imitated them with a flourish, then wiped the fond tears from his eyes.
‘Anyway, here we are,’ he announced as they arrived at an oak door. ‘Always your mum and dad’s favourite room. They loved the light.’ He led Jake into a small, round room that occupied the top of one of the castle turrets. ‘You’ll be down, I expect, to see the others off. In the meantime, make yourself at home.’
Norland turned to leave, but paused in the doorway . ‘By the way, I’m sorry about the kidnapping in Greenwich. No harm was meant.’
‘That’s all right.’ Jake smiled at him. ‘It certainly wasn’t my usual Friday afternoon.’
The butler was still looking slightly anxious. ‘You forgive me then, do you? I was just following orders, you see, sir.’
‘Of course – I haven’t given it a moment’s thought,’ said Jake.
‘Really? You’re an absolute gent!’ Norland exclaimed. ‘I can see we’re going to get on just fine.’ He winked, then closed the door and made his way back down the steps.
Jake dropped his bag and looked around the room. There was just enough space for a four-poster bed, made up with new sheets and plump pillows, and an ancient painted cupboard.
He absent-mindedly bounced on the bed, then lay back and looked at the whitewashed ceiling. Galliana had suggested he should rest, but his mind was too full. He heard noises from outside: Nathan bellowing commands. Jake got up again, opened the window and looked out. The quayside was directly below his bedroom. The Escape was no longer there – presumably it had been taken into the secret harbour ; but in its place was another, smaller vessel: the Campana , one of the ships that Topaz had pointed out. It was a distinctive yellow ochre colour, with a steep prow and square sails. Nathan, his voice sounding more American when giving orders, was overseeing a group of sailors as they loaded it up.
Jake left the window open and looked in the cupboard. The blood drained from his face. He had been expecting to find it empty, but it contained an item he recognized immediately: a red suitcase.
It was the suitcase his parents had brought to the bathroom shop when he last saw them. Jake seized it, put it on the bed and unzipped it, instantly recognizing his parents’ clothes. As he rifled through the contents, hurriedly packed for a trip to a bathroom convention in Birmingham, he was once again engulfed in panic. He opened the front pocket of the case and received another appalling shock: inside were his parents’ passports.
Jake took them out and opened them. The familiar pictures of his mum and dad posing self-consciously in the photo booth at Greenwich station stared back at him. He remembered the day perfectly. They had been laughing so much it had taken five attempts. A stern ticking-off from a sour -faced commuter had only made matters worse.
As Jake looked from one picture to the other, it hit him more acutely than ever before …
His parents were truly lost.
Not just lost in Europe somewhere, but lost in history. Of course, Jake knew they wouldn’t need their passports in sixteenth-century Italy, but the fact that the documents were here in his hand emphasized their plight: what if they were imprisoned? What if they had been separated? What if they were already …? Jake ran over to the window, desperate for air. Down below, the sailors were still loading up the Campana , although Nathan was no longer to be seen.
Jake suddenly yearned to sail on that ship – to join the others on their expedition and help to find his parents.
I’ll go back and talk to Galliana,’ he told himself. ‘She’ll understand how important this is. I’ve already lost my brother – how can they expect me to lose my parents as well ?
He shook his head as he remembered the em barrassed looks when he had suggested he should go too. He understood those looks: he knew absolutely nothing about the History Keepers and what they did. And yet he longed to go –
‘Anyway, here we are,’ he announced as they arrived at an oak door. ‘Always your mum and dad’s favourite room. They loved the light.’ He led Jake into a small, round room that occupied the top of one of the castle turrets. ‘You’ll be down, I expect, to see the others off. In the meantime, make yourself at home.’
Norland turned to leave, but paused in the doorway . ‘By the way, I’m sorry about the kidnapping in Greenwich. No harm was meant.’
‘That’s all right.’ Jake smiled at him. ‘It certainly wasn’t my usual Friday afternoon.’
The butler was still looking slightly anxious. ‘You forgive me then, do you? I was just following orders, you see, sir.’
‘Of course – I haven’t given it a moment’s thought,’ said Jake.
‘Really? You’re an absolute gent!’ Norland exclaimed. ‘I can see we’re going to get on just fine.’ He winked, then closed the door and made his way back down the steps.
Jake dropped his bag and looked around the room. There was just enough space for a four-poster bed, made up with new sheets and plump pillows, and an ancient painted cupboard.
He absent-mindedly bounced on the bed, then lay back and looked at the whitewashed ceiling. Galliana had suggested he should rest, but his mind was too full. He heard noises from outside: Nathan bellowing commands. Jake got up again, opened the window and looked out. The quayside was directly below his bedroom. The Escape was no longer there – presumably it had been taken into the secret harbour ; but in its place was another, smaller vessel: the Campana , one of the ships that Topaz had pointed out. It was a distinctive yellow ochre colour, with a steep prow and square sails. Nathan, his voice sounding more American when giving orders, was overseeing a group of sailors as they loaded it up.
Jake left the window open and looked in the cupboard. The blood drained from his face. He had been expecting to find it empty, but it contained an item he recognized immediately: a red suitcase.
It was the suitcase his parents had brought to the bathroom shop when he last saw them. Jake seized it, put it on the bed and unzipped it, instantly recognizing his parents’ clothes. As he rifled through the contents, hurriedly packed for a trip to a bathroom convention in Birmingham, he was once again engulfed in panic. He opened the front pocket of the case and received another appalling shock: inside were his parents’ passports.
Jake took them out and opened them. The familiar pictures of his mum and dad posing self-consciously in the photo booth at Greenwich station stared back at him. He remembered the day perfectly. They had been laughing so much it had taken five attempts. A stern ticking-off from a sour -faced commuter had only made matters worse.
As Jake looked from one picture to the other, it hit him more acutely than ever before …
His parents were truly lost.
Not just lost in Europe somewhere, but lost in history. Of course, Jake knew they wouldn’t need their passports in sixteenth-century Italy, but the fact that the documents were here in his hand emphasized their plight: what if they were imprisoned? What if they had been separated? What if they were already …? Jake ran over to the window, desperate for air. Down below, the sailors were still loading up the Campana , although Nathan was no longer to be seen.
Jake suddenly yearned to sail on that ship – to join the others on their expedition and help to find his parents.
I’ll go back and talk to Galliana,’ he told himself. ‘She’ll understand how important this is. I’ve already lost my brother – how can they expect me to lose my parents as well ?
He shook his head as he remembered the em barrassed looks when he had suggested he should go too. He understood those looks: he knew absolutely nothing about the History Keepers and what they did. And yet he longed to go –
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