by Lena Jones
‘I was wondering whether you could meet me at the National Gallery,’ I say.
‘What, now?’
‘Not quite – but at nine? I’ve got a meeting with the gallery director.’
‘With Elizabeth MacDonald? Why do you want me to attend as well?’
‘I’m hoping you can check out the Sunflowers painting, to verify once and for all if it’s genuine or a forgery. Also, I might need you to tell Dr MacDonald what you know – about the threats to my mum and to yourself. I don’t want to make her panic about Sheila, but she needs to understand what the Alumni are like.’
‘I see. Yes – I’m sure I can make that. I’d better leave straight away, though.’
‘That’s great – thank you.’
‘See you at nine, Agatha.’
‘See you then. Bye.’
Once clean, dry, dressed and booted, I go back downstairs to find my friends. Liam’s also wearing different clothes.
‘Brianna’s brother had some stuff I could borrow,’ he says. He’s in a navy cotton sweater and navy jeans, and looks classically, geekily handsome.
‘Nice,’ I say, and he blushes.
It’s hard to tell if Brianna’s changed her clothes or not. So much of her wardrobe tends to feature torn black jeans and black tops with holes in, that one outfit looks very much like another.
‘Shall we head off then?’ she asks.
I pull an apologetic face. ‘Like I said, I’m not sure there’s much point in the two of you coming along. And you did just get knocked out, Bri.’
Liam grabs his coat. ‘We’re not letting you go anywhere alone, Aggie. Not after that abduction.’
‘What about school?’ I ask.
He shrugs. ‘What about school?’
‘What – Liam Lau actually choosing to miss school? Am I being a bad influence on you?’
‘Always. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.’
We grin at each other, until Brianna coughs.
‘Taxi?’ she says, and we troop outside to flag one down.
Mr Cohen’s already waiting outside the National Gallery when we arrive. He looks nervous and a little dishevelled, as if he’s dressed in a hurry.
‘Ms Oddlow!’ he says, as I disembark.
‘Hi, Mr Cohen. Thanks so much for coming. These are my friends, Liam Lau and Brianna Pike.’
He shakes their hands politely before we all make our way up to the entrance. There’s a security guard on duty there. When I show him my ID badge, he nods and waves us through. ‘Dr MacDonald’s waiting for you in the Van Gogh exhibition,’ he says.
I’m surprised – I’d expected her to want to meet me in her office, for the sake of privacy. But the gallery’s not open to the public yet, I suppose.
As we walk up the stairs to the exhibition, Sam Cohen asks, ‘Have you tracked down Sheila?’
I shake my head. ‘Not exactly. But we have found some people who know where she is.’
‘Is she all right?’
‘I hope so.’ I wish I could give him a more positive response. Arthur said the Alumni weren’t hurting anybody, but that obviously wasn’t the case with my mum.
We reach the entrance to the exhibition, and another staff member greets us. ‘Oh, there are more of you than expected,’ he says with a frown.
‘These are my friends,’ I say, gesturing to Liam and Brianna, ‘and Mr Cohen’s an art conservator.’
The guard nods and radios someone, presumably Dr MacDonald. ‘I have Agatha Oddlow here, ma’am, with two friends and a Mr Cohen … Right … right … Yes, ma’am.’ He nods to us. ‘That will be fine. Please go on through.’
We traipse into the first room, where the sight of Sunflowers takes me back to the first time I met Arthur.
I’ve paused, mid-stride, and Liam has to touch me on the shoulder. ‘Are you all right?’
I nod. ‘Just thinking again about how naive I’ve been.’
‘Hey – he’s obviously highly trained in deception. Don’t blame yourself.’
We move further into the room, and Dr MacDonald walks towards us. She’s quite sprightly for a lady of … whatever age she is – quite old, anyway. She’s still got the ‘autumn of her years’ as she put it ahead of her on her clan’s precious island, so maybe her family all live to very old ages.
‘Ms Oddlow, Mr Cohen – thank you for coming. And these are …?’
‘Brianna Pike and Liam Lau,’ I say.
She nods to them, then turns back to me. ‘I was hoping, however, we might talk in private, through there,’ she says, indicating the adjoining room.
‘Of course,’ I reply. ‘In fact, Mr Cohen was just going to do a preliminary examination of some of these paintings.’
‘What? Right now?’
I nod. ‘We thought it might be helpful for you.’
‘It would have been more helpful to have been notified in advance of your intentions.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I reply, feeling slightly surprised. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’
‘Pleased to have an outsider come in to my gallery, to judge the authenticity of my collection?’
Sam Cohen steps forward. ‘Of course I won’t do anything, if you don’t want me to, Dr MacDonald,’ he says. ‘I didn’t realise you’d not been consulted …’ He frowns at me.
‘Why don’t you three wait for me here?’ I say quickly to defuse the situation. ‘I’ll go with Dr MacDonald through to the next room for a moment.’
The director and I walk past the empty attendant’s chair to the room containing The Yellow House and Bedroom in Arles. And then I freeze. There may be no attendant, but there’s someone waiting in the room: Tabitha.
I try to back out, but the security guard has followed us in, and blocks my way. Just as I open my mouth to shout for help, Dr MacDonald kicks me hard in the back of my legs and I lurch forward. The fall seems to last for several seconds, and the main emotion I register is surprise. Despite her authoritative manner, Elizabeth MacDonald had seemed so … harmless.
Lying on the floor and momentarily winded, I run through the mistakes I’ve made. I normally pride myself on not making assumptions based on people’s age or appearance – Professor D’Oliveira is elderly, quick-thinking and feisty, after all – but I’ve slipped up … MacDonald seemed so proper, in that old-fashioned kind of way.
As the man dressed as the security guard wraps rope round my wrists and ankles and knots it, I close my eyes and try to work out my next move. They can’t get me out of here while Sam Cohen and my friends are in the next room. Unless – and this thought is like a cold stone in the pit of my stomach – other Alumni members have also been sent to attack them. There’s no sign of Arthur – what if he’s using his fighting skills on Liam and Brianna? They wouldn’t stand a chance. I fight back tears. Why didn’t I pass some of my fighting skills on to my friends?
I have to get us out of this, but how? I reassure myself with the thought that I did tell Sofia I was going to meet Dr MacDonald this morning, at the gallery. Maybe the Guild will come looking for me …
The man drags me to my feet and shoves me through to the first room, where I see three more thugs, presumably all members of the Alumni, restraining my friends. They look scared but as far as I can tell they aren’t hurt. However, unless the Guild turn up soon, I can’t envisage a positive outcome here. Brianna, Liam, Sam Cohen and I have all been captured because we know about the forgery ring. Our knowledge is only going to end with … I shudder, not wanting to finish that thought.
‘Take them to the lifts,’ says Dr MacDonald. I feel a rough hand on my back, propelling me forward, and I stumble along, my movement restricted by the ropes.
‘Who are you working for?’ I ask her, as we pass out of the exhibition.
‘I’m not working for anyone,’ she says. ‘Everyone here is working for me.’ She leads us through a staff-only door to the lift lobby.
‘So you’re the head of the Alumni?’ I ask as she pushes the button to summon the l
ift.
‘Aye. Someone needed to take control of the art world, before the ignorant masses inherited it all.’
‘Oh, really? A generous motive indeed, I don’t think!’ I say angrily.
‘What’s taking so long?’ tuts Dr MacDonald, pushing the button repeatedly, as if that will somehow encourage the lift to perform more efficiently. ‘It’s been on the roof level for far too long.’
‘So who else is involved in this?’ I ask her.
‘You’re every bit as tenacious as your headstrong mother, aren’t you? Such a shame you were both on the wrong side.’ She sighs again and turns towards me. ‘The Alumni are a secret organisation, Ms Oddlow – we do not expose the identity of our members.’
‘And you don’t make money out of this?’
From the shocked look on her face, you’d think I’d slapped her.
‘We believe in preparing for a healthy and comfortable retirement, surrounded by exquisite works of art, such as mere members of the public could never truly appreciate. It’s no loss to them. Believe me, after nearly fifty years as the director of a public gallery, I’m well placed to judge the unworthiness as far as art is concerned of most men and women.’
She turns back to the lift, which still hasn’t begun its descent.
‘Where are you taking us?’ I ask her.
‘Somewhere you can’t communicate with your agency,’ she says.
‘Where is that, exactly?’
‘Oh, tsk tsk. Can’t you keep her quiet?’ she asks the man who’s restraining me.
‘Not without a gag,’ he replies.
‘So gag her!’
‘Please don’t!’ instructs a voice behind me. It’s Liam. He, Brianna and Sam Cohen have arrived in the lobby, together with their captors. Even without the masks, I recognise the two Alumni members who kidnapped Arthur and me yesterday and held us captive in the barn. Sals catches my eye but at least she has the grace to look away immediately, as if she’s ashamed.
‘Leave it, Liam,’ I say, desperate to keep my friends from harm for as long as I possibly can.
‘This thing must be broken!’ says the director in exasperation.
But, as soon as she’s said it, the lift begins to descend. We watch the numbers light up slowly, one at a time. It feels a bit like a countdown to an execution. At least the man holding me seems to have forgotten about the gag. My legs are wobbly with adrenaline and fear, but I’m still looking for an opportunity to get us out of here.
Finally, the G for ‘ground floor’ is lit up and there’s a ping as the lift arrives. The doors slide open and I see a woman cowering in the far corner of the metal box. As I my eyes adjust to what I’m seeing, I realise it’s her – Sheila! – dishevelled but still recognisable from her photo—
There’s a sudden loud thud close by, and one of the henchmen hits the ground hard. As he falls, he takes Dr MacDonald down with him. Then there’s a confused silence before anyone thinks to retaliate against the invisible assailant. In that moment, Tabitha Fitzwilliam lets out a shriek and topples sideways, landing with one leg at an awkward angle.
And then I spot her, fighting her way through like an Amazonian warrior: a tall woman with a forest of brown hair. She must have come rolling out of the lift, slamming straight into the nearest henchman. Now she’s spinning and kicking out at our bewildered captors, who don’t seem to stand a chance.
The man who was holding me steps towards her, but she aims a jab at his jugular and simultaneously kicks his knees from under him. He makes a strange, gurgling noise as he falls.
The woman arrives at my side and I feel her loosen my ropes.
‘Come on, Agatha,’ she says. ‘You need to act now.’
This is enough to nudge me into action. While I work with my new ally, using the moves Mr Zhang has taught me to disarm and unbalance my opponents, a confused sense of recognition is ringing in my head. This woman is not a stranger. I know her. I know her well.
But it’s not possible … is it?
As we take down the final henchman, I say:
‘Mum …?’
Our victim falls to the floor, where he lies groaning.
Then she turns to me, with tears in her eyes, and says, ‘Yes, darling – it’s me.’
My mum, Clara Oddlow, is standing in front of me, holding out her arms – as if she’s expecting me to jump into them.
I stare at her, a tangle of possibilities racing through my mind. Could this be a lookalike or an impostor? But my instincts all tell me this really is her.
‘I don’t understand …’ I say at last.
Mum leads me to a bench in the main gallery, where we sit side by side. She tries to take my hand, but I snatch it back. I feel too … What do I feel? Angry, I realise – furious. And betrayed.
Around us, the Alumni are being rounded up and led away in handcuffs by Guild members, but none of that seems important any more.
We sit in silence, until Mum says, ‘You’ve grown up so much since I last saw you. You were a very determined little girl, who knew lots of long words. And you had a great sense of justice, even then.’
I don’t say anything. My head is whirling with thoughts and questions. At last, I say, ‘How’s this possible? I thought you were dead. I don’t understand!’
‘I got too close to uncovering the identity of the top figures in the Alumni,’ says Mum quietly. ‘So they sent someone they knew I trusted. I thought he was taking me to confront them, but he transported me to a small cell on an island called Fairhaven …’
I start to sob. ‘But surely you could have escaped before now?’
‘I needed help to get out,’ she says. ‘I was kept in a cell with three locked doors, each with a different type of mechanism. I tried everything, Aggie – you must believe me …’
I shrug. ‘It seems to me that a Guild agent as talented as Clara Oddlow could escape from anywhere – if she wanted to enough.’ My voice sounds harsh and sarcastic.
‘Aggie, look at me.’ Grudgingly, I turn my eyes to hers, which are filled with tears, just like mine. ‘Listen to me,’ she says. ‘I tried everything to get away. Every day, all I thought about was you and your dad. I lay awake at night, imagining how my little girl would be wondering what had happened to me – why her mum had never returned. I hated the thought that you might believe I’d chosen to leave you. I never would do that.’ She says this fiercely, with her fists clenched. It’s then that I notice the scars on her fingers and knuckles. I take one of her hands and examine it.
‘What are all these marks?’ I ask.
‘Oh!’ She laughs. ‘That’s what happens to you when you try to break locks with only your wits and your bare hands.’
I look her in the eye again. ‘You really did try to escape, didn’t you?’ I say quietly.
She nods gravely. ‘I really did, Aggie, so many times …’
Something melts in me. I throw my arms round her and she hugs me back tightly.
‘So how did you get free?’ I ask eventually, when we finally loosen our hold on each other.
Mum takes a deep breath. ‘There was a young man who used to visit regularly, delivering packages, which I’m pretty sure contained paintings. He always checked I had enough food and drink. Sometimes, he even brought me books. He told me to call him the “Silver Serpent”.’ She laughs again. ‘I think he fancied he was in a spy thriller or something. A few days ago, Sheila was brought to the island too and kept in prison with me. The young man was the one who helped us both escape.’
‘That was Arthur,’ I say. ‘He was my partner in the Guild.’
She frowns. ‘But that makes no sense. He was working for the Alumni.’
I shrug. ‘He was a double agent.’
‘Right …’ She pauses for a moment, as if absorbing the new information, before continuing with her story. ‘He seemed to do a lot of the running around and administrative stuff for the Alumni. Anyway, he used to turn up with that skinny, bossy woman we’ve just apprehended,’ says
Mum.
‘Tabitha Fitzwilliam,’ I say slowly.
‘That’s right! It was clear she was his mother from the way she spoke to him. They were always arguing, but she usually won. He was obviously scared of her.’
‘How did he free you?’ I ask.
‘He came on his own, late last night, with the helicopter. He spoke very little – just unlocked the cell and led Sheila and me out.’ She pauses. ‘Sheila was scared – she was worried he might be taking us away to kill us.’
‘Weren’t you afraid of that too?’ I ask.
She shakes her head. ‘No. He seemed far too calm … and relieved – happy, even – as if he’d finally managed to do the right thing.’
‘About time,’ I say dully.
‘He claimed to be your friend – it was one of the few things he said.’ She pauses, recalling his words. ‘Hmm, that’s right – he said, “Please tell Agatha I’m doing this for her.”’
So after betraying me, he rescues Mum. It’s hard to reconcile the two deeds.
‘He knew all along that you were alive,’ I say, ‘but he let me go on thinking you were dead.’
‘People make tough choices,’ she says, ‘especially when they have domineering parents.’
I can’t stop staring at Mum. It seems impossible, but she’s really here.
Liam and Brianna come over, wearing foil wraps, like marathon runners. The Guild’s paramedics must have been treating them for shock.
‘You OK, Aggie?’ asks Liam.
‘Yeah. How about you two?’
‘We’re fine,’ says Brianna. ‘Been in much worse situations.’ She smiles and looks at my companion.
‘Brianna and Liam –’ I take a deep breath – ‘meet my mum, Clara.’
Mum takes one arm from round my shoulders and holds out her hand, but my friends just stare at her.
‘It’s all right,’ I tell them. ‘I reacted pretty much the same way as you. But Mum was a prisoner, because of her investigations into the Alumni. She only just managed to get away, after years of trying. Arthur freed her, and Sheila Smith.’
Liam doesn’t smile, but he does take Mum’s hand and shake it briefly. Brianna just nods to her and Mum nods back. I’m still reeling from her reappearance, and can’t decide how I feel. One minute, I’m ecstatic. The next, I want to cry, or scream in anger that the Alumni kept her from me for half my life. I keep thinking: All these years without her, when she was alive the whole time.