12
‘Versailles, August 1901,’ said Luke, appreciatively, sniffing the air. ‘Nice. A gentle stroll on a summer’s afternoon. This is going to be a piece of doddle.’
‘Don’t you ever learn?’ said Matthew, checking his utility belt.
‘Oh, come on. We’re following a couple of women in a garden. What could possibly go wrong?’
‘Do you want it alphabetically or chronologically?’
‘Actually, I’m quite optimistic about this one, as well,’ said Jane. ‘Not only do we not have to do anything, but today we have a proper team leader who can competently supervise us not doing anything. And it’s a lovely day.’
It was indeed a beautiful day. Wispy white clouds decorated a clear blue sky. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves on the trees. Everything was peaceful and quiet. In the distance, however, ominous storm clouds were gathering.
A bit of a metaphor, thought Jane. Violent thunderstorms had been reported that day. The jury was still out on whether heavy electrical activity was a cause or a by-product of time-slips.
Grint and his team appeared. ‘Pod secured, sir.’
‘Right,’ said Ellis, because they were all officially still under training, ‘does anyone know exactly where we are?’
‘The Plaine Saint-Antoine,’ said Jane, pulling out her notebook. Scratchpads might not work in a time-slip but her trusty notebook would never let her down. She flicked to a sketch map. ‘The palace of Versailles itself is over there.’ She gestured to their left. ‘That wide path is the Allée Saint-Antoine. On the other side is the Petit Trianon. Moberly and Jourdain will miss the turning to the Avenue de Trianon and end up in the vicinity of the Temple de l’Amour, which is just over there.’
‘Well done, Lockland,’ said Ellis, ‘good groundwork,’ and she blushed.
‘Still not got that licked, then?’ remarked Bolshy Jane.
Jane ignored her.
‘There are a lot of people about,’ said Luke, looking around.
There were indeed a lot of people about. Most were in pairs or small groups. There were very few single women and no children – this being an era when, presumably, children were neither seen nor heard until their early thirties. Nearly all the women were accompanied by men wearing dark suits with small lapels. Everyone – men and women – wore hats.
‘We’re going to stand out a bit,’ said Jane, gesturing to their hatless state.
‘It shouldn’t matter too much,’ said North. ‘There’s always something going on here – re-enactments, or tableaux vivants – with luck they will assume we’re part of the entertainment.’
‘What’s a tabloo vivorn again?’ asked Grint.
‘A living picture. People dress up in the appropriate costumes and pose. Often for photographs. A very popular pastime.’
Silence implied Lt Grint was never going to be that desperate for something to do. ‘With your permission, sir, I’ll take my team and check things out before establishing the perimeter.’
Ellis nodded. ‘Disperse your team as you think fit. Just make sure everything proceeds as normal. Other than us, no one in and no one out. Be aware, Lieutenant, there’s something different about this one so keep your wits about you.’
Grint nodded, signalled to his team, and they set off down one of the wide paths.
Jane resumed her scrutiny of her surroundings. The women were all similarly dressed in variations of frilly, puffed blouses – usually white – and dark, fluted skirts that flared from the hip.
‘Very elegant,’ said Jane. Many carried parasols to protect themselves from the complexion-wrecking sunshine. The slightly higher waistlines plumped out their chests.
‘They look like pigeons,’ said Luke, critically.
‘And the men look hairy,’ said Jane, which was perfectly true. Nearly all the men wore facial hair of some kind. Beards of all shapes and sizes on the older men and luxuriant moustaches for the younger. Jane glanced at her cleanly-shaven colleagues with misgivings.
Everyone around them was walking slowly – partly because of the hot sunshine, she supposed, and partly because of the weight of all that clothing.
‘Right,’ said Ellis. ‘Lockland, you have the map – you lead. Officer North, if you would be good enough to bring up the rear, please – and off we go.’
Pulling their cloaks around them, Team 236 set off. They’d had worse assignments, reflected Jane. Much worse. The formal gardens were bright with summer flowers and the wide gravel paths well-raked. Somewhere nearby, she could hear the hum of busy bees. Everything was immaculate. Yes, they’d definitely had worse assignments.
‘Do we know what they were wearing?’ asked Luke, as they made their way down the Allée Saint-Antoine.
North spoke from behind him. ‘According to our records, both ladies are wearing light-coloured blouses. Moberly has a dark blue skirt and Jourdain’s is grey. Moberly has a light veil attached to her hat and Jourdain is rocking a frivolously pink parasol. No reason they should be wearing anything different on this occasion.’
‘I can’t believe this keeps happening. Don’t we have any idea what triggers it?’
‘Not that we can discover. There’s the electrical factor, of course,’ she looked up at the sky, ‘but Time – all Time here is . . .’ She paused for the right word.
‘Wobbly?’ suggested Luke.
‘Unstable,’ said Ellis. ‘July 1789 was a very popular destination before the Time Police started cracking down. People wanted to see Marie Antoinette in her last hours of freedom and they were jumping in and out on a regular basis and, of course, people being what they are, there were any number of idiots who thought they could improve on the original events. Before my time, but from what I can gather, there was a lot of activity here and it didn’t do the fabric of Time any good at all. Don’t ask me any technical questions – perhaps it’s something Farrell here will be able to explain after a year or so working with the Time Map.’
His eye fell on Matthew as he spoke, quite casually, and he was surprised to see a shadow cross his face. Ellis said nothing – this was not the time or place – but made a mental note to find time for a quick word on their return. He remembered Matthew’s lack of enthusiasm when discussing Team Weird’s future roles within the Time Police. Something was not quite right here.
The gardens were exquisite. Jane could easily see why Marie Antoinette preferred to spend her time here, rather than the stifling formality of the French court. Unfortunately, stifling formality was the price to be paid for being queen. Along with rigid protocols rooted in Time and tradition, and carried out to the letter, no matter how irrelevant. The French Revolution did not happen overnight. It had taken decades, possibly centuries, of bad political decisions, mismanagement and general all-round incompetence before the Revolution finally kicked off.