Read Online The Yoghurt Plot by Fleur Hitchcock - Free Book Online

gets a little sickly after three pots. But Dilan’s standing there, waiting for us, and he immediately hands me another one. ‘Wrong year, wasn’t it?’ he says.
    I nod, tearing the lid from the new pot.
    â€˜Thought so,’ he says. ‘I’ve been comparing pots. And the scary woman’s still here. She’s making Granddad eat stew and dumplings. It’s a horrible scene, gravy carnage, slime, the whole works. Anyway, these should work.’
    Before I start on the new yoghurt I fill a sparklingly clean glass from the tap and glug it down. Lorna becomes completely solid alongside me and grabs another glass.
    â€˜When we get back,’ I say, ‘remind me to tell you about Henderson’s.’
    â€˜Henderson’s? Why?’ asks Dilan.
    â€˜Because,’ I say, taking my first spoon of yoghurt and having the fleeting thought that perhaps it’s not chance sending us from one year to another, but the fridge. ‘For now I need to get back and sort out the gerbils, and then there’s Mum and Dad. The other stuff can wait.’
    Lorna stands next to me, and fiddles with the letters on the fridge door. U ACTION, NO I C U AT, CAUTION .
    â€˜What other stuff, Bugg?’
    He’s too late. The kitchen floor fades, and chequered lino takes its place.
    Our kitchen in 1969 looks exactly like it did last time. The only difference is that I’m far more worried; we can’t live with missing parents and the scary clean woman, or at least not for long.
    We arrive at the same time as Dilan and me do the first time, and I shove Lorna out through the door while my previous self is taking in the surroundings.
    â€˜What’s the rush?’ says Lorna, stumbling along the footpath.
    â€˜We need to stay out of sight of ourselves and get there before the gerbils get loose.’
    â€˜OK,’ she says cheerfully. And to be fair, she makes a real effort and runs through the meadow, skipping through the tussocks almost as fast as me although I still don’t think she has the faintest idea why.
    I glance back. In the distance I can see the other me, Lorna and Dilan arguing about staying or going. It’s the weirdest feeling ever.
    We run past the woman with the pram and the little girl and the kite. She smiles at us.
    â€˜Hello,’ I say. ‘Lovely day.’
    â€˜Yes,’ she says. ‘Isn’t it.’
    In a moment we’re going to pass her again. I wonder if she’ll notice.
    When we reach the pier, we don’t bother with the man in the booth, just race down the side and up the ladder. The barnacle limpet things look exactly the same, but this time they’re not as scary as the idea of not finding the gerbils.
    â€˜So are we going to find ourselves in there?’ asks Lorna, clambering up the ladder. ‘Will we meet ourselves? Should we meet ourselves?’
    â€˜Yes, we could meet ourselves, but, no, I don’t know if we should. I don’t know what really happens if you do, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.’ I step out onto the pier. ‘In everything I’ve ever read, meeting yourself has meant  … ’ I hold my hands up to show an empty space. ‘Ping!’
    â€˜Who pings exactly?’ she asks. ‘You or the other you?’
    I shrug. ‘How can you tell which one’s which?’
    Lorna tilts her head and wrinkles up her nose. ‘I’d rather not ping, if you don’t mind,’ she says.
    I don’t answer, and push the ‘ NO ENTRY ’ door, just like last time. I can’t see a thing and have to stand at the back blinking at the glitter ball as the brightest thing in the room.
    â€˜We must have been over here when we lost them,’ says Lorna, crawling under the seats.
    â€˜We were,’ I whisper. ‘But we’re going to have to stay hidden until we see the gerbils escape, and then we’ll have to do the best we can to catch