The Night I Borrowed Time
A funny, heartbreaking and uplifting tale about family, bravery and living in the here and now.
Eleven-year-old Zubair is a seventh son. This means a LOT of big brothers. But when Zubair’s granny arrives from Pakistan and gives him a mysterious amulet, he discovers it means something else, too: he has inherited a gift. The seventh sons in his family have the ability to time-travel.
With his dad a shadow of his former self since his car accident, and his mum always tired and angry, Zubair has a genius idea. He’ll use time-travel to fix things between them.
But each trip comes at a cost. If he changes something small in the past, it can have a huge effect on his future. And if he gets it wrong, the results could be devastating…
"Tender and engaging . . . Blends time travel with a contemporary story of love, loss and the endurance of family"
― The Bookseller
"A funny, touching, thought-provoking 10+ story, richly imagined and deeply inventive"
― The Guardian
"Woven through this funny, moving book is Zubair’s increasing understanding of the adults in his life as fallible people with their own hopes and dreams"
― The Observer
"This funny, bittersweet story with memorable characters and a realistic family dynamic packs an emotional punch"
― Daily Mail
As the mob chases after us, shouting and swearing, they find a new way to smoke us out of the cornfield: lighting the tinder-dry crop with their flaming torches. It takes seconds for it to turn into one giant bonfire.
The dark field lights up like a football stadium at night. The air fills with frenzied crackling and spitting.
The men are forced to retreat, but we’re trapped.
I make the mistake of looking back. A yellow wall of flames rears up behind us, a tsunami of fire. I scream. The flames ripple and whoosh and devour their way at speed through the corn, licking at our heels like very many fiery, dancing devils. The fine hairs on my arms prickle wildly in the heat before scorching away to nothing.
I run harder, the muscles in my legs stretched like the elastic on a catapult. All around, the world as I know it is disappearing. The dry corn stalks go up like kindling; swollen cobs explode in the heat. As they rain down on me and I breathe in the familiar scent of popcorn, I feel a sudden stab of longing for Fozia, and our regular trips to the cinema, although she’s never felt further away.
It’s getting harder to keep moving. Sweat slicks my face and I have a stitch in my side. Each time I breathe, I draw in lungfuls of smoke. I cough and stumble.
I can’t stop crying. I shake my head. How could I have been so stupid? Thinking I could go back and change things? The only thing I’m going to change is the length of my life. There’s no way I’m getting out of this inferno alive.
Mum, Dad, Gran – I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing.
I bent the rules. Now I’m paying the price.
Soon, I’ll be out of time.