A Stitch in Time Read Online Free Page A

horrified that he’d thought she was coming on to him. She sighed and shook her head.
Hang on? What the hell does it matter what he thinks, he’s not bloody real!
    ‘Oh, I see,’ John was saying. ‘I don’t keep up much with books and films.’ He popped a pickled onion into his mouth. ‘And, I’m not a time traveller; you are … or will be, if you agree to it, of course.’
    ‘Oh, right, yeah. I’m always zipping about the universe in my trusty TARDIS. More ham, John?’
    ‘Now you are just being facetious, Sarah. Ham … mm, just a couple of slices will be lovely, thanks.’
    ‘Anyway,’ Sarah said, with her head in the fridge, ‘thought you said I was a Stitch in time, not a time traveller.’ She forked ham on to John’s plate, a thought suddenly occurring to her. ‘Ha ha, “a stitch in time saves nine”! Mind you, that old saying means that if you don’t attend to a problem immediately, the problem will get worse. God knows quite what
you
meant, John.’
    John thanked her and took a sip of wine. He stared at her across the table while she crunched her crackers. ‘Look, Sarah, I think you’re ready to hear what this whole thing is about.’
    Sarah drained her glass and folded her arms. ‘Yup, I think I’m ready too, John; fire away, why don’t you?’
    ‘OK.’ He leaned forward and pushed his plate to one side. ‘The meaning of the old saying “a stitch in time saves nine” has become corrupted over the centuries. It actually means that if a hole in time isn’t sewn up by a Stitch, nine people will die. Those nine people may, or may not, be pivotal actors on the stage of history, but if they die, or are never born, the effect on the future is always negative. The Stitch has to travel back through time to save them.’
    Sarah swallowed a cracker and began to admire the capacity her brain had for such intriguing plots. She was even starting to enjoy it. Great-looking guy, wine, interesting conversation, even if it
was
all in her head; it was better than watching EastEnders on her own … again.
    ‘OK, John,’ she said, rolling up a slice of ham and dipping it in the houmous. Sarah wasn’t fussed about what a hallucination thought of her table manners. ‘So, I’m this Stitch. Why are there holes, why me, and what do I have to do?’ She shoved all the ham in her mouth at once.
    John raised his eyebrows slightly as he watched her stuffing her face, but didn’t comment. ‘Why do holes appear? There are lots of theories too complicated to go into now. Why you? I have no idea, I just get the information. What you have to do, I
can
answer.’ He took a dainty nibble of cheese and dabbed his mouth with a bit of kitchen roll. ‘A stitch is a person but it is also the acronym for your task. You have to:
    S-ave
    T-hree
    I-mportant
    T-errestrials
    C-lose
    H-ole.’
    Sarah frowned and dabbed her finger at the last few crumbs of cheese on her plate. ‘Great acronym. It has just one dastardly flaw, Mr Depp.’
    ‘Mr Depp?’ John asked, draining his glass.
    ‘Yes, you said earlier that I had to close the hole to save
nine
, like the old saying. Well, now, you just said
three
important terrestrials.’ Sarah sat back, folded her arms and giggled.
Seems like my hallucination is having a breakdown, too!
    ‘No flaw, Sarah, you save three, and then the children that they go on to have, or sometimes, grandchildren, make up the nine,’ John said smugly. ‘Is it OK if I pour another?’ He held up his glass.
    ‘Yes, why not? And get one for me, would you?’ Sarah held her glass above her head as he walked past. She’d already had one large glass, but hey, the wine was helping her relax, and she definitely needed that. With any luck she’d pass out and wake up tomorrow John-less. ‘Oh, and I think we’d be comfier in the living room,’ she called over her shoulder as she left the kitchen.
    Sarah flopped on to the sofa, punched the cushions, and slotted them behind her back. She stretched and