Free History Keepers 1: The Storm Begins by Damian Dibben Page B

of machinery, and every single portrait turned on its axis to reveal another portrait behind it. After a similar interval the bell rang again, and the portraits turned once more to reveal a third set of faces. On the last revolution the portraits returned to their original setting.
    ‘The faces on the wall,’ Nathan told Jake, ‘are people from history considered important or dangerous to the History Keepers’ Secret Service at the present time. The books’ – he took one down from its shelf and flicked through its stiff, crinkled pages – ‘contain just about everyone else who’s ever lived.’
    ‘Ssssh!’ The voice came from the shadows at the far end of the room. In the gloom Jake could make out a figure sitting at a sturdy desk behind a stack of books . She was in her fifties and wore a black dress from the baroque period, with huge puffy sleeves and a lace collar. Her hair was tucked neatly into her bonnet and she was reading with the aid of half-moon glasses.
    ‘That’s the head librarian, Lydia Wunderbar,’ Nathan explained as quietly as he was able. ‘She may look like a stickler for rules and regulations, but get her on a dance floor and it’s a different story!’
    The penultimate stop on the whirlwind tour of the castle was the costumiery. Of all the rooms Jake had seen since the evening before, this cavernous space was perhaps the most impressive.
    The room was at least five storeys high, cylindrical in shape, with galleries on each floor. It was situated in one of the great round towers Jake had seen from the ship. Each floor contained an infinite number of clothes, hats and accessories, and was connected to the others by staircases and a somewhat rickety elevator set in the centre of the room.
    ‘Here there are garments from every age in history’ – Topaz was the tour guide now – ‘from the nineteenth, twentieth and twenty-first centuries on the ground floor, and tracing back in time as you go up . Everything from ancient Egypt to Mayan Mexico to modern Moscow. And every single piece of clothing is entirely authentic. As you may guess, this is Nathan’s favourite room. It has even more mirrors than his own suite.’
    ‘What can I say? I’m attracted to beauty,’ Nathan retorted.
    Jake stared wide-eyed. On the next floor up he could see Oceane Noire being fitted with an extravagant dress. The assistants were fixing a pair of panniers to her skirt – hooped devices to extend the width on either side. Once they were in position, Oceane struck a pose and examined herself in the mirror. ‘Mmm, I think we need to go wider, much wider!’ Jake heard her say. The assistants patiently removed the offending articles.
    ‘Good morning, Signor Gondolfino. My jacket fits like a dream,’ Nathan was saying, his American tones ringing out. He was addressing a distinguished, beautifully dressed man who was emerging from amongst the rails of clothes, an eyeglass in his hand. ‘Signor Luigi Gondolfino,’ Nathan confided. ‘Head of the costumiery. He’s a genius.’
    Gondolfino’s old face creased into a smile as he limped towards them. ‘Miss St Honoré, is that you?’ he asked in a quavering voice. ‘I swear you become more exquisite with every passing month. How was London? How many hearts did you break?’
    ‘All hearts in London still intact.’
    ‘Nonsense, nonsense – you break some hearts. It’s your duty.’
    ‘How are you, Signor Gondolfino?’ Nathan butted in. ‘I just wanted to tell you that my new embroidered redingote jacket is perfection.’
    The smile drained from Gondolfino’s face as he turned to Nathan and examined him with his eyeglass. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ he remarked. ‘Are you returning something?’ His refined European sensibilities clearly found Nathan’s brashness too much to bear.
    ‘No, I was merely … paying you a compliment …?’ For once Nathan sounded unsure of himself.
    ‘This is Jake Djones,’ Topaz interjected. ‘Alan and Miriam’s son. He