The Bone Quill by Carole E. Barrowman, John Barrowman

on. ‘I agree with Simon. We should be absolutely sure that we have a reason to animate, especially into this particular painting.’
    ‘Why?’ asked Matt, doing his best to temper his tone.
    ‘If we assume that this painting is by Duncan Fox – and everything would indicate this to be true: style, date etc – then the date on the picture troubles me,’ said Renard. ‘If 1848 is correct, then it was the last painting Fox completed before he discovered Hollow Earth, and made it his mission to do what he could to keep it sealed and protected. 1848 is the last time that Hollow Earth was in danger of being opened.’
    The twins digested this.
    ‘
If
Duncan Fox painted it,’ Renard repeated. He smiled slightly, as if enjoying a private joke. Then he opened his desk drawer and took out a red clothbound journal.
    ‘Is that Fox’s diary?’ asked Matt.
    Renard nodded. He passed the journal to Em. Matt and Zach gazed over her shoulder as she flipped through the yellowed musty pages. It was filled with words and sketches.
    ‘I’ve never seen that before,’ said Simon.
    ‘The diary was found shortly before we bound Malcolm,’ Renard said. ‘I haven’t shared it around much since then.’
    ‘Go back,’ said Matt, directing Em to a page with some of Fox’s drawings and pointing at the biggest one. ‘Isn’t that the Abbey?’
    That’s like the picture I found this morning, Em. But this one has the tower under construction.
    Maybe the painting you found was just unfinished.
    No, I think one was painted after the other. I think Duncan Fox is my time-traveller. Now I
really
want to meet the dude.
    ‘It certainly looks like the Abbey,’ said Em, doing her best to ignore Matt’s voice in her head. Zach tilted his head for a better view and nodded his agreement.
    ‘The diary tells us a great deal,’ said Renard. He looked at the still-life. ‘But it makes no mention of this painting. Which strikes me as curious. I don’t think this still-life was painted by Duncan Fox at all.’
    Matt frowned. ‘Then who?’
    ‘I think it may have been painted by your mother.’

THIRTY-TWO
     
    E veryone began throwing questions at Renard, even Simon. The din in the room was so loud that Jeannie rushed in to see what the ruckus was about.
    ‘Em,’ said Simon, ‘you look pale. Are you feeling okay?’
    ‘Just a tummy ache,’ Em whispered. ‘But don’t tell Jeannie. She’ll make me drink a cabbage-water tonic.’
    Zach picked up the key and held it up in front of the desk drawer on the still-life again. ‘Now there’s even more reason to believe this might fit that lock,’ he signed.
    ‘Em and I
need
to animate into that painting,’ said Matt at once.
    ‘They may be on to something, Renard,’ Simon murmured.
    ‘But where might they end up?’ Renard gestured at the painting. ‘If that picture is by Fox, you will end up in 1848. If it was painted by your mother, you may find that you only travel back two months. You travel to the time in which the image was created, do you not?’
    The question made Em feel light-headed. Outside it was drizzling. The light and the rain reflecting on the great mirror installation made the trees look as if they were walking backwards on the lawn.
    ‘It’s too risky. I won’t allow it,’ said Renard decisively.
    ‘What if I went with them into the painting?’ Simon suggested. ‘We know they’re strong enough to shift me, too. Then at least I’m there, wherever we end up.’
    Em felt Zach’s anger buffet her like a fan blowing against her body.
    We wouldn’t be gone long, Zach.
    I don’t have to like being left behind.
    Grandpa’s not coming with us either.
    He’s an old man.
    Zach!
    ‘We open the drawer with the key,’ continued Simon, ‘find what Sandie has left for us – assuming the key works – and come directly back.’
    ‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Matt confidently.
    If Grandpa doesn’t let us go now, Em, we’ll go on our own later.
    Matt! We wouldn’t do