Thankfully, the door opened straight away and Sam hobbled onto the deep vermilion carpet of a windowed hall. Opposite the lift, a round table and chairs nestled beside an imposing set of double doors with well-polished brass handles. 

The lift closed, leaving Sam with a guard who motioned for the boy to take a seat, then knocked on the doors before entering. 

Sam spied a bowl of toffees and helped himself to a crinkly wrapper, feeling grateful for the sugar-hit as he walked over to the closest window, curious to see what level of the archive they had reached. The view left him confused. 

It was one of rolling hills and grass seas; a wide river wound sluggishly through them from distant snow-capped peaks, and a herd of horses traversed the prairie. When he leaned closer, Sam could even feel the sun radiating through the glass. This wasn’t St James’ Park!