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The interior layout was very different in this period. In the twenty-first century, the boathouse would be a series of rooms. Here, there was a single large space with a mezzanine balcony that wrapped around the walls. Arched brick alcoves ran under the mezzanine. Some held dark stacks of what might have been dried fish; others, wooden beer barrels and filled hessian sacks. Joan could just make out mosaic artwork on the second-floor walls: phoenixes and hounds.

At the far end of the room, several wooden tables held whole steamed fish and pots of rice and fresh bread on boards. Joan spotted Ruth and Jamie—and Frankie on Jamie’s lap—among the people quietly eating.

‘Joan!’ Ruth stood up as Joan reached her, and dragged her into a hug. ‘Oh my God! I was so worried! When that Oliver boy caught you …’ She squeezed harder. ‘I could have killed him!’

Joan hugged Ruth back. ‘Can’t believe you broke into a guard house.’

‘You’d have done the same any day.’ Ruth pushed Joan back gently. ‘You sort of did do the same in that other timeline.’ She stuttered the words other timeline as if she still hadn’t quite gotten her head around the idea.

‘I …’ Joan paused as she took in Ruth’s clothes. ‘What are you wearing?’ Jamie had on a lightweight shirt and trousers—he looked like the Chinese men outside. Ruth was in a black vinyl catsuit.

‘It’s a rescue outfit,’ Ruth said with dignity.

‘Seriously?’ Joan bit back a smile in spite of herself.

‘It was an integral part of the plan.’

‘You don’t like late Victorian clothes?’

Ruth wrinkled her nose. ‘All those blousy blouses and buttons. Anyway … I’m not the only one—notice Jamie hasn’t shaved his head to fit in here?’

‘I have a wig for outside,’ Jamie said peaceably.

Joan pulled Ruth into another hug. At the back of her mind, though, she found herself doing the maths—to get here, Jamie, Ruth, and Tom had to have taken hundreds of years of human life between them. And Joan’s feelings were a confused mess of gratitude at being rescued and horror at the cost. And love. Joan loved Ruth so much. She loved her family so much. She couldn’t reconcile it.

Did Astrid ever feel like this, she wondered. Like she was being torn apart?

‘Here.’ Jamie put some fish into a small porcelain bowl. ‘Bread or rice?’

‘Rice,’ Joan said. But she knelt by Jamie’s chair. ‘I need to tell you something.’ Jamie’s smile faded. Joan’s tone must have hinted at what she was going to say. ‘You were right,’ she whispered. ‘She’s back.’

Jamie put the bowl down as if afraid he’d drop it. ‘You saw her?’

‘I spoke to her. Her name is Eleanor.’

‘Eleanor?’ Ruth looked blank, but Jamie was suddenly gripping the table’s edge, knuckles bone-white.

‘You’re sure her name was Eleanor?’ Jamie whispered, and Joan nodded. Jamie breathed something that might have been a prayer or a curse.

‘Who’s Eleanor?’ Ruth looked between them.

‘Ruth,’ Jamie said, almost gently.

Ruth’s blankness lingered for a moment longer, and then her eyes widened slowly. ‘No.’ She turned to Joan, shock filling her face. ‘Eleanor of the Curia Monstrorum?’ she whispered. ‘The most feared and ruthless member of the Monster Court?’

‘The most feared?’ Joan said. From Ruth’s and Jamie’s reactions, she was starting to understand that Eleanor was even more dangerous and formidable than she’d realised.

It hit her that Ruth and the others had barely missed Eleanor—Eleanor had left the library just moments before they’d arrived. As if she’d known the rescue was coming. A thread of uncertainty ran through Joan at the thought. She tried to shrug it off. The important thing was, they’d all escaped.

‘She told me she’s going to create a new timeline,’ Joan said. ‘The one we saw, where monsters rule.’

Jamie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. ‘We need to get everyone together,’ he said. ‘Tom should hear this.’ As Joan went to stand, he stopped her. ‘Eat something, though,’ he said. ‘We might not get another chance for a while.’

The last thing Joan wanted was to eat. Her stomach was churning from her conversation with Nick; from the way he’d looked at her when he’d realised she’d chosen monsters over the hero. ‘Did you see Nick come in?’ she said.

‘He’s fine,’ Jamie said reassuringly. ‘The doctor’s checking him out. But he seemed fine.’

‘Jamie—’ Joan started.