A small smile grew on Tess’s face as she thought about the things she’d already learned in that very room—none of which Mrs. Thistleton had anything to do with—and she got to her feet, settling Violet at her neck. Her excitement began to build at the thought of what Thomas would say when she told him what she’d done—but then she realized she had to stifle it. A long, boring afternoon lay ahead, and Mrs. Thistleton would surely suspect something if Tess spent it grinning at her.
She settled her face, stood up straight and made for the door. “Better go and get some grub, girl,” she whispered to Violet. “And before we know it, we’ll see Thomas again. Just you wait!”
“Well, isn’t this a pretty picture,” came Mrs. Thistleton’s voice, closely followed by the whish of a curtain being pulled back. Sunlight fell across Tess’s face and she jumped, her eyes pinging open, and as she did so, she realized she was lying sprawled across the bed, mostly out of her blankets. It took all her willpower not to feel for the Star-spinner, to check whether it was all right.
“What?” she mumbled, trying to focus. She reached for a blanket and threw it over herself, hoping she had everything properly concealed.
“Good morning,” trilled Mrs. Thistleton sarcastically, leaning over Tess’s bed with her hands clasped at her waist. “Mr. Cleat and I did worry so when you didn’t emerge for breakfast. Not sickening for anything, I hope?” Mrs. Thistleton freed one thin, cold hand and pressed it against Tess’s forehead, from which Tess instinctively knocked the probing fingers away. Mrs. Thistleton straightened up, a look of distaste on her face as she refolded her hands, one into the other. “You are quite warm,” she said. “But perhaps that’s what lolling about until midmorning will do for a person. I wouldn’t know,” she finished with a sharp disapproving sniff.
“Midmorning?” said Tess, squinting at the clock with one shortsighted eye.
“It’s almost eight!” crowed Mrs. Thistleton. “What else would you call it?” Before Tess had a chance to answer, Mrs. Thistleton began to stride across the floor toward the door. “Well, now that I’ve established you didn’t expire in your sleep, I’ll leave you to freshen up. Sadly you’ll have to do without breakfast, which isn’t the ideal way to start a day of lessons, but—”
“No breakfast?” said Tess, sitting bolt upright. “What?”
“In this household, there are a few simple rules.” Mrs. Thistleton turned on her perfectly polished heel. “One of them is if you are not present for breakfast at seven, you do not eat.”
“But why can’t I get something now? I’m sure Millie could—” Tess began, but Mrs. Thistleton cut her off.
“You’ve done more than your fair share of ordering that girl about,” she replied. “No, you’ll just have to do without, I’m afraid. Now, do hurry up, won’t you?”
Tess blinked at her. “This is unfair,” she said miserably.
Mrs. Thistleton simply pursed her lips in reply and had disappeared through the door before Tess could say anything else. Instead she flopped back down on the bed, landing among her pillows with a flump, and threw her arms over her face.
A gentle tickle on her upturned palm made her roll over, searching carefully for Violet. The spider settled as Tess turned to face her. “A fine mess, girl, isn’t it?” Tess whispered. “Goodness knows when I’ll get to see Thomas again at this rate.” Her head began to pound with the knowledge that she must have slept right through the night. She couldn’t bear the thought that Thomas might have spent hours waiting in the chapel before finally giving up on her. She hoped he wouldn’t be angry if she managed to see him later. Violet stroked her hand with her usual tenderness and Tess tried a smile—but the heaviness settled back around her again at the thought of facing Mrs. Thistleton.
She pulled on some clothes and was buckling up her second shoe when her stomach gave a painful growl. She tried to quell it with the promise of a distant lunch, but it did no good whatsoever.
As she was putting the Star-spinner into its usual place, Tess remembered how it had felt a few days before when Mrs. Thistleton came uncomfortably close to discovering it. She slid the device into her folded experiments notebooks, then slipped the lot into her vest. Tess wriggled her body until the notebook and device settled just at her waist. The elastic of her vest kept the bundle from falling too far and her cardigan concealed the tiny bulge it made under her dress. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, satisfied that the Star-spinner was as hidden as she could make it. Then she put the note from Miss Ackerbee, which she was never without, into her pocket.
Finally she held out a hand to Violet and the spider crawled up her arm so gently that Tess could barely feel it. She settled against Tess’s collar as Tess made her way downstairs, crossing the wide hallway in the direction of Mrs. Thistleton’s office, the door of which was standing open. As she walked, Tess noticed Mrs. Thistleton’s voice coming from the kitchen; she was giving orders of some sort, her tone cold and shrill. She’s probably telling them to make sure not to feed me, no matter how hard I beg, she thought with a hot flash of irritation.
She noticed something else, too, something sitting on Mrs. Thistleton’s desk, shining in the light coming in through the half-moon window. Something she’d never once had a chance to touch since arriving at Roedeer Lodge.
Tess hesitated for a moment, listening, and then a burst of courage spurred her on. She hurried into the room and toward the telephone.
She put one hand on its shiny black receiver, wondering how it worked. She’d never made a telephone call before; she’d never had a need to. A small label at the bottom of the apparatus, protected by a worn layer of clear plastic, read CLEAT 4518 in neat handwriting. A corner of the plastic was lifting and another, more yellowed piece of paper lay beneath it. Finally her determination outweighed her fear and she took her hand from the receiver in order to rummage through her pocket.
Quicksilver, Tess thought, searching for Miss Ackerbee’s note—the note with her telephone number written on it. All I have to do is—
“And what have we here?” came Mrs. Thistleton’s voice, shattering Tess’s plan like a hammer hitting glass. “Turn out your pockets, young lady!”
“But—” Tess tried to protest, facing her.
“I said turn out your pockets!” Mrs. Thistleton’s face became a rather alarming color as she approached Tess, her pace across the hall tiles quickening.
“It’s just this!” Tess retorted, holding out the piece of paper. Her insides churned with disappointment, sorrow, loss and a hundred other things, as she knew full well this was the last time she’d see it.
“A likely story!” crowed Mrs. Thistleton as she strode into her office, reaching out her hand to snatch the paper as she drew near. “I’ll have it all, please. Everything in your pockets, emptied out. Now!”
Tess struggled to keep her composure as she pulled her cardigan pockets inside out, their meager contents spilling onto the floor. A crumpled hanky, a few stones and a long-forgotten acorn rained down around her feet.
Mrs. Thistleton took it all in, her sharp black eyes flashing as she nudged aside the detritus with the toe of her shoe. Her chest heaved with her angry breathing. “Your dress, too, please,” she said. Her eyes never stopped moving, her gaze raking through the pile of Tess’s rubbish as though she wasn’t seeing what she wanted to.
Tess quivered but did as she was asked. Her dress pockets were pulled inside out, yielding nothing but a broken pen and a discolored coin. Mrs. Thistleton seized upon that, and it vanished into a pocket of her housecoat. All the while, Tess could feel the weight of the notebook-wrapped Star-spinner at her waist, and she pleaded with the bundle not to fall out of her vest.
“You don’t have any need for this, Tess,” Mrs. Thistleton said, holding up the paper. Her beetle eyes were triumphant as she tore it through the middle, cutting Miss Ackerbee’s neat handwriting in half.
Tess bit her lips tight, stifling a shout.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said after a moment, keeping her voice as steady as she could and fixing Mrs. Thistleton with a glare.
“You’ll find,” Mrs. Thistleton replied, turning away and crushing the halves of Miss Ackerbee’s note in her fist as she went, “that I did. Take your seat, please, while I dispose of this rubbish. We will begin lessons promptly.” She strode out of the room, leaving Tess alone with the telephone—but she knew there was no point in touching it now.
Tess turned back to look at the telephone anyway, her eyes burning. Something flared in her chest as she did, and she didn’t know if it was frustration or anger or simple hatred, but she reached out to the label that read CLEAT 4518 and ripped it all the way off, hoping to tear it in two just as Mrs. Thistleton had destroyed her last link to home.
But instead what she saw revealed beneath the torn-off label stopped her in her tracks. It wasn’t the number that surprised her, as it was the same—4518. Rather, it was what came before it, which Tess could only guess must have been the name of the people who had lived in this house long before Mr. Cleat had ever come here.
That name, written on the age-yellowed label, read de Sousa. All Tess could do was stare at it.
“All right then,” came Mrs. Thistleton’s voice, sudden enough to make Tess jump. “Let’s begin.” She made her way around her desk as she spoke, taking her seat before she noticed Tess’s dumbfounded expression. She raised a questioning eyebrow and then she saw the strip of paper in Tess’s fingers.
“This house belongs to me.” Tess’s voice sounded strange to her own ears, like it was coming from someone else’s throat.
“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Thistleton sounded genuinely confused and her smirk faded, replaced with a frown.
Tess looked at her. “Or was it my parents’ house?” She placed the label on the desk with trembling fingers. “I thought nobody knew who they were. Is that a lie?”
Mrs. Thistleton picked up the label but didn’t look at it. She toyed with it instead, turning it around and around in her fingers. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she finally said.
“This was their house!” Tess shouted. “That’s their name on the telephone!”
Mrs. Thistleton recoiled as though Tess had slapped her. “How dare you.” She tossed the label back on the desk and folded her arms.
“This house used to belong to someone called de Sousa, just like me.” Tess’s chin began to wobble as her flashing anger drained away, drowned out by her fear and uncertainty. “Was it my parents’ house? Why did Mr. Cleat bring me here? Please. Tell me the truth.”
Mrs. Thistleton gave her a cold look that lasted for a long moment. “You need to learn a little self-control, my girl,” she said. “Not to mention manners. I shudder to think what they taught you at that home.”
Tess’s anger roared again. “Don’t talk about Ackerbee’s like that!” she yelled, clenching her fists.
Mrs. Thistleton got to her feet and leaned across her desk. “You will not raise your voice in this house!” she shouted. Trembling with rage, her face pinched and white, she hauled in a breath through flared nostrils. “I’ll thank you to keep a tight rein on your temper while you’re under this roof, young lady,” she said eventually. “Or you know the price you’ll pay.”
“What are you talking about?” Tess said, the words interrupted by a sob.
Mrs. Thistleton took her seat again, tucking a stray strand of hair behind one ear before meeting Tess’s gaze. Her eyes were like black diamonds. “If you prove too much of a handful for me, then we’ll have no option but to send you away. Mr. Cleat has already had me prepare a list of suitable boarding schools for you, just in case.” She paused to lick her lips before continuing in a near whisper. “And if you’re forced to leave Roedeer Lodge—for whatever reason—then you know what will happen to your beloved Violet. Your only friend in the world, it seems.”
“That is not fair,” Tess said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “And you’re not touching my spider.” She placed a protective hand over Violet, who was cowering just below her chin.
Mrs. Thistleton drew her lips thin. “Well, we’ll see. You know what to do if you want to keep her safe.”
Tess stared at her for a moment before pulling out a chair and flopping into it. Mrs. Thistleton nudged a textbook toward her, and Tess pulled it the rest of the way.
“Good,” said the governess, turning to her chalkboard. “Now, let’s get started.”
Mrs. Thistleton’s cold smile was a spike in Tess’s brain. She clung to it, hoping it would keep her awake long into the night, long enough not to miss any more chances to see Thomas. There’ll be no more sleeping through, she told herself. Not when I have so many answers to find. And not now that I know what I’m going to do.
Thomas sat in the darkness of the old chapel, curled up on the pew he’d come to think of as Tess’s, hoping that tonight she’d come. He’d been eaten up with worry since she’d missed their last meeting—had something happened? He felt as though Tess was a friend—probably his only friend besides Moose—but he thought about how strange it was that he’d never heard her voice. He didn’t even know her full name. And if she never returns, Thomas thought, the small grin fading from his lips, I never will.
He shuddered away the thought and turned back to his book, an old one he’d retrieved from his bedroom on a previous raid. It wasn’t one of his favorites but he could remember his mother reading it to him when he was younger and sometimes he could still hear her voice in certain words.
Just as he’d reached the bit where the family opens an unexpected delivery to find a fully grown penguin inside, the silver-blue circle of the Star-spinner appeared beside him like a light being switched on. He smiled when he saw Tess’s face inside it, her dark eyes apologetic. She pushed her glasses up her nose and blinked at him.
“I’m so glad to see you,” he said, speaking slowly.
Through the circle, Tess’s face relaxed into a relieved grin. “Me too.”
“Are you all right?” Thomas mouthed.
Tess nodded. “I was asleep,” she said, leaning on her free hand and miming lying on a pillow. He laughed, and when Tess met his eye again, she held up a message.
YESTERDAY I CROSSED INTO YOUR WORLD BY ACCIDENT. I WANT TO TRY AN EXPERIMENT TONIGHT TO SEE IF I CAN DO IT AGAIN.
Thomas felt his jaw drop as he read. He read it again and stared at Tess through the window between worlds.
“That’s impossible!” he said.
Tess said something in reply with a laugh. Thomas thought it might have been “I did it anyway.” Her eyes danced with nervous joy and he felt his own heart begin to race.
“How?” he said, and Tess shrugged.
“I’ll show you,” she said, her eyes opening wide, as though she could hardly believe her own words.
Thomas blinked at this. Then he picked up his pen and paper, shaking his head slowly as he wrote. IF YOU END UP SOMEWHERE HORRID, AMONG DINOSAURS OR SUCHLIKE, DON’T EXPECT ME TO COME AND SAVE YOU. ALL RIGHT? Tess met his eye once she’d finished reading and they shared a grin.
“Good luck,” he mouthed, and Tess nodded.
“See you soon,” she told him. Then the silver circle went dark.
* * *
Tess set the Star-spinner down on the pew and took Violet from her head-top perch as gently as possible, despite the spider’s reluctance. She placed her beside the lantern Millie had stolen for her.
“I won’t be long, girl,” she whispered to the spider. “You’ll hold the fort until I get back, won’t you?” Violet looked uncertain, her shining eyes like liquid night in the flickering shadows. “I love you,” Tess said, her voice tight.
Tess picked up the Star-spinner. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears and her throat felt too tight to s
wallow, but she forced her fingers to remember what they had done the previous day. This time it’ll work properly, she told herself. I have the window open. She went through each step as though she were reading from her experiments notebook, and like it had been waiting for this moment, the Star-spinner moved. As soon as Tess held it and began to adjust the “face,” the device’s upper half started to pivot. The first marker clicked into place and Tess steadied her grip.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened at all.
Then the bright blue circle at the center of the Star-spinner seemed to suck her in, growing large enough for Tess to tumble in headfirst. As she was swallowed by the void, an overwhelming sense of light and air swept through her, as though every fragment of her body were separating. She felt herself expanding outward in all directions like a gigantic net, spreading across an unfathomable darkness in which she could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing, and a light exploded across her eyes and gradually formed itself into a distant sun, slowly burning.
Tess turned her head to see the immensity of herself. She was a constellation, a starspun web, a lacework of light strung with pearls, stretching to infinity. She laughed and it rang forever. She had never known such lightness and joy and had never felt such freedom. She never wanted to go back.
The sun she’d seen was, she now realized, one of a network of similar suns laid out before her. Each one was surrounded by a swirl of stars so that the suns appeared as pupils in eyes as immense as galaxies. As Tess drew near, something flickered across her nebula mind like a tongue of lightning. My father, she thought. My father. Somewhere out there is my father. She faltered, just for a moment, in her flight.
Then a sun sucked her in and down, and she began to whirl, tighter and tighter and tighter until she exploded into herself in a collision of light and energy she could feel right down to her atoms—and when she opened her fully human eyes again, all she could see was a dark-haired boy looking down at her with concern.
The Starspun Web Page 12
