A Bombing Enigma

by Angelika Lansdale

  A BOMBING ENIGMA

  ANGELIKA LANSDALE

  Copyright © 2016 Angelika Lansdale

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 0692683461

  ISBN-13: 978-0692683460

  For my loving and supportive family.

  Too low they build, who build beneath the stars.

  – Edward Young

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Cynara opened her eyes to sunlight streaming in through the lace curtains adorning the window at the foot of the bed. It took her a few seconds to understand where she was. Then smiling, she jumped out of bed and ran to gaze outside at the garden. Daisies were blooming everywhere. It was a beautiful Saturday morning with no clouds in the sky. Cynara looked around the spacious bedroom and whispered a small prayer for her good fortune at getting this job in such charming surroundings.

  She had finished University in May and found a job as a teacher at a girls’ school in York, starting in September. While she was here interviewing, she had also applied for a part-time summer job advertised in the local papers. She was successful in getting the position. Now she was all moved into a beautiful cottage within the estate of her part-time employer, Elizabeth Stewart. This job was officially beginning from Monday and would last all the three summer months, June through August. However, Mrs. Stewart had agreed to let her move-in the weekend before. Her teaching assignment would start right after, from September 10, when the new Term began. The timing was just too perfect.

  Cynara’s contemplations about her perfect life were interrupted with the ringing of her mobile phone. She quickly reached out to grab it. Charles was calling. “Hi Cynara. Good morning. Did I wake you?”

  “No not at all. I was already up,” Cynara chirped happily.

  “How is York?” Charles enquired.

  “Great but I have not seen much of it. I reached late last evening and took a taxi to the house. The housekeeper gave me the keys to the cottage and brought me here. I unpacked and fell asleep,” Cynara responded.

  “How is the cottage?” he asked.

  “Quaint is the only word for it. It is quite large with two bedrooms, a comfortable sitting room, a separate dining area, and a good-sized kitchen. You will like it. When are you coming?” Cynara hoped it was soon.

  “In July. I have already applied for leave and it should come through. Let’s talk later as I have to rush back.” Charles disconnected the call.

  Cynara sat on the bed and continued to think of Charles. He was her brother, older by ten years. They only had each other. Their parents had died in a car accident about six years ago. Charles was already working in the Diplomatic Corps while she was still at school. He had taken care of everything and ensured she completed her schooling and then went on to University. In a way, he had taken her father’s place. Now at twenty-three, she felt she could finally face life on her own without having to hold Charles’ hand all the time.

  Making a life in York was what Cynara had always dreamed. Her mother had been from here and she had very fond memories of visiting her grandparents every summer before their deaths. Her last visit to the area had been when she was twelve, for her grandfather’s funeral. Her grandmother had died a few years earlier. Cynara’s mother sold her parents’ house, as it was difficult to maintain from abroad. They had been living in Spain at the time.

  Cynara’s father had also worked in the Diplomatic Corps. His job had kept them out of England throughout her school years. She was actually born in Greece. It explained her unusual name, Cynara, of Greek origin. The hospital where her mother had given birth had a nurse with that name. It had been a very long and tiring labor and the nurse had stayed by her mother’s side throughout. She had seemed like an angel to her parents and they had decided to christen her with the same name. In addition, one of Cynara’s great grandmothers had also hailed from Greece.

  Cynara had always resided with her parents, going to international schools wherever they were. Charles, on the other hand, had been at a boarding school in Leeds and graduated from there. Maybe all the travelling she did as a child endeared her to live now in a very English setting and Yorkshire was certainly that. The town of York with its rich heritage and history had an old English charm that cast a spell on her at every visit.

  Breaking her reminisces, Cynara jumped up from the bed and rushed into the bathroom. After completing her toilette, she examined her appearance critically in the mirror, green eyes, long black hair, a smooth complexion, and a dimpled smile. She and her mother had both inherited their looks from their Greek ancestry, more than from their English ancestors. Her mother had been pretty with attractive features. According to Charles, Cynara bore a startling resemblance to her.

  Cynara’s stomach suddenly growled with hunger. She had not eaten anything since her arrival in York. There was no food in the cottage. She quickly dressed and decided to find some breakfast before she fainted. Grabbing her purse, she walked out and locked the door.

  The cottage was behind the manor house against the east boundary wall. The grounds were enormous, about hundred acres of land all together. There were enchanting gardens surrounding the main house and two cottages in the back. The pool was just behind the house. The gardens lent it complete privacy. Cynara was not sure if the other cottage was also occupied. Mrs. Stewart had a housekeeper, a cook, and a butler. She had briefly met all of them. The housekeeper had been waiting for her arrival the previous evening. There were paths leading around the sides of the house to the circular driveway in the front, which ended in a detached garage on the west side. A tall iron gate stood majestically at the start of the driveway and led into the property.

  Cynara swiftly walked out through the gate and turned left. She remembered the bus stop at the intersection of Stockton Lane. It was at a short distance. Luckily, she did not have to wait at all. The bus approached just as she reached the stop. Cynara climbed on and paid to go to the city center. Sitting down on a window seat, she noted the neighborhood passing by. It was quite affluent. Her employer seemed to be living in the biggest estate around. Nevertheless, the entire area had beautiful homes.

  Cynara still could not believe her lucky break in finding this summer job. Charles had noticed the advertisement while reading the local newspaper on the internet. He had advised her to apply for it. Cynara was so glad she did. The independent cottage would make Charles’ forthcoming visit in July very comfortable. He was currently wor
king and living in Perth, Australia. She was really looking forward to seeing him. They had last met during Easter. Australia was just so far, really a land down under.

  Cynara hopped off the bus near the city center. She spotted a café and decided to listen first to her rumbling stomach. As she entered, she was immediately assailed with an aroma of fresh bacon. There were very few occupants and she found a table next to the window. She sat down and looked over the menu. A woman in her mid-fifties came up and asked for her order. She decided to go for a full English breakfast. It was the right choice. She was ravenous and the delicious food filled her stomach to satisfaction.

  After paying the bill, Cynara wandered around the street outside the café. There seemed to be many curio shops, probably to entice visitors. York was a very popular tourist destination. It was seeped in history. The city was built around the junction of two rivers, Ouse and Foss. It had been founded by the Romans in 71 AD. The city had a rich historical heritage and offered a very attractive getaway with its unique architecture, old buildings, and medieval cobbled streets. There was so much to see that it was popular with both couples and families.

  After roaming around and exploring for a few hours, Cynara decided to stock up her pantry. She spotted a supermarket across the road. After buying some basic food and toiletries, she flagged down a taxi and gave the address, Park Drive off Stockton Lane. The taxi driver was familiar with the residence. He asked, “Are you visiting Mrs. Stewart?”

  “No, she is my new employer,” Cynara replied.

  “She is a wonderful lady. Never seen any like her before. Was such a tragedy to lose Mr. Stewart in that bombing last year,” he said.

  “What happened?” Cynara asked in shock.

  “It was at the races. There was a suicide bombing, one of them terrorists. Mr. Stewart along with twenty other people and the terrorist were blown to bits,” he replied.

  “Oh, that’s terrible!” she exclaimed.

  Cynara recalled reading about the case. It was at the time of the Ebor Festival in York in 2013, three days of horse racing held every August. A young man had strapped a bomb and had blown himself up along with all the people around him. The story had run in the papers for a few weeks. The bomber had been a young Englishman turned Jihadi. They had found a video he made before his suicide and played that on TV. Cynara did not remember his exact reasons for killing himself other than something about being disillusioned with England and Christianity. He had converted to Islam and believed he was sacrificing his life for the Islamic cause. The interesting fact had been that no Islamist group had ever come forward and taken the blame. The anti-terrorist unit that had worked the case concluded publicly that the man had acted alone.

  Cynara knew her employer, Elizabeth Stewart, was a childless widow. She had not known that Mr. Stewart had died in the bomb blast. Just thinking about it sent a shiver down her spine. Mrs. Stewart was probably around thirty years old. It was tragic to be widowed so young and under such grievous circumstances. This explained her somewhat aloof demeanor and her sorrowful eyes.

  Cynara had met her employer twice during the interviewing process. Mrs. Stewart had been seeking someone to help her with paperwork during the summer months. As Cynara’s school did not start until the end of summer, it was ideal for her. Mrs. Stewart had seemed impressed with Cynara’s writing skills, as English was her forte. She had just graduated in English Honors and was going to be teaching English at Woodstock School.

  There were so many advantages to having secured this job, the cottage being the number one benefit. It also gave Cynara the opportunity to become familiar with York, maybe meet people and make some friends. Once the new school year began, she would become very busy. There was accommodation within the school boundaries for all the teachers. She could move into her staff quarters a week prior to the start of the term. Until then, Cynara was going to enjoy her time at the spacious cottage.

  The taxi turned into Park Drive and reached the manor house. It really was a fine stately home, built somewhere around the year 1700. The entire area had belonged to the Stewart family for centuries. They were fortunate that they still owned the original manor and a lot of land around it. The two cottages behind used to accommodate the managers of the estate in the olden days. The family had sold the farmlands in the 60’s and built a boundary wall around the remaining land, encompassing the house and the cottages.

  The main gate stood open and the driver asked Cynara. “Shall I pull in?”

  “Yes please. I have quite a few bags to carry,” she replied.

  The driver turned into the driveway and Cynara asked him to stop at the path on the right, which led behind to her cottage. He graciously helped her carry the bags and deposited them on the porch. She paid and thanked him for his help. “Jimmy Spencer used to live here,” he remarked just as he turned to leave.

  “Who is Jimmy Spencer?” she asked puzzled.

  “He is the one who blew himself up last year, the suicide bomber,” the cabbie replied.

  Chapter 2

  Cynara entered the cottage in a daze. She was stunned by the taxi driver’s remarks. He had explained that Jimmy used to be Mrs. Stewart’s chauffeur. She felt very unnerved. It was unbelievable to think she was actually living in what had once been the home of a terrorist. After putting away her groceries and the rest of her shopping, she texted Charles to call her when he was free. Luckily, he rang within a few minutes. She explained everything, especially about how perturbed she was feeling. He assured her there was no need to worry. It was just an unfortunate coincidence. Sensing her discomfort Charles suggested talking to Mrs. Stewart and seeing if she would agree to let her move to the other cottage, if it was unoccupied. Cynara felt reluctant to approach her employer. Charles then lightened her mood by making jokes about Jimmy’s ghost haunting her.

  By the end of the conversation, Cynara felt much better. She decided to be practical about the matter and walked around the cottage scrutinizing every detail. It seemed to have been professionally cleaned. The furniture also looked new. Each room had windows and a lot of natural light. The kitchen had all the basic utensils, cutlery, and crockery. There was a television in the living room. Cynara had selected the bigger bedroom for herself. It had a full sized bed, a nightstand, a dresser with a mirror, a study desk with a computer in one corner, and a small walk-in-closet. Good thing she had brought her own linen. The terrorist had probably slept in the same bed but at least the sheets were her own.

  Cynara felt positive with this thought. The cottage had a happy atmosphere and she forced herself to imbibe it. Feeling optimistic, she went into the kitchen and made herself a sandwich for lunch. She ate while watching news on the TV. Cynara then decided to go back into York and buy more necessities. The rest of the day passed swiftly.

  Cynara again awoke Sunday morning to a sunny room. It was going to be another glorious day. She decided to make sure she had everything she needed, as she did not want to go shopping during the first week of her new job. That meant a few more trips to the shops. Cynara quickly dressed, ate a light breakfast, and headed back into town. She methodically set about purchasing all the essentials for a comfortable set up. It took two trips back and forth before she felt satisfied. By the time she finished putting all the things away in their proper place, it was 2 p.m. Charles called before going to bed and reassured himself that she was over yesterday’s shock. Cynara decided to return to town, eat a late lunch, and sightsee.

  As Cynara walked towards the gate leading out of the driveway, she heard someone calling her name. She turned around and was surprised to see Jane Clemmons, a tall, slim, and pretty brunette in her mid-20s with warm brown eyes. She was another teacher at Woodstock school and taught Mathematics. Cynara had met her during the interviewing process. She had been extremely friendly.

  “What a surprise to see you!” Jane exclaimed.

  “Yes, I have a summer job which starts tomorrow and am staying in a cottage behind the house,” Cynara replied.<
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  “Oh, I had no idea. Are you working for Elizabeth?” Jane asked.

  “Yes. Mrs. Stewart was looking for someone to help her with paperwork. I met her while I was interviewing at the school and I got the job. It is only for three months and provides me with an occupation during this interim summer period before I begin at Woodstock,” Cynara explained.

  “Fantastic.” Jane’s eyes shone delightedly.

  “What are you doing here?” Cynara asked.

  “I was just dropping off something for Elizabeth. She is my cousin sister-in-law from my mother’s side. It is strange she did not mention you. Actually, she is still not quite herself. You have probably heard about the tragedy. She was so in love with George. Half the time, nowadays, she seems to be in some kind of a trance,” Jane gushed.

  “Yes, I heard about it. It was very appalling. I actually remember watching it on the news last year but did not realize that Mr. Stewart had been a victim,” Cynara said.

  “Life is full of tragedies. Anyway, where are you going?” Jane asked.

  “To the city center just to walk around and get some lunch,” Cynara replied.

  “Have you finished unpacking?” Jane asked.