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“But not until the next day,” said Mr. de Villiers. “The hospital records say that they did give the child a thorough examination, but her mother refused to have one. Why was that, Grace?”
Mum laughed. “I think you’d understand me better if you’d ever had a baby yourself. I was fine, I just wanted to be sure the baby was all right. What surprises me is how you got hold of a report from the hospital so quickly. I thought such details were strictly confidential.”
“You’re welcome to take the hospital to court for contravening the Data Protection Act,” said Mr. de Villiers. “Meanwhile we’ll go on looking for the midwife. I’m beginning to feel a burning interest in whatever that lady may have to tell us.”
The door opened, and Mr. George and Dr. White came in, along with Mrs. Jenkins, who was carrying a whole lot of files.
Gideon strolled into the room after them. This time I took the opportunity to look at the rest of him, not just his pretty face. I was hoping to see something I didn’t like about him, so I wouldn’t feel quite so imperfect by comparison. Unfortunately I couldn’t find a thing. He didn’t have bowlegs from playing polo, or long gorilla arms, or ears too close to the sides of his head (which Lesley claimed was a sign of a miserly man). He looked annoyingly cool leaning back against the desk, crossing his arms.
What a waste of good looks. It was a shame!
“Everything’s ready,” said Mr. George, eyes twinkling at me. “The time machine is ready to start.”
Robert, the ghost boy, waved to me shyly. I waved back.
“Well, we’re all present and correct, then,” said Mr. de Villiers. “That is to say, I’m afraid Glenda and Charlotte have had to leave us. They send warm good wishes to everyone.”
“I bet they do,” said Dr. White.
“Poor girl! Phantom symptoms for two whole days—it can’t have been much fun for her,” said Mr. George, with a sympathetic expression on his round face.
“And add a mother like that into the bargain,” muttered Dr. White, leafing through the file folders that Mrs. Jenkins had brought with her. “What a tough time the poor child’s had.”
“Mrs. Jenkins, how’s Madame Rossini getting on with Gwyneth’s wardrobe?”
“She’s just … wait, I’ll go and ask.” Mrs. Jenkins hurried out the doorway again.
Mr. George rubbed his hands, ready for action. “Then we can go!”
“But you won’t take her into danger, will you?” said Mum, turning to Mr. George. “You’ll leave her out of this business?”
“We will certainly leave her out of it,” said Gideon.
“We’ll do all we can to protect Gwyneth,” Mr. George assured Mum.
“We can’t leave her out of it, Grace,” said Mr. de Villiers. “She’s part of this business, as you put it. You ought to have realized that earlier. Before you began this stupid game of hide-and-seek.”
“With the result that, thanks to you, the girl is entirely unprepared and ignorant,” said Dr. White. “Which of course will make our mission even more difficult. But I expect that was just what you wanted.”
“What I wanted was to keep Gwyneth out of danger,” said Mum.
“I’ve gone quite a long way on my own,” said Gideon. “I can see this thing through by myself.”
“That’s just what I hoped,” said Mum.
I can see this thing through by myself. Ugh! I only just managed not to giggle. It could have been a line from one of those stupid action films where a hunk with a melancholy expression saves the world by fighting, single-handed, against a combat troop of 120 ninja warriors, a fleet of enemy spaceships, or a whole village of desperadoes armed to the teeth.
“We’ll see what kinds of tasks she may be suitable for,” said Mr. de Villiers.
“We have her blood,” said Gideon. “That’s all we need from her. She can come here and elapse every day as far as I’m concerned, and then everyone will be happy.”
What was that he said? Elapse? It sounded like one of those difficult words Mr. Whitman used to confuse us with in English lessons. “In principle not a bad effort at elapsorating the crux, Gordon, but try for a little more elaboration next time, please.” Or had it been elucidating the crux? Well, anyway, neither Gordon nor I nor anyone else in the class had ever heard of it. Except, of course, for Charlotte.
Mr. George saw how baffled I was looking. “By elapse we mean deliberately tapping your time-travel quota by setting the chronograph to take you back into the past for a couple of hours. That prevents uncontrolled travel.” He turned to the others. “I’m sure that after a little while Gwyneth will surprise us all with her potential. She is—”
“She’s a child!” Gideon interrupted him. “She has no idea about anything.”
I blushed scarlet. What a nerve he had! And the scornful way he was looking at me! That stupid, conceited … polo player!
