Daisies, rarely seen in Jane’s modern world of pesticides and weedkillers, dotted the grass, although how such pretty flowers could be classed as weeds was a mystery to her. The grass was short – sheep-cropped, she guessed – and not the green velvet favoured by modern gardeners. To their left, the cultivated areas were very formal with precise geometric designs, all enclosed by tiny, immaculate hedges, while on their right, carefully planted groups of trees played at being proper countryside.
Everything was quiet and orderly. The air felt heavy and sleepy.
‘Are we in the right place?’ said Luke, looking around.
North nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Only I thought there would be more . . .’
‘More what?’
‘Consternation.’
Ellis shook his head. ‘No one here has any idea a time-slip is about to open up. Not even the two ladies concerned. Remember, it’s just a normal day for everyone here except us.’
Jane had never stopped scanning their surroundings. ‘There they are. That must be them. Over there.’
Two women appeared on the gravel path, walking slowly towards them. And yes, there was the pink parasol. Jane blessed Miss Jourdain’s daring choice of fashion accessory. The older lady in front, Miss Moberly, was consulting a book, while the other had fallen a little behind, walking slowly and looking about her.
They watched both ladies halt, consult their Baedeker, come to some sort of a decision and set off with purpose into the wooded area.
‘Here we go,’ said Luke.
Ellis quickened the pace. ‘They’re off to find the Petit Trianon. After them. Whatever happens, do not let them out of your sight. Everything must happen exactly as it always does.’
The Time Police had a procedure for this sort of thing. Automatically, they divided themselves into two groups. Ellis, North and Luke stepped off the path and moved to their left, meandering casually across the grass. Jane and Matthew followed on behind the ladies, looking everywhere except at their targets. Matthew went so far as to embrace the prevailing practice of the times and point out various landmarks Jane was perfectly capable of noticing for herself.
Neither women were hurrying, strolling along and admiring the scenery. Neither showed any signs of triggering a time-slip.
‘I suppose . . .’ said Jane, hesitantly.
‘No,’ said Matthew with certainty. ‘There’s definitely a time-slip about to occur. I know it.’
‘How do you know it?’
‘How do you know when you’re thirsty? How do you know when someone is standing behind you? How do you know when there’s going to be a thunderstorm?’
‘I don’t know – I just do, I suppose.’
‘Same with me. In the same way that you know today is hot, I know a time-slip is about to kick off.’
‘Matthew . . .’
He was watching the women ahead of them. ‘Mm?’
She tried to pick her words carefully. ‘Are you aware of the time-slip . . . ?’ She took the plunge. ‘Or are you causing the time-slip?’
He stopped and stared into space. ‘That’s a thought, isn’t it?’
‘What is?’
‘That you could artificially manufacture a time-slip. There have been rumours . . .’
Jane glanced at him. His eyes looked very bright. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes. Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘No reason. You just look a bit heated.’
‘It’s very muggy, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, quite oppressive. Perhaps we’re going to have a storm after all.’
Ahead of them, the women were meandering from path to path, through the woods and along the bank of a pretty stream. Ellis signalled the teams to catch up.
‘They’re lost,’ said Luke. ‘Typical female sense of direction.’
The two females regarded him without expression.
‘It was a joke.’
Their expressions did not change.
‘All right, children – no fighting,’ said Ellis, suddenly feeling extremely old.
‘Wait,’ said Matthew. ‘Something’s happening. I knew it would.’ He took a few steps off to the side.
‘Just a moment,’ said Ellis. ‘We need to stay together.’
Ahead of them, the air began to shimmer. Jane felt the faint touch of electricity. The short hairs on her arms bristled. Matthew was right.
‘Is that it?’ said Luke, peering over her shoulder. ‘Just looks like a heat haze.’
‘That’s it,’ said Matthew, his eyes glowing.
‘I expected more. Some sort of Dread Portal. Spectral voices warning us not to approach. The Trumpet of Doom . . .’
‘Move,’ said Ellis. ‘We do not lose sight of those two women. Now, you know what to expect. I’ve done this before. It’s not pleasant but it won’t kill you. Ready, everyone. Follow me.’
Heart thumping, Jane lined up with Luke. Matthew and North brought up the rear.
Ellis led the way. For a moment his silhouette was outlined against the shimmer and then he disappeared. Jane paused. Suppose something went wrong. Suppose she ended up in a different Time to everyone else. Suppose she was torn to pieces in some sort of temporal vortex.
‘Come on,’ said Bolshy Jane, scornfully. ‘What are you waiting for?’
A very good question, thought Jane, and stepped into the time-slip.
13
Ellis was right. Stepping into a time-slip was not pleasant. Not pleasant at all.
The transition was abrupt. Between one step and the next Jane passed from summer 1901 to autumn 1789. There was no warning – no fanfare. Nothing to show they had left their own Time, but the effects on all of them were perceptible.
Jane felt a shortness of breath. As if someone had passed a band around her chest and was twisting it more tightly every second. She stood for a moment, trying not to panic. It was important not to panic. She couldn’t breathe out. It wasn’t a case of gulping for breath – she just found it impossible to exhale.
‘Steady, everyone,’ said Ellis’s voice. ‘Just stay calm. Remember there are two middle-aged ladies over there who are coping with exactly the same symptoms so let’s not embarrass ourselves, eh?’
The pain was easing even as he spoke. Jane drew in a trembling breath. And then another one. Every breath grew easier. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she looked around.