don’t understand. Are you sure you definitely let him finish what he was saying? Remember how in Ten Things I Hate About You —”
“I did let him finish what he was saying. Unfortunately, I’d add.” I looked at the time. “Oh, shit. I told Mr. George I’d be back in a minute.”I glanced at myself in the mirror above the old-fashioned washbasin. “Oh, shit !” I said again. There were two circular red patches on my cheeks. “I think I have some kind of allergic reaction.”
“Only caused by rage,” was Lesley’s diagnosis when I told her what I saw. “How about your eyes? Are they flashing dangerously?”
I stared at my reflection. “Yes, sort of. I look a bit like Helena BonhamCarter as Bellatrix Lestrange in Harry Potter. Rather threatening.”
“That sounds okay. Listen, you go out now and flash them at everyone for all you’re worth, right?”
I nodded obediently and promised to do just that.
After that phone call, I felt a bit better, even if cold water couldn’t wash away my fury or the two red spots on my cheeks.
If Mr. George had been wondering where I’d been forso long, he didn’t show it.
“Everything all right?” he asked in kindly tones. He’d been waiting for me outside the Old Refectory.
“Everything’s fine!” I glanced through the open doorway, but there was no sign of Giordano and Charlotte after all, even though I was far too late for my lesson by now. “I just had to … er, put some new rouge on.”
Mr. George smiled. Apart from the laughter linesaround his eyes and at the corners of his mouth, nothing in his round, friendly face showed that he was well over seventy. The light was reflected on his bald patch, so that his whole head reminded me of a bowl polished until it shone.
I couldn’t help it, I had to smile back. The sight of Mr. George always had a soothing effect on me. “Honestly. You rub it into your face there,” I said, pointingto my two furious red spots.
Mr. George gave me his arm. “Come along, my brave girl,” he said. “I’ve let them know that we’re going downstairs for you to elapse.”
I looked at him in surprise. “But what about Giordano and colonial policy in the eighteenth century?”
Mr. George smiled slightly. “Let’s put it this way: I used the short wait while you were in the bathroom to tell Giordano we wereafraid you wouldn’t have time for his lessons today.”
Dear, good Mr. George! He was the only one of the Guardians who seemed to bother about me as a real person at all. Although maybe a little minuet dancing might have calmed me down a bit. Like the way some people work off their aggression on a punching bag. Or by going to the gym. On the other hand, I could really do without Charlotte’s supercilioussmile right now.
“The chronograph is waiting,” he added.
I was happy to take Mr. George’s arm. For once, I was even looking forward to elapsing—my daily few hours of controlled travel back to the past—and not just to get away from the horrible present day that meant Gideon. Because today’s journey back in time was the key point to the master plan that Lesley had thought up with me. If it workedas we hoped.
On the way down to the depths of the huge, vaulted cellars, Mr. George and I went right through the Guardians’ headquarters. It was hard to get a clear idea of the place, which occupied several buildings. There was so much to see, even in the winding corridors, that you might easily think you were in a museum. Countless framed paintings, ancient maps, handmade tapestries, and wholecollections of swords hung on the walls. China that looked valuable, leather-bound books, and old musical instruments were on display in glass-fronted cupboards, and there were any number of chests and carved wooden boxes. In other circumstances, I’d have loved to find out what was inside them.
“I don’t know much about cosmetics, but if you want to let off steam to someone about Gideon—well,I’m a good
“I did let him finish what he was saying. Unfortunately, I’d add.” I looked at the time. “Oh, shit. I told Mr. George I’d be back in a minute.”I glanced at myself in the mirror above the old-fashioned washbasin. “Oh, shit !” I said again. There were two circular red patches on my cheeks. “I think I have some kind of allergic reaction.”
“Only caused by rage,” was Lesley’s diagnosis when I told her what I saw. “How about your eyes? Are they flashing dangerously?”
I stared at my reflection. “Yes, sort of. I look a bit like Helena BonhamCarter as Bellatrix Lestrange in Harry Potter. Rather threatening.”
“That sounds okay. Listen, you go out now and flash them at everyone for all you’re worth, right?”
I nodded obediently and promised to do just that.
After that phone call, I felt a bit better, even if cold water couldn’t wash away my fury or the two red spots on my cheeks.
If Mr. George had been wondering where I’d been forso long, he didn’t show it.
“Everything all right?” he asked in kindly tones. He’d been waiting for me outside the Old Refectory.
“Everything’s fine!” I glanced through the open doorway, but there was no sign of Giordano and Charlotte after all, even though I was far too late for my lesson by now. “I just had to … er, put some new rouge on.”
Mr. George smiled. Apart from the laughter linesaround his eyes and at the corners of his mouth, nothing in his round, friendly face showed that he was well over seventy. The light was reflected on his bald patch, so that his whole head reminded me of a bowl polished until it shone.
I couldn’t help it, I had to smile back. The sight of Mr. George always had a soothing effect on me. “Honestly. You rub it into your face there,” I said, pointingto my two furious red spots.
Mr. George gave me his arm. “Come along, my brave girl,” he said. “I’ve let them know that we’re going downstairs for you to elapse.”
I looked at him in surprise. “But what about Giordano and colonial policy in the eighteenth century?”
Mr. George smiled slightly. “Let’s put it this way: I used the short wait while you were in the bathroom to tell Giordano we wereafraid you wouldn’t have time for his lessons today.”
Dear, good Mr. George! He was the only one of the Guardians who seemed to bother about me as a real person at all. Although maybe a little minuet dancing might have calmed me down a bit. Like the way some people work off their aggression on a punching bag. Or by going to the gym. On the other hand, I could really do without Charlotte’s supercilioussmile right now.
“The chronograph is waiting,” he added.
I was happy to take Mr. George’s arm. For once, I was even looking forward to elapsing—my daily few hours of controlled travel back to the past—and not just to get away from the horrible present day that meant Gideon. Because today’s journey back in time was the key point to the master plan that Lesley had thought up with me. If it workedas we hoped.
On the way down to the depths of the huge, vaulted cellars, Mr. George and I went right through the Guardians’ headquarters. It was hard to get a clear idea of the place, which occupied several buildings. There was so much to see, even in the winding corridors, that you might easily think you were in a museum. Countless framed paintings, ancient maps, handmade tapestries, and wholecollections of swords hung on the walls. China that looked valuable, leather-bound books, and old musical instruments were on display in glass-fronted cupboards, and there were any number of chests and carved wooden boxes. In other circumstances, I’d have loved to find out what was inside them.
“I don’t know much about cosmetics, but if you want to let off steam to someone about Gideon—well,I’m a good
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