Timepiece

by Merinda Brayfield

  He barely stayed two hours before he pushed away from the table. “I should head home,” he said, reaching for his wallet.

  “Drinks on me,” said Travers, waving him off. “Have a good night, Frank.”

  “Thank you. And goodnight.” Frank headed out, glancing once more at the table of men he’d once considered... well, if not friends, then at least something more than coworkers. Now, they might as well be strangers.

  Stepping outside, he caught a cab and returned home, finding it empty once again. With a sigh, he climbed the stairs, knowing he’d probably be troubled by bad dreams, wishing the world could feel right again.

  A week or so later, Frank was filing paperwork when he overheard Travers and one of the newer officers talking and laughing. He would have ignored them, but as they passed him he heard them make a comment that caught his attention.

  “So we’ll be raiding the Emerald Lion tonight,” said Travers. “Poofters won’t know what hit ‘em. Bunch of perverts.”

  The other cop laughed. “It’s what they deserve anyway. Shine a light and they scatter like bugs.”

  Travers laughed as they moved farther away from Frank. “At least it’ll give us good arrest numbers for the month.”

  Frank’s mouth was dry, but he kept working as if nothing was out of the ordinary. If either man had noticed his presence, they’d said nothing.

  As soon as he could go on his lunch break, Frank walked outside and down a few blocks. Before the war, he’d known a few groups of kids that had hung out not far from the station. With any luck, they’d still be there, or someone like them.

  He found a few boys about Henry’s age lounging around where he expected. They eyed him warily as he approached.

  “Listen,” said Frank. “You want to make some coin?”

  One of the boys stood up. “What do you got in mind?”

  “I just need a message delivered, that's all,” said Frank, offering coins for each of them. “Do you know where the Emerald Lion is?”

  The boy nodded, looking Frank over as if trying to decide if he was a regular there or not.

  “Tell the owner there’s going to be trouble tonight.”

  Taking the coins, the boy passed them to his friends. “Why should he believe you?”

  Frank took a breath. “Just tell him it’s someone who knows. I can’t say more than that. If things happen the way I think they will, I’ll give you a bit more coin the day after tomorrow.”

  “All right,” shrugged the boy, gathering his friends. Frank watched them head out, hoping that his warning would be heeded.

  Frank returned to work, feeling anxious for the rest of the day. He knew he’d broken the law and his oath to warn them, but how could he not?

  That night, he barely slept, getting up towards dawn and holding his wristwatch. There was nothing wrong with a man loving a man. He’d always felt a bit dubious about those laws and more so now. But what else could he do? Police work was all he knew. And besides, maybe he could do some good. Not all the time, of course, but little things like this.

  If Julia noticed he had something on his mind over breakfast, she said nothing. Doris watched him push around his food but stayed quiet. The three of them all headed out to their respective jobs without uttering a word to one another.

  Frank brought the cane to work. He’d been using it less and less, but he had a feeling this might be the sort of day when he might need it.

  Travers was in a foul mood when Frank arrived. “Morning,” he grumbled into his paperwork.

  “Trouble with the missus?” asked Frank lightly, going to his own desk.

  “No. Had a raid last night and seems like they were warned. Didn’t get many arrests at all.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” said Frank, looking at his desk as he settled in.

  Travers brought over a handful of paperwork. “Next thing you know, they’re going to think they can walk around in broad daylight,” he muttered. “It’s an abomination.”

  Frank nodded, not quite trusting himself to say anything as he took the papers. Travers walked away, still grumbling as he left Frank’s desk.

  Frank let out a breath, his heart beating fast like he’d just faced down an enemy. And perhaps, in a way, he had. Travers was just repeating what they’d all been taught, but he was still a good cop. Frank had seen the way he talked with a new widow, seen him with children and the elderly. But he had no sympathy for those who preferred the company of other men, and Frank’s feelings were something he could no longer ignore and be true to himself.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  The English countryside rolled by outside the train window. Archibald watched his own reflection, taking in the other passengers. There were a few other soldiers making their way home. They sat apart from one another, as if trying to steel themselves for the life they’d left behind. He wondered how Frank was doing, if he still thought of Archibald as much as Archibald thought of him, and how he was recovering from his injuries.

  The train started to slow, and Archibald rubbed his temples. It was hard to believe that just a few hours ago, he was saying goodbye to Basil and Louis, leaving the farmhouse and the war. Murphy would be waiting for him at the station, and he’d be home in time for supper. Tonight, he’d sleep in his own bed.

  Why did that sound so miserable?

  Archibald took a deep breath as the train rolled to a stop. He let some of the other passengers out first, before getting to his feet and picking up his small valise. He walked purposely through the train and stepped down onto the platform, looking for Murphy.

  Quickly, the man appeared from out of the crowd. “Welcome home, sir,” he said, looking Archibald over.

  To his relief, Murphy hadn’t changed much at all, other than a little more grey at his temples. No doubt Murphy was seeing a much greater change in him. “I am glad to see you in one piece,” he said fondly. “Let’s get you home, and then, perhaps, a nice cup of tea.”

  “Thank you,” said Archibald, following him to the car, his luggage already efficiently secured by the boys in the station.

  Murphy opened the car door for him and Archibald settled in, feeling decidedly odd about everything. “Now that you’re home, we’ll get you a driver,” said Murphy. “I must admit, though, that I wanted to fetch you myself today.”

  Archibald smiled. “I missed you as well.”

  Murphy glanced at him, then turned his attention to the road. Archibald leaned back and watched the once-familiar streets go by.

  They arrived at the house, and Murphy called some of the younger servants to get the bags inside. Archibald stood in front of his home for a moment, looking up at it, remembering. He’d bought it when he was young, something relatively modest and not too big, since he had no plans for his own children. While he’d occasionally considered marriage for the sake of appearances, there was only one person he wanted to share this house with now.

  Taking a breath, Archibald walked inside, looking around as if visiting the home of a stranger. After the simple trapping of the farmhouse and the even more primitive trenches, the place looked nearly garish. A portrait of his parents looked down at visitors in the entryway, every polished inch declaring that the owner had wealth and privilege.

  Archibald made his way down the hall to his study, stepping inside and running his hand across spines of books he’d once known intimately. It was quiet here, even compared to the farmhouse. There was no boom of distant artillery, no chattering typewriters or muffled conversations. Only a bird calling somewhere outside the window.

  “Excuse me, sir,” said a voice from the doorway.

  Archibald turned and smiled as he saw the young man that had been his reason for joining up. “Mister Harper, glad to see you’re still with us. Come in, won’t you?”

  Harper’s clothes were neat, pant pinned up around his missing leg as he leaned on a good quality cane. He’d put on weight and looked much healthier and happier than when Archibald had hired him on.

 
“Thank you, sir,” said Harper, moving further into the room. “I’m quite glad you made it back to us.”

  “As am I,” said Archibald. “Is everything well with you?” Murphy had mentioned Harper a few times in his letters about the household, but it was different to hear from the person in question.

  “Yes, sir. I got engaged a few weeks ago.”

  Archibald’s smile turned a little broader. “Congratulations,” he said honestly.

  Harper looked at him, then away. He hesitated before speaking again. “I need to say thank you, Mister Blythe. For everything.”

  Archibald waved away the gratitude. Giving Harper a job had been the right thing to do and was virtually the least he could have done for him. “You’re welcome. But you’ve worked hard. Murphy’s talked in his letters about the asset you’ve been to the household.”

  “Still, you gave me the opportunity,” said Harper.

  Archibald inclined his head and looked out the window. The bird seemed to have moved on. “It’s quiet.”

  “First thing I noticed too, sir,” said Harper. “You get used to it again after a while.”

  Archibald turned his attention back to the younger man. “I should ask if you have any advice on returning home.”

  Harper thought about it for a few long moments. “Give it time,” he said at last. “Loud noises might make you jump, but the quiet makes you skittish. I’d say seek out gentlemen like yourself; they’ll understand better.”

  Archibald nodded and walked over to his desk. “I’m sure you know already, but I wouldn’t have joined up if not for you. And even with everything, I’m very glad I did.”

  “I figured,” said Harper. “And I do understand, sir. I need to get back to my duties, but if you need to speak with someone, you know where to find me.”

  “I do. Thank you.” Harper ducked his head and made his way out of the room. Mrs. White came in with tea, fussing over him for a few minutes before leaving him alone. He stood at the window and sipped it, regarding his well-maintained garden.

  When Archibald finished, he left the cup and saucer on the desk and headed upstairs, aware of servants glancing at him as he passed. He stepped into his room, finding it as immaculate and well cared for as the rest of the place. Clothes had been laid out for him, no doubt by Murphy.

  Archibald closed the door behind him and started taking off his uniform for the last time. His fingers trembled, but he continued until everything was off. He laid the clothes over a chair and reached for the fresh ones, not raising his eyes to the mirror until he was finished. It was a strange reflection.

  There was a knock on the door and Murphy let himself in. He walked over and made a few adjustments to Archibald’s outfit. “I’ll schedule you an appointment with the tailor,” he said. “Will you be eating downstairs or up here?”

  “Downstairs is fine,” said Archibald. “I assume my mother will be visiting soon?”

  “Not for a few days yet. She thinks you’re getting home on Thursday.”

  “Thank you,” said Archibald, taking a breath.

  Murphy stepped back from him and gathered up the uniform. “I’ll see to this, sir. Enjoy your dinner.”

  Archibald turned and walked back out of his bedroom. He knew his return home would be an adjustment for everyone, but he also knew that they were genuinely glad to have him back.

  Archibald tried to find the shape of his civilian life over the next few days. The household settled into a new routine, and his mother did come for a meal. The conversation was brief, and she was careful not to press him on his time overseas, instead spending much of the time talking about her own activities. Archibald was glad to let her, and they parted cordially at the end of the evening.

  He went back to work only a few more days after that. He found himself welcomed back warmly. Basil had been right; he was needed here. A lot of what he did was similar to the work he’d been doing in France: bringing data together, analyzing it, and deciding on a course of action.

  A week after returning to work, Archibald was walking down the hall when he heard his name being called. Turning, he saw one of his colleagues, Lewiston, hurrying to catch up.

  “Blythe, you still walk fast,” he said with a smile, catching his breath. “Have you had lunch?”

  “Not yet, no.” Archibald was surprised by the question, since they’d never talked much in the past, or done much together socially.

  “Would you like to join me at my club?” asked Lewiston.

  He certainly seemed honest in his intentions, and Lewiston had more of a brain than some of the others they worked with, so Archibald answered back with genuine warmth. “I’d be delighted.”

  They walked out of the building together, Lewiston getting the door. In a matter of moments, they settled into a cab, just as it started to rain.

  “I’m afraid I’m still catching up on things,” said Archibald. “What have you been working on?”

  “Oh, same as always,” said Lewiston. “Government bureaucracy doesn’t go away in the middle of a war. Quite the opposite, really.”

  “I understand,” said Archibald, looking out at the city streets. “I mostly did the same sort of work over there.”

  “Papers and files and forms?” asked Lewiston. “I hope you know it doesn’t make you any less of a soldier if you didn’t go charging through the mud yourself. You’ve always done the hard work in the background, and you’re good at it. That’s more important than vainglory.”

  Archibald turned to look at him, surprised again. “Thank you for that,” he said quietly. “I had a few occasions to fire my sidearm, but I was mostly occupied with papers.”

  Lewiston briefly touched his arm, meeting his gaze. “People needing to prove something by throwing themselves in front of cannons got enough good men killed. I’m glad you weren’t one of them.”

  Archibald looked away, for a moment thinking of Wright. Lewiston let his hand fall away. “I wasn’t sure anyone would notice my absence,” said Archibald after a moment’s silence.

  “Oh, we certainly did,” chuckled Lewiston as the cab came to a stop. “Suddenly, the work was more difficult because you weren’t there to take on the challenging things. We learned a lot, but we’re glad for your safe return.”

  “Thank you,” said Archibald as the cab came to a stop. They got out, and Lewiston paid for the ride before leading Archibald inside. Once they sat at a table and had their drinks, Archibald picked up the conversation again. “I hope you know there’s no shame in not joining up yourself. We needed men like you here.”

  Lewiston smiled warmly. “Thank you. I knew I’d be of greater use here. And besides, I’m a bit old for soldiering. Frankly, we were all quite surprised that you volunteered at all.”

  Archibald shrugged, remembering that time and thinking of Harper. “It seemed like the right thing for me,” he said, picking up the menu. “Now, what do you recommend?”

  Lewiston gave a few suggestions, and the conversation turned to other topics. Archibald relaxed, finding the conversation helped him feel more at peace.

  Later that same afternoon, Archibald was in his office when there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” he called, setting his work aside.

  A blond young man stepped into the room, tucking his hat under his arm and looking slightly anxious. Scottie had done work for him before, getting information, tracking down people, going places he could not. He was rough around the edges, but reliable. “Good to see you, Mister Blythe,” he said. “Understand you got some work for me?”

  “I do,” said Archibald, sitting back in his chair. “I’d like to find out about a soldier I served with in France. He was invalided home earlier this year.” He offered Scottie a piece of paper. “This is his name and last known address.”

  “Should be easy enough," said Scottie, taking the paper from him and tucking it in his pocket in a way that reminded Archibald of Frank and sent a pang through his heart.

  “I’d like to know how he’s doin
g,” said Archibald. “How... his home life is, if you can determine it.” This was certainly an invasion of privacy, but Archibald needed to know. Was Frank happy? Had he reconciled with his wife, or were things still bad between them?

  He reached into a drawer and produced a small pouch. “This should cover your fees and expenses. There will be more on your return.”

  “Thank you, sir,” he said, stuffing the pouch into another pocket. “I’ll contact you once I’ve got a report.”

  “Of course. And take care that he doesn’t know anyone is asking questions.”

  Scottie looked almost offended. “Of course not. I do good work.”

  “Apologies,” said Archibald quickly. “You always have.”

  Scottie nodded and started towards the door, then turned back towards Archibald. "Glad to see you back in one piece,” he said.

  “Thank you,” said Archibald, picking up a pen. He was both glad to hear that he’d been missed and growing tired of being thanked. Scottie let himself out, closing the door behind him. Sighing, Archibald took out his pocket watch and looked at the picture of the two of them together. Hopefully, if all of this came to light, Frank would understand.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  As summer stretched out, Frank found himself spending more and more time at work. At least there, he felt useful. There was always more paperwork, but he’d started going on the occasional case, even if he wasn’t quite as fast on his feet as he’d once been. There was still some satisfaction in solving a crime, even if the job felt never-ending.

  Home had returned to its state before the war. The promises of effort and time seemed to have evaporated in the face of reality. He suspected Julia was cheating on him again, but he couldn’t be bothered to look into it. At least one of them should be happy. Henry was home for summer holidays and often eager to spend time with him. Frank sometimes took Doris and Henry to a museum or the park on his days off, watching them and feeling a spark of color at the sound of their laughter.