by Lauren James
Clove felt hope bubble in her chest for the first time in days. It sounded like a lodestone was a natural magnet – a rock that was magnetic. She could use that.
Ella led them to a nearby pawnbroker’s. Inside, it was dark, gloomy and crammed full of odd ornaments, lamps and paintings. If Clove hadn’t been in such a rush, she would have liked to investigate some of the more intriguing objects, like an intricately carved ivory ball with another ivory ball inside, and a ship in a bottle. There was even a shrunken head hanging from the ceiling above the counter.
Clove cleared her throat to get the pawnbroker’s attention. He pushed up a pair of wire spectacles, balancing them on his forehead so he could better frown at Clove. “Yes?” he asked.
“I’d like to buy a lodestone,” Clove said.
His wiry eyebrows rose. “A lodestone? Are you going to sea?”
“Not exactly,” Clove said. “I just need one. For … reasons.”
“Reasons,” he repeated, bemused. “What could two maids want with a lodestone?” The pawnbroker’s eyebrows didn’t seem sure whether they should be raised or lowered.
“It’s for our master,” Clove said, thinking quickly.
“Well, I believe I have one or two somewhere.” He walked into the back of the shop, returning a moment later with a linen-wrapped bundle, which he unravelled to reveal a rough black rock attached to a piece of string.
When Clove pulled a kirby grip out of her hair and touched it to the rock, a small force tugged on the grip. It was magnetic. She took the string and held the rock up, and it twisted in the direction Ella was standing. Clove could relate. An arrow painted on the side showed that the rock pointed north.
“I’ll take it,” Clove said, barely able to stop herself jumping up and down in delight. She could use the lodestone to magnetize the screwdriver attachment on her Swiss army knife. It would be easy enough to do – she’d seen Tom do it. Rubbing a magnet up and down along a screwdriver would make it magnetic too.
“Well, he was interesting,” Clove said, as they walked down the street.
“I liked him,” Ella said, swinging her arms like she hadn’t a care in the world. “He reminded me of you.”
Clove huffed out a half-outraged, half-amused sigh. “If you say because of the eyebrows, I swear…”
Ella laughed. “No. Because he has the same no-nonsense I have more important things to do than waste my time here with you attitude as you.”
Clove opened her mouth, and closed it again. “Am I really like that?”
“Not any more,” Ella admitted. “You were at first. I think you’ve warmed to me.”
“I’m sorry,” Clove said, her words coming out softer than she wanted. “I was just too focused on other things to pay attention. It wasn’t you.”
“I know,” Ella said, lightly. “I’ve got your attention now, anyway.” Her gaze snagged Clove’s. Suddenly there was an intangible tug of tension between them. It made Clove’s heart thud so loud that she could hear it in her eardrums.
Ella was so caring and considerate, so boldly interesting. Yesterday, Clove had caught her reading a book in Latin, and when she’d questioned her about it, she’d just said that she was studying classical history, as if it was no big deal. Ella was mysterious and lovely and Clove just wanted to keep her for ever.
She felt the urge to press her fingers to Ella’s palm or wrist, cup her elbow, her waist or the small of her back. Clove could write a book of the ways Ella deserved to be touched. Instead Clove folded her arms across her own stomach, and just looked at Ella in the way she wished she could touch her − slow and gentle, never-ending.
After a long moment, Ella broke the eye contact. Clearing her throat, she asked, “What do you need the lodestone for, anyway?”
“Another spell,” Clove said, thinking fast.
“Oooooh.” Ella smirked. “How shall I know if this one works? Will you disappear in a puff of smoke?”
Clove huffed. “Something like that.”
“What – really?”
“Fingers crossed I’ll disappear without any smoke.”
A sad look crossed Ella’s face. “Well, I shall hope for my sake that you aren’t a very good witch.”
They were both silent the rest of the way home. Thinking about leaving Ella made Clove a little bit less eager to fix her watch. It was ridiculous. It wasn’t like they could… This was the eighteenth century. And did Ella even want to?
But if Clove left, then she would never see Ella again. She wouldn’t be able to message her for a chat at 2 a.m. to see how she was doing with her Latin, or finish teaching her how to knit properly (Ella was terrible at it).
Clove wanted to wrap Ella up like a precious treasure. She wanted to unravel all of her mysteries and decode her enigmas. She wanted so many things when she was around Ella.
CHAPTER 22
From: Ella
To: Clove
Subject: EXAM SEASON BLUES (the title of my first album)
Date: 3 January 2059 17:54:48 GMT
Clove,
Look, I know we’re technically ~fighting~ and everything, but my exams start tomorrow and I’m sad and tired and I haven’t talked to you in three days and that sucks, so I’m calling a truce. Plus, I only know half of my Latin conjugations and I am so D O N E with revision that I’d rather talk to a Clove-who’s-mad-at-me than no Clove at all.
I’m sorry. I should never have forced you to go to the NYE party with me. I know you don’t like parties. I know that. But I had all of these plans for what I was going to do and say at midnight and it was going to be so powerfully romantic. I thought I could persuade you to enjoy yourself anyway.
I’m really sorry you had a crappy night. I should have listened to you. I’m pushy and bossy and I do things without telling you about them because I think I know best. (Which is so stupid because you’re one million times cleverer than me.)
I know you hate it when I do stuff without asking you first. We had enough of that in 1745. I really should have learned my lesson by now.
Look, we’re never going to agree on everything. You’re always going to find it annoying that I take endless selfies and believe in aliens even though I’ve never met any (yet). I’m never going to understand how you can spend all your time at a computer without wanting to go outside for a bit, or why you would rather stew in your feelings instead of talking through problems with me. (Or why you bite your nails − it’s such a bad habit.)
We’re going to argue. That’s how this works. That’s what makes it real. If it was easy, it wouldn’t be us, would it?
Ella xx
File note: Email from ELENORE WALKER to CLOVE SUTCLIFFE, dated 3 January 2059
Carlisle, England, 1745
After they had finished their work for the day, Clove and Ella went up to their room. Clove wanted to start trying to fix the watch immediately, and Ella said she had some reading to do.
Clove sat on her bed with her back to Ella, who sat by the window to pore over something ancient and probably Latin. When Clove had asked why she was learning a dead language, Ella had just laughed, and said that it being dead was a matter of perspective. Ella didn’t make sense, sometimes.
With Ella intent on her book, Clove got down to work by the light of a flickering candle. She rubbed the lodestone up and down the length of the screwdriver to magnetize the metal. Then she tested it against the watch’s screws, using the screwdriver to turn them in their sockets. Slowly, they slid free. It had worked! Clove carefully took out the screws. Holding her breath, she pulled away the back cover of the watch.
The insides looked fine. There didn’t seem to be any detached elements, or melted wires on the circuit boards. So why wasn’t it working? Clove didn’t know what to do. She had hoped there would be an obvious problem − something she would be able to fix easily.
Tears rose in her eyes. She was never going to get home. Sighing, she forced herself to be calm.
She was just tired. Maybe she’d be able to see the problem if she looked again in the morning.
As Clove was slotting the cover back into place, she noticed that the reverse sides of the solar panels were covered in soot. She remembered that Matthew had actually suggested that soot might be the problem. If the panels were dirty, then maybe they couldn’t charge. Holding the watch up to the candle so that she could see better, Clove scraped at the soot with her nail. She didn’t want to risk using a knife in case she damaged the glass. Eventually some of the black sediment rubbed off.
After scratching away as much of the dirt as she could, she replaced the cover. Hopefully when she next left the watch in the sun, it might actually charge.
“What are you doing?” Ella asked, looking over at her. She’d stopped reading and was brushing her hair.
Clove dropped the watch into her lap. “Nothing.”
“Well, if you’re doing nothing, would you brush my hair for me, please? There’s a knot in the back that I can’t get to.”
“Of course,” Clove said and surreptitiously slid the watch onto the windowsill to charge in the sun when it rose the next day. Maybe tomorrow she would finally be able to go home.
The next day, Katherine smiled – actually smiled – at Clove when she was helping her to dress. She was blooming, all because of her new relationship with Matthew.
Clove wandered downstairs in a bit of daze. When she’d come to 1745, she had been hoping to find out the truth about how identical versions of her parents seemed to reappear at key points in history. She’d never really considered the idea that they’d been in love in each time period, or that she would be able to watch them fall for each other. It was strange, and slightly uncomfortable.
She needed to speak to Matthew again. She needed to make sure that he understood what part he and Katherine would play in saving the city. Clove felt that she’d made some headway the other day, and Matthew could hardly deny a connection with Katherine now. Surely that would help him to believe her?
She found him in the stables, buckling a bridle onto one of its antsy residents. He froze when he saw Clove. Clearly he was still unsure about her. Clove didn’t blame him. If he really knew nothing about his reincarnation, then what Clove had told him would be almost impossible to believe.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Katherine recently,” she said, after checking to make sure that they were alone. She didn’t bother with any small talk. There didn’t seem to be any point. She’d already decided that focusing on his connection to Katherine was the best way to get him to at least partly believe what she was telling him about the future.
He swallowed. “I have.”
“And? Has it made you change your mind about me?”
Matthew scratched at the underside of his jaw, thinking. “I believe that you speak the truth when you say that I will one day fall in love with Katherine Finchley, which means that you must have some insight of the future, either as a clairvoyant or … or by some other magic. I cannot find a way to believe anything else that you say, however. How could you, a girl of my own age, be my daughter? How could a person traverse time from the future? It’s impossible.”
Clove decided not to argue. As least he had stopped thinking that she was possessed or crazy. The important thing now was to talk to him about the siege.
“I came to talk to you about the Uprising,” she said.
Matthew’s eyebrows had risen. “Why do you want to talk about the Rebels?”
Clove took a massive risk. “During the Uprising, you and Katherine are going to help to defend the city.”
Matthew’s face softened when she said Katherine’s name, and then she saw her words sink in. “We defend the city? Against the Scottish?”
“Yes,” Clove replied firmly, realizing once and for all that Matthew had no idea of the part he and Katherine would play in the future of Carlisle. He knew nothing about his other lives. Impossible, perhaps, but somehow true.
“But … I want Scottish independence,” he said, confused. “I’m not going to help the English. I want a Scottish king.”
“No,” Clove said. “The English win. The English need to win. It wouldn’t be good for Scotland to win right now.”
“Scotland has to remain under English control,” Matthew said, contemplating this. “You believe this is important enough that I should risk my life to ensure it occurs?”
“Not your life,” Clove reassured him. “You don’t die. Katherine dies defending the city during the siege, but you live longer.” Clove had spoken without thinking, and she could tell from the look on Matthew’s face that it had been a mistake.
“What?” he said, hoarsely. “Katherine dies? No. No!”
“She dies for a good cause,” Clove said. It was a weak excuse and it clearly didn’t make Matthew feel any better.
“She can’t die!” he cried. “Not when … not when…” He trailed off.
He had only known Katherine for a few days, and yet Matthew was already in love with her. Clove realized she had approached this conversation all wrong.
“But Katherine dies defending Carlisle,” she said, trying to think of a way to make it better. Surely if she explained it properly, he would see that it had to happen? That it was a sacrifice for the future of humanity. “Katherine makes sure that the city doesn’t surrender to the Rebels. That’s very important. She’s a hero!”
“But she’s still going to die. Can’t you use your powers to save her? She has to survive!”
Clove paused. He looked so determined. She didn’t know how to tell him that whatever he did, Katherine would die over and over and over throughout history, and so would he. They met, saved the world and died young. Always. He couldn’t change what happened. Even if he wanted to, he shouldn’t. “No, Matthew. That’s not how it works.”
“I can’t let her die. Not when she doesn’t have to. What do I do? Tell me what to do!”
“Matthew – I can’t. You absolutely can’t change what happened.” Clove felt panicked. Had she made a huge mistake telling Matthew about the future? “Katherine dies to protect future generations. If she doesn’t, then the world I live in would be completely different. I might not even be alive.”
Matthew’s eyes filled with agony. He turned away from her. Eventually, he nodded. The muscles in his shoulders were tight. “I understand,” he said, but Clove could tell that he was lying. He led the horse outside and tied it to a hook on the wall.
Clove followed him, blinking in the bright sunlight. Matthew kept his face ducked away from her, not letting her see his expression. There was a dampness on his cheeks like he’d been crying.
Clove intensely regretted telling Matthew about Katherine’s death. He was going to interfere, and who knew what would happen then?
“Matthew, promise me that you won’t stop Katherine from helping with the siege. I really mean it. If she doesn’t help, it could change everything. It’s very, very important that England defeats the Rebels.”
Anything could happen if Matthew changed the course of the siege. It could impact the entire future for the next three hundred years. The consequences of a small adjustment would ripple through time like a tidal wave.
“I promise,” he replied firmly. “I won’t stop her. She can help.”
“Good,” Clove said. She still didn’t quite believe him. She wished that Spart was here to tell her what to do.
Clove paused. Should she tell Matthew any more about the future? She thought for a few moments and then decided that she’d already told him so much, telling him a bit more couldn’t really make a difference.
Spart had sent her lots of documents about the war, and she tried desperately to remember what they had said. “It’s really important that Carlisle hold off the Rebels for as long as possible. After that, the Rebels will have to fight off the English Army, and they will eventually be defeated at the Battle of … Culloden – but that’s still months away. For now, you just need to make sure that
Carlisle defends itself for as long as possible.”
“When is Carlisle attacked?”
“In a few months. That’s the beginning of the Rebels’ downfall.”
“There is still a long way to go until victory,” Matthew pointed out.
“Yes, but the attack is the first step,” Clove replied. “After that everything that happens is important.”
“What do we do?”
“Nothing, yet. You only need to act when the siege happens. That’s when you can change things.”
“So we wait?” Matthew asked, sounding a little disappointed. Clove had the impression that he wanted to start fighting immediately, to protect the woman he loved.
“Yes.” She was about to warn him again that he couldn’t change what happened, but then she caught sight of someone standing in the doorway of the stable. It was Katherine.
Oh, oh no. What had she overheard? Katherine was looking at her properly for the first time, and Clove felt her skin heating up. Why was Katherine staring at her? Did she know who she really was? Did she know Clove was her daughter from the future?
“Sorry,” Katherine said, her voice trembling. “Did I interrupt?”
Clove stared at her for a second or two. There was nothing on Katherine’s face to indicate that she recognized Clove or suspected what they had been talking about. They might have got away with it. But Clove was a terrible liar. She would leave Matthew to deal with the explanations. Without a word, Clove dipped into a curtsey to Katherine, and went quickly back to the house.
She heard Matthew say, “No. It’s quite all right. That was my cousin,” in a carefully light-hearted voice. Clove was relieved. His voice had sounded normal. No one would suspect that only minutes before, he had heard news that had left him heartbroken.
Clove returned to her chores consumed with worry. Everything she did here had the potential to change the future. What if her conversations with Matthew were never meant to happen at all? Had she made a difference to the past? Had she altered the future?