The Atomic Weight of Secrets or The Arrival of the Mysterious Men in Black

by Eden Unger Bowditch

  “Where is Mummy? And Daddy?” asked Lucy.

  “They’ll be along,” Rosie said. “Here we go. Come this way.” She clucked, flapping her arms as she guided the two children into the kitchen.

  “She really is a mother hen,” whispered Lucy to Jasper.

  “Cheep cheep,” whispered Jasper to Lucy.

  “Cheep cheep,” whispered Lucy back.

  The house was lovely, with umbrellas in the umbrella stand and hats on the hatrack. The walls were clean and freshly painted in yellows and blues and warm creamy whites. And the house was full of windows, though not many facing the front. Only on the second floor did the children see sunlight shining through glass.

  The rooms were furnished with comfortable chairs and sofas, nothing fussy or delicate.

  Upstairs, the nursery was full of games and toys. There were blackboards covering one entire wall and, in the corner, a small, but fully functional, science laboratory. Beakers and test tubes were lined neatly in one cupboard, and goggles, aprons, and rubber gloves placed, just as neatly, on shelves in another. Stone basins, candles, and burners, and long lengths of rubber tubing and several mortises and pestles in various sizes, were on shelves as well. In short, it had everything a nursery science lab should have, if a nursery other than this one had ever been equipped with a science laboratory.

  Down the hall was a bathroom. Next to the nursery were three bedrooms—one for Lucy, one for Jasper, and a small one off the far side of the nursery that belonged to Rosie. Down past the bath was a large master bedroom that clearly belonged to their parents. Peeking in, the children saw their father’s slippers and mother’s robe. This was reassuring. Surely it meant that their parents were planning to come—that is, if they had not been here already.

  Rosie, they quickly learned, was a wonderful cook. She could, and would, make any of their favorite dishes—roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes with gravy. She could make puddings, cakes, and custards, and anything chocolate. Over the following days, the very well-fed children became very fond of Rosie indeed.

  That was a very good thing, too. It was good because their parents had not yet appeared.

  “Sorry, darlings, but your parents have gone to the laboratory early this morning,” Rosie would say when the children came down for breakfast. “I think they should be home tonight in time to tuck you in.”

  And then, at night, she’d say, “Well, your parents had wanted to be home before you went to your beds, but it looks like they’ve been detained. Perhaps you will see them in the morning.” Rosie would tuck the children in their beds. Then, she’d sit in the rocking chair in the threshold between Jasper and Lucy’s bedrooms, humming and knitting until the children fell asleep.

  Life at One Elm was, all things considered, quite pleasant. The children found their laboratory to be very well stocked. The nursery had building blocks and puzzles and toys. Behind the house was a lovely and rather vast meadow that seemed to open only onto the four houses that made up their block. There were never any other people around, and the trees and the houses blocked the view from the street, so Jasper and Lucy could play for hours, undisturbed. They would imagine a ship that could take them to the moon, and ponder how many layers of metal sheathing they would need. Sometimes, Jasper would make propellers from the long grasses, and he and Lucy would experiment by dropping them from different heights. And of course, every meal was delicious. Days were spent doing what they liked, and evenings were warm and cozy. It went along like this for quite a while, until Lucy realized something on the way to breakfast one morning.

  “It has been seventeen days since we have seen Mummy and Daddy.”

  Jasper was stunned. He knew it had been a while, but over two weeks? He couldn’t believe it.

  “Sorry, darlings, but your parents have gone to the laboratory early this morning,” said Rosie as she prepared hot porridge with sweet cream, brown sugar, vanilla, and butter. She dribbled maple syrup over the whole thing before she scooped it into the bowls and placed them in front of the children. “I think they should be home tonight in time to tuck you—”

  “It’s been seventeen days,” Jasper said, cutting off the familiar morning announcement.

  Rosie gasped. Clucking her teeth, she gave the children a quick half-smile. “Must fetch the juice,” she mumbled as she scurried off to the kitchen. It seemed to take forever for Rosie to return. In fact, Rosie still hadn’t returned to the dining room by the time the children finished their porridge. They could hear her banging around in the kitchen, clucking and squawking to herself, but about what, they could not discern.

  After their juiceless breakfast, Jasper and Lucy went back upstairs to the nursery. As they passed their parents’ bedroom, they both stopped at the door and looked inside. Everything was perfectly neat and orderly. The bed was made without a wrinkle. Daddy’s slippers were placed neatly next to his bedside table. Mummy’s glass jug of water sat, full, on hers. In fact, everything was so neat and orderly that it looked as if no one had been there for days.

  Maybe even seventeen days.

  The rest of the day was a busy one for the Modest children. All afternoon, Jasper and Lucy formed a plan. Lucy found some copper wire in the carriage house. She cut a length of it using Rosie’s sewing shears. Jasper used the musket from an old tin soldier he had found in one of his pockets. He uncoiled the tin thread that made up the barrel, tying it to the lock on the door. Lucy stole into the pantry and took a thimble of vinegar and salty brine. Jasper cut the end of his leather shoelace. Before lunch, they had made a working battery. It wasn’t a terribly strong battery, but it would nonetheless serve their purpose. It only needed to be strong enough to ring a very small bell.

  “What time did Mummy and Daddy come home last night?” Lucy asked Rosie when they were seated at the table for lunch. Jasper gently caught Lucy’s hand as it headed, fingers extended, toward her mouth.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t know,” Rosie said as she placed a plate of kippers in front of Lucy. “I was long asleep myself, I’m sure.”

  “What time did you go to sleep?” Jasper asked, taking a bite of his lunch and trying to sound casual, as if this was an inconsequential, everyday question.

  “Well...” Rosie looked up as if to remember, but then shot a glance sideways at Jasper, who dodged it by examining his kippers. “Let’s see, then... Must have been by ten o’clock. Had a bit of darning to do last night. Might have been a bit later.”

  “Just wondered, that’s all,” Jasper said when Rosie gave him an inquiring look. “Lovely kippers, Rosie. Yum.”

  After their meal, Jasper and Lucy attached the end of the copper wire spool to the doorknob in their parents’ room. They ran it under the carpet in the hall and between the table and chest in the nursery and up along the side of Jasper’s bed. Jasper wrapped it around the bedpost and attached it to a small bell.

  “Let’s test it,” Jasper said.

  Lucy ran down the hall. Jasper waved from his doorway. When Lucy closed the door of their parents’ bedroom, which completed the circuit, she squealed with delight. With Jasper’s door open, she could hear the tiny tinkle of the bell on his bedpost. Their device had worked.

  That night, after a supper of roast quail and parsnips, a savory tart of sautéed potatoes and leeks, then vanilla custard topped with candied oranges, Jasper and Lucy got into their nightclothes as usual.

  “Well, your parents wanted to, well, it is a fact that they wanted to be home before you went to your beds, but it looks like they’ve been detained. Perhaps you will see them in the morning,” Rosie said as she settled into the rocking chair and began to hum.

  Within moments, Jasper snored loudly, and Lucy let her breath become even and repetitive.

  “My, the little darlings must have been exhausted,” Rosie said to herself. She went to their beds and tucked them in, giving them each a peck on the forehead.

  As soon as Rosie’s footsteps had clip-clopped down the stairs, padding along the marble f
loor below, Lucy climbed quietly out of bed.

  “Jasper?” she called in a whisper.

  “Quick! Come in!” he said.

  Lucy scrambled into Jasper’s room. The two hid under Jasper’s blanket and looked at his pocket watch. He had painted the numbers with phosphorous, which glows, so he could read them in the dark. It was 8:57 in the evening.

  By 9:43, Lucy was yawning at regular intervals.

  “It’s all right, Luce. We’ve got the alarm,” said Jasper. “Maybe you should go back to sleep in your bed. I’ll wake you when—I mean if—they come home.”

  Yawning twice again, Lucy went back into her own bed and fell quickly to sleep. Jasper yawned, too. His eyes itched and he rubbed them. He shut them, just to soothe the itchiness. It felt much better to have them closed.

  Suddenly, Jasper awoke with a start. He looked at his pocket watch. It was 4:26 in the morning. He checked the alarm. Everything seemed to be in place, but the alarm hadn’t gone off.

  He tiptoed into Lucy’s room. She was fast asleep. He decided not to wake her. He tiptoed down the hall to their parents’ room. He peeked inside.

  Everything was exactly as it had been. The bed was made without a wrinkle. Daddy’s slippers were placed neatly next to his bedside table. Mummy’s glass jug of water sat, still full, untouched, on hers.

  Jasper went over to the glass jug. It had a matching cup that sat on top as a cover. He ran his finger across it. A very thin layer of dust had settled there.

  Dust? Jasper knew what that meant. Mummy’s water jug hadn’t been used in, oh, probably about seventeen days.

  Jasper walked back to his room. He climbed into bed, too worried to rest, too exhausted to sleep. But he decided he would just close his eyes.

  Sleep came anyway.

  In the morning, Lucy came running in.

  “Well? Did it never ring?” she asked, with anticipation.

  “It never rang, and Mummy and Daddy never came home,” said Jasper. “We were right. They haven’t been here in days.”

  “Eighteen days?” Lucy asked.

  “Eighteen days,” Jasper said.

  At breakfast, Rosie served warm butter cake and apricot jam with fresh pears from the tree in the garden. On a tray, she brought in a pot of sweet steaming milk that smelled of vanilla. Rosie dropped lumps of chocolate into the milk and stirred as the chocolate began to melt.

  “Sorry, darlings, your parents have gone to the laboratory early this morning,” she told them as she poured hot chocolate into their cups. “I think they should be—”

  “They haven’t been here for seventeen—no, eighteen days now,” Jasper said accusingly. He could see tears trailing down Lucy’s cheeks. This made him even angrier, but also braver. “Nothing was touched in their room. There was dust on Mummy’s water.”

  Rosie spilled the hot chocolate.

  “Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, rushing into the kitchen, teeth clucking loudly as she went.

  She came back with a rag to wipe up the spill. Her eyes, too, needed wiping. Like Lucy’s, they were very wet.

  “We don’t think it’s your fault that Mummy and Daddy have gone,” Lucy said, sniffling, “but we want them back. We want our mummy and daddy.”

  “Oh, child, I am sorry. But your parents have been so very busy they don’t always come home, and I... I—”

  “They never come home, do they?” Jasper said.

  “Never ever,” Lucy said.

  Rosie put the rag to her lips to stifle a yelp and rushed into the kitchen again. This time, she did not come back out, so Jasper and Lucy excused themselves to no one and went up to the nursery.

  They sat quietly by the nursery window, looking out at nothing in particular, not speaking, and not wanting to. Just before noon, their eyes followed a shiny black motorcar as it pulled up to the house. They were excited at first, thinking it might be their parents, but out stepped a man with a large black cloak, dark glasses, and a tall black woolen hat with a very large pompom on the very tiptop. He hurried into the house. From up in the nursery, the children could hear voices. One was a mumble, and the other was Rosie’s anxious clucking. Within minutes, the man rushed back into the car and sped off.

  At supper that evening, Rosie smiled nervously. The meat was slightly burnt and there were no vegetables. Rosie gave them each two pieces of apple pie with cream. She didn’t say a word.

  After supper, the children climbed into their beds.

  “Well, your parents...” Rosie put a handkerchief to her lips. “They wanted... they really truly... they had hoped... truly hoped... to be home before you went to your beds.” Rosie blew her nose loudly. “Perhaps you will see them in the morning.” Clearing her throat, she began to hum, but her humming was punctuated by the nervous clucking of her teeth.

  Jasper and Lucy fell right to sleep. The worry and exhaustion had just been too much for one day. But for the two Modest children, the day was not quite over.

  At 3:17 in the morning, the little bell rang on Jasper’s bedpost. Jasper sat up with a start. It took him a moment to remember that he had not disconnected the bell. Something was happening. Something was definitely happening right then and there, he thought as he ran into Lucy’s room.

  “Wake up, Lucy. The bell—it’s ringing.”

  Lucy shook off the sleep and beamed at her brother. “Mummy and Daddy! They’re back, aren’t they?” Lucy jumped up with excitement and flung her arms around her brother. “Oh, Jasper, they’re back!”

  “No, Lucy—”

  “They’re not back?” Her face fell.

  “I don’t know.” Jasper hated the disappointment in his sister’s face.

  But Lucy nodded, stoically. She understood. She got down, reached, and pulled something from beneath her bed. The two of them ran back into Jasper’s room and unhooked the bell. He had left it ringing because if it stopped, they’d know the door was open again.

  Now, as silent as could be, they tiptoed toward their parents’ bedroom. The door was still closed. Jasper and Lucy could hear shuffling from within. Lucy tapped Jasper on the shoulder. She showed him what she had brought—a wooden spoon, upon which was attached a small mirror. It looked like an oversized dentist’s tool. In her pocket, she had a second mirror and some wire. She hooked the second mirror to the wire and attached it to the spoon, facing the other mirror.

  Carefully, they slid the spoon under the door. The first mirror reflected what was in the room. The second reflected what was in the first mirror so Lucy and Jasper could see. Both of the children hoped it would be their father, putting on his slippers and pouring their mother a glass of water, and their mother, brushing out her long brown hair. Instead, they saw nothing of the sort. What they saw sent chills down their spines.

  In the room was a very tall man, dressed all in black, with a black velvet top hat perched high on his head. His suit was black velvet—trousers, vest, and jacket. A black scarf covering his chin, he wore big dark glasses that seemed to wrap around his head. With a hand caressing the rim of his hat, he walked casually around the bedroom. Was he looking for something? As the children watched, riveted, the man went over to their mother’s dressing table. The children half-expected him to tear open the drawers and search their contents, but instead, he placed their mother’s brush in the middle, moving it from its position on the right-hand side.

  He then went to the bedside table. Was he going to inspect the drawer? No. He first removed a black handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the dusty rim of the water jug. He proceeded to simply pour water into the glass that sat beside it on the bedside table. He then returned half of the contents back into the jug, inspected the glass, swirled its contents, and replaced it, now half-full, on the bedside table.

  Then the man walked to the other side of the room, stopped, bent down, and disappeared behind the bed. He reappeared holding their father’s slippers. Jasper’s neck tingled as the hairs stood up in silent protest. He threw a glance at Lucy, and he could see, even in
the dimness of the hall, that she was not happy about this either.

  It was difficult to see, but with a slight adjustment to the mirror, Jasper and Lucy could observe the man as he carried the slippers into the bathroom, apparently placing them beside the bath. He stood back, inspecting his handiwork.

  Lucy and Jasper could not believe such bizarre behavior, nor could they believe that this most bizarre man was puttering around their parents’ room, moving things around as he pleased, making himself, in some bizarre way, at home. Whether their parents had been there or not, it still housed their things, and the man was still an intruder.

  The children took calming breaths and watched as the black-clad intruder went over to the bed and sat upon it. Checking its firmness, the fellow began to bounce. Furious, Jasper and Lucy watched as he bounced four or five times in a quite restrained manner, and not very high at all. He stopped to set his hat back straight on his head. The children looked at one another in disbelief.

  The man then bounced five more times, getting a bit higher with each bounce. Even with his face hidden, and even though the children could only imagine a dour expression hidden beneath his hat, scarf, and glasses, he appeared to really enjoy himself. He bounced and he bounced and he bounced some more, getting quite high, with his arms and legs flapping as if he was trying to fly.

  Then he bounced and bounced and bounced right off the side of the bed and fell flat onto the floor.

  He jumped up quickly, looking around as if to check that no one saw him tumble. Jasper and Lucy instinctively squeezed together, though there was no chance the man could see them outside the door.

  The man then brushed himself off and looked at himself in the mirror. He adjusted his glasses, which had gone askew, fixed his hat again, and pulled his scarf higher onto his nose. Leaning over toward the bureau, the man seemed to be counting the drawers, of which there were only five. When he got to the fourth, he opened it.