When Clove finally plucked up the courage to go back into the house, Matthew had disappeared. She spent the rest of the evening furious with herself for running away as soon as she’d found the person she’d come all this way to see.
To make matters worse, she found out from Mrs Samson over dinner that Katherine Finchley didn’t even live here yet. The cook seemed to have taken a liking to Clove – probably after she’d found out that Clove could knit. She seemed delighted to have someone to work and gossip with and had immediately handed Clove a pile of undergarments to repair. Clove now knew more about the other families of Annetwell Street than she did about people on her own street in St Andrews.
Mrs Samson had scarcely needed prompting before she’d told Clove that Katherine Finchley, the niece of the house’s mistress, was staying with her sick grandmother somewhere outside of the city, and the grandmother and the mistress had long been estranged. Clove, however, had taken in none of this except for the fact that Katherine wasn’t here. She now had no way of meeting her at all. The revelation had been enough to make her want to give up and go home all over again.
Before she went to bed, Clove put her watch behind a pot of lavender on the windowsill in her room, so that it could charge in the early morning sunlight. As she was doing so, she saw a notification for an unread message, one which must have come in before she time-travelled. She flicked it open.
From: Jen <jennifer@sutcliffe.com>
To: Clove <luckyclover@sutcliffe.com>
Subject: I know it’s late
Date: 21 July 2056 23:01:04 GMT
I just wanted to say, in case you’re still awake, that no matter what happens, we’re your parents, and you are our daughter. You can never ever do anything that we won’t forgive. We love you more than anything else in the world.
Finding out about the adoption is a huge, life-changing thing, and you need to deal with it in a way that works for you. Take your time. We understand. We love you.
Your mother
File note: Email from JENNIFER SUTCLIFFE to CLOVE SUTCLIFFE on 21 July 2056
The message made Clove want to cry. She quickly turned away from Ella, who was washing her face in the washbasin, and climbed into bed, burying her face in her pillow to hide her tears.
She had to get a sample of Matthew’s DNA as quickly as possible, so that she could go home to her parents. As soon as Ella was asleep, she would sneak out of bed and try to find Matthew’s room. She could take a DNA sample while he was sleeping. If she was careful, he wouldn’t even notice.
“Good night,” Ella said, yawning into her palm before blowing out her candle.
Clove lay in bed and listened to Ella’s breathing turn slow and steady – which only took a few minutes. Clove was jealous. It usually took her an hour to quiet her mind long enough to fall asleep. She carefully stood up, trying not to make the wooden pallet bed creak. Then she crept out of the room and down the stairs with a candle in one hand and the DNA kit in the other.
As he was the coachman, Matthew’s living quarters were in the stables, so Clove went through the kitchens to the back door, stopping to light her candle in the fire. The dog, which hadn’t moved from his place in front of the dying embers, didn’t even open his eyes when she turned the heavy iron lock, only let out a doleful grumble that she was disturbing his quiet, empty kitchen.
It was pitch-black outside. By the light of her candle, she stalked past the herb garden and through the stable full of sleeping horses. Her candle cast flickering shadows across the stalls. There was a wooden ladder leading up to the hay loft, which was where she thought the coachman must sleep.
Clove started climbing the ladder. It wasn’t easy to do with a candle in one hand, and she had to pause after each rung to listen for any sound of movement above. She was four rungs up when something tapped her shoulder.
Clove did a full body spasm in surprise. She let go of the ladder and flailed backwards. She snatched at a rung and just managed to grab it to stop herself from crashing to the ground. She reared her head back to see who – or what – had touched her.
Standing on the ground below her was Ella.
“What are you doing?” Ella hissed. “You’re going to get caught!”
Clove was so shocked that she didn’t know what to say. “You – what – what?”
“He’s going to wake up the second you climb up there, and I’m assuming that you don’t want that to happen.”
“Are you following me?” Clove asked, outraged. “What the hell, Ella?!”
“Of course I’m following you! You insist on doing stupid things like this all of the time!”
Clove was furious, but it was very hard to yell at someone in a whisper. “Why do you even care what I do?” She dropped to the floor and pushed Ella out of the way, before walking out of the stables. “I only met you this morning!” That had been the perfect opportunity to collect Matthew’s DNA. If Ella wasn’t so interfering, Clove could have tested his DNA and solved this whole mystery by now.
“I thought we were friends,” Ella said, and Clove’s anger evaporated.
“We are friends. You just – you can’t go sneaking up on me like that. You could have ruined everything.”
“I won’t do it again,” Ella said solemnly, then grinned. “What are you trying to do, anyway? Can I help?”
Clove was about to say a firm no, when she realized that it would be a lot easier to collect the DNA if she had some help, and it wasn’t like Spart could volunteer. Besides, even if she didn’t let Ella get involved, she’d probably follow her around anyway.
Clove coughed. “It’s a bit weird… I mean … unusual. Strange. But I absolutely promise that it isn’t as creepy as it sounds.”
“That sounds ominous.”
Clove thought about her words carefully. “I need a sample of hair from the coachman Matthew Galloway.”
“Why?”
“He’s my … cousin,” Clove lied. “Estranged cousin. I want his hair for a … a … spell!”
“I knew it!” Ella exclaimed, startling Clove. “I thought that there might be something happening between the two of you. He never stopped staring at you all through dinner, except when the butler asked him about the horses. Also, you have the same nose. What kind of spell?”
Clove cast around wildly. “A reconciliation spell.”
“Clove ‘Anise’ Sutcliffe,” Ella said, impressed. “You have hidden depths.”
“You have absolutely no idea.” Clove had to try very hard to hide her smile.
“Well, I don’t believe in magic personally, but I can respect your beliefs. Be careful, though. There’s a lot of fear of witches in these parts. Some have been burnt alive!”
Clove blinked. She vaguely remembered something in one of her history lessons about witches being killed in the eighteenth century. “Thank you for the warning.” She hesitated, unsure how Ella might react, and then said bravely, “So can you help me? Could you stand on guard while I sneak up to the hay loft?”
Ella frowned, biting her lip. “Would it not be simpler to steal his hair while he is awake? I should be able to distract him for you.”
Clove didn’t want to waste any more time, but she had to admit that Ella’s idea did seem a lot … safer. “All right. But we have to do it straight away, tomorrow morning.”
Ella smiled − a genuine one without even a trace of a smirk. “Shall we shake hands on the agreement?”
Clove held out her hand. Ella’s palm was soft in hers, and when her thumb touched Clove’s palm, it made her shiver involuntarily.
“Can we please go to bed properly this time?” Ella said. “I’m exhausted, and I can’t follow you around all night.”