Chapter 3
Hetty was only very vaguely aware of the two older ladies next to her. Much more overpowering was the press of other bodies: the stench of humanity, the stinging light in her eyes.
And, of course, the noise. Oh, what noise.
The roar of metal carriages bringing with them gusts of freezing air and waves of angry-looking people.
The sound of feet pounding on steps, of metal staircases grinding.
The bizarre intermittent noise that accompanied moving gates as the people around her seemed to flee onto the street almost as though for their own lives.
Hetty focused inwards. She knew she must breathe. She pressed forward and was grateful for the welcoming arms of her descendants.
‘What are we doing, Aggie?’ she heard the one who had introduced herself as Jemima hiss as bright sunlight hit her face.
Hetty took large, grateful gulps of fresh air as they paused next to a wall and pulled her hair over her face.
It was short, but it was at least thick enough to block out the confusing scene in front of her.
She felt Aggie’s hand pat hers as the woman continued to argue with her sister. They’d been quarrelling over the meaning of free will and it was proving a welcome distraction.
‘Don’t let’s go through this again right now, Jemima. We’ve been through it more times than I can count.’
‘Yes, but I still don’t properly understand it,’ Jemima moaned. ‘And it’s hard to know how it ends, isn’t it, when the diary gets so patchy?’
Hetty peeked out from between her strangely dark hair. Aggie was glaring at Jemima in annoyance, but the sisters were seemingly unstoppable at this point.
‘I’m just saying. The Switch, or whatever has happened, does seem to have worked rather well. You must admit it’s quite the brain-fuck, isn’t it?’
‘Jemima!’
Hetty took a deep breath, steeling herself against the world, then pushed her hair back over her head. ‘Where am I? What year is it?’
They both looked at her. ‘2023, dear. Central London. Oh gosh, you do look upset – let’s call a cab.’
Aggie raised her arm, and they watched as a black carriage – missing any kind of horse but still, somehow, moving at quite some speed – stopped by the pavement.
The older ladies bundled Hetty into the carriage before she knew what she was doing, gave directions, then Aggie pressed some kind of button which cut off the driver’s reply mid-sentence.
‘Rude,’ Jemima reprimanded, before continuing. ‘So has this really worked, then?’
Hetty swallowed her fear. ‘I’m quite sure … Fairly sure you were always destined to find me and my diary. I did all the correct calculations. I got my numbers right.’
‘But how did you know it was going to work?’ Jemima interrupted, fussing over Hetty’s dishevelled locks. It was rather nice, being fussed over.
Hetty felt her shoulders hunch. Truthfully, she was as surprised as they were that her plan had worked – if indeed this was not a dream.
‘Look, Jemima, you’re not the theoretical physicist here. That would be Henrietta. Best not ask too many questions – let’s leave it to the expert.’
‘And according to the first page of that diary, if she breaks the bracelet, they both swap back? Well, either of you could break it at any time, right? And then what?’
Aggie hushed Jemima. ‘You’re not helping, dear. Come on, let’s get Hetty home.’
She turned to Hetty, and only kindness and concern were on her face.
‘Oh, how I wish we’d found Etta sooner – perhaps this swap could have happened years ago. You poor child. Both of you must be so scared. And we would have loved to have had a niece to dote on all these years.’
‘Well, now we do, Aggie,’ said Jemima, leaning forward. ‘Don’t worry, my dear. We’re going to have such a wonderful time. Just you wait and see.’