Tess and Thomas landed heavily on the floor of the deserted chapel, their breath painfully knocked out of their chests. Tess recovered first, sitting up to nurse a bashed elbow as she stared down at Thomas’s wide-eyed, gasping face. He was focused on the ceiling above their heads, and Tess looked up. The hole in the rotten floorboards was gaping down at them—they must have fallen through. Despite everything, Tess felt a smile bubble up from inside her. We made it. We’re back! Underneath that was the realization she’d been right. And my theory, she thought. It’s proven. The next heartbeat brought a judder of terror as she thought about what it meant, but she tried to ignore it.
Thomas groaned as he started to push himself up on one elbow. He straightened his glasses and looked around. “What happened? Did a bomb hit?”
“No. This is just how the chapel looks here,” Tess said quietly. It took a moment for him to register what she meant.
“Hang on a minute,” Thomas said, turning to her with a frown. “You don’t mean to tell me you brought me back with you? Despite what I said?”
Tess chewed her lip nervously for a second and then found the courage to answer him. “It was an experiment of mine,” she began. “I was testing a hypothesis.”
Thomas looked exasperated. “What?” he said, shaking his head. “What experiment?”
“Remember when we first met?” she prompted him. “In the chapel back on your earth. And we wondered whether we were related. Do you remember that?”
“Of course,” Thomas said, rubbing at his head. “Ow,” he added.
“Well, it’s like this. I don’t think you’re my brother. Not even my twin. I—I think you’re me.” Tess trembled as she said this, wondering how Thomas would take the idea. “Another version of me, I mean. Like an alternate self. I’m you and you’re me.”
Thomas blinked. He stared at her. His mouth fell open. “I—er,” he managed.
“Think about it,” Tess urged. “We look like one another. We live in the same place. We’re each our parents’ only child. So many things about us are the same, only we live in different realities. Or, well, we lived in different realities.” She gulped, suddenly feeling nervous. “Don’t you think it’s possible that we’re, you know, copies of one another?”
“Versions of the same person, existing in different realities,” Thomas said, straightening his glasses. “It makes sense.”
“So when I held your hand, the Star-spinner brought you back too because you and me—we’re the same,” Tess said. Moose popped his head out of Thomas’s top pocket, taking the air. His tiny dark eyes regarded his surroundings with great solemnity. “It brought all three of us back, I should say,” Tess corrected herself, reaching out to stroke him between the ears.
“And you didn’t know this would happen? Me coming with you, I mean?”
“No,” Tess admitted, dropping her hand from Moose’s head. “But I hoped it would.”
Thomas slumped, reaching up into his jumper and pulling something out, and Tess gazed at it in surprise. It was one of his mother’s notebooks. “Everything I need I’ve got right here,” he said, and Tess wasn’t sure if he meant her, or the book, or both.
Tess’s stomach clenched into a knot. “I didn’t want to leave you,” she said, feeling bruised inside with guilt. “I hope you don’t hate me.”
“I didn’t want to leave you, either, you clod,” Thomas replied, looking up at her with wet eyes and a fond grin. “I wanted you to come back here so you’d be safe. That’s all. I didn’t want you taking risks for me. But you did it anyway.” He flicked the notebook at her, making her laugh. “And I could never hate you.”
“I think we’ll be safest together from now on,” Tess said. “And I have friends here. A place to live that’s safe and lovely and not mostly burned down. Miss Ackerbee and Rebecca will look after you, too, I’m sure of it. And we can figure out what to do next once we’ve had a chance to think.” She put her hand into her pocket to feel the Star-spinner there, the weight she had grown so accustomed to. “But if it’s really what you want, I can try to bring you home again.”
Thomas’s smile faded as he looked at his mother’s handwriting on the cover of her book. “I don’t know what I want,” he answered.
Before Tess could respond, a faint whistle pierced the night. Thomas’s face blanched and he cast about for somewhere to hide. Just as he was about to throw himself beneath a half-rotted pew, Tess grabbed his sleeve.
“It’s all right!” she said. “It’s not a bomb. I know that noise. I’ve heard it often enough during fire drills. I would recognize it anywhere.” She laughed, turning to the half-open chapel door and peering into the night beyond. Distantly she thought she could make out the huge faradic lights that had illuminated Mr. Cleat’s planes still shining into the night. Then the whistle sounded again, louder this time, and Tess’s heart lifted. Miss Ackerbee, she thought. She’s come for me.
“What is it?” Thomas asked, hauling himself off the floor. He straightened his glasses again.
“Come on. You’ll see.” Tess made for the door, crashing through the undergrowth outside. She waited for him and they ran hand in hand through the long grass, helped one another over the old garden gate and crunched down the gravel path to the front of Roedeer Lodge.
It was Mr. Cleat who saw her first. He greeted Tess’s arrival by spitting on the ground, which made Wilf turn to see what he was staring at with such hatred—and she could hardly believe her eyes when Tess came through the gate with a boy in tow.
Tess slipped her hand from Thomas’s and ran to her friend. They collided in a jumble, and when they broke apart, Wilf took Violet gently down from the top of her head, holding her out for Tess to take.
“She made it,” Tess said, blinking back tears.
“Of course she did,” Wilf said. “She’s an Ackerbee’s girl.”
Tess laughed as the others crowded around and Thomas found himself swallowed by a cloud of excited, joyful explanations. Introductions were made and Thomas instantly forgot everyone’s name but nobody seemed to mind.
Then the knot of girls opened and Tess made her way toward Mr. Cleat. He struggled to push himself up on one elbow and Tess knelt to peer down at him. His eyes had lost their manic intensity and were now just watery blobs, exhausted and red.
“I fixed it,” she told him. “The mess you made. And it will never happen again.”
Mr. Cleat snorted. “I wouldn’t be so sure. And in any case, you wanted it as much as I did,” he told her in a low twisted hiss. “You couldn’t have done it otherwise. I’d be willing to bet you’ll find a way to make that thing work again. Mark my words.”
Tess recoiled. “I never wanted a single piece of anything you did,” she said.
Mr. Cleat laughed, his teeth stained with blood. “That’s a lie, girl. You can keep telling yourself that as long as you want but it will never be true.” He spat on the ground again, right by Tess’s hand, but she refused to flinch. “You’re just like your dear old dad, always looking out for number one. You’re no better than me! If you thought it would turn you a profit, you’d have that thing back up and running in no time.”
Tess braced herself and thrust her arm beneath Mr. Cleat’s, yanking him to his feet. He cried out in pain, but Tess forced him toward a nearby chair. “You think you’re so special,” he growled into her ear as she dropped him into the seat. “You’re not special. You were just lucky. All those years with the key to the universe in your hand and you never even knew it!” He paused to draw breath. “I could have chosen any one of you de Sousas, on any one of half a dozen worlds. This is all your fault!”
Tess met his eye. “I just wanted you to know,” she said, holding his gaze, “that all the theories you worked so hard on are wrong. You can tell your Society that, from me.” At these words Mr. Cleat finally slumped, making no reply.
A strong hand clamped down on his shoulder and Tess looked up to see Cornelius Henderson, the journalist, standing over Mr. Cleat. He tried to shrug off Mr. Henderson’s grip, but it held. Mr. Henderson and Tess shared a nod. Then she gave Mr. Cleat one last cold stare and turned to walk away.
As she did so, her gaze fell on Miss Ackerbee’s anxious face, her dark eyes behind her spectacles worried and filled with love. Tess began to run and her housemistress did too, tucking her fire whistle into its pocket at her waist. They met in the middle with a hug so tight that Tess didn’t care if she never breathed again. Seconds later they were joined by Rebecca, who wrapped her long arms round the two of them.
“I heard your whistle,” Tess said when they released one another. “I think I could have heard it from another world.”
“It’s designed to wake a houseful of sleeping girls, after all,” Miss Ackerbee replied with a smile. “It needs to be loud.”
Tess gazed into Miss Ackerbee’s tearstained face and Rebecca’s joyful one and felt Violet dancing on top of her head. This is home, she thought.
Then she looked up and saw Thomas standing a little apart from the group.
“Miss Ackerbee, I’d like for you to meet someone important,” Tess said, the words making her chest fill. She beckoned to Thomas, who stepped forward.
“Thomas Martin de Sousa, ma’am,” he said, holding out his hand. Miss Ackerbee shook it. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine, Master de Sousa,” Miss Ackerbee said. Then she looked back at Tess, her eyes shining. “I assume we’re going to tell everyone he’s your brother? I suspect the truth would be rather alarming to most people.” She kept her voice low; the only ones to hear her were Thomas, Tess and Rebecca.
Tess and Thomas shared a look. “How did you—” Tess started to say, but the words faded in her mouth. She just does, Tess told herself. Because she’s Miss Ackerbee.
“There’s a spare room in the attic,” Miss Ackerbee said, twinkling at him. “It hasn’t been used in years, but I’m sure we can get it shipshape.” Moose popped over his shoulder and Miss Ackerbee blinked. A second later, her warm smile was back. “And we could always use another house mascot.”
“And I’m certain there’s room for another bed in Tess’s dorm for Millie,” Rebecca added. “That is,” she said, turning to the blushing girl, “if you’d like it?”
“I’m not the sort for education, ma’am,” Millie said. “My place is in service and I don’t think—”
Miss Ackerbee turned to her. “There will always be room for bright, brave and loyal children at Ackerbee’s, Millie. You would be made most welcome.”
Millie reddened deeper. “I don’t know what to say,” she muttered, her eyes sparkling with joy.
“Just say you’ll come home,” Miss Ackerbee replied, looking around at them all as the clanging bell of the police van sounded behind her, making her wince. “And the sooner the better.”