“Sal-what?” said Tess.
Mrs. Thistleton sighed. “I’m going to have a job with you, aren’t I? You may as well go and enjoy your evening, child. Tomorrow, we work.” Her eyes fell on Violet and her lip curled. “And I’d appreciate it if that thing could stay out of my way while I’m teaching. She is, to say the least, a distraction.”
Tess’s nostrils flared. “So I can go?”
“You may go,” Mrs. Thistleton said, rolling her eyes.
Tess didn’t need to be told twice.
* * *
From the observatory window, Thomas watched Mackintosh’s car as it drove out of the gates. His trips to the city were infrequent now; fuel rationing meant it was often more trouble than it was worth to travel. When the car vanished from sight, Thomas knew it was time to make his move. He didn’t know how long he’d have before Mackintosh returned.
“Come on, Moose,” he said, helping the mouse into his top pocket. Together they hurried down into the vestry behind the disused altar in the old chapel. Thomas pulled open a low, squat-looking door in the corner of the room and dropped through it. As soon as he landed, he flicked on his torch. A tunnel yawned, its long dark throat like the twisting gullet of a snake, but Thomas wasn’t frightened. He’d done this journey a hundred times.
A few minutes later, Thomas emerged at the tunnel’s other end—into the scullery of the house he’d once shared with his parents. Mackintosh hadn’t yet spotted the door to the tunnel, though Thomas dreaded the day he did—he’d surely block it off, and then Thomas would have to come up with an alternative plan for getting in and out. But, he told himself with grim determination, I’ll have evicted him by then anyway.
He slipped his knapsack off and filled it with food—as much as he could carry and the sort that would keep—and steeled himself for the next part of his mission. “You’re behind enemy lines,” he whispered to himself. “Just you and Moose. You’ve got to be brave now.”
Thomas opened a small wall cupboard to reveal several keys and he slipped one off its hook. Then he sneaked out of the kitchen, his heart hammering. He quickly made his way up the corridor, reaching the door of what had been his parents’ study. He hadn’t been here since the day three years before when they’d had their accident, and when…
He pushed the thought away and unlocked the door with his pilfered key, and then he was inside. The tall bookshelves and the long, familiar desk he remembered from before—the one his parents would often sit at together, working late into the night—were still there. He blinked hard, telling himself the air was dusty, and made a dash for the nearest pile of books.
“Quantum Mechanics,” he muttered, running a finger down the spines. “Gobbledygook. None of it any use.”
He turned to the bookshelves behind him and instantly saw a row of notebooks, each with his mother’s handwriting on its narrow spine. He pulled one out. Helena Molyneaux, Notes, 1934, he read, and his heart gave a lurch. The shelf was full of his mother’s work, and without thinking about it for a second longer, he upended the knapsack and shoved as many of the notebooks as possible into the space where his food had been. He was only sorry that he couldn’t bring them all.
The remaining notebooks slumped to one side now that their shelf-mates were gone, and Thomas knew Mackintosh would spot the gap straightaway. He told himself he didn’t care. There’s got to be something in here that can help Tess, he told himself.
He looked back at the knapsack. “Not a lot of room left for grub, eh, Moose?” he muttered. With a sigh he crammed in as much food as he could and slung the heavy bag onto his back again. Then he bent to pick up the rest, more than filling his arms. As he struggled to lock the door behind him, a tin of something or other—condensed milk, he thought—fell and rolled away, losing itself in the shadows beneath the console table in the lobby. “Drat,” Thomas muttered, but there was nothing to be done.
Slowly, awkwardly, he made his way with the booty back through the tunnel, hoping he wouldn’t have long to wait before Tess came back—and this time, he promised himself, he’d have something useful to tell her.
Tess sat in the dark on the edge of her bed, fully dressed, and waited for the house to fall quiet. It was a big house and there were a lot of people in it, so you could never be completely sure. She wanted to see Thomas again and she hoped he’d be waiting. If she peered through and found him sleeping, it wasn’t like she could just poke him until he woke up—but it was a chance she had to take.
I know I can get through, she told herself. I know I can. I want to get to wherever he is, and I need his help. She chewed her lip. I know he knows something about all of this—I’m sure of it. I need to talk to him, and properly.
Finally she worked up enough courage to move. She slid down off the bed and crossed the floor on silent feet, slipping the viewer into her pocket as she went. Her stomach churned at the thought of throwing herself out into the darkness with only ivy to cling to, but it was better than creeping through the house hoping someone had left a door unlocked. Readying herself for the descent, she began to pull on her boots.
I need to tell someone about these stupid lessons, too, she thought, her nose wrinkling. Broadening my education, my eye! They want to keep me distracted in case I figure something out. She tied her bootlaces with angry fervor. And the very idea of spending all day every day in a room with Mrs. Thistleton! Of all the people—
Her thoughts were disturbed by something unexpected—a yellow glow, faint but unmistakable, beneath her door. Tess froze in horror before dropping to her knees behind her bed. Her heart hammered so loudly she was certain it could be heard throughout the house and she regretted her decision to hide, realizing that if it was Mrs. Thistleton at the door and if she looked into her room, the first thing she’d see would be an empty bed—and an open window…
Then Tess heard a tiny hiss from the door. She risked looking up. A small white square lay on the floor of her bedroom and then the yellowish light began to fade away, accompanied by the lightest of footsteps. Someone’s just slipped a note beneath the door, she realized. Not Mrs. Thistleton for sure!
Quickly Tess hurried to the door and stuck her head out into the corridor. She saw a panicked face staring at her over the quivering light of a candle.
“Millie!” Tess whispered. “What are you doing?”
The maid blinked, taking a step in Tess’s direction. “Miss, I thought—I wanted…” She shook her head and started again. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
“Come in here,” said Tess, grabbing Millie’s hand and closing the door of her room behind them.
They huddled in a corner, Millie’s candle illuminating both their faces. She seemed to be searching for Violet, and once she saw that the spider was sitting quietly on Tess’s shoulder, she relaxed. Something about her fearful face made Tess notice, for the first time, how young she was.
“You’re not much older than me, are you?” Tess finally said.
“Fourteen last birthday, miss,” the maid replied, looking away from Violet and focusing on Tess. “Plenty old enough to be in service, my mam said.”
“Do you like it here?” Tess settled herself more comfortably on the floor, the weight of the viewer in her pocket a reminder of how long she still had to wait before she could sleep tonight.
“It’s all right,” Millie replied nervously. “Same troubles as you’d have anywhere. Why are you asking?”
“Because I hate it,” Tess replied, surprising herself a little. “I can’t stand Mrs. Thistleton. And now she wants to teach me Latin!”
Millie fought a grin. “She’s a bit much, all right.”
“What do you think of Mr. Cleat?”
Millie frowned. “He doesn’t have a lot to do with the staff, miss. I’m sure he’s fine.” She cleared her throat nervously.
“I’m not going to tell on you,” Tess said
incredulously.
Millie leaned forward. “Listen, miss—I don’t have much time. If I’m caught out of bed, there’ll be hell to pay.” She paused, glancing at the note on the floor. “I’m here because I wanted to tell you I might have a way to get a message home for you. Maybe not a letter, but I could get someone to let your Miss Ackerbee know you’re all right.”
Tess gaped at her, hardly believing her ears. “But that’s wonderful, Millie,” she said. “Thank you!”
“I have a cousin who works in Mr. Cleat’s club,” Millie explained. “I don’t think he knows we’re related. We haven’t the same name, not that I’d say he even knows my name. Anyway, my cousin—she’s called Rosaleen—well, in her boardinghouse, she shares a dorm with a girl called Kate. And Kate works near Ackerbee’s. She says she can slip out on an errand, call on your Miss Ackerbee, no problem.”
Tess blinked hard. “You’d really be able to get a message home that way?”
Millie nodded, her own eyes shining. “They shouldn’t be stopping your letters, miss. That’s not right. And Mrs. Thistleton treats you terribly—worse than one of us. You haven’t done anything to deserve that. All of us belowstairs think so.”
Tess leaned forward suddenly to give Millie a hug, making the other girl almost drop the candle. Millie laughed quietly. “Hold your horses, miss,” she whispered. “I haven’t done anything yet!”
“I know just what I want to say in my message,” said Tess, wiping her cheek. “Just one word—quicksilver. But I don’t want you to send it straightaway.”
“Why?” Millie frowned.
Tess licked her lips, thinking fast. “I can’t tell you,” she finally said. “There’s something I have to do first.”
Millie blinked at her. “Does it involve traipsing through the garden?”
Tess stayed very still. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you have a boot on,” said Millie. “And your window’s open.”
Tess cursed herself. “Please don’t tell anyone,” she began. “I’ll be back soon, I promise, and—”
“I couldn’t care less what you’re doing, miss—that’s your business,” Millie interrupted her. “But I can show you a better way out than trusting your life to the ivy.”
“What?” Tess said, gaping in disbelief.
“Take that clodhopper of a boot off and come with me. Tread lightly, just where I do, and you’ll be grand. We’ll get you out the kitchen door, nobody the wiser.”
“Except you.” Tess grinned.
“Except me.” Millie nodded. “Now, let’s go. And pull that window closed, in case Mrs. Thistleton sees it. I’ll give you the key to the kitchen door so you can let yourself back in.”
On Millie’s advice, Tess stuffed her bed with pillows to look like a sleeping body and picked the note up from the floor. Soon they were creeping carefully through the house, Tess carrying her boots in one hand and Violet perched, sentrylike, on top of her head. Millie’s steps were like silk; she knew each creaky floorboard by heart. Before Tess could believe it, they’d reached the kitchen. It seemed so strange to see it empty, its stoves damped and quiet.
“You have to press your foot against the bottom of the door as you turn the handle,” Millie whispered, demonstrating. “Otherwise it’ll stick as you pull it.” Tess nodded, watching carefully as Millie soundlessly opened the door. The older girl pressed the key into Tess’s hand as she ushered her out into the dark. “Put that under the butter dish when you’re finished with it; I’ll make sure it’s left there whenever you need it. Lock the door from the outside—and remember to pull it toward yourself when you’re unlocking it, or you’ll never get it open without waking someone.”
“Thank you, Millie,” Tess said.
“You’re very welcome, Tess,” Millie said, giving her a smile Tess was quick to return. “And go on now. Good luck.” Then the door was closed without a sound. Tess locked it, pocketed the key and turned to face the garden.
She took one deep breath and made for the gate.
* * *
In a second-floor dorm in Ackerbee’s Home for Lost and Foundlings, four girls were attempting to hold a midnight meeting. It had begun well, until Prissy and Prossy had allowed themselves to become sidetracked into a heated discussion about hockey.
Finally Wilf cleared her throat as loudly as she dared. They looked at her and fell silent, settling themselves properly on the bed and assuming an air of attentiveness.
“Sorry,” Prossy said, straightening her nightgown.
“Sorry, Wilf. Do carry on,” said Prissy grandly.
“Now,” Wilf whispered. “Are we ready?”
“Ready,” said Prossy firmly. Prissy simply nodded.
“I’m ready, Wilf,” said Eunice, her dark eyes round and earnest.
Wilf settled herself more comfortably on the floor and looked at them all in turn. “Right. First things first. I wanted to tell you all that I found out where Tess is.”
Prissy’s mouth dropped open and she slid to the floor, bumping knees with Wilf. “No! How on earth? And where is she?”
Wilf explained what she’d seen in Dr. Biggs’s office and what she thought it meant. The others listened with rapt attention.
“Fairwater Park’s just at the far end of the quays—not far from the old Kingsbridge train station,” Prossy said once Wilf had finished. “The steam car runs fairly close.”
“But it’s huge,” Prissy continued. “And even if we knew where to go once we’re inside, simply getting through the gates might be a problem.”
“Why?” asked Eunice, her dark brown skin glowing in the candlelight.
“It’s out of bounds to the public, as far as I know,” Prissy replied. “Locked, surrounded by high walls, guards, that sort of thing.”
“Miss Ackerbee and Rebecca are trying to get Tess back with lawyers, but they’re not having any luck. Telling them what we know won’t speed things up; they’ll just waste it trying to do things properly. So it’s up to us,” said Wilf in a determined tone. She paused and the others held their breath as they waited for her to continue. “And that means we might have to break the law. A bit.”
Eunice drew her lips into a grim line. “Tess wouldn’t leave any of us behind,” she said. “If we were in trouble, Tess would help. I’m in, no matter what it takes.”
“Oh, by all means, us too. We’re as in as it’s possible to get,” said Prossy as she and Prissy shared a nod. “But we still need a plan. We have to have a reason to get through those gates.”
“An invitation,” Eunice said, looking at Wilf with eyebrows hopefully raised.
“But how are we supposed to get one of those?” Wilf replied. Her small victory was a deflating balloon and she felt her mood sinking with it.
Prossy frowned sympathetically. “We’ll find a way. Without your eagle eyes, we’d still be none the wiser about where to start looking for our girl.”
“Fat lot of good it does, though,” Wilf muttered. “Tess might as well be on the surface of the moon. And knowing she’s there doesn’t exactly help us build the rocket.”
“No, but it gives us something to aim for,” said Prissy, her eyes glinting.
“That’s enough whispering, you lot,” a voice said outside the door. “Lights-out was almost two hours ago. Priscilla, Proserpina—back to your own dorm, please.”
The four co-conspirators scattered, Eunice for her bed in the corner of the dorm and Wilf for hers on the far side. Prissy and Prossy slunk out to face the corridor warden, a top-floorer in her last months at Ackerbee’s, who ushered them away.
“Night,” whispered Eunice from the far side of the room as soon as the corridor warden closed the door.
“Sleep well,” Wilf replied.
“Shut up,” came an irritable voice from the bed next to Wilf’s, and the girl in the bed
beside Eunice’s threw a pillow, which landed with a flump in the middle of the floor.
Wilf rolled over as quietly as she could, but all she could do for the longest time was stare pointlessly into the silent dark. She kept thinking about walls—how to get over them, how to tunnel beneath them, how to break them down—until finally she fell into a feverish half doze. She dreamed, eventually, of many things: of bricks and doors and tall gates topped with razor-sharp points, but everywhere they were closed, locked, shut tight. She did not dream of a key.
Tess sat on her pew in the old chapel and took the viewer out of her pocket. She let it sit in her palm for a moment or two, its markings reflecting what light there was, and thought about the theories she’d been forming over the past day or so. Could they be right? Was this viewer not just a way to see between worlds, but a way to move between them? Could she use it to help her rediscover the ability she’d lost, or forgotten—and if she could, where would she go? Who might she find? Question piled upon question and Tess squeezed her eyes shut against the flood of thoughts.
I’ll just have to experiment, she told herself in a calm no-nonsense voice. I’ve done hundreds of experiments. These ones will be no different. Despite her best efforts, her mind fizzled and crackled, overflowing like a witch’s cauldron. It took all her effort to quieten it enough to open her eyes again.
She looked down at the viewer sitting innocently in her hand. She ran her thumb lightly over its surface, feeling the metal warm to her touch, and placed her thumb right at its heart. Gently, she pressed.
Immediately it began to open, and quicker than a breath, the shimmering circle had reappeared. Faster than a thought, Tess put it to her eye. She blinked through the circle and movement on the floor caught her eye. A mouse! She almost drew her feet up in horror before she realized it was Thomas’s mouse. She turned to her right, a smile already breaking over her face, and there he was, the boy from another world who already seemed so familiar. This time when he waved, she waved back.
The Starspun Web Page 10