Emma was true to her word. When she heard the movement in the room on top of hers, she quickly made her way out of the dryer room. One of the plus sides of sleeping in your clothes, is that you can make a quick getaway.

The city was different in the daytime. It had looked so scary and desolate at night. But now, there were people walking and talking, everywhere. Emma could easily blend in with the crowd. Even so, she kept herself close to the buildings.

She had no clue where to go. Timothy had given her an address, but not a map. Although she could never reading a name quite similar to that one, yesterday evening. It had stood out, because it had reminded her of home. 'Oak lane.' Emma figured the street she was looking for, must be around there somewhere.

She wasn't sure whether she should ask someone for directions. She didn't want to be remembered. She looked at her watch again. It was only seven o'clock. She sighed. Two more hours before she would meet up with Timothy. At least that gave her enough time to find his street.

She kept walking, trying her best to recreate last night's route in her head. It proved harder than expected, the darkness not helping matters. It took her another 40 minutes before she finally found the street she was looking for. With a relieved sigh, she sat down on one of the benches on the sidewalk. She had a clear view of number 16, Timothy's house. She'd wait here.

The next hour and a half, she spend looking down the street. Twice, door number 16 opened. Both times, she had averted her gaze. It wouldn't be good if she was recognised.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I had to make sure my little sister made it to nursery." Timothy said, walking towards her.

Emma stood up, and smiled. "No problem. I have been enjoying the quiet."

"Come." Timothy said. "Let's go inside. It's warmer there."

Timothy opened the door, letting Emma enter first. He lead her through to the lounge. She looked around the room. This is not what she expected a '60 house to look like. Where's all the orange? The circles? The wallpaper?

"Do you want some tea?" Timothy asked, disappearing into the kitchen.

"I'd love some, thanks." Emma sat down at the table. Emma took another look around the room. "This is a really nice house."

Timothy answered from the kitchen. "Thanks."

"I'm glad you came." He said, placing the cup and saucer in front of her, as well as a packet of custard creams. "I wasn't sure you would."

"Well, you didn't make it easy." Emma said, smiling.

"Yeah." Timothy said, scratching the back of his head. "I kind of forgot."

Emma shrugged. "It's fine. I made it, and that's the point."

In a pause in conversation, Timothy cleared his throat. "I have to tell my parents about you. maybe they can help."

Emma shook her head. "You can't tell anyone, Tim. No one will believe me. They'll think I'm crazy and put me in an asylum or something."

"We'll prove it."

"But I don't know how."

"I do." Timothy said, picking up Emma's bag. "With this."

"My bag?"

"No, with what's inside the bag." He opened it and took out her cell phone, her wallet and her jacket. "This is your prove."

Emma sighed, looking at her belongings in Timothy's hand. "I suppose you're right. But..."

"But, what?"

"I don't know if I should. I don't want to change the past, or influence the future in some way."

Timothy frowned. "I didn't think about that. But i don't think it can be any harm. I mean, it won't change the future, right? I mean, doesn't going back in time creating some new universe?"

Emma sighed heavily. "I don't know. That's the problem."

"Don't worry." Timothy said. "We'll figure something out."

Emma sighed softly. "I hope so."

Suddenly, they heard a key in the door.

"Oh no." Timothy said, turning towards the hallway. "Hide. Quick."

"What?" Emma felt her heart beat in her chest. She looked around the room. "Where am I supposed to hide?"

But it was too late. A light brown haired woman in glasses rounded the corner, walking into the lounge. She took one look at the teenagers and frowned.

"Timothy? What are you doing here? And who is that? What's going on? Are you hurt?" The woman, who Emma assumed was his mother, rushed over to Timothy, checking him over. "Did the school call? I didn't get any messages."

Timothy swallowed. "I'm okay, mum."

Mrs Turner saw the guilty look on his face. "What is going on, here? Why are you not in school?" She frowned, looking between the two teenagers. "Timothy Turner, are you skipping school so you can hang out with your friend?"

Timothy swallowed. His silence said it all.

Mrs Turner sighed deeply. "Just wait until your father gets home."