THE PORTAL

  THE TOUCHSTONETHE

  UNLUCKIEST BOY IN THE WORLD

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  PENGUIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  Penguin Books Ltd

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  puffinbooks.com

  First published 2009

  Copyright © Andrew Norriss, 2009

  All rights reserved.

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re‐sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

  ISBN: 978-0-141-91897-6

  For my wonderful god‐daughter, Beth,

  who seems to make no mistakes at all.

  And thank you, Johnny, for the idea.

  CHAPTER ONE

  It was a Saturday morning and Alex was sitting at the desk in his bedroom, when his father called up to say there was a parcel for him. A parcel sounded interesting, Alex thought, and he hurried downstairs to the kitchen, where his father was studying the label on a box about the size of a small suitcase.

  ‘It’s from Godfather John,’ he said, as Alex appeared. ‘I suppose it’s a birthday present.’

  Alex’s birthday was not for another three months, but presents from Godfather John could arrive at any time in the year, and when they did they were usually… unusual.

  Last year’s present, for instance, had been a Make Your Own Explosions Kit, which Alex still wasn’t allowed to play with, and the year before that his godfather had sent a pair of ferrets, with detailed instructions on how to use them to catch rabbits.

  ‘Perhaps we should open it outside,’ said Mr Howard doubtfully, remembering the ferrets, but Alex was already tearing off the brown paper and pulling open the lid of the box.

  Inside was a battered black case containing a laptop computer.

  ‘Goodness,’ said his father. ‘How very generous.’ He peered into the empty box. ‘Is there a card with it? Or a letter?’

  Alex was rather disappointed. A laptop computer might sound like an exciting present to get, but this was not, he could see, a new machine. It was old, with spots on it that looked like bits of somebody’s lunch. It probably wouldn’t be able to do half the things that Alex could do on the computer his parents had given him for Christmas. As presents went, an old laptop was a lot less exciting than a Make Your Own Explosions Kit or a pair of ferrets.

  ‘Are you going to try it out?’ asked his father. ‘He’s not trying out anything till he’s done the drying‐up.’ Alex’s mother had appeared in the kitchen, wiping oil and grease off her hands on to a piece of kitchen towel. ‘Could someone put the kettle on?’

  Ten minutes later, when Alex had finished the drying‐up, he took his computer upstairs to his room. It might only be an old laptop, but you never knew. There might be some interesting games on it.

  Sitting at his desk, he turned on the machine and a window appeared asking him to type in his name, and then to fill in the date and the time. The date was the fourteenth of May and the clock on his desk said the time was twenty‐three minutes past ten, so he tapped in the numbers 10.23.

  At least, that was what he meant to do.

  In fact he typed in the numbers 10.03.

  That wasn’t really a problem, though. Alex knew that when you made a mistake on a computer, there was a very simple solution. If you pressed the Control key and then pressed Z, the computer went back to before you had made the mistake.

  So that was what he did now.

  He pressed Ctrl‐Z.

  And the computer disappeared.

  It took a moment for this to sink in. After all, things don’t just disappear – especially not computers that you’ve only had for ten minutes and hardly touched. Alex looked round the room and under the desk – he even looked out of the window, but there was no mistake. The laptop had vanished and there wasn’t a sign of it anywhere.

  He was still sitting at his desk, wondering what he should do, when his father called up from downstairs to say there was a parcel for him.

  Puzzled, Alex went down to the kitchen where he found his father studying the label on a box about the size of a small suitcase.

  ‘It’s from Godfather John,’ he said when he saw Alex. ‘I suppose it’s a birthday present.’

  Alex stared at the parcel. ‘It’s the same as the last one!’ he said.

  ‘You mean the Make Your Own Explosions Kit?’ said his father. ‘No, no, that was a much bigger box.’ He paused for a moment before adding doubtfully, ‘Perhaps we should open it outside.’

  Alex stepped forward, tore off the paper and pulled open the lid of the box. Inside was a battered black case, containing a laptop computer.

  The whole thing was getting weirder by the second. ‘It’s another computer,’ said Alex. ‘Why would he send me another computer?’

  ‘Well, he probably didn’t know that we gave you one for Christmas,’ said his father, picking a bit of dried egg off the lid. ‘And this one’s a laptop. Which means you can have it upstairs in your room, if you like. Are you going to try it out?’

  ‘He’s not trying out anything till he’s done the drying‐up.’ Alex’s mother had appeared in the kitchen, wiping
oil and grease off her hands on to a piece of kitchen towel. ‘Could someone put the kettle on?’

  ‘I’ve already done the drying‐up,’ said Alex. ‘I did it just –’ he stopped. There on the draining board were all the breakfast dishes. Not more dishes that had been put there since he did the drying‐up, but exactly the same dishes as before. As if someone had carefully taken them back out of the cupboard, got them wet under a tap and put them out for him to do all over again.

  He was beginning to think that the whole world had gone mad – and then he saw the clock.

  The clock on the kitchen wall said that the time was eight minutes past ten.

  A faint suspicion of what must have happened stirred in his mind. It was quite impossible, of course, and yet… and yet…

  Twelve minutes later, when Alex had finished doing the drying‐up for the second time, he was back at his desk in his bedroom with the laptop open in front of him.

  After he had turned it on, a window appeared asking him to type in his name, and then to fill in the date and the time. He typed in his name, filled in the date, 14 May, and then the time.

  The clock on his desk said the time was twenty‐two minutes past ten, but that was not the number he tapped in. Instead, he did exactly what he had done before and carefully tapped in the wrong time – 10.03 – and then pressed the Control key and Z.

  The computer disappeared, and Alex sat there, waiting.

  He didn’t have to wait long.

  It was only a minute or so before his father’s voice came floating up from downstairs to say there was a parcel for him.

  The clock on the kitchen wall said that the time was four minutes past ten. Alex’s father was studying the label on a box about the size of a small suitcase and saying, ‘It’s from Godfather John. I suppose it’s a birthday present.’

  And then everything happened again. It was the strangest feeling, watching the events unfold – opening the box, finding the computer, his father’s surprise, his mother coming in from the garage and saying he had to do the drying‐up for the third time.

  Finally, he was back at his desk in his bedroom, typing his name and address into the computer and then filling in the date and the time…

  Well, not the time. Not just yet.

  Because the time was the secret, he was sure of that. When he typed in 10.03 he had gone back to 10.03, but did that mean if he typed in a different time he would go back to that one instead?

  There was only one way to find out.

  The clock on the right‐hand side of his desk said the time was 10.21. He tapped in 10.20 on the keyboard, then moved the clock from the right‐hand side of his desk to the left before pushing down the Control key and tapping the Z.

  Instantly, the clock disappeared from the left‐hand side of the desk and was back on the right.

  And it said the time was 10.20.

  He did the same thing again, just to check. This time, as an experiment, as well as moving the clock from one side of the desk to the other, he moved some books from the shelves by the window to the middle of the floor, and a pair of slippers on to the bed. Sitting back at his desk, the clock said the time was 10.22. He tapped 10.20 into the computer and pressed Ctrl‐Z again.

  In an instant, the clock had moved back to its original position, the slippers were back under the bed and the books were back on the shelf. Everything was back to exactly how it had been at 10.20.

  It was extraordinary. It was the most extraordinary thing that had ever happened to him, Alex thought. It was hard to believe, but it seemed that if you put a time into the computer and pressed Ctrl‐Z, you went back to that time.

  It was so hard to believe, he thought he had better try it again.

  For his next experiment, he decided to make more changes than moving a few books and a pair of slippers. This time, he tipped all the books on to the floor, he emptied the entire contents of a box of Lego on to the carpet and then pulled his duvet and pillows off the bed for good measure. While he was pulling the duvet, he knocked his bedside light on to the floor and broke it, and for a moment he wondered how he was going to explain this to his parents. But then he realized he didn’t have to explain anything. It didn’t matter how much damage he did or what he broke because when he pressed Ctrl‐Z everything would go back to how it had been before.

  He was still standing there thinking about this when his father came in.

  ‘Just wanted to see how you were getting on with –’ Mr Howard paused, taking in the bedding on the floor, the Lego scattered on the carpet and the broken bedside light. ‘What on earth have you been doing?’

  ‘Ah…’ said Alex. ‘Well…’

  ‘You’ve broken the light,’ said his father. ‘How did that happen?’

  ‘Um…’

  ‘And why’s all this stuff on the floor? What’s going on?’

  Alex was moving towards his desk. ‘Hang on a minute,’ he said. ‘I just have to type in something.’

  ‘You’re not typing in anything,’ said Mr Howard firmly, ‘until you’ve explained what all this –’

  But at that point Alex pressed Ctrl‐Z and his father disappeared. Alex was back sitting at his desk, the duvet and pillows were back on the bed and the bedside light was back on the table, unbroken, and the clock said it was twenty minutes past ten.

  Looking at the computer screen, he noticed for the first time a little envelope icon in the bottom right‐hand corner. When he clicked on it, the menu screen disappeared and was replaced by an email. It said –

  Dear Alex

  I know you’re probably thinking this is a really boring present and you’ve already got a much better computer, but hold your horses because this machine can do something really quite interesting!

  When it asks you to fill in your details, one of the things it’ll want you to do is fill in the time. You can always put in the right time, but if you put in an earlier time and press Ctrl‐Z, I think the result will surprise you!

  Anyway, I hope you have some fun with it and make lots of mistakes!

  Your loving godfather

  John Presley

  PS It might be best not to mention any of this to your parents. They’d probably just take it away like they did the Explosions Kit!

  Alex read the email through twice. He had no idea why Godfather John should want him to make lots of mistakes, but that was only one of several questions buzzing round his brain. Like where the laptop had come from, who had made it, and how it worked…

  The door opened and his father came in.

  ‘Just wanted to see how you were getting on with your birthday present,’ he said. ‘Does it work?’

  ‘Yes, yes, it does,’ said Alex. He stood up. ‘I thought I might take it round and show Callum.’

  ‘Won’t he be busy this morning,’ said Mr Howard, ‘with the party?’

  ‘That’s not till this afternoon,’ said Alex. He closed the lid of the laptop. ‘And there’s a program on here I think he’d like to see.’

  He had a feeling that his friend Callum would be particularly interested in Ctrl‐Z.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Callum lived four houses down on the other side of the road and, when Alex rang the bell, the door was opened by Mrs Bannister. Callum’s mother was a large, broad‐shouldered woman with an anxious expression that changed to a smile of relief when she saw Alex.

  ‘Oh good! I was hoping you’d come round!’ She put a hand on Alex’s shoulder and swept him indoors. ‘There’s a lot to do and we need someone to keep an eye on Callum.’ She led the way through the house. ‘He’s been all right so far, but… well, you know what I mean.’

  Alex knew exactly what she meant. Callum was what is sometimes called ‘accident‐prone’. It wasn’t that he did anything bad on purpose, but things seemed to happen when he was around and, if you heard that someone in the neighbourhood had fallen out of a window or electrocuted themselves with a toaster, you could be fairly certain that Callum would be involved in it
somehow. However hard he tried to avoid an accident – and he tried very hard indeed – things just seemed to… happen.

  ‘His father’s put him in charge of the balloons,’ said Mrs Bannister in a low voice as she led Alex out through the kitchen and into the back garden. She gestured nervously over to the patio where Callum was blowing up balloons with the aid of a large gas cylinder. ‘I’m not sure it was wise, but at least he’s where we can see him. Try to make sure he doesn’t… do anything, will you?’

  ‘OK,’ said Alex, and he walked across to join his friend.

  ‘You’re early,’ said Callum. ‘Dad isn’t picking up Lilly for an hour yet.’

  Lilly was Callum’s sister, and she had been in hospital for the last six weeks with a bone infection called osteomyelitis. Today she was coming home, and her parents had organized a party and invited some of her friends to help celebrate.

  ‘I know,’ said Alex. ‘I came to show you this.’ He reached into his bag and took out the laptop. ‘I got it this morning.’

  Callum frowned. ‘I thought you already had a computer. Didn’t you get one for Christmas?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Alex, ‘but not like this. My godfather gave me this one, and it’s… it’s amazing.’

  ‘Oh?’ Callum picked up a balloon, attached it to the nozzle of the gas cylinder and opened the valve. ‘Amazing how?’

  ‘You won’t believe me if I tell you,’ said Alex, ‘so I’ll show you.’ He sat on a garden bench and turned on the laptop.

  On his way over, he had already decided that the simplest way to explain what the computer did would be for Callum to try it himself. He tapped at the keys to find the page that set the time, altered the numbers to two minutes earlier and held out the laptop to Callum.

  ‘I’ve set it up for you,’ he said. ‘All you have to do is press Ctrl‐Z.’

  ‘Can I do it later?’ Callum put a clip in the base of the balloon and tied its string to the arm of a garden chair to stop it floating away. ‘Only Dad wants a hundred of these and I haven’t done half that.’