The street outside the abbey was black and glistening with the rain that had only just stopped. Ella and Greta stood together in the kitchen by the door that led to the little garden. “You’re sure about this?” Ella asked, patting the pockets of her leather jacket in a nervous habit as if checking for her car keys. “As sure as I can be without having actually done it.” “And you think I’ll be able to come back to this specific time again?” Greta shrugged. “If not, it won’t matter,” she said. “As soon as you return to your own time, I and everyone you have met here will be long dead and dust.” “Really great pep talk, Greta. Might want to work on the whole dead and dust thing, though.” “When you came to us that night, you were very emotional, yes?” “Hysterical, in fact.” “And you were thinking of your mother?” “I was,” she said. Greta nodded. “Great emotion seems to be the push that makes it happen.” “Well, I was certainly emotional when it happened,”
