Mrs. Lloyd gazed around the room, as though mere mention of her mother and the sight of her possessions triggered deep emotions. “I did live here once, of course,” she said, more to herself. “I slept in the upstairs nursery, where my mother lives now. It’s been converted to a lovely large studio, of course.”
“Of course,” Maddie said, echoing Mrs. Lloyd with laughing eyes that belied her serious expression.
Faye cast her a warning glance.
Mrs. Lloyd didn't notice. She continued, “My two daughters often visited with their grandmother Wendy as well.” Her eyes softened. “I wanted them to sleep in the old nursery, as I once had. Ah, the nursery,” she sighed wistfully. “Such a magical place it was while growing up. The dreams I had. Wonderful dreams!” She sighed again. “My mother could tell the most wonderful stories, you know.”
Tom tugged hard at Faye’s skirt, his eyes entreating. Faye stroked his head and nodded.
“Perhaps your mother would like to tell my children stories? Maddie and Tom adore them. They could visit each other. It might be nice for them all.”
“Oh no,” replied Mrs. Lloyd, drawing herself up. Her tone grew stern once again. “That wouldn’t do at all.”
“Well, of course if you’d rather not ”
“Mrs. Forrester is a very old woman now. I doubt she’s up to telling anyone any more stories. No ... no more stories.” A crease of worry crossed her forehead. “You most likely won’t see much of Mrs. Forrester, you see. She isn’t well and keeps to herself. Children upset her.”
Maddie frowned and stuck out her chin.
Mrs. Lloyd sent off sparks of discomfort, and Faye attributed it to the concern of a daughter for her ailing, elderly mother. She also heard in Mrs. Lloyd’s tone the clear message that the children were not to bother old Mrs. Forrester.
“We’ll be sure your mother is left undisturbed,” she assured her.
Mrs. Lloyd turned, smoothing her suit jacket with trembling fingers. “Yes, good. Very good. Well, let’s see the rest of the flat, shall we?”
She led a path to the small but well-appointed red-and-gold dining room with cove ceilings and deliciously elaborate molding. Faye’s exclamation of delight was squelched in her throat when she saw the minuscule kitchen beyond it—no more than a couple of round electric burners atop a cramped metal box stuck in a large closet. She loved to cook and in the sorry space of the kitchen, boiling water would be a challenge. A narrow, spindled staircase, which was once probably employed by the servants, led the way to the second floor of the flat. The two bedrooms were spacious with tall, open windows that fluttered with lace, faded blue and white hydrangea wallpaper, and narrow beds draped in crisp linen and topped with fluffy goose-down pillows. The single, Spartan bathroom, however, had ancient fixtures that dripped water through a choke hold of lime. As she stood in the hall, she thought the house whispered to her of a lifestyle, of values, of dreams long past, and in her wanderings.
“The kitchen is so small...” Maddie blurted.
Faye, hungry for charm in her life, tapped Maddie’s shoulder. “But the sun pours in,” she pointed out. And looking through the window, she saw a charming, if rundown, garden enclosed by a brick wall. “Look, Maddie and Tom. A garden! Go have a look-see,” she said, making the British lingo her own. The children scurried down the stairs with a clatter that had Mrs. Lloyd cringing.
“These two floors were once the main rooms of the house,” Mrs. Lloyd explained as they followed the children down the staircase at a more adult pace. “The nursery was upstairs, and the house’s original kitchen is now in the garden flat. It's very large indeed. This one is, of course, an add-on.”
"There's a garden flat?"
“That flat is taken, I’m afraid,” she replied, hearing the hope in Faye’s voice and hastening to dispel it. “A visiting professor from America. Dr. Graham.”
“Oh, an American?”
“Yes, we have a very nice relationship with American companies looking for temporary lodging. The downstairs flat should be available in the fall when he returns to America, but I fear it would be unsuitable for you, Mrs. O’Neill. Though the kitchen is spacious, the rest of the rooms at one time housed the servants and are quite cramped. It isn’t nearly as large or homey as this one.”
Maddie rushed in through the back door. “I like it, Mom! The garden out back is awesome. It’s like that book you read us, you know?”
“The Secret Garden?”
“Yeah.” She hitched up her skirt and brushed the bangs from her eyes. “I guess it’ll be okay here.”
Faye was quick to notice that the sullen shadow that had clouded Maddie’s face of late had dissipated. She was almost smiling, and there was even a sparkle of excitement in her bright blue eyes. Faye’s heart expanded, and she said a quick prayer that her little girl would be happy here.
“What about you, Tom?” Her thin son was scratching his head, looking at the large cabbage roses on the foyer wallpaper with skepticism. He shrugged his shoulders without comment.
Faye took a final look around the narrow flat furnished with old Mrs. Forrester’s personal collection of furniture and bric-a-brac. Each stuffed chair, each piece of Staffordshire porcelain, each pair of heavy blue-and-cream floral curtains suited Faye perfectly. She’d rented this flat without having seen it. That was an enormous act of faith on her part, she who laid her clothes out each night and filled out forms in triplicate. Perhaps this was a good omen. A signal of change. Perhaps, she thought with a shiver of trepidation, a change for the better.
“Thank you, Mrs. Lloyd. The apart... flat should be fine.”
“Good! Very good.” Mrs. Lloyd was all smiles. “Then it’s all complete, except for your signature.” She hurried forward with her clipboard. “Just sign this lease, and we’ll be done with it. Your references were excellent, of course.”
Faye refrained from another round of “of course” and quietly checked the papers fastened to Mrs. Lloyd’s clipboard. Everything seemed in order. The advertising agency had done a fine job finding a suitable place at an affordable rent. In fact, the flat seemed a relative bargain for the price. She would have expected to pay top dollar to live in a building like this in such a lovely neighborhood. Was there something about the place she hadn’t noticed that kept the price down? Other than the kitchen ... She shooed away the suspicions from her mind. Wasn’t it her turn to have a little good luck for once?
Mrs. Lloyd smiled when she double checked the signed lease and tucked it neatly back onto her clipboard. “Very good then,” she said, handing Faye an envelope. “In here you will find two sets of keys and various papers explaining features of the flat. If you have any questions, my number is included in your packet. Well then,” she extended her hand. “Very nice to meet you, Mrs. O’Neill. And your children. I hope you will be happy here.”
Unconsciously her gaze darted upward toward the ceiling. “Oh, and if you should hear any rumors or such about Mrs. Forrester, please remember that they are just that. Rumors. She’s perfectly harmless.”
“Harmless?” Faye swung her head around, alarmed.
“A bit eccentric, that’s all. Ta, now!”
Harmless? Eccentric? Suddenly Faye wondered if this flat was such a bargain after
all.
“Mrs. Lloyd! Oh, Mrs. Lloyd,” she called after her.
“Got to run, dear. I have another appointment!” She clutched the clipboard and the lease to her breast, and, with a brief turn of her hand as regal as the Queen Mum’s, she hurried away down the winding lane.
Faye stood on the front stoop and watched the older woman disappear around the corner. A shiver of suspicion trickled down her spine. She could have sworn that was relief she caught in Mrs. Lloyd’s eyes when she signed the lease.
Before reentering the building, Faye cast a curious glance up at the third-floor window. With a start, she saw a small hand dart away and the lace curtain fall back.
* * *
The evening wind whistled eerily outsi
de the children’s bedroom window. Faye’s lips were pressed as tightly as her hand around the curtains while she scanned the outside shadows for any movement. Crabapple branches, laden with spring blossoms, swung pendulously in the breeze of an oncoming storm, scattering the white petals like snow.
This was her first night in London. Everything she knew seemed as far away as the stars twinkling in the purple sky. Everything felt so ... foreign. She had to make this work. She had nothing left but the clothes in the luggage and a meager bank account, enough to barely scrape by. Faye felt the weight of her responsibilities keenly tonight, the two most important ones lying tucked in their beds beside her. She’d do anything for her babies. Sometimes, you had to give up everything to be free.
Faye sighed deeply, then shut the window and locked it.
“Don’t shut it, Mommy,” complained Maddie from her bed. “You always close the window. We like it open.”
Faye looked at her daughter lying on her side in her twin iron bed. Her chin was propped in her palm, and she was eyeing her with a critical expression more suitable for a forty-year-old woman than an eight-year-old child.
“It looks like rain,” Faye replied quickly.
“Does not.”
“Let’s play it safe,” Faye responded.
“It’s because of Dad, isn’t it?” Her pale skin and sunken eyes attested to the fact that Maddie wouldn’t be fooled any longer.
Faye let the blinds drop with a snap. Sometimes, a perceptive child could be annoying. “Of course not,” she lied. “I just don’t like to keep the windows open anymore. We don’t really know what this neighborhood is like. God knows what’s out there.”
“You mean Dad’s out there.” Maddie’s lips pushed out.
Faye took a deep breath. Yes, she thought. Dad's out there. Somewhere. She didn’t know how long an ocean would keep him away.
She saw her own fear reflected in her daughter’s eyes. She’d seen that fear too often in the past years. She walked to Maddie’s bed and settled on the mattress, then reached out to stroke a few gold strands from Maddie’s forehead. Such downy hair she has, she thought, feathering away with her fingertips the worry line from her little girl’s brow.
“Yes, Dad’s out there somewhere, but he’s so far away he won’t be able to take you away ever again. No one will.” Faye hugged her and spoke softly in her ear. “Your mama will take care of you.”
Maddie’s eyes flashed with doubt, then she frowned and pushed her mother away, turning her back. Faye felt like crumbling inside, but held firm by force of will. Still, she could almost hear the chink in her armor.
“Tom hates him,” Maddie ground out.
Faye swung her head around to look at her son. He was lying with his arms tucked under his head gazing at the artificial stars glowing on the ceiling. Tom was small for his age, a wisp of a child, pale and silent. She knew that though he chose not to speak, Tom heard every word and understood every nuance. His tiny chin protruded angrily, like a sharp blade. Anger like that was too hard for a child to bear.
“Tom, dear,” she said, “it’s not good to hate. Especially not your father.”
Maddie snorted, and Tom’s scowl deepened.
She couldn’t blame them. Rob had been a horrible father, self-centered, mean, and cheap. And brutal. How could she admonish her son not to hate when she hated Rob O’Neill herself? At thirty-five, she had no qualms admitting it. Yet the children’s therapist had said it wasn’t healthy for them to hate their father, so she bit her tongue and was careful not to bad-mouth her ex in front of them.
“If he tries to take us again, I’ll run away,” vowed Maddie, turning to face her mother again. The circles under her blue eyes deepened against her pale cheeks. “I know how to do it, too.”
“He won’t take you away.”
“But supposing he does. If I just took a cab to the police station, I could call you, right?”
“You won’t have to.”
“I’ll call you,” she continued forcefully, her fingers agitated against her pink coverlet. “The police will pay for it all. They’ve got special money for that, don’t they? Sure,” she answered herself primly. “I’ve got it all straight in my mind. I’ll take care of Tom, too.” Her pitch was rising and Faye ached, listening to her daughter’s young mind work out what-if-it-happened scenarios.
Suddenly Maddie sat up sharply. “They call the police here the Police, don’t they? Is there some special word for that, too? Like telly or petrol?”
“Hush, Maddie,” crooned Faye, placing her finger over Maddie’s tight lips. She looked at her daughter’s fierce expression and wondered for the hundredth time how much she’d seen over the years. Damn Rob! It wasn’t enough that he’d made her own life miserable, but now he’d succeeded in making the lives of his children unhappy as well.
Maddie impulsively hugged her mother and Faye, caught by surprise, wondered which of them needed the hug more. Tears threatened. How could she have allowed her precious children to feel so afraid? From Tom’s bed she heard a whimper.
“Hush, hush,” she said, now hurrying over to Tom and kissing his tense cheeks. He wrapped thin arms around her neck. She could feel his little rib cage pressed against her and the bone of his jaw hard against her own. Her poor, quiet boy.
“You’ve got this all wrong,” she said, forcing lightness into her voice, releasing him with a teasing shake. “It’s my job to worry!” The tension in the room eased as she tickled and tucked Tom back under his blanket. “I’ll make you a pact. We're going to be happy here. I won’t worry if you won’t worry. Deal?”
“Deal,” replied Maddie for both of them. Faye was rewarded with smiles of relief on their faces. Smiles that didn’t reach their eyes.
Faye knew that telling herself not to worry was like telling the sun not to rise and set. As a single parent, she worried over every detail that concerned them. She worried if they were late coming home from a friend’s, then worried whether she’d checked out the friend carefully enough. At school she was the first in line to pick up the children, then studied the faces of all the adults who lingered in the school halls or yard. Each morning she warned them not to talk to strangers, and each night she checked that every window was locked and that all the dead bolts were secured.
Then, just when she’d begun to listen to the people who told her to loosen up, her worst fear was realized. Rob had tried to snatch the children. She was determined never to lower her guard again.
She patted a pair of rumps and gave final kisses, then double-checked that the windows were locked tight. Fay stood at the door an extra moment and watched as her children settled, yawned noisily, then mumbled good nights. They were just children, she thought. Life for them should be carefree. It wasn’t right that they should be so wary and afraid.
“Good night. Sleep tight,” she sang out, turning off the light. In the corner, the night- light instantly turned on, glowing green. Viewing her children nestled in their beds, Faye quietly vowed, “I promise you, my darlings. I’ll never let anything harm you. Not ever.”
Chapter 2
“Excuse me. Dr. Graham?”
Jack Graham blinked several times, vaguely aware that someone was calling his name. A frisson of irritation coursed through him. Not now, he thought to himself. Just go away.
“Dr. Graham?”
Sighing in resignation, Jack tossed the pencil down on his desk, mopped his face with his palm, and looked at the young, eager research assistant standing at his side. Damn, the train of thought was lost. He’d felt he was getting close to answering that elusive equation but...
“Yes, Robert, what is it?” His voice was as thin and taut as steel wire.
The graduate assistant cleared his throat, shifted his weight, and offered the large, white envelope to Jack in the manner of a peace offering. It was common knowledge in the lab that if Dr. Graham was working at his desk, he didn’t like to be disturbed. He took no prisoners.
“This just came for y
ou, sir. Oh,” he added in a rush, as though to further quench the fire in Dr. Graham’s eyes, “and you wanted to be told when the liquid nitrogen was being poured to cool the magnet. I believe they’re about ready. In the chamber.” He swallowed. “Sir.”
“Say there, Jack!” called out Dr. Irwin Falk, the lab’s director, as he approached from across the lab. “Did you check those connections for the counters? We’re about ready to go.”
The research assistant’s shoulders dropped in relief at this confirmation.
“Yeah, thanks, Irwin,” Jack replied, the old wood-and-cane chair squeaking as he leaned back. “And thanks to you, too, Robert.”
Robert nodded then rushed away to the viewing window of the large stainless-steel vacuum chamber used for testing spacecraft. It glistened in the artificial lights of the lab like the proverbial silver bullet. And in this lab, Dr. Jack Graham was the Lone Ranger. He was the maverick, the ringer, the hired gun brought in to solve the problem.
“Do my eyes deceive me, old boy, or does that return address say CERN?” asked Irwin. Falk was Jack’s colleague at the Institute. He was casually dressed in jeans and a polo shirt underneath his white lab coat, but his mannerisms were strictly old British upper crust. He was a baron or a lord or some such title, which Jack could never get straight in his mind.
“Yep,” Jack replied, tearing open the envelope with his finger. He pulled out the letter and scanned the contents.
“Well? Is this top secret or can the rest of us common blokes get in on it?”
Jack handed over the letter and watched curiosity then pleasure then another emotion which he figured was normal human envy flicker across Irwin’s features as he read the letter.
“So they want you at CERN . Wow. This is first- rate, don’t you know. Things are happening so fast now. Your future is assured. Bad luck for us, though. Shouldn’t think there’s much hope for us now to try and convince you to stay here at the Institute.”
Jack felt the satisfaction deep in his gut. Not because of the prestige, but because he wanted to be there when they found the top quark, the only one of the six quarks still a mystery. He’d spent years at Fermi Lab in Illinois when the race between CERN and Fermi Lab was hot. But since the funding was cut for Fermi, all the action was in Geneva, Switzerland. And now Jack was invited to participate. Jack could feel his competitive juices flowing. He loved solving puzzles, and the top quark was the main piece of the biggest puzzle in science today: the Theory of Everything.
Second Star to the Right Page 2