AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh, how lovely!” Caroline had discovered the dress hung over the back of a chair along with its frilled petticoat. “Did you bring it back from the past?”
“No, I had it on before I went.” I sat up. “Did Mum tell you about the odd thing that’s happened?”
Caroline nodded. “Not that she had to tell us much. Aunt Glenda was shouting loud enough for all the neighbors to hear. Acting as if Mum were a thief who had stolen poor Charlotte’s time-travel gene.”
“How about Charlotte?”
“She went to her room and wouldn’t come out, no matter how Aunt Glenda pleaded with her. Aunt Glenda shouted that Charlotte’s whole life had been ruined, and it was all Mum’s fault. Grandmother said Aunt Glenda had better take a tablet, or she would be obliged to call the doctor. And Aunt Maddy kept on talking about that eagle, the sapphire, the mountain ash, and the clock in the tower.”
“Sounds dreadful,” I said.
“It was actually exciting,” said Caroline. “Nick and I think it’s a good thing you have the gene instead of Charlotte, even if Aunt Glenda says you have a pea-sized brain and two left feet. She’s so rude.” She stroked the shining fabric of the bodice. “Can you put the dress on to show me after school today?”
“Sure,” I said. “But you can try it on yourself, if you like.”
Caroline giggled. “It’s much too big for me, Gwenny. And now you really must get up, or you won’t have time for any breakfast.”
A refreshing shower finally woke me up, and as I washed my hair, my thoughts kept circling around yesterday evening or, more accurately, the half an hour (well, that’s what it had felt like) that I’d spent shedding tears and snot in Gideon’s arms.
I remembered how he had held me close and stroked my hair. I’d been so upset at the time that I hadn’t even thought how close we suddenly were. I felt all the more embarrassed now. Particularly because he’d really been very nice, not like his usual self at all. (Even if it was just because he felt sorry for me.) And yet I had been determined to hate him forever.
“Gwenny!” Caroline was hammering on the bathroom door. “Come on out! You can’t stay in there forever.”
She was right. I really couldn’t stay here forever. I had to come out—into this suddenly weird new life of mine. I turned off the hot tap and let icy water trickle over me until the last of the weariness had left my body. My school uniform was still in Madame Rossini’s sewing room, and two spare blouses were in the wash, so I had to put on last year’s uniform, which was already a little too small for me. The blouse stretched taut over my breasts, and the skirt was slightly too short. Never mind. My dark blue school shoes were also at the Temple, so I put on my black sneakers, which wasn’t really allowed. But Mr. Gilles, the principal, probably wouldn’t go around all the classrooms inspecting dress code today.
There wasn’t time to blow-dry my hair, so I just rubbed it as dry as I could with a towel and then combed it through. It lay wet and straight over my shoulders, not a trace left of the soft ringlets conjured up yesterday by Madame Rossini.
I looked at my face in the mirror for a moment. I didn’t exactly look as if I’d had a good night’s sleep, but it was better than I’d expected. I put some of Mum’s antiaging cream on my cheeks and forehead. It was never too soon to start, my mother always said.
e myself away.
Where was my self-respect? I felt so embarrassed. I wiped my face with the back of my hand.
“Handkerchief?” he asked, smiling, as he took a lemon-yellow square of fabric trimmed with lace out of his pocket. “No paper tissues in the Rococo age, I’m afraid, but you can have this.”
I was just about to take it when a black limousine drew up beside us.
Mr. George was waiting for us inside the car, his bald patch covered with tiny beads of sweat, and at the sight of him, all the thoughts circling around and around in my head calmed down a little. I was still completely knackered, but that was all.
“We’ve been beside ourselves with anxiety,” said Mr. George. “Oh, my God, Gideon, what happened to your arm? You’re bleeding! And Gwyneth looks distraught. Is she injured?”
“Just exhausted,” said Gideon briefly. “We’ll take her home.”
“No, not yet. We must examine you both, and your wound has to be treated immediately, Gideon.”
“It stopped bleeding a long time ago. It’s only a scratch, really. Gwyneth wants to go home.”
“She may not have elapsed for long enough. She has to go to school tomorrow, and—”
Gideon’s voice took on its familiar arrogant tone, but it wasn’t meant for me this time.
“Mr. George. She’s been gone for three hours. That will be enough for the next eighteen hours.”
“It probably will be,” said Mr. George. “But it goes against all the rules, and then we have to know whether—”
“Mr. George!”
He gave up, turned, and knocked on the window between us and the driver. The glass moved sideways with a soft swish.
