The Shadow Behind Her Smile

by Janene Wood

  “What on earth took you so long?” asked Kate as they dropped their loads and collapsed dramatically onto the sofas beside the girls.

  Jack gave an exaggerated sigh. “You won’t believe it.”

  “Talk about the worst possible timing,” said Jason.

  “We were all loaded up and ready to come inside for a well-earned beer, when we heard this, ‘Yoo hoo!’ from across the street.” Jack affected a high, falsetto voice and the girls smiled at his unflattering impression of a damsel in distress.

  “Sir Lancelot here was acting like he didn't hear anything,” interjected Jason with a laugh, “when this strange old bird in a purple caftan and the ugliest brown boots you've ever seen appears at his side and starts tugging on his sleeve. She seemed to take quite a shine to you, Jack.”

  “Hmph,” said Jack. “Well, after that, I couldn't ignore her, could I? Turns out the old girl had a flat tyre, so we had to dump everything on the ground again, jack her up–”

  “The car, not the old girl,” clarified Jason with a grin.

  “–and change the tyre for her,” finished Jack. “She was clearly incapable of doing it herself. But then she wouldn’t stop gabbing on and on and asking us all sorts of questions that were none of her bleeding business. I swear she knows my entire life story now – and yours too, bruv. She became very interested when she found out we were helping you move in across the road.”

  “I think she was mostly concerned about riff-raff moving into the neighbourhood,” remarked Jason glibly.

  Kate glared at him half-heartedly before standing abruptly and walking toward the kitchen. “Well, you did the gallant thing, lads; you definitely deserve that beer now.” She returned a few moments later with their reward.

  Jack twisted the top off his beer, and took a long swallow. “God, I’m glad that’s over. I’m knackered.” Despite being tired and sweaty and covered in filth, there was no disguising the fact that Kate's brother was a strikingly handsome man. His square jaw, broad shoulders and twinkling brown eyes would have made Dudley Do-Right envious.

  “Well, it’s your fault I had to move, so I'll hear no whinging out of you, Jack-me-lad,” declared Kate unsympathetically.

  “So you’d rather have stayed in our cockroach-infested hovel than move into this shiny new palace? Really? It's not too late, you know; I can call the landlord and tell him you've changed your mind.”

  “The old place wasn’t that bad,” Kate replied nostalgically.

  “The velour wallpaper and orange shag carpet were...unique,” put in Jules, ever supportive.

  “Yeah, very tasteful,” agreed Jack sarcastically.

  “So have you wenches left us any pizza?” demanded Jason, his growling stomach reminding him he hadn’t eaten since early that morning. “I hope you didn’t scoff it all while we were slogging our guts out downstairs.” He gave the girls a reproving glare as he leaned forward to inspect the contents of the boxes on the table, but they just smiled at him indulgently. It was virtually impossible to take offense at anything Jason said; he was the most laid-back, good-natured person they knew.

  “There's one or two pieces left,” replied Jules vaguely. “We were pretty hungry.”

  “I doubt you’ve had more than a nibble, Jules. Kate, on the other hand, has been known to eat her weight in pizza,” said Jack unkindly.

  “Unlike yourself, of course,” Jules threw back at him.

  Kate’s attention drifted from the exchange between her friends to the stack of boxes near the door. On top of the pile was a rectangular object, about the size of a large photo album, wrapped in a piece of ragged, green canvas and tied up with string. She frowned, trying to figure out what it could be. Eventually, the not knowing forced her to get up and satisfy her curiosity.

  But even up close, the object wasn't familiar. Awkwardly, because of its size and weight, Kate picked it up and turned it over, inspecting it closely. It didn’t look like anything that belonged to Jack, either. Mystified, she asked her brother, “Where did this come from, Jack? Does it belong to you?”

  Jack turned at the sound of his name, his mouth full of pizza. He frowned and chewed for a second longer before replying, “Give us a closer look.” Kate sat back down beside her brother and allowed him to examine the parcel. “Nope. Never seen it before,” he replied.

  “You’re sure you didn’t pick someone else’s junk up after you changed that woman's tyre?” asked Kate skeptically.

  Jack gave her a look that made it obvious what he thought of such a suggestion. “We’re not idiots, Kate,” he replied evenly. “What do you reckon, Jase? Ring any bells?”

  Jason was munching happily on his second slice of pizza and reaching for a third. He shrugged and mumbled something incoherent.

  “Well, it’s not mine,” said Kate categorically.

  “Open it up. You know you want to,” grinned Jack knowingly.

  “I am curious,” she admitted. “Maybe there’s a name or address inside...something to tell us who it belongs to.” Kate tried her best to untangle the tightly knotted string but was taking so long Jules insisted she let her try. A minute later, Jules had successfully unwrapped the parcel, revealing a large, leather-bound book. Opening the front cover, she frowned and let out an “Oh!” of disappointment. The page was blank. She turned a few of the heavy vellum pages at random, but each and every page was as blank as the first one. “There's nothing here!”

  “That was rather underwhelming,” remarked Jason, still gorging himself on pizza.

  “The mystery deepens,” said Jack in a vaguely disinterested voice.

  “Can I see?” said Kate, reaching across the coffee table for the heavy volume. “It looks really old. Surely there must be something on one of the pages.” She opened the cover, just as Jules had done, but this time, the centre of the page contained a neat paragraph of uniform characters, written in old-fashioned script.

  “What the hell!” exclaimed Jack beside her, his earlier disinterest evaporating.

  “How did you do that?” demanded Jules. “I swear that page was blank a minute ago!”

  “I have no idea,” responded Kate dazedly.

  “Give it here,” demanded Jack. He took the book from Kate and they all watched in stupefaction as the words disappeared before their eyes. He placed the book back on Kate's lap, but nothing happened; the page remained blank. “Touch it,” ordered Jack. Kate obediently placed her hands on the open book and the words magically reappeared.

  “Wow!” exclaimed Jules.

  “Bizarre,” said Jason.

  “That's totally crazy!” said Jack excitedly. “Another Kate McDermott mystery, folks, brought to you by Things That Go Bump in the Night.”

  “Shut up, Jack,” said Kate irritably.

  “What does it say?” asked Jason.

  Kate stared at the flyleaf for a long moment, trying to decipher the script, before saying, “It’s not in English.”

  “Really? What language is it?” asked Jules.

  “I'm pretty sure it's Romanian.”

  “Well, isn't that interesting,” remarked Jack thoughtfully. “What was the name of the old bird who lived with us when we were kids, Kate? Mary...Martha...Margaret...? She was Romanian, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes, Jack, Maggie was Romanian,” said Kate with exaggerated patience. “And?”

  “Maggie! That’s her! I haven’t thought about her in years. It always seemed to me that Maggie was much too frivolous a name for such a tough old chook; she should have been called Hortense or Ermentrude or something similarly severe. I wonder what happened to her. Geez, she’d have to be a hundred by now.”

  Kate shot a glare at her brother. “Maggie was sort of like my nanny,” she explained to Jules and Jason, “except no one had nannies back then, not where we come from. She taught me Romanian, but I don’t think I’ve spoken it once since she left.” Maggie had been like a second mother to Kate, but one day she simply left, without even saying goodbye. Kate was amazed how much t
hat still hurt. “I wonder if I can remember...”

  Looking closely at the paragraph on the first page of the book, she tried deciphering the flowery handwriting. “It is often said that...memory is a double-sided…mirror,” Kate translated slowly, the meaning of the words coming more easily than she had expected. “One side of the glass...concealed by shadow from prying eyes... reveals the mistakes we have made, the pain we have caused and the private shame we dare not let others see.”

  She frowned but continued reading, mesmerized by a sensation of growing familiarity. The words came more easily now.

  “The opposite side, upon which the light shines freely, shows our virtues, the loves we have shared, the contributions and sacrifices we have made and the face we put forward for the world to admire.

  “Both sides show a true, if incomplete, reflection of ourselves. To know our true heart, we must examine and accept both the shadow and the light equally, or we are doomed forever to repeat our mistakes.”

  The room was silent for a few moments, until Jack remarked in his driest voice, “Fascinating, Kate; that was truly fascinating. I've run out of beer.” He stood abruptly and stalked out of the room.

  Ignoring him, Kate's focus remained on the book. “Huh. There's a name and date at the bottom of the page. Magdalena – 1727. Wow, this is much older than I thought.”

  Turning the page, the face of a young girl gazed back at her. She looked to be in her late teens, with intense, dark eyes and straight, black hair gathered over one shoulder. She was more plain than pretty, but with a directness about her that made her face more interesting than it would otherwise be. There was no way of knowing how close a likeness the painting was to the subject, but the artist's technique was impressive and her use of light and shadow, together with such a delicate blending of colour, gave the painting life. Incredibly, it was in such good condition, it looked like it had been painted only yesterday. Beneath it was an inscription. Self Portrait – 1727.

  So this was Magdalena. She had a big talent for such a young girl.

  Kate flipped through a few more pages until her eye was caught by the portrait of a man in a finely cut charcoal coat and breeches, embroidered burgundy waistcoat and leather riding boots. He had an authoritative air and smooth, unlined cheeks; a lean body and watchful eyes. His hair was thick and lustrous and slicked back with pomade. He had the air of someone used to getting whatever he wanted, but perhaps she only thought that because he reminded her so much of Gramps. They shared the same sharp, penetrating, brown eyes. The more she stared, the more certain she was of the likeness.

  Jules sat down beside her, taking the seat Jack had vacated. “He looks an awful lot like your Gramps, don't you think?” she remarked, echoing Kate's own thoughts. “Oh, and look, they have a similar name,” she added, pointing to the inscription beneath. Hayri – 1762.

  “They do look alike, don't they?” mused Kate.

  “What is Harry's background, anyway?” asked Jules. “This guy looks Greek, or maybe Turkish.”

  “He was born in Athens, but his family moved around a lot. I guess that's why he's such a cosmopolitan.”

  “Could be he's descended from this guy,” suggested Jules.

  “Who knows?” shrugged Kate. “Stranger things have happened.”

  Jules looked at her watch and started. “Hey, we need to get a move on; the party starts in less than an hour.”

  “Is it really that late? Where did the day go?” Kate reluctantly closed the book and placed it on the coffee table for later, when she had time to go through it in more detail. She was still hoping to find an answer to how and why it had ended up in her possession.

  “Do you mind if I have first shower?” asked Jules.

  “Take all the time you need, Jules. I have my very own ensuite now,” Kate grinned smugly.

  “Well, la-de-da,” retorted Jules as she headed up the hallway.

  Picking up the now empty pizza box, along with her and Jules' empty glasses, Kate carried them into the kitchen. Alone for a few moments, she reflected on that weird sense of familiarity the book had roused when she read the first inscription. There was no reason for it that she could think of, but she had a weird premonition that nothing was going to be the same after tonight.

  All Good Things Must Come To An End

  The venue for Jack’s farewell party was a small, intimate bar beneath The Lord Dudley Hotel in Earls Court. Used primarily for private functions, it was accessible from the street as well as internally from the hotel above. By the time the guest of honour arrived it was well past the designated kick-off time and the bar was packed with noisy revelers. Alcohol flowed freely and a cloud of thick smoke hung in the air. My Sharona played loudly over the buzz of conversation.

  A loud cheer went up when Jack and party finally walked through the door. All around the room glasses were raised in salutation, acknowledged by Jack with a careless wave of his hand. He had partaken of several more beers while waiting for the others to shower and was feeling no pain.

  Kate looked around for Ryan and finally caught sight of him behind the bar, laughing at something the pretty, red-haired barmaid was saying. Lindy looked about sixteen and acted like a doe-eyed innocent, but Kate knew she was twenty-eight and had slept with three different barmen in the last month. That she knew of. She had long suspected her of having a serious crush on Ryan, and while Kate trusted him not to fool around, she knew how determined some girls could be when faced with the challenge of an attractive man who was already spoken for. She trusted Lindy about as far as she could throw her.

  Ryan glanced up from the beer he was pouring and smiled across the room at Kate with that easy smile that always made her go weak at the knees. Wiping his hands on a towel, he whispered a few final words in Lindy's ear and made his way around the bar. Reaching Kate a few moments later, he kissed her softly on the lips before saying, “I was beginning to think you guys weren't coming.”

  “These drunkards refused to leave until the fridge was cleaned out,” explained Kate, glaring at the boys.

  “It would have been a crime to let all that beer go to waste,” retorted Jack cheerfully.

  Kate looked at her brother and shook her head, wondering how she could possibly be related to such a shameless reprobate.

  “So, Jack… Tomorrow’s the big day,” remarked Ryan easily. “It’s certainly going to be dull around here without you.”

  Jack was more philosophical than regretful. “All good things must come to an end. By the way, Ryan, thanks for letting us use this place for the party.”

  “Don’t thank me; I’m just an unpaid dogs-body around here. Kate organised everything with Jasper. She only has to bat her lashes at him and he’s jumping through hoops.”

  “Yeah, she can be surprisingly charming when she puts her mind to it,” agreed Jack affectionately. He grinned at his sister, who punched him on the arm for his trouble.

  “Well, we've got some catching up to do, so I’m going to steal her away for a bit,” said Ryan. “You should probably go talk to your friends while they’re still half-way sober.”

  Ryan took hold of Kate’s hand and forged a determined path through the crowd toward a secluded corner. Once they were alone, he gathered her close and nuzzled her neck, drinking in the heady scent of her. “You look amazing, Kate. That is definitely your colour.”

  Beneath a flimsy black cardigan, chosen more for style than warmth, Kate wore a strappy, knee-length dress, the same colour as her violet eyes. Silver heels and sheer pantyhose showed off her long, slim legs and her pale blonde hair fell in soft, shining waves down her back. The husky timbre of Ryan’s voice sent a delicious thrill up her spine and she smiled in appreciation of the compliment.

  “You don’t look too bad yourself, Detective.” Despite having worked all day, Ryan looked fresh and relaxed in a navy-blue suit and pale-blue, open-neck shirt. Kate ran her hands over the smooth fabric of his jacket and couldn't help imagining his warm body beneath. Her pulse quicke
ned in response to the closeness of him and she suddenly wished they were truly alone.

  Maneuvering Kate so her back was against the wall, he placed his hands possessively on her waist. He kissed her hungrily, drawing a moan from her lips. “I’ve missed you, baby,” he told her, his voice hoarse with desire. “It’s been five long days since I’ve lain eyes on you…let alone any other part of me.”

  Kate smiled slyly. “We could always sneak out of here and go back to my place. I’ve got some interesting ideas on how to fill in an hour or two.”

  Ryan groaned. “Oh, God, babe, I wish I could, but Jasper’s roped me into taking him out on the town with an old friend of his. He reckons coppers know all the best drinking holes and girly bars.”

  “Which of course you do,” she grinned. “But surely Jasper already knows his way around London’s seedier parts,” reasoned Kate, not willing to surrender her plans so easily. “Why does he need to drag you along?”

  “Jasper’s, er, tastes run in a different direction to the rest of us. He’s probably not the best person to show you where the girls are.”

  “Oh, I see what you mean,” she acknowledged with a laugh. Resigning herself to the inevitable, she warned him, only half teasing, “well, just make sure you look and don’t touch.” Rolling her eyes, she said, “I can only imagine where you’ll end up.”

  “You know I only have eyes for you,” he said seriously.

  Kate drew him closer, so their lips were only an inch apart. “I know,” she whispered, kissing him.

  “So when will I see you again?” Ryan asked breathlessly, his hands caressing the length of her, as if to imprint the feel of her onto his memory. “I have to work tomorrow, probably till late…”

  “There’s always later tonight,” suggested Kate archly, unwilling to wait for him any longer than was necessary. “We could have a romantic rendezvous when you get in from your night of debauchery. You know I’ll still be up, and I’d hate to wait until tomorrow or the next day…”