‘You must be Elle,’ she says, and I think, of course I’m Elle. You know that. We’ve been sharing a chalet for two days. Then comes the Oops. It’s not a totally bad Oops but it’s not a good Oops either. Something’s topsy-turvy. She stands up and I notice she’s wearing the beige-cream two-tone shoes with a strap across the middle and heels shaped like an hourglass. But she’s shrunk by two inches. She’s shorter than me in her shoes.

‘I’m not Noon. I’m Eve,’ she says, ‘Noon’s twin sister. I’ve come to find her.’

Chapter 15:00: Eve

Chapter 15:00

EVE

‘Wow,’ I say. ‘Noon and Eve.’ ‘Yes, Mama went for the bissex names. Noon came first, so she got to be “midday”. I arrived so late, Mama thought I’d be an Annual. Imagine. Twins born on different days.’

She sits down on the edge of the bed. It’s my bed but I don’t mind because I love her name.

‘How fast can you run the 100 metres?’

‘Run?’ she says. ‘I can barely walk after the leap. First time I’ve done an interdecade. Sick as a dog.’

‘Was it you in bed this morning? Where’s Noon?’ I say.

‘Yes. Sorry for the French farce. Had to stand in, in case they raised the alarm. Another missing leap. I guess she’s with Kwesi. We have an agreement, Noon and I: if she stops texting . . .’

‘Why did you say ANOTHER? Do you know about Kwesi?’

‘Yes! He told us about leaps going missing. 2100 was a Black Hole.’

That’s what GMT said. So there IS something weird about 2100. It must link to SOS L.

‘His sister’s here. She’s called Ama. She’s here to find Kwesi but we don’t know where to look.’ I’ve forgotten about my hair. This is much more exciting. ‘When did you meet him?’

‘Paris, ’24.’

I’m impressed. Not many people can leap across time to another country! I wonder if he went there to watch the Paris Olympics.

‘Did you meet Harold Abrahams?’ Harold Abrahams was a British runner who won the 100-metre dash in 10.6 seconds. Maybe they called it the 100-metre dash in those days because they thought runners ran so fast they looked like a dash: —. But they didn’t run as fast as sprinters do now.

‘No, we met Kwesi in a café in Montmartre. He sold us a Chronophone. Love at first sight for Noon.’

‘He shouldn’t have done that. That’s an Anachronism!’

‘Darling, the world RUNS on Anachronisms. Would we progress otherwise? Who do you think invented the internet? Leaps with The Gift.’