‘Look at me – I’m a moose,’ he said, holding it in front of his face.
‘Yes, yes, very droll,’ said Odd, standing before a wooden table and looking around agitatedly.
Jem gave Mirabelle a questioning look. She knew something was up too.
‘What is it, Odd? What’s going on?’ asked Mirabelle.
Odd nibbled on the tip of his index finger, then wagged it in the air like a professor about to embark on a lecture.
‘I wanted to show you something.’
He rummaged in his jacket pocket and took out the golden chain that Mirabelle had seen him with before. He put it on the table and Mirabelle stepped forward and looked at it more closely.
It was a golden pendant with a charm in the shape of a loop. It was simple but very pretty.
‘That’s lovely,’ said Mirabelle.
‘This pendant was your mother’s,’ said Odd, looking very serious.
Mirabelle was surprised. ‘My mother’s? Where did you get it?’
‘She gave it to me for safekeeping.’
Mirabelle picked up the pendant. Tom and Jem crowded around to have a look.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Jem.
‘It’s expensive,’ said Tom.
Jem narrowed her eyes at him.
Mirabelle held it tight for a moment, remembering the woman she’d seen in her visions with Piglet.
‘Where did she get it?’ asked Mirabelle.
Odd cleared his throat. ‘That’s the thing. It was a gift. And I think she got it from you.’
Mirabelle was gobsmacked. ‘What?’
The three of them looked bemused as they stood in front of Odd.
‘Let me attempt to explain,’ he said. He rummaged around in his pocket again and brought out the crumpled-looking paper and the arrowhead he always seemed to carry. He put them on the bench.
He carefully unwrapped the paper, revealing the yellowish-grey substance contained within.
‘This is soap. And this is an arrowhead.’
They all stepped closer for a look.
‘The thing is,’ said Odd, ‘this is ancient Babylonian soap, and this is a Saxon arrowhead.’
Tom picked up the arrowhead. ‘But this looks brand new, and the soap . . . the soap looks like it was made yesterday.’
‘Yes,’ said Odd.
Mirabelle’s mind was spinning. ‘What are you getting at, Odd?’
‘ “No one goes with Odd”, that’s what everyone says, and in recent times that has been disproven by recent dramatic events, and despite my private nature I’ve had to forgo tradition and allow people to travel with me.’
Mirabelle could feel her impatience building. She had a sense of something at play, but – like an unfinished jigsaw – it just didn’t make sense yet. She was waiting for the final piece to click into place.
‘When I travel, it’s not just a matter of where, although that geographic measurement is very often the only relevant factor, but sometimes it can be a matter of when.’
They all stared at him. Nobody moved.
Odd lifted up the arrowhead. ‘I’m three hundred years old, give or take a decade or two, but I picked this up at the Battle of Hastings in 1066.’ He held up the soap. ‘And I borrowed this from a nobleman in ancient Babylon.’
Mirabelle held her breath. They were all frozen in place.
‘Right,’ said Tom, shaking his head, ‘but you’re only three hundred years old.’
Mirabelle’s eyes narrowed. ‘You said my mother got this pendant from me.’
‘That’s what I’ve surmised,’ said Odd.
‘But I’ve never met my mother.’
Odd nodded. ‘Your mother appeared with the pendant one day. I think it was about a week or two into her stay with us. Enoch enquired politely as to where she’d got it, and she told him she’d met a young girl in the garden who’d given it to her. The young girl had black hair and wore dark velvet clothes.’
Mirabelle felt momentarily light-headed and had to lean on the table.
‘You have met your mother, Mirabelle, just not yet.’ Odd frowned. ‘Or at least you have, but you haven’t . . . it’s all very confusing.’
Odd looked at them all, and to Mirabelle it seemed as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He took in a deep breath. ‘Now, who would like to go with Odd?’
It was different this time.
When Mirabelle stepped through the portal with Odd, Jem and Tom, she felt less of a rushing sensation and more of a feeling of just passing over a threshold.
They found themselves in the secluded portion of the garden that curved round the back of the house. Odd pointed them towards a bush and signalled for them to creep low towards it. It was a sunny day, and the air felt fresher. The house looked cleaner and less tangled with thorns and ivy. Mirabelle was still trying to take it all in when Odd tapped her on the shoulder and told them all to watch.
A woman dressed in white was sitting on a bench, reading a book. Mirabelle recognized her instantly. Her heart started to pound, and she began to tremble.
‘Odd, I can’t do this. This is just . . .’
Odd put the pendant in her hand and gently closed her fingers round it.
‘It’s all right, Mirabelle. You’ve done it already.’ His brow furrowed. ‘Or at least you will. The truth is I’m getting a slight headache thinking about it.’
Mirabelle launched herself at him and squeezed him tight. ‘Thank you, Odd.’
Odd patted her on the back, his voice muffled against her neck. ‘You’re welcome.’
Mirabelle hugged Tom next, which took him by surprise. She reserved her strongest hug for Jem.
‘Thank you, Jem, for everything.’
‘I didn’t do anything,’ said Jem, pulling away from her and wiping her eyes.
Mirabelle shook her head. ‘That’s not true.’
‘Go to her,’ Jem said.
Mirabelle nodded and steeled herself. She clutched the pendant tightly in her fist, then walked out from behind the bush.
Her legs felt like lead, and her heart was pounding even harder.
She saw the woman turn. Saw her smile.
Mirabelle suddenly felt
