Comes The Dawn (The Wonderland Series: Book 5)

by Irina Shapiro

  Now that we were where we needed to be, we had to implement the second half of the plan. We settled the children on a bench, eager to set them down after holding them for so long. I removed my cloak and used it to cover their sleeping forms. Hugo would wait with the children while I walked into the village. I gave Hugo a quick kiss before making my way out of the graveyard and toward the nearest pub. I would call Simon first. If he didn’t answer, we’d go to the hunting lodge and wait till morning instead of descending on Stella Harding, who I didn’t expect to have a favorable reaction. I wasn’t sure if Simon told his mother about his sojourn to the seventeenth century, but even if he had, she might not be pleased to see us. Stella had been inordinately fond of Max, and hearing of his death would not only come as a shock, but, might provoke anger against Hugo, whom she would see as being responsible.

  The Richard Onslow pub was crowded and noisy on a Saturday night, the patrons talking loudly as they enjoyed a meal in the dining room or stood at the bar. A young man nearly splashed me with beer as he tried to maneuver his way toward a group of friends, four tankards held in front of him to keep them from being knocked over. I couldn’t help remembering having drinks at this very pub with Max all those years ago when I first came to the village for my job. We’d sat in the snug, me with a glass of dry white wine, Max with a pint of bitter. I couldn’t help glancing at the snug, irrationally hoping to see Max having a beer and talking to an acquaintance, but of course, the snug was occupied by strangers who were laughing loudly at something one of them said. I turned and pushed my way toward the bar.

  The publican was kind enough to let me use the telephone when I told him that my car had broken down outside the village, and my mobile was dead. He didn’t remember me, but I remembered him. He was a ginger-haired man in his forties, with a pretty blue-eyed wife who was currently serving someone in the dining room.

  “Sure thing, pet. Phone is over there. Do you need a number for a local garage?” He glanced at his watch. “Oh, but they will be closed now. We do have rooms upstairs. You can stay the night.”

  “Thank you, I’ll just call my brother to come get me,” I assured him as I pulled out Simon’s card. I dialed the number and listened to it ring, praying all the while that Simon would answer. Contacting Simon was essential to our plan. I was just about to hang up when Simon finally picked up.

  “Hello,” he said, sounding extremely annoyed. “Who is this?”

  I realized that he wouldn’t recognize the number and assume it was a wrong number or some sales call.

  “Simon, it’s Neve,” I explained, suddenly worried that his offer of help hadn’t been in earnest and just something he’d promised on the spur of the moment.

  “Blimey. Where are you?” Simon exclaimed, all irritation gone from his voice.

  “I’m at the Richard Onslow. Hugo and the children are at the graveyard. Can you help us?”

  “I’m on my way.”

  I hung up, thanked the publican, and stepped into the cool April evening. Only then did I breathe a sigh of relief.

  Chapter 27

  Simon was as good as his word and met us in the graveyard in record time. He grinned broadly as he gave me a warm hug and shook Hugo’s hand. He looked delightfully casual in a pair of jeans, a navy-blue jumper and suave loafers. His light hair was tousled, and his eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “All right?” he asked as he took stock of our appearance. Hugo’s clothes would not pass scrutiny in daylight, but he looked passable in the dark. I had to admit that after wearing yards of fabric for several years, I felt surprisingly naked in my short dress. I had fashioned a pair of panties out of a petticoat, but I didn’t have a bra and felt scandalously unbound with nothing on beneath the sheath. My stockings came mid-thigh and were held in place by a ribbon. I’d pulled the pins from my hair before going into the village, and my hair hung past my shoulders and moved gently in the breeze. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d worn my hair loose since married women normally wore their hair up. Only young, unmarried maidens could get away with leaving their hair unbound. It felt strange to feel it brushing against my neck.

  I was glad that Simon didn’t ask any awkward questions, the time for talking would come; just not now. He scooped up Michael and Hugo lifted Valentine into his arms while I picked up the discarded cloaks and followed the men out of the graveyard and up the ridge. The house looked surprisingly dark, only the front parlor windows lit up with what appeared to be candlelight.

  “I thought the children might be frightened by the light,” Simon said by way of explanation as he led us into the darkened foyer. “Shall we settle them in the parlor for now?”

  Simon pushed two sofas together front to front, creating an enclosed space where the children could sleep without falling off. I covered them with one of the cloaks before following Simon and Hugo into the kitchen. We could hear them as long we left the door open. Simon flipped on the light, invited us to sit down, and went about making tea, his movements clumsy.

  “Let me,” I said as I took the kettle from Simon, filled it, and set it on the hob. Simon took out a tin and arranged scones on a plate. “Mum baked these only this morning. Apricot walnut,” he elaborated as he set the plate on the table. I prepared the tea and set steaming mugs before Hugo and Simon before making one for myself. Simon added a splash of milk while Hugo took his black. I inhaled the wonderful aroma of black tea, eager for my first sip. I hadn’t had tea in months.

  “I must admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you, old boy,” Simon said as he took a sip of his tea. “I noticed the gravestone for Hugo Everly a few months ago and assumed…, well, you know.”

  “Simon, the gravestone is for Max,” I explained, “but he isn’t actually buried in the churchyard. He will be buried tonight at a crossroads just outside Cranley. There must have been a marker at some point, but it’s long gone now,” I added, seeing the look of incomprehension on Simon’s face. There was a glimmer of pain in his eyes as the meaning of my words sank in. He’d loved Max long before he knew that Max was his older half-brother. He’d learned to live without him these past few years, but the hope that Max would someday come back was still alive despite our assurance that Max died in France.

  “So, Max is really dead? What happened? Why will he be buried at a crossroads?” Simon asked, looking at Hugo.

  “Max was believed to have committed suicide,” Hugo said gently, “but, of course, he was mistakenly identified as me.”

  “Right.” Simon set down his cup. There was a slight tremor in his hand and a bit of tea splashed onto the table. He was understandably upset. The brother he loved would not even get a Christian burial, much less his own gravestone. Max fell through the cracks of history, his fate of little interest to anyone but us.

  “Simon, where is your mother?” I asked carefully. I hoped to distract him from the news of Max’s death with practical concerns.

  “Oh, Mum went to Dr. and Mrs. Lomax’s house for supper. They play bridge every last Saturday of the month. She’ll be back soon, though. Don’t worry, she knows everything,” Simon added. “Have you some sort of a plan?” he asked.

  “Nothing to speak of. Our only goal was to get to you,” I added, hoping that Simon hadn’t changed his mind about helping us. I felt much safer now that I wasn’t faced with a trial in the morning, but we were now in the twenty-first century with two small children, no place to stay, no ready money, and no prospects. I was just about to point that out to Simon when the front door slammed, and Stella Harding walked into the kitchen.

  Mrs. Harding gazed upon the people at her table, set down her handbag, unbuttoned her coat, and gave Simon a look of reproach. “You should have made sandwiches. They must be hungry.”

  “We are fine, really,” I said, wondering if that was her only concern. “Shall I get you a cup of tea?”

  “Might as well,” Stella said as she pulled out a chair and sat at the head of the table. She looked just as I remembered her. There were a
few more strands of gray in her dark hair, and a few new wrinkles, but she was well-groomed and smartly dressed with a colorful silk scarf to brighten her otherwise somber dark dress. Her face was set in stern lines; she wasn’t a woman who smiled easily, but I didn’t feel any hostility from her, just curiosity. “Just the two of you, then?”

  “The children are sleeping in the parlor, Mum,” Simon said.

  “Good.” Stella accepted the tea, added milk and sugar, and gazed at Hugo and me with an air of expectation. “Have a plan, do you?”

  “Not as of yet,” Hugo replied. Stella nodded as if she’d expected his answer.

  “Well, I think it would be a good idea to take Neve and the children to London,” Simon began. “They can stay at my flat while Neve sorts herself out.”

  “Simon has no idea what to do with me since I was meant to be dead,” Hugo added helpfully, making Simon smile in embarrassment.

  “Yes, he did show me the grave,” Stella said as she took a sip of tea and crumpled a piece of scone absentmindedly.

  “Max suggested that I take his place,” Hugo explained carefully, watching Simon and Stella for their reactions.

  “Did he now?” Stella asked, clearly shocked. “That doesn’t sound like the Max I knew.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it does, but he’d changed since we last saw him in Paris. He’d mellowed somehow,” Hugo said, his expression thoughtful as he tried to describe this new Max. “I think he’d found God.”

  Stella scoffed. She seemed shocked by this revelation, but quickly composed herself and looked around the table. She was focused on the present. I suspected that she would mourn Max later, in private, but right now, she had to figure out what to do with us.

  “It’s a good idea about Neve and the children, but Hugo must remain here. If he is to pass for Max, he needs to be coached. The accent is wrong, and he barely knows anything about the man he hopes to impersonate. Simon and I can help him,” Stella suggested, speaking of Hugo as if he weren’t there.

  “But Mum, how do we explain Max’s disappearance? He’s been gone for over three years now. No one can go off the grid for that long; it’s impossible,” Simon pointed out, concerned.

  “It’s difficult, but not impossible,” Stella replied. “I’d given this some thought when I still hoped that Max might return to us. We could hardly say that he’d gone to the past, could we? So, I’d come up with what I thought at the time was a plausible idea. It might not be readily believed, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “What’s your idea?” I asked, curious to hear Stella’s plan. Having to explain a three-year disappearance had stumped me ever since we decided to return to the future. I could reenter my life if I needed to, but explaining Max’s reappearance was beyond the scope of my imagination.

  Stella looked around, refreshed her tea, then reached for another scone as we all sat in silence and waited for her to speak. I thought Stella Harding to be a humorless woman, but I noticed the little smile playing about her lips. She was actually enjoying this, which somehow made it easier. At least she wasn’t hostile. She took a sip, grimaced, added another splash of milk and finally spoke.

  “The late Lady Everly’s father left her an estate in the Scottish Highlands when he died. Naomi hated the place for some reason, and sold it just as soon as an acceptable offer came through. An American couple from the Midwest. They turned the place into a guest house, but as far as I know have never been able to turn a profit with the location being too remote to be of interest to tourists.”

  “Mum, get to the point,” Simon moaned.

  “Have patience,” Stella admonished him and went on. “There was a small cottage on the estate. It belonged to the gilly, but the man didn’t wish to stay on after the Americans took over. Moved to Inverness to be closer to his daughter. He sold the cottage to Roland Everly, who used it when he went salmon fishing and shooting grouse in Scotland.”

  “You mean it was his love nest,” Simon said with disgust. Stella didn’t reply, but I saw her wince for just a moment. Simon hit his mark. Stella had been Roland’s lover for nearly twenty years. He must have taken her there from time to time when she had some vacation time and could reasonably explain the absence to her employer, who probably knew that her husband was carrying on with the housekeeper all along.

  “Did he ever take you there?” Simon demanded, his face twisted with distaste. “You were only his mistress for nearly twenty years.” I felt sorry for the lad. He seemed to feel a lot of bitterness toward his parents, and with Roland being gone, could only take it out on his mother.

  “He did, as a matter of fact,” Stella replied tartly. “The place is quite remote. It’s wired for electricity, but there’s no phone, TV, or internet. The electric bill still comes every month and is paid from the business account associated with the museum.”

  “You never had the power shut off,” Simon said, his face alert. “You were waiting for Max to return.”

  “Yes. Roland always kept the place stocked with food and supplies, and I’d arranged for a local grocer to make a delivery once every few months, bringing non-perishable goods such as tea, coffee, canned soup, etc. I thought that if Max ever returned, we’d be able to prove that he was holed up there.”

  “Is that where you went all those times?” Simon asked, amazed by his mother’s craftiness.

  “Yes. I stowed away the supplies and made sure that the old Range Rover was in working order. If anyone had gone out there, they’d assume someone was in residence.”

  “You’re a clever old girl, aren’t you?” Simon exclaimed proudly.

  “I just wanted to protect Max. I promised Naomi before she died that I would look after her boy should he ever return.”

  “That’s kind of you,” I said. Max would have been happy to learn that he wasn’t forgotten by those who cared about him.”

  “So, Neve, you and the children go to London, and Hugo will remain here. We’ll keep it quiet for a few days while we coach him, then we’ll call the police and tell DI Knowles that Max has returned to us. The official story will be that Max had suffered a breakdown of some kind and went off to Scotland where he’s been for the past three-and-a-half years. Once the media scrutiny subsides, the two of you can be reunited. We’ll figure out how to introduce the children into the equation later.”

  “What if no one believes this story?” Hugo asked.

  “They might not believe it, but they won’t be able to disprove it. Max dabbled in writing at one time, did you know that?” Stella suddenly asked. “Wrote a spy novel.”

  “Was it any good?” Simon asked.

  “Absolute rubbish,” Stella replied with a grin, “but we can say that Max was in Scotland, working on his novel. And we have his efforts to prove it.”

  “Do you really think we can pull this off?” Simon asked. “I can’t imagine the police or the media just buying into this story.”

  “If we all play our parts, I think we can.”

  I was suddenly very glad that Stella Harding was on our side. After all, her son would lose out if Hugo was universally accepted as Max, but she didn’t seem to mind. I might not have been nearly so understanding were it my son losing out on his inheritance.

  “Simon, are you sure you are all right with me usurping your inheritance like this?” Hugo asked as if reading my thoughts.

  Simon smiled broadly, his eyes lighting up. “I couldn’t wait to get away from this old pile when I was a boy — I hated it. You are welcome to the lot, and all the responsibility that goes with it. I want my old life back.”

  “Speaking of which, whatever happened with Heather?” I asked, curious as to how Simon’s escape from his wedding played out. I could only imagine the scene once Simon returned from the past and eventually faced his jilted bride. I liked Simon immensely, but I couldn’t help being sympathetic toward poor Heather, who’d been literally left at the altar when Simon dashed to the crypt moments before the ceremony and plunged into the past rather than
go through with the marriage.

  I was surprised to see Stella give me a stern look as she shook her head. “Leave it,” she mouthed.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.”

  “I made a terrible mistake,” Simon said curtly before rising to his feet and reaching for the keys on the counter. “Shall we go then? It’s best if we leave tonight, before anyone sees you.”

  I stood up reluctantly, suddenly apprehensive. I hated saying goodbye to Hugo. I knew he was safe, but after all that’d happened to us over the years, any separation seemed frightening. And who knew when we’d see each other again. Hugo pulled me into an embrace and whispered in my ear, “Everything will be well. I promise. Just take care of yourself and the children. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  I nodded, afraid that I might cry. Hugo and I had been reunited for less than twenty-four hours, and I simply wasn’t ready to let him go. Simon and Hugo left the kitchen to get the children and settle them in the car, while I busied myself with clearing away the tea things.

  “I’ll do that,” Stella Harding said as she got to her feet and slipped into housekeeper mode. “Don’t fret. Simon will take good care of you,” Stella said when she noticed my distress.

  “I just don’t like to be away from Hugo,” I complained.

  “It won’t be for long. A few weeks, at most. Just keep yourself busy and focus on helping your children through this change. They’ll be bewildered and scared and will look to you to put their fears to rest.” Stella set down the cups and gave me a one-armed hug. I nodded in agreement, surprised by Stella’s motherly attitude. I remembered her as a cold, judgmental woman, but perhaps I’d misjudged her. Still waters ran deep, as my foster mother was fond of saying, and Stella’s waters were certainly deeper than I ever expected.

  “Thank you, Stella. I must admit that I hadn’t expected your support.”

  Stella Harding looked at me for a long moment before her face split into a grin. “This is actually kind of fun,” she said, surprising me yet again.