{I made the photo edit}
{ Edited - 20th Oct, 2020 }
{ Edited - 24th April, 2024 }
She lifted a trembling hand to her forehead and stumbled backwards, mimicking a look of terror. How am I related to this woman?.... I will never know.
"It is truly alarming to contemplate a catastrophe, cataclysm, or disaster! The mere thought of it sends shivers down my spine. However, we can find solace in the fact that the mechanism responsible for resetting loops is quite straightforward: one of us must regularly pass through the entryway. This continuous activity ensures its flexibility and adaptability. The ingress point can be likened to a cavity in freshly kneaded dough; without occasionally prodding it, the opening might seal shut on its own. Without a means of entry or exit—a valve through which the built-up pressures in a closed temporal system can be released—"
With a quick flick of her hands, she created a small poof! motion, as if imitating the burst of a firecracker. "Well, the whole thing becomes unstable."
She leaned down to look at the album once more, flipping through the pages. "I might have a photograph of it, and indeed, I do. This is an entrance point like no other!" She pulled another picture from its sleeve. "Miss Finch and one of her charges stand in the grand entrance to Miss Finch's loop, located in a seldom-visited section of the London Underground. As the tunnel resets, it becomes illuminated with a dazzling light. I have often considered our own entrance to be quite humble in comparison." she said with a hint of envy.
"Just to make sure I understand," Jake said. "If today is September third, 1940, then tomorrow is . . . also September third?"
"A portion of the loop's twenty-four hours falls on September second, however, indeed, it is the third."
"So tomorrow never comes?"
"In a manner of speaking."
I was taken aback when I heard a distant clap that resembled thunder outside. The window, which was gradually growing darker, started to rattle in its frame. Miss Peregrine glanced up and retrieved her watch once more. I found myself puzzled all of a sudden. Why was there thunder outside? I wasn't upset with anyone or anything at all.
"I regret to inform you that I am currently occupied with attending to Miss Bloom, and therefore, I am unable to continue our conversation at this time. However, I kindly invite you to join us for supper, Mr. Portman."
Jake assured her that he would. I wriggled out from behind the desk, and he did the same, and we proceeded to trail behind Miss Peregrine towards the door. "Was my grandfather really running from the Nazis when he came here?" Jake asked.
"He was," she said. "Throughout the dreadful years leading up to the war, a considerable number of children sought our assistance. The prevailing conditions were marked by significant upheaval and turmoil." She looked even more pained as if the memory was still fresh. "I found Abraham at a camp for displaced persons on the mainland. He was a poor, tortured boy, but so strong. I knew at once that he belonged with us."
"Was he—my grandfather—was he like . . ."
"Like us?"
Jake had nodded. Miss Peregrine smiled strangely. "He was like you, Jake." Out of nowhere, a sharp pang shot through my shoulder, causing me to momentarily lose my balance. Despite the intense pain, I managed to suppress the urge to cry out. Thankfully, Miss Peregrine's lightning-fast reflexes kicked in, and she swiftly grabbed hold of me around the waist, effortlessly lifting me back onto my feet.
"It is alright, I am by your side, you will be alright." She said softly.
"I know I'm okay," I muttered.
"Right. Mr Portman, I strongly urge you to freshen up. In the meantime, I will promptly bring Olive to assist you with preparing a bath. Meanwhile, I will personally guide Miss Wilde to a more secluded area, where I will address her needs accordingly."
* * *
I'm currently relaxing in Miss Peregrine's bathtub, enjoying the warm water and feeling completely numb. She injected a numbing serum into my wound a few minutes ago, which was a huge relief. Interestingly, just across from me is Miss Peregrine's bedroom. After tending to Emma's hand wound, the girl I have stabbed, Miss Peregrine proceeded to give her a lecture. Many moments later, a knock came from the door.
"Ms Wilde, I will be in the kitchen preparing dinner. Therefore, I will place your extra clothes outside the door," she said.
"Okay," I replied.
I started to clean myself thoroughly, causing the water to eventually turn a light pink colour. After finishing up, I dried myself off with a towel, got out of the bath, and opened the door to find the clothes neatly folded on the floor, just like Miss Peregrine had mentioned.
I put on the fresh undergarments Miss Peregrine gave me, then slid into the dress. Bending down, I picked up my bloodied clothes and stuffed them into a plastic bag. Miss Peregrine instructed me to leave them in her room for washing later, so I'm currently stuck in what I have on.
I headed downstairs for what would probably be the most unusual meal of my life, dining with a mother unaware of her daughter's presence. The dinner was a whirlwind of new names and faces. When Jake and I ran into each other, I noticed he was dressed in baggy tweed pants, a button-up shirt, and suspenders.
Together, we stepped into the dining room, where the children had been clamouring loudly for a spot at the lengthy table. Their chatter ceased instantly as they turned their attention towards us. It appeared that dinner guests were a rare occurrence for them. Miss Peregrine, who was already seated at the head of the table, took advantage of the newfound silence to stand up and graciously introduce us.
"For individuals who have not yet had the opportunity to meet them," she announced, "Abraham's grandson, Jake, is here with his friend, Anita. They are our esteemed guests who have travelled a great distance to be with us. I trust that you will extend them a warm welcome."
She gestured towards each individual in the room and listed off their names, many of which slipped my mind right away, a common occurrence when I'm feeling anxious. After the introductions, Miss Peregrine swiftly deflected a series of questions with impressive speed.
"Is Jake and Anita going to stay with us?"
"Miss Wilde is the sole individual requiring medical care, therefore she will be required to remain under my supervision until she fully recovers, but for Mr Portman, it is not to my knowledge," she said.
"Where's Abe?"
"Abe is busy in America."
"Why does Jake got Victor's trousers on?"
"Victor no longer requires them, while Mr Portman's are currently being washed together with Anita's clothes.,"
"What's Abe doing in America?"
At this question, I saw the girl whose name is Emma, had been glowering in a corner, rise from her chair and stalk out of the room. It seemed like the rest were accustomed to her unpredictable emotions and simply ignored them.
"Never mind what Abe's doing," Miss Peregrine snapped.
"When's he coming back?"
"Never mind that, too. Now let's eat!"
Everyone rushed to their seats. I took mine, and Jake was just about to sit down beside me when a fork unexpectedly poked into his thigh. "Excuse me!" The unseen boy, Millard, cried.
Miss Peregrine made him give it up and instructed him to go change into proper attire. "How many times must I tell you," she called after him, "Polite persons do not take their supper in the nude!"
Children on kitchen duty brought in trays of food, each one topped with shiny silver covers, leaving everyone guessing about what delicious meal awaited them.
"Otters Wellington!" One boy cried.
"Salted kitten and shrew's liver!" Another said, to which the younger children responded with gagging sounds.
When the covers were removed, a grand banquet fit for royalty was unveiled: a succulent roasted goose with golden brown skin; a complete salmon and cod garnished with lemons, fresh dill, and melting butter; a dish of steamed mussels; trays of roasted vegetables; freshly baked loaves of bread; and various unfamiliar yet appetizing jellies and sauces.
Everything shimmered warmly under the soft glow of gaslight lamps. I was famished after skipping breakfast and ended up overindulging. It's no wonder that peculiar children have unique eating habits, but Jake seemed intrigued, despite being new to this world of peculiardom.
It seems like Emma, the girl who can levitate and tried to stab us earlier, had to be securely strapped into a chair that was bolted to the floor to prevent her from floating up to the ceiling. However, it's clear that she won't be able to join us this evening.
Hugh, the boy who had bees residing in his stomach, had his meal under a big mosquito net at a table meant for one in the corner.
Claire, a girl with perfect golden curls resembling a doll, sat beside Miss Peregrine but didn't touch a single bite of food.
"Aren't you hungry?" Jake asked her.
"Claire don't eat with the rest of us," Hugh volunteered, a bee escaping from his mouth. "She's embarrassed."
"I am not!" she said, glaring at him.
"Yeah? Then eat something!"
"No one here is embarrassed about their gift," Miss Peregrine said. "Miss Densmore simply prefers to dine alone. Isn't that right, Miss Densmore?"
The girl gazed at the vacant plate in front of her, obviously hoping that all the focus would disappear. "Claire has a back mouth," explained Millard, who just sat beside Jake now in a smoking jacket (and nothing else).