that might be useful to her in her new life. From her wardrobe she selected a lightweight black wool jumper and a pair of smart lace-up ankle boots she had worn only once; the rest she could live without. Closing the door to the wardrobe, her eye fell on the jar of pennies and obsolete coins-shillings and ha’pennies and the like-she kept on the bureau. She carried the jar to the kitchen and upended it into a plastic carrier bag, then went to check out the bathroom.
One look at the gleaming white tile, and she knew she had to have a shower. She turned on the taps, stripped quickly, and stepped into the free-flowing hot water and lathered up. Oh, such luxury! It had been so long since she had had a proper shower, she had all but forgotten just how truly delicious it could be. She washed her hair and then just stood and let the water run over her until the room filled with steam. With a sigh of regret, she turned off the water and dried herself on a fluffy towel. She brushed her teeth, keeping the toothpaste and brush to take with her. She used the toilet, flushed, and turned out the light. Okay, it wasn’t all bad, she thought as she padded back into her bedroom to dress; there was a lot to be said for the convenience of modern plumbing.
Then, having wallowed enough, she decided it was time to be about her business. She bundled the items she was taking with her into the carrier bag of coins and had a last look around. As she locked the door, she drew some comfort from the idea that she did not really have to abandon anything just now; she could keep the flat just the way it was. Now that she knew how to reach London again and arrive within a day or so of her initial leaving, her home in this particular world would always be there waiting for her. She could come back anytime she chose. What is more, it would be a bolt-hole for her, should she ever need a safe house.
Pleased with herself for having generated this consoling thought, she proceeded in a much better mood and treated herself to a wild shopping spree-which, to her practical mind, meant a visit to the big Marks amp; Spencer flagship store on Oxford Street. She took her time browsing the ladies’ section and eventually settled on a long flowered skirt, three good-quality cotton T-shirts, two of them longsleeved, a thin leather belt, an assortment of utilitarian foundation garments, a smart white overblouse, a short wool jacket in navy blue, two pair of thick tights, and a tri-pack of cotton socks. She dressed in the changing room and then continued to Selfridges a few doors down, where she indulged in the splurge purchase of a fine cashmere pashmina in radiant sky blue.
At a smart boutique called Sweaty Betty she found a lightweight, multi-pocketed suede bag with strap handles that could be worn as a day sack, into which she bundled her purchases and the plastic carrier bag. Satisfied with her new gear, she popped into the nearest Pret A Manger and bought a chicken-Caesar-and-bacon baguette, a three-bean and couscous salad pot, grapes, a packet of sweet potato crisps, and a bottle of Pure Pret Pomegranate drink. As the day was still fair, she crossed the street to Hanover Square Park and found a shady bench on which to enjoy a leisurely lunch and watch the world go by while waiting for the Stane Way ley to become active.
This simple lunch was followed by a long, lingering coffee at Cafe Nero with a slice of millionaire shortbread for desert. She dawdled over the coffee-partly to kill time, but also out of professional interest- observing the operation of the coffee shop closely, critiquing the service and savouring the hot, black brew-analysing the entire experience in a way that never would have occurred to her before. On the street once more, she passed a Waterstones Bookshop and, on a whim, worked her way up to the fourth floor, where in a little-visited side room she pulled science books off the shelf, spread them on the floor, and chose three for Brother Lazarus: The New Physics: A Guide to Life, the Universe, and Everything; Quantum Physics for Dummies; and Advanced Cosmology- Comprehending the Cosmos.
She resumed her promenade along Oxford Street, window-shopping. When at last the sun began to lower in the west, Wilhelmina bade farewell to the city and turned her steps towards Stane Way in preparation for phase two of her plan: a rendezvous with Dr. Thomas Young. While she did not entertain any notions that it would be easy to locate a man who had, in the present world, been deceased for almost two hundred years, she could not have predicted just how crooked that particular path would prove.
CHAPTER 16
The blue light on the new-model ley lamp indicated the presence of an active line. It was time to go. Wilhelmina tightened the laces on her new boots and, tucking the lamp into a pocket of her new blue jacket, started down the narrow service alley. The wind kicked up suddenly, and a few errant raindrops spattered around her. The world grew dim-as if she had passed into deep shadow. A few steps more and she emerged from the darkness and into a passage in every way similar to the old Stane Way… yet different. This alleyway was bounded by wooden walls, not brick, and the path was paved not with tarmac but with uneven cobbles.
She moved quickly towards the end she could see ahead and emerged into the light of a sun-bright seaside village. A tall-masted schooner stood docked at the wharf a short distance away, and in the harbour another lay at anchor. A few smaller fishing boats plied the waters farther out, rocking in the gentle swell, and sea gulls filled the soft, salt-scented air with their high-pitched chatter.
Her immediate thought was that the jump had gone wrong. She had expected to connect with the Bohemian Ley, and this place was definitely not Bohemia. Pulling the ley lamp from her pocket, she detected only the faintest glint of light, a sign that the ley activity had indeed waned. The sun was high overhead, so there would be a few hours to kill before she could resume her journey; in the meantime she might at least find out when and where she had arrived, and make a note of it for future reference. Stepping out onto the street, she moved along the waterfront trying to appear inconspicuous in her new clothes, and alert to any clues that might help determine the time and place.
Along the wharf, the warehouses and stores were open and either receiving or dispatching cargo in the form of barrels, crates, and bundles bound in burlap and hemp-all of it toted one way or another by stevedores in short trousers and long, floppy shirts. Everyone she saw wore a hat. The men wore either shapeless knit caps, straw hats, or felt constructions with round crowns and wide brims. The few women she saw wore bonnets; they also had shawls or scarves tied around either their shoulders or hips, and all wore long skirts and blouses with scooped necklines and short sleeves. Wilhelmina pulled her blue pashmina from her bag. If only M amp;S carried bonnets in its new line, I’d be set, she mused and, draping the scarf over her head and shoulders, continued with her amble along the harbour and soon found herself enjoying the fresh air and the relaxed and peaceful atmosphere of the little fishing village-a welcome relief after modern London.
As she strolled along she became aware of the feeling that she knew this place. Although she was certain she had never seen or set foot in the town before, there was something vaguely familiar about it-something that eluded her ability to pin down, yet persisted in her awareness. What was it?
“Come from the Indies?”
The voice startled her out of her reverie. She spun around to see a dirty-faced girl of perhaps ten or so watching her with a keen and vaguely disapproving expression.
“Excuse me?”
“Yer from the Indies, ent ya?”
“You speak English,” said Wilhelmina.
“Aye,” agreed the girl. “Here’bouts, we does. And are ye speakin’ the King’s English in the Indies?”
“How do you know I’m from the Indies?” asked Wilhelmina.
“It’s yer rags.” The girl raised a filthy hand and extended a slender finger at Wilhelmina’s shawl and blouse. Her own clothes were bedraggled and dirty; her long brown hair was lank and clearly had not been brushed for some time. “We don’t wear aught like here’bouts.”
“No,” agreed Wilhelmina, “I suppose not.” Directing her attention to the wharf and docklands, she made a sweep of her hand and asked, “Where am I? What is this place?”
“This be Sefton,” the youngster replied.
That’s it! she thought. Sefton! That was the name of the place Kit had told her about-the place he had been taking her to see when they had become separated on that first climactic leap. She gazed up and down the seafront, taking in the harbour and village with new eyes. So this was the little seaside town Kit had wanted to show her. It was much as he had described it-at least the little she could recall of his description. On that fateful
