AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Your turn now,” he said, sitting down again.
“If this time-travel business depends on a gene, how come a person’s date of birth is so important? Why didn’t they take some blood from Charlotte ages ago and test it for the gene? And why can’t the chronograph send her back to some safe time in the past before she travels of her own accord and maybe gets into danger?”
“Well, first, we only think it depends on a gene—we don’t know for certain. All we’re sure of is that it’s something in the blood making the carriers different from normal people. But we haven’t found Factor X—as we call the time travel gene—although we’ve been working on research for many years, and you’ll find many of the best scientists in the world in our ranks. Believe me, it would make things much easier if we could prove the existence of the gene or whatever it is in the blood. As it is, we have to rely on calculations and observations made by generations of people before us.”
“If the chronograph had been tanked up with Charlotte’s blood, what would have happened?”
“In the worst case it wouldn’t have worked anymore,” said Mr. George. “But, Gwyneth, we’re talking about a tiny drop of blood—it’s not like filling up a car! My turn now. If you could choose a time, when would you most like to travel back to?”
o;I wouldn’t let her anywhere near the chronograph!” said Dr. White.
“Good heavens, Jake, that’s enough,” said Mr. de Villiers. “She’s only a young girl! Do you think she has a bomb hidden under her school uniform?”
“Her predecessor was only a young girl,” said Dr. White in tones of contempt.
Mr. de Villiers nodded to Mr. George. “We’ll do as you suggest. Will you see to the arrangements?”
“Come along, Gwyneth,” said Mr. George.
I didn’t move. “Mum?”
“It’s all right, darling. I’ll wait here for you.” Mum managed a smile.
I glanced at Charlotte, who was still looking at the floor. Aunt Glenda had closed her eyes and was leaning back, resigned. She looked as if she, too, suddenly had a bad headache. My grandmother, on the other hand, was staring at me as if she was seeing me for the first time. And possibly she was.
The little boy, wide-eyed, peeped out again from behind Dr. White’s jacket. Poor little thing. That nasty man hadn’t once spoken to him. He acted as if he were transparent.
“See you later, darling,” said Mum.
Mr. George took my arm and smiled at me encouragingly. I smiled hesitantly back. Somehow I liked him. At any rate, he was easily the friendliest of all these people, and the only one who seemed to believe us.
All the same, I didn’t feel good about leaving my mum alone. When the door closed behind us and we were in the corridor, I almost started howling I want to stay with my mummy! But I pulled myself together.
Mr. George let go of my arm and walked ahead, first going back the way we had come, then through a door into another corridor, up some stairs, through another door into yet another corridor—it was a labyrinth. Torches made of pitch would have been more in keeping, but the corridors had modern lighting, which was nearly as bright as daylight.
“It seems confusing at first, but after a while you get to know your way around here,” said Mr. George.
He went down more stairs, this time a broad stone spiral staircase that seemed to wind its way forever down into the ground. “The Knights Templars erected this building in the twelfth century. The Romans had tried building here before them, and before the Romans, the Celts. It was a sacred place to them all, and nothing has ever been changed to this day. One can feel how special it is, don’t you agree? As if some great power came from this plot of ground.”
I couldn’t feel anything of the kind. All I felt was tired and weak. I needed more sleep to make up for last night.
When we reached the end of the staircase, we took a sharp right turn and suddenly found ourselves facing a young man. I nearly smacked my head right into his chest.
“Oops!” said Mr. George.
“Mr. George.” The young guy had dark, curly hair that fell almost to his shoulders, and such bright green eyes that I thought he must be wearing colored lenses. Although I had never seen him before, I recognized him immediately. I’d have known his voice anywhere. This was the guy I’d seen on my last journey back in time.
Or more precisely, the one who’d kissed my doppelganger while I was hiding behind the curtain in disbelief.
Again, I couldn’t stop staring at him. From the front, and without the wig, he looked even better—a thousand times better. I completely forgot that Lesley and I normally didn’t like boys with long hair. Lesley thought they let it grow just to hide their jug ears.
He looked back with a touch of irritation, examined me briefly from head to foot, and then looked inquiringly at Mr. George.
“Gideon, this is Gwyneth Shepherd,” said Mr. George, with a little sigh. “Gwyneth, this is Gideon de Villiers.”
Gideon de Villiers. The polo player. The other time traveler.
“Hello,” he said politely.
