stomach was doing its roller-coaster ride again. Why on earth hadn’t we chosen a larger window of time? “Then anyway, you know more than I do,” I said hastily. “There’s no time to go into detail, but … maybe you can give me some good advice to help me?” I had taken a couple of steps back in the direction of the window, out of the circle of lamplight.
“Advice?”
“Yes. Well,something like: beware of…?” I looked at her expectantly.
“Beware of what?” Lady Tilney looked back at me just as expectantly.
“That’s just what I don’t know! What ought I to beware of?”
“Pastrami sandwiches, for one thing, and too much sunlight. It’s bad for the complexion,” said Lady Tilney firmly—and then she blurred in front of my eyes and I was back in the year 1956.
Pastrami sandwiches,for heaven’s sake! I ought to have asked who I ought to beware of, not what. But it was too late now. I’d lost the opportunity.
“What on earth is that?” cried Lucas, when he saw the piglet.
Yes, and instead of making use of every precious second to get information out of Lady Tilney, I’d been idiot enough to spend time on a pink soft toy. “It’s a crochet pig, Grandfather, you can see it is,”I said wearily. I was really disappointed in myself! “Angora and cashmere. Other people use scratchy sheep’s wool.”
“Our test seems to have worked, anyway,” said Lucas, shaking his head. “You can use the chronograph, and we can make a date to meet. In my house.”
“It was over much too quickly,” I wailed. “I didn’t find anything out.”
“At least you have a … er, a pig, and Lady Tilney didn’t havea heart attack. Or did she?”
I shook my head helplessly. “Of course not.”
Lucas put the chronograph back in its velvet wrappings and took it over to the shrine. “Don’t worry. This way we have enough time to smuggle you back down to the cellar and go on making plans while we wait for you to travel back. Although if that useless Cantrell has slept off his hangover, I don’t know how we’ll talkour way out of it this time.”
* * *
I FELT positively euphoric when I finally landed back in the chronograph room in my own time. So maybe the trip to acquire the pink piglet (I’d stuffed it into my schoolbag) hadn’t brought much in the way of results, but Lucas and I had worked out a cunning plan. If the original chronograph really was in that chest, we wouldn’t have to depend on chanceanymore.
“Any special incidents?” Mr. Marley asked.
Well, let’s think: I’ve spent all afternoon conspiring with my grandfather, breaking all the rules. We read my blood into the chronograph, then we sent me back to the year 1852 to conspire with Lady Tilney. Okay, I hadn’t actually been conspiring with her, but it was a forbidden meeting all the same.
“The lightbulb in the cellar flickerednow and then,” I said, “and I learned French vocabulary by heart.”
Mr. Marley bent over the journal, and in his neat, small handwriting, he actually did enter 1943 hours, the Ruby back from 1956, did her homework there, lightbulb flickered. I suppressed a giggle. He had to keep such meticulous records of everything! I’d bet his star sign was Virgo. But it was later than I liked. I hoped Mum wouldn’tsend Lesley home before I was back.
However, Mr. Marley didn’t seem to be in any hurry. He screwed the top back on his fountain pen infuriatingly slowly.
“I can find my own way out,” I said.
“No, you mustn’t,” he said in alarm. “Of course I’ll escort you to the limousine.” Mr. Marley closed the journal and stood up. “And I have to blindfold you—you know I do.”
Sighing, I let him tie the blackscarf around my head. “I still don’t understand why I’m not supposed to know the way to this room.” Quite apart from the fact that I knew it perfectly well by now.
“Because that’s what it says in the Annals ,” said Mr. Marley, sounding surprised.
“What?” I
“Advice?”
“Yes. Well,something like: beware of…?” I looked at her expectantly.
“Beware of what?” Lady Tilney looked back at me just as expectantly.
“That’s just what I don’t know! What ought I to beware of?”
“Pastrami sandwiches, for one thing, and too much sunlight. It’s bad for the complexion,” said Lady Tilney firmly—and then she blurred in front of my eyes and I was back in the year 1956.
Pastrami sandwiches,for heaven’s sake! I ought to have asked who I ought to beware of, not what. But it was too late now. I’d lost the opportunity.
“What on earth is that?” cried Lucas, when he saw the piglet.
Yes, and instead of making use of every precious second to get information out of Lady Tilney, I’d been idiot enough to spend time on a pink soft toy. “It’s a crochet pig, Grandfather, you can see it is,”I said wearily. I was really disappointed in myself! “Angora and cashmere. Other people use scratchy sheep’s wool.”
“Our test seems to have worked, anyway,” said Lucas, shaking his head. “You can use the chronograph, and we can make a date to meet. In my house.”
“It was over much too quickly,” I wailed. “I didn’t find anything out.”
“At least you have a … er, a pig, and Lady Tilney didn’t havea heart attack. Or did she?”
I shook my head helplessly. “Of course not.”
Lucas put the chronograph back in its velvet wrappings and took it over to the shrine. “Don’t worry. This way we have enough time to smuggle you back down to the cellar and go on making plans while we wait for you to travel back. Although if that useless Cantrell has slept off his hangover, I don’t know how we’ll talkour way out of it this time.”
* * *
I FELT positively euphoric when I finally landed back in the chronograph room in my own time. So maybe the trip to acquire the pink piglet (I’d stuffed it into my schoolbag) hadn’t brought much in the way of results, but Lucas and I had worked out a cunning plan. If the original chronograph really was in that chest, we wouldn’t have to depend on chanceanymore.
“Any special incidents?” Mr. Marley asked.
Well, let’s think: I’ve spent all afternoon conspiring with my grandfather, breaking all the rules. We read my blood into the chronograph, then we sent me back to the year 1852 to conspire with Lady Tilney. Okay, I hadn’t actually been conspiring with her, but it was a forbidden meeting all the same.
“The lightbulb in the cellar flickerednow and then,” I said, “and I learned French vocabulary by heart.”
Mr. Marley bent over the journal, and in his neat, small handwriting, he actually did enter 1943 hours, the Ruby back from 1956, did her homework there, lightbulb flickered. I suppressed a giggle. He had to keep such meticulous records of everything! I’d bet his star sign was Virgo. But it was later than I liked. I hoped Mum wouldn’tsend Lesley home before I was back.
However, Mr. Marley didn’t seem to be in any hurry. He screwed the top back on his fountain pen infuriatingly slowly.
“I can find my own way out,” I said.
“No, you mustn’t,” he said in alarm. “Of course I’ll escort you to the limousine.” Mr. Marley closed the journal and stood up. “And I have to blindfold you—you know I do.”
Sighing, I let him tie the blackscarf around my head. “I still don’t understand why I’m not supposed to know the way to this room.” Quite apart from the fact that I knew it perfectly well by now.
“Because that’s what it says in the Annals ,” said Mr. Marley, sounding surprised.
“What?” I
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