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“No one knows.” Mum ran her fingers through her hair again. She was obviously worked up. I’d never known her to be so nervous. I’d have felt sorry for her if my own nerves hadn’t been stretched to the breaking point.
We said nothing for a while. Mum looked out the window again.
“So I’m a ruby,” I said. “Those are red, aren’t they?”
Mum nodded.
“And what gemstone is Charlotte?”
“She isn’t one,” said Mum.
“Mum, do I by any chance have a twin sister you forgot to tell me about?”
Mum turned to me and smiled. “No, darling, you don’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure. I was there at your birth, wasn’t I?”
I heard footsteps somewhere, quickly coming closer. Mum sat up very straight, breathing deeply. Aunt Glenda came through the doorway with Mrs. Jenkins, and behind her a small, elderly man with a bald patch.
Aunt Glenda looked angry. “Grace! Mrs. Jenkins says you said—”
“It’s true,” said Mum. “And I don’t want to waste Gwyneth’s time convincing you, of all people, of the truth. I want to see Mr. de Villiers at once. Gwyneth has to be read into the chronograph.”
“But that’s completely ridiculous!” Aunt Glenda was almost screeching. “Charlotte has—”
“Not traveled in time yet, right?” Mum turned to the stout little man with the bald patch. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve met you, but I don’t remember your name.”
“George,” he said. “Thomas George. And you are Lady Arista’s younger daughter, Grace. I remember you very well.”
o;Even though I was born on the day worked out by Newton?”
“I’m sorry,” said Mum. “And do stop going on about Sir Isaac Newton. He’s only one of many who have put their minds to this matter. It’s much bigger than you know. Much bigger and much older, much more powerful. And much more dangerous. I wanted to keep you out of it.”
“Out of what?”
Mum sighed. “It was stupid of me. I ought to have known better. Please forgive me.”
“Mum!” My voice almost broke. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” My confusion and desperation had been growing with every word she said. “All I know is that something is happening to me that shouldn’t happen at all. And it’s … it’s making me a nervous wreck! I have a dizzy fit every few hours, and then I travel back into another time. I don’t know how to stop it.”
“That’s why we’re on our way to see them,” said Mum. I could tell that my desperation hurt her. I’d never seen her look so worried before.
“And they are…?”
“The Guardians,” my mother replied. “A very old secret society, also known as the Lodge of Count Saint-Germain.” She looked out the taxi window. “We’re nearly there.”
“Secret society! You want to take me to one of those weird sect things? Mum!”
“It’s not a sect. But there’s certainly something rather weird about them.” Mum took a deep breath and briefly closed her eyes. “Your grandfather was a member of the Lodge,” she went on. “And his father before him, and so on. Sir Isaac Newton was a member, like Wellington; Klaproth the chemist; von Arneth the historian; Hahnemann, who thought up homeopathy; Charles of Hesse, who knew all about alchemy and astrology; and of course all the de Villiers family, with many, many more. Your grandmother claims that Churchill and Einstein were also members of the Lodge.”
Most of those names meant nothing to me. “But what do they do?”
“That’s … well,” said Mum, “they concern themselves with ancient myths. And with time. And with people like you.”
“Are there more like me, then?”
Mum shook her head. “Only twelve of you in all. And most of them died long ago.”
