This time, when we got off the bus our surroundings did not look much like London any more.

Multistory red brick buildings, the facades dirty and run-down. Abandoned buildings and warehouses too, with graffiti on the walls. We had to be somewhere out in the suburbs. Not where the well-to-do lived. A 1960s' working class neighborhood, or so I guessed.

Men were hanging out in front of a few pubs. The people we passed did not even bother to look at us, though we must have stuck out like a sore thumb in this place, in our colorful school uniforms.

Natty led me along the narrow street. I hoped that she knew where we were going.

"How come you suddenly decided to visit your old orphanage?" I asked her.

Natty turned to look at me. "Actually, it was you who gave me the idea. Remember when we talked about the place and you asked me if I had ever been back?"

"You are right. I had forgotten all about that."

This was making me more than a bit uncomfortable. Generally, it is recommended for a temporal explorer to avoid influencing people in the remote temporal era, or, in loose terms, to avoid 'changing the past'. Of course, the latter phrase is both inaccurate and misleading. There is one unique consistent history, past and present and future, and as a temporal explorer you are still part of it, for better or for worse. Or, to put it differently, you are and always have been and will be part of it. A concept such as 'changing the past' simply does not apply here. Still, it is considered good practice for a temporal explorer to keep from putting ideas into the heads of the temporal natives, as they sometimes are referred to. Thus, the fact that without my intervention Natty might never even have decided to visit her old orphanage at all, troubled me a bit.

Eventually, we passed what looked like a grubby old playground. There were a swing, a broken slide and a merry-go-round. There also was a soccer goal sporting several large holes in its netting.

A group of adolescents were hanging out there. A few of the boys, and several girls too, were kicking around a soccer ball. The rest of them were were stretched out on the ground, watching listlessly.

Natty stopped in her tracks. She stared at those kids, a strange expression showing on her face.

"What is it?" I asked.

Just then, a kick-off by the goalie went far and wide, the ball coming to rest only a meter or so from where we stood. Suddenly the kids were all looking at us. Natty woke from her trance.

She grinned, took a few steps and kicked the ball, hard and straight towards the goal. The goalie, bearing a surprised look on his face, dived but missed, as the ball hit the netting behind him.

Natty walked over to the group. There was not much for me to do but follow her.

"Haven't lost the touch, have I?" she asked.

One of the players, a black boy with afro hair, wearing a navy-blue T-shirt and fatigues, walked up to us to meet her.

"Bloody hell! Nat?" he asked, disbelief heavy in his voice. "Don't tell me you're back for good."

"Not for good, Clyde. Just for a brief visit," Natty drawled.

Her words sounded strange, as if she had picked up some weird accent, with her vowels oddly clipped. I experienced some difficulty to comprehend what she was saying.

The boy drew her into a brief hug. "Thought you were off to that posh school, up north."

"I am still there, at the posh school." Natty laughed.

The remainder of their group joined us. Some of them greeted Natty and hugged her.

"Who is that, then?" Clyde asked, indicating me.

"That's Cathy, a classmate of mine. At that posh school." Natty grinned. "You better not mess with her. She be like to kick your sorry arse all the way to Chelsea, if you do."

"Wouldn't want that to happen, would I?" Clyde grinned.

I cleared my throat. "Actually, I am like, mostly harmless."

That elicited a few chuckles from the group.

"What brings you here, then?" Clyde looked at us shrewdly. "You on the run, Nat?"

"Nah, it's not that either." Natty was chewing on one of her fingernails. "Got some unfinished business with the orphanage."

"I daresay you have." The black boy snorted. "Don't tell me you've come back to burn that place to the ground, finally."

"Actually, no. Though that sounds like a great idea, come to think of it." Natty laughed. "The reason I need to talk to them is that I still need to figure out stuff from my past."

Clyde shook his head. "Wouldn't go back to that place if I were you, Nat. No way. It's always been a bad place, and it hasn't got any better since you left."

"I don't doubt it. Still, I have got to give it a try. Besides, they can't hurt me anymore now, can they?"

"Don't know about that." Clyde shrugged. "If you need help to bail you out, let us know."

"I will. Thanks, Clyde."

"Don't mention it. I owe you. We all do."

"Not anymore, you don't." Natty smiled.

"Yes, we do. Always will, after what you did." He paused. "Anyway, do you have time for a little game?" He indicated the soccer ball.

"I'd love to. But I need to run. Have to be back at the bus in time."

"See you around, Nat."

"See you Clyde."

They waved good-bye.

Natty and I continued to walk along the narrow old street.

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A / N :   So another part of Natty's past is being revealed. I am glad that you are still with me following the progress of the story I am trying to tell here.

I would be happy to get your feedback, so please post your thoughts and reactions as a comment here or send me a PM.