They went downstairs. The layout of the house was different. Maidservants were sweeping the stone floor of the hall, one very young, with flaxen hair flat against her cheeks and an inquisitive look in her eyes; another much older, dark-haired, who was perhaps her mother, more watchful and slow. The same painting of William Swinton hung above the fireplace, but with no plaque. A black-andwhite spaniel scampered through the hall, stopping right by them as if it could smell them, whimpered and moved on. Tapestries shifted gently, stirred by a breeze from the open door.

Jack and Tom stepped outside into the fresh sunlight.

Kit was making a stockpile of wood in a small shed that leant against the house. There was a smell of sewage, which made Tom’s nose wrinkle. Beyond was a rumble of jerrybuilt buildings from which issued smoke and the pleasanter scents of cooking. Kit whistled as he worked and looked healthy and smiling. The spaniel came sniffing at his heels, and the boy stopped to ruffle its head. ‘Here, lass.’ The dog licked Kit’s hand, evidently enjoying his company.

Then Tom experienced another deep rush of confusion, as coming round the corner of the house, dressed almost identically to the man who was standing next to Tom, was Jack.

Kit stiffened, slowed and then resumed his work.

‘Kit,’ said Jack’s double.

‘Master?’ Kit stopped. He was sweating with the heat and he balanced his bundle of wood down on top of the pile. The spaniel, snuffling about, was kicked away by Jack.

‘My preparations continue.’

‘Master.’

‘I have need of thee, boy.’

Kit was trembling and he swallowed, as if he were trying not to say something.

‘Tha’rt afeared, boy.’ Jack’s double laughed, and Tom was horrified to see that Jack was laughing too. ‘Tell thy master what affrights thee.’

Kit looked up and began piling the wood once more. ‘They do, Master. Them in the woods. The … Good Folk.’ He made a sign, as if averting their gaze from him.

‘These be not the tales of children. This be not what thy mother tells thee as thou huddlst by her in the dark. This be the truth, and we shall be the first to find it. We begin on the morrow.’

‘Nay,’ said Kit quietly.

‘I know what thou canst do, Kit. And I have need of thee.’

Jack’s double grasped Kit by the shoulder and Tom saw terror in Kit’s eyes.

Then there was another lurch, which Tom felt once more in his very guts, and they were back in Jack’s rooms in the present day, and in Jack’s bearing was triumph. The light in the room had not changed since they had left it; if they had even left it. Tom glanced quickly at the clock on the mantelpiece. Its hands had not moved since they’d gone.