Keeping close to the wall, Tess crept along the corridor that led down to the kitchen. The entire lower floor of Roedeer Lodge was thronged with people: fur- and jewel-clad ladies in evening gowns, arm in arm with men in dress suits; groups of young businessmen with loud voices and pomaded hair; and one or two younger ladies with bright, curious eyes. As well as all the guests, it felt like to Tess, the entire house was stuffed with staff. She’d never seen so many maids, running to and fro with trays and plates and table linen, and if the noise from the kitchen was anything to go by, there were at least four extra cooks on duty and none of them could find a single thing to agree on.
A woman stopped in front of Tess and waved an empty champagne glass in her face. Tess simply blinked in surprise and the woman fixed her with a withering look.
“Well?” she said, shoving the glass at Tess, who—not knowing what else to do—took it from her. “About time,” the woman snapped before turning up her nose and wafting off on a cloud of overpowering scent. Tess stared at the delicate glass in her hand and put it behind her back.
Then she looked at the far side of the corridor and noticed a door set into the wooden paneling of the wall. A broom cupboard? Tess frowned. She’d gone past here a hundred times, but somehow she’d never seen this door before. She glanced around; nobody was paying her any attention.
So she made for the cupboard, opened its door and pulled it closed behind her.
In the darkness Tess tried to catch her breath and calm her mind. She sat down beside an empty mop bucket on wheels. This is pointless, she thought, overcome with sorrow. I can’t find Violet in this crowd! I can barely move, let alone search for her. Plus, she thought miserably, I was really sure she’d be in Mrs. Thistleton’s room. I don’t know where else to look. She angled her wristwatch into a crack of light coming through the door. More than fifteen minutes had passed since she’d spoken to Mrs. Thistleton.
“Soon they’ll know I’m not where I’m supposed to be,” Tess whispered to herself. “Soon they’ll come looking. And then…” Her imagination wandered as she tried to think about what would happen once they found her. Mr. Cleat will make me use the Star-spinner for something my father would never have wanted, she thought, squeezing her eyes tight. And then Thomas, and everyone who lives in his city, will be in danger.
Tess clenched her fists so hard her knuckles ached. “Stop putting it off,” she muttered through gritted teeth. There’s no point hiding in here. I need to go and find Violet and that means facing Mrs. Thistleton. There’s no time for anything else. And once I have her back, I need to stop all this before it’s too late. She relaxed her hands, took a deep breath and got to her feet.
Someone shouted something in the corridor outside just as Tess was about to open the door and she heard the sound of hurried footsteps. She hesitated a moment and then slid out, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. A gong sounded as she made her way up the corridor toward the lobby and a man in uniform made an announcement in a voice loud enough to carry above the clamor. The crowd stopped and turned to him, looking expectant.
“Ladies! Gentlemen! Your host, Mr. Norton F. Cleat, begs your attendance on the front lawn. The front lawn, ladies and gentlemen. The demonstration will begin at ten p.m. sharp!”
At these words, Tess’s feet stuck to the tiles. She stood like an island as people surged all around her, chattering excitedly as they went. The defiant spirit that had filled her a moment before suddenly drained out through her heels.
“It’s all tosh, of course,” one man said as he passed Tess, grinning widely at his friend as they strode toward the front door. “I can’t wait to see old Norty fall on his face!” She was buffeted by elbows and handbags as people passed her by and then she noticed a figure in black coming down the stairs.
Mrs. Thistleton was striding toward her, eyes hard and glittering and her mouth pursed tight. “What. On. Earth,” she muttered as she drew near. She grabbed Tess around the arm and dragged her into the nearest corner. “How dare you make me search this house for you. And how dare you present yourself in this fashion!”
Tess’s heart roared within her as she stared Mrs. Thistleton down. “I want my spider back,” she said.
Mrs. Thistleton snorted. “Your spider?” she spat. “If you want to have the slightest chance of ever seeing it again, you’ll come with me. Right this minute. And you’ll hope that Mr. Cleat doesn’t take one look at you and destroy it out of spite.”
Before Tess had a chance to answer, Mrs. Thistleton pulled her across the floor, out of the door of Roedeer Lodge, and forced her to walk through the gates and onto the lawn. People turned to watch but Tess ignored them all, gritting her teeth as she focused on where she was being brought—and on the gigantic machines that got closer with every step.
The bombers seemed impossibly big. Looming out of the night was a propeller blade, its tip almost reaching the ground; the other blade rose high into the sky and Tess followed it with her eyes. The pointed nose of the aircraft looked huge in the gloom and its massive body was lost to the shadows.
As Tess and Mrs. Thistleton drew near, there was a gasp from the crowd as a string of huge lights set into the lawn suddenly lit up with a series of pops, throwing bright white beams onto the bombers. The lights made them seem even bigger than Tess had thought, their wings long as horizons and their tapering bodies like gigantic beasts. The windows of their cockpits remained dark and Tess wondered if the pilots were already in there, watching her.
In the next breath, loud music—celebratory, like the sort that would herald the arrival of a circus—began to play. Tess jumped, as did most of the people around her, and the people seated at the tables twisted and turned in their chairs as they strove to be the first to see what was happening. Some of them chattered excitedly and a few began to applaud.
“Ladies and gentlemen—and the rest of you!” came Mr. Cleat’s voice, sudden enough to make Tess jump again. Mrs. Thistleton tightened her grip on her arm but Tess ignored the pain and flicked her gaze around, searching for him as a ripple of laughter rolled through the crowd.
Another light popped on and there he was—standing on the nose of one of the planes, appearing to lean nonchalantly on the nearest propeller blade. In his hand he held a bullhorn, into which he was speaking. The music faded completely. “It’s my honor to welcome you all here to my humble abode this evening. Most of you will know me, Norton Cleat; those who don’t, well—it’s a pleasure. Thank you all for being here. Tonight, my friends, we’re going to witness the impossible.”
As the applause sputtered to renewed life all around him, soon growing to a crescendo, Mr. Cleat dropped the bullhorn and jumped down, landing with fluid grace. He began to walk toward Tess, his wide smile not echoed in his hard, angry eyes.
Tess was cornered. Mr. Cleat was coming in one direction and Mrs. Thistleton held her in an unbreakable grip and everywhere around her were tables full of people oblivious to any of it. She had nowhere to run.
Mr. Cleat reached her and clamped his hand down on her shoulder, heavy and unmoving as an iron rod. She had no choice but to walk alongside him with Mrs. Thistleton until finally the three of them stood beneath the shadow of the planes. Tess tried not to tremble as she looked around; it was hard to see faces in the strange light but she knew for certain she was alone here. Nobody would help. Nobody could help.
“Now!” Mr. Cleat announced as a man in uniform bustled forward out of the shadows holding a large tray. On it was a cloth covering something that looked like a storm lantern. “This evening, ladies and gents, we’re here to witness a miracle. A real, true, honest-to-Faraday miracle. What we’re going to do here this evening has never been done before. Never, ladies and gents! Not only will it demonstrate the absolute proof that we in the Interdimensional Harmonics Society have been seeking for over thirty years—the proof, my friends, that worlds exist beyond our own and that those worlds can be opened up to us—but we will show you all how it can be done.”
He paused to catch his breath, staring out at the crowd, a fervent light shining in his eyes. “I know there are believers among you; I know too that there are doubters. You will all leave here tonight with one solid fact lodged in your skulls: there are worlds, who knows how many, that we can gain access to with the right knowledge and skill—and the power to do it is in our grasp!”
Mr. Cleat raised his free hand in the air, his fist clenched, and after a second or two the cheer he was evidently expecting began to rise from his assembled guests. Tess felt him relax a fraction but then his grip on her regained its strength. He shoved her forward to stand in front of him, and he placed one heavy hand on each of her shoulders. She blinked, the bright lights making her feel dizzy.
“This young lady is Tess de Sousa. Yes, my friends: one of those de Sousas.” A murmur began and Tess felt the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes as they strained to see her. “This is the girl with the key to the universe—the wielder of the Star-spinner!” A furious wave of chatter followed this, with people turning to one another in disbelief and a few even making notes.
“Poppycock, Cleat!” came a shout. A man got to his feet at a table a few rows back. “That’s just a fable! There’s no such thing. Whoever this poor urchin is, send her back to her gutter and leave us all to have a pleasant evening.” This was greeted by a gale of laughter interspersed with booing.
“I admit, my dear Mr. Henderson, that the child is a little less—how can I say it?—presentable than I would have wished, but such is the nature of youth. Am I right?” More laughter greeted this and Mr. Henderson took his seat once again, shaking his head. “However, I assure you, Cornelius, that I am telling the truth. And for those who still find it hard to believe, all I can say is, Watch and wait.”
He released Tess’s right shoulder and raised his hand again. Instantly the planes’ engines roared to life. They began to taxi backward, rolling over the lawn in perfect formation as they prepared to take to the air.
Mr. Cleat leaned down to murmur into Tess’s ear. He reached into his waistcoat pocket and from it took the Star-spinner, which he held in his fingers like a pocket watch as he spoke. “If you want to save the lives of everyone you love—right down to your eight-legged friend—then you’ll start doing exactly what I say from this point on, young lady. The choice”—he paused, making Tess swallow hard—“is yours.”
Millie led the way through the tunnel, a lit candle held in one hand. Wilf followed close behind. Prissy and Eunice huddled together, neither of them willing to admit how scared they were, and Prossy guarded the rear with Hortense the hockey stick held high.
“How much further is it?” she asked, adjusting her grip on Hortense.
“It can’t be too much longer now,” Millie said. “I wasn’t really paying attention last time, what with being afraid for my life and all.” She shivered and quickened her pace.
“You might have let us know that before we clambered into a hole in the ground,” Prossy muttered.
“Look!” Millie called, hurrying forward. “Steps. Going upward.”
“Thank goodness,” Wilf muttered. Millie handed her the candle, climbed the steps and pushed hard at the trapdoor set above them. After a second or two, in a cloud of dust that made Millie turn away and sneeze, the door opened into the vestry.
Moments later, all five girls—plus Hortense—stood in the center aisle of the deserted old chapel.
“She’s not here,” Wilf said, searching the darkness.
“I don’t understand,” Millie whispered, her confusion clear. “I was sure she’d have hidden out here.”
“Tess!” Eunice called. “Tess, it’s us!”
Prissy walked to the back of the chapel and peered up at the ceiling. “She can’t have gone up there. I wonder if—” She stopped short as something caught her ear.
“What is it, Priss?” Prossy asked, but Prissy shushed her with a gesture as she tried to listen.
“Can you hear that?” Prissy said. “It’s like—engines?”
The girls stood still and strained their ears, and then they heard it: the deep thrumming roar of petroleum engines, carried on the breeze.
Millie’s eyes opened wide. “It’s starting,” she said, running for the chapel door. “Come on!”
“You’re not getting me down that tunnel again,” Prossy muttered.
“No need for that now,” Millie said, hurrying out into the night. “We’ve got to hurry! Whatever Mr. Cleat’s been planning, it’s happening. And if he’s got Tess, she needs us—come on!”
With that the girls charged across the starlit field toward Roedeer Lodge, hoping with everything they had that they’d get there in time to help their friend.