Page 29

She’d expected to see the south bank view they’d just left behind: the Globe Theatre, the Shard, the new construction around it. But all that was gone. And Joan understood now why the room was so sparsely decorated: the view was all the decoration needed.

The windows showed Londinium.

Joan stumbled to the nearest window—a vertical strip of glass that started at her knees. Southwark was unrecognisable. In her time, the river was tamed, the bank a straight walking path. But here, water spread into the land, making lacework inlets. In the distance, beyond the marshy ground, a columned temple stood among a scattering of terracotta-roofed houses.

And the Thames itself was huge—twice its normal width. To the left, a vast wooden bridge straddled the wide spread of the river. Figures moved across it: people and animal-pulled carts.

Nick joined Joan at the window. ‘Is that what I think it is?’

‘Londinium.’ Joan could hear the awe in her own voice. ‘London in the Roman Empire. That’s London’s first bridge.’

She’d done a walking tour once: The remnants of the Romans. There hadn’t been much left—a bit of wall near the Tower, a section of an amphitheatre in the Guildhall Art Gallery. It was hard to believe there’d once been all this.

Joan pressed closer to the glass. The river was so wide that there seemed to be no foreshore below—only brown water. A boat drifted past, rowed by a boy in an unbelted tunic. It was no bigger than Joan’s bathtub at home and seemed to be made of something softly pliable. Maybe leather.

‘If only Mr Larch could see this,’ she whispered.

‘Who?’ Nick said, and Joan remembered with a jolt that Mr Larch didn’t teach at their school anymore.

‘Just … someone I know. He’d love this.’ Mr Larch had spoken about the first bridge as a marvel. One of the great feats of ancient engineering, he’d said.

Heels clicked behind them. A staff member came over, a girl of about nineteen, wearing a pale pink suit and hot pink pumps. Her chestnut hair was wound into an elegant French bun that made her seem older than she was. Edith Nowak, her name tag read.

‘I never get tired of this view.’ Edith had a pleasant voice, unexpectedly deep. ‘It’s good to see people enjoying it.’

Was no one else looking? Joan turned. They really weren’t. The other patrons were in conversation, eating and drinking. Apparently, this miraculous view was just a backdrop—no more interesting than their meal.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Nick said with so much feeling that Edith blinked. Joan saw the moment she registered Nick as attractive. Her eyes widened, mouth parting. Joan knew that expression—she’d caught it on herself in window reflections. She’d seen it on half the people at school.

‘You’ve never seen a Portelli window before?’ Edith asked.

Nick shook his head, and Joan braced herself. Would that be considered strange in a monster place? But Edith seemed delighted. ‘Well, this is a wonderful example of their work. As you know, the Portelli family power reveals other times. But they’re also great glassworkers. Ordinary glass like that’—she pointed up to the hanging wyvern, diamond-bright above them—‘and glass imbued with their power. Like that.’ She indicated the windows showing the ancient Thames.

Joan thought of the office lobby they’d seen from the outside. ‘So … when we saw all those office workers through the outside windows …’

‘You were seeing a different time,’ Edith said, nodding. ‘Clever way to conceal a place, no?’

‘Clever,’ Nick agreed. He added wistfully, ‘Can we go out there? I mean—’ He breathed a laugh as he peered down. ‘We might have to swim out into it. I don’t know.’

Edith smiled toothily, seeming even more charmed. ‘It’s only visual. You can’t step through to the other side. And the people out there can’t see us.’ She gazed out onto what would one day be Southwark. ‘I wish I could see it in reality as well.’ As if anticipating their question, she said, ‘I’m a Nowak.’ She held up her wrist, showing a bracelet with a clear hourglass charm containing grains of black sand. ‘I’ll never get closer to Londinium than this.’

Joan wasn’t sure what that meant. Didn’t the Nowaks travel in time like other monsters?

Before she could respond, though, Edith seemed to shake off her reverie. Her smile turned polite. ‘I understand you’re Dorothy Hunt’s granddaughter,’ she said to Joan. ‘We’ve not had the pleasure of your company before.’

All Joan’s wonder and curiosity at seeing Londinium gave way to profound relief. ‘You know my gran?’

‘It has been some time since she was in residence,’ Edith said. ‘But we’ve sent a message to her. We’ll fetch you when she arrives.’

Joan closed her eyes for a moment, letting the words sink in. Gran was coming. She and Nick had survived the attack, they’d made it to London, and soon Gran would be here to help.

Edith offered Joan a small silver key. ‘The Hunts have a suite upstairs: second door on the left. And if you’re hungry, there’s a market on the floor above that. Food, currency, anything else you might need to fit into this time.’

‘Thank you.’ They weren’t out of danger—there were still monsters after them. But this was the safest Joan had felt since a monster had appeared at the bakery.

Edith gave the view one last look. ‘Enjoy your time at the Wyvern Inn,’ she said pleasantly. And then her heels were clicking against the floorboards again as she headed away.

Nick breathed out, deep and exhausted. Joan felt it too. ‘Why don’t we clean up and eat while we wait for her,’ she suggested. They’d barely slept, and they were still in yesterday’s clothes.