From somewhere below, a dull, deep boom rolled up, the sound of it resonating through every bone in their body. Like an aftershock chasing after the initial blow, the floor trembled then shivered again.

  “What was that?” a girl shrieked.

  “Everybody…” Miss Riley began.

  The second movement didn’t feel like a punch. It was more like a sickly wobble that made Emily’s stomach drop like she had eaten stone for breakfast. For a moment, the world seemed to have turned liquid. The tower swayed perilously from side to side.

  There was a noticeable tilt to the floor beneath their feet. A low, bone-deep groan shook the clock faces. A few kids let out proper screams now, high-pitched shrieks that ripped through the air. One boy’s legs gave out and he fell straight down. Another bolted toward the rail.

  “No! Come back!” Tom sprang without hesitation. He grabbed the boy by the waist and pulled him back so quickly that they both almost fell.

  “Get way from the edge!” Miss Riley shouted. “Everyone get in the middle!”

  At once, the kids responded every manner imaginable. Three of them fell to the ground, sobbing while curling up with their hands over their heads. With their fingers digging into each other’s sleeves, two of the girls grabbed each other so tightly that they almost fell as the floor wobbled once more. From the back sounded an uncontrollably high, hysterical giggle. Another young boy stood completely motionless, tears streaming down his face, but he made no attempt to wipe them away, as if he didn’t even realize he was crying.

  “Down on your bottoms!” Tom yelled at them; his heart was thudding heavily against his ribs. “Sit down, sit down!”

  “Miss, it’s going to fall, it’s going to fall, it’s going to fall!” another child chanted, voice climbing higher with each repetition.

  “It’s not falling!” Miss Riley snapped, stepping into the center and physically guiding the small bodies away from the rail with firm, quick hands. “Sit down. Right here. You’re all right. We all are.”

  Once more the tower trembled. In a gentle rain, dust sifted from the ceiling. In its frame, one of the clock faces vibrated thunderously. There was a deep metallic roar that quivered in the air as the bells complained somewhere below. A girl clapped both hands over her ears immersed in a terrified scream. Another child began to cry for his mother while repeating the word “Mommy” like a spell that would make all the bad things go away.

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  Tom crouched down and led the children into a disorganized ring in the center of the room using his arms like a human sweep. As one boy attempted to run for the door, he caught him and carried him back into the group as if he were a stray. Little hands clawed at his sleeves, the legs of his trouser and each other.

  Another tremor rolled through the building which made Tom’s stomach lurch. This lasted longer building up gradually. A pink rucksack slid in the direction of the rails stopping near the edge just before tipping over.

  “I’m sick,” a kid groaned right before throwing up.

  The tower let out a final, deep groan, as if it were exhaling a tired breath, and then, just as abruptly as it had begun, the movement stopped.

  “Names,” Miss Riley was suddenly standing next to him. “We do names. Mr. Harris could you please check the attendance list?”

  He nodded then pulled a paper out of his pocket with fingers that didn’t feel like his. “Right. When I say your name, put your hand up and say ‘here’.”

  Even after the rumbling stopped there was no silence in the room. The sound of thin and ragged sobbing mixed with the clockwork’s rhythmical ticking. Somewhere beyond the tick walls sounded the faint echo of emergency alarms and sirens.

  “Bella?” Tom called out the first name on the list, forcing his voice not to tremble.

  “Here,” a small voice sniffed.

  “Owen?”

  “Here.”

  “Callum?”

  “Here.”

  “Emily?”

  “I’m here, Mr. Harris,” a small hand shot up, fingers trembling.

  He went through the list, reading the names one by one. Some answered in a strong voice, others barely whispered so that he had to lean in to catch, but they were all there. Twenty-four. His shoulders sagged with a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

  “Very good,” Miss Riley said, like they’d just done an excellent job at a spelling test. “Everyone is here. You all did brilliantly.”

  One of the girls clutched her arm. “Miss, my elbow hurts.”

  “We’ll have a look in a second,” she said. “Just keep sitting for me, all right?”

  “Was it an earthquake?” a boy asked, eyes wet and mouth shaking like he was just about to start crying again.

  “It…it might have been a small tremor,” Tom answered him, though he didn’t sound fully convinced himself.

  “Is it going to fall?” a little girl whispered, clutching Tom’s sleeve.

  “No,” Tom said, without letting himself think about it. “No, it’s not. If it hasn’t fallen over in a hundred and sixty years, it’s not choosing today.” He told it like a fact, because in a way he needed it to be a fact, just as much as they did.

  Tom didn’t realize they weren’t alone up there until that point. An older couple had ridden out the trembling together in the far corner, half hidden behind one of the beams. The man’s eyes were fixed on the ground, his lips moving in what could have been a prayer as he clung to his wife’s hand. The woman sat on the ground with her back against the wall with her handbag in her lap, two walking sticks spread out uselessly at her sides. Her lips were pressed thin, eyes shining glassy behind thick lenses, and her face was far too pale under her meticulously applied makeup.

  “I’m fine,” she said automatically when Tom approached her, but her voice was thin and shaky. “Just… just a little shock. I don’t do… heights terribly well at the best of times.”