She looked up at him and saw determination, mixed withsomething else she couldn’t recognise. He gave her hands another, final, squeeze and let her go.
‘Precisely, Henrietta. Ices and dancing.’
Etta sighed. ‘Only if you promise me one thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Introduce me to whoever does your hair.’
Max’s laugh was broad and deep. She knew she couldn’t steal his barber – my god, how did people even get their hair cut in 1817? – but it was worth it to make him laugh.
Chapter 9
2023
Hetty squinted against the light. The noise had woken her up early. London in 2023 was the noisiest place in the world, but also pleasingly warmer. The metal grille in her room was hot to the touch and even the privy had one. It was all the very height of luxury.
The aunts had been quite thoughtful in their preparation of her room, too. Light blue stripes, blue and cream curtains and furniture she recognised from her mother’s bedroom back in 1817. She had a large room with an opulent four poster bed – not a single feather sticking into her.
Hetty had spent the last couple of hours agonising over how long it might be before the bracelet was broken and she was dragged back to 1817. She had spent years working out how to achieve this. A shared item, shared ancestry, messages into the future, a little magic, and excellent timing … All for … what? A moment’s escape? A day? A week, perhaps?
Or perhaps longer, given that Etta had clearly stayed atleast long enough to jot down enough information to set her descendants up financially.
Was Etta ‘appropriate’, though? Was she the kind of woman to take a liking to life in 1817? It was impossible to know.
She examined her golden bracelet forensically for any warping, any loose links in the chain which might indicate it had been broken once and then mended. Nothing so far, but then again she was no jeweller.
And what if she broke her own bracelet? So far, 2023 felt unknown, scary, overwhelming – but did she really want to return to an age where she did not fit?
The grey clouds began to gather again. Hetty wondered if she’d ever escape the darkness that had started to envelop her life in childhood.
She could barely recall when it had first begun to creep up on her. Sometimes it felt as though she had been sad forever, but she knew that had not always been the case. No, once she had been like any other child – and then inch by inch, as she slowly left her girlhood behind, a terrible mantle of despair had settled over her.
But no, she would not let sadness ruin her trip. Not today. This day could be all she had. Time to get started on her list.
She was pleased to find a water closet in an adjacent room with a huge freestanding bath, which was a very welcome upgrade. She climbed back into bed to await … To await whom, really? Bessie was left behind, along with Nanny. And her mother.
Before she could worry too much about what Bessie and Nanny and Mama must be thinking about their new arrival,and just in time to stop her from missing them, she heard the sound of pounding feet along the corridor.
Hopefully it was Aggie and Jemima bringing tea and toast, to draw her a bath, to help her into her clothes for the day. Anything, really. She could do with a distraction – any distraction – from the gathering darkness. Perhaps they could even help her shake it off?
The anticipated knock had hardly sounded before Jemima’s face peeked around the opened door.
‘Oi-oi! Morning, Hetty!’
She opened the blinds and they both blinked at the dim light pouring through the windows. It was raining.
Jemima put voice to what they were both thinking. ‘Nice day indoors for us, then.’
Hetty examined the grain of the kitchen table. She wondered idly if it was the same one their chef had worked at two hundred years before. Probably not, she decided, but it was certainly well-worn. It looked how she felt.
‘So come on, then. You’re here – you’ve made it. So what next?’ Jemima asked.
Hetty glanced up, then gripped her mug of what had turned out to be coffee. It was a most odd vessel. It had the words ‘Sexual at 60’ on the side and chips around the rim.
‘I have a list. A statement of my heart’s desires.’ Hetty felt a thrill of excitement, of daring as she uttered the words out loud. ‘I must admit, I have focused primarily on getting here,’ she continued. ‘But I do have a few things I should like to experience during my time here.’
Aggie was leaning forward in anticipation. ‘Do go on, dear. I do love a wish list. I can’t wait to hear it.’
