by R D Hathaway
When they returned to their cars, Rennie checked the locks on the other windows and closed each shade or curtain as she came to them. She grabbed the candlestick again, turned off the lights, and went upstairs.
At eight o’clock in the morning, she suddenly awakened. “Holy smoke!” she yelled as she threw back the comforter and jumped out of bed. “I forgot to set my alarm!”
She dashed down the stairs to make coffee and feed Balderdash. She hurried back up the stairs to shower, get ready, and bring her bags downstairs. She ran to the computer and turned it on. Opening the front door, she picked up the newspaper and realized she hadn’t stopped delivery.
She noticed that her neighbor Cathy was in her front yard. She walked onto the front porch and called to her. “Good morning, Cathy! How are you today?”
“Oh, fine dear. How are you? Do you have the day off?”
Rennie strolled down the steps. “No, I’m going away for a few days; on a business trip. Say, would you mind picking up my mail and the paper? I completely forgot to have them held for me.”
“Of course, dear. Do you have someone to watch Balderdash?”
“Yes, thanks. Do you know Roger? His house is right behind mine. He’s watched over things before. He and Balderdash have a guy-thing going. Thanks for your help, Cathy. I’ll see you in about four days.”
Rennie jogged back to the porch and into the house. She sat down at her computer and checked for new e-mail. There was another message from Joshua. It said that Mary was still alive and lived in a nursing home in Southwark, on Copperfield Street. He spoke with the nursing staff assistant by phone and she could take visitors. Matthew was tracked to a house on Cromer Street in St. Pancras. There was no answer to calls to the telephone number listed for him.
Rennie printed the message and sent a quick response of thanks. She then hurried into the kitchen to eat and pack a small bag of snacks to take on the plane.
When Angie arrived at 10:15 a.m., she found Rennie sticking files and a laptop into a briefcase. “Come on in!” Rennie called to her.
Angie opened the screen door and looked around. “Wow, nice place. I like the old houses. They feel so homey. I love the woodwork.”
“Thanks, me too. I have a lot to tell you about last night. It was pretty scary. We can catch up on the plane. Are you okay?”
“Fine. It’s amazing what comes up though, at the last minute. Can I take your bag?”
Angie took one suitcase and rolled it to the front door. She stopped and grinned at Rennie. “I can tell there’s more than four days of outfits in here.”
“Right, I’m sure you packed for the primitive look. How many pairs of shoes do you have?”
“Don’t ask.”
Rennie locked the door and stepped onto the porch. She scanned the neighborhood, focusing on every parked car. As a dark sedan cruised down the street, she watched it closely. Going by, she recognized the old man from a few houses away. Sighing relief, she got in the car.
“Leaving Iowa for an adventure in London,” she muttered. “Just like Matthias. Let’s go.”
A few hours later, they were in the air. On the plane, Rennie summarized the visit to her home of the private investigator who warned her and the apparent break-in followed by the police investigation. Angie was speechless.
“It’s okay,” Rennie said. “I’ll deal with it when we return. No matter what it is, I will deal with it. Now, let’s see what happens in London.”
London, UK
VI - 4
“Angie, wake up. We’re about to land.”
“Gosh, I hardly slept a wink.” Angie sat forward and rubbed her eyes. “I’m going to wash up. Can we still do that?”
“Yeah, I gave you fair warning. I was up a few minutes ago.”
When Angie returned, they reviewed their notes and maps. As the aircraft banked into slow turns approaching the runway, the women gazed out the window at the sights below. They gathered their belongings and tried to wake up. Angie removed a map from her purse and pointed out key locations in London. Names, addresses, and phone numbers were written on the margins of the map.
“This is good. It’ll be fun so see what things really look like after studying them in print,” Rennie said.
Walking down the concourse and through Terminal Three to get their luggage, they paused to see unique displays in the shops and observe the people going by. They giggled and pointed at everything new.
The other passengers were an international fashion show. Men, women, and children from all over the world reminded them that Iowa was far away. Rennie clasped her hands in delight.
“Angie, I’ll bet Matthias was amazed with his travel experience.”
“Yeah, but it took him a little longer to arrive. We got into a silver bullet, closed our eyes, and here we are. That’s a shock!”
They stopped at a bank and exchanged some money. With luggage in hand, they asked for directions to the “tube” for transit into London. Soon, they were on the train to the city.
“I hope we have a nice hotel,” Angie mused. “It’s small, near the British Museum, in an area called Bloomsbury.”
“No kidding. That’s the area where Matthias lived while he was there. Way to go!”
“We need to get off at the Holborn Station, and then I don’t know how far it is to the hotel. On the map, it’s about two inches. It might be longer on foot.”
Arriving at the station, they rode the long escalator up to ground level. In a few minutes they were at the hotel. Rennie got out of the cab and gasped. The British Museum was across the street.
“This feels so weird. Matthias may have walked down this same street on his way to work or while he was out for a walk.”
“Rennie, did it ever occur to you that you could have said the same thing at Simpson?”
“Oh, my gosh. No, it never occurred to me. He wasn’t real to me except now, here in London.”
They admired the Georgian exteriors of the well-kept row of houses, inns, and shops.
“Angie, I can’t believe we’re here,” Rennie said. “Let’s get checked in. I need to level out for a few minutes.”
They struggled to enter the building with their luggage and rang a bell on a small counter in the lobby of what must have once been a large home. The building had been updated but maintained a dignified, old-world quality. A garden terrace in the back of the home provided a tranquil retreat from the busy streets.
A man who appeared to be in his sixties, approached from an alcove behind the counter. He wore reading glasses perched near the end of his nose. He checked them in and showed them to their rooms.
After some preliminary unpacking, Rennie visited Angie’s room and suggested they take a short break before starting out. She readily agreed.
Forty-five minutes later, Angie knocked on Rennie’s door. Rennie welcomed her in and struggled to wake up.
“Let’s start easy, like go across the street and check out the museum,” Angie suggested.
“Sounds good. I need to go slowly. After that, let’s find the University of London. I need to meet those interns and see what they’ve got. Did you see that last e-mail with the info on Mary and Matthew?”
“Yeah, I got cc’d. I guess before we do any tourist stuff, we’ve got to do your research.”
Rennie laughed. “You really thought of this trip as a little escape time, didn’t you?”
“Maybe a little, but why not? Sometimes, you have to run with an idea. You didn’t exactly give the professor a two-hour review and a ten-inch story.”
“That’s true. I don’t know how I got so involved in this. But I know I’ve got to finish it. I hope this trip resolves what happened to Matthias and to the letters.”
Rennie’s mind drifted away, wondering how such precious documents remained unknown to the world.
“Okay,�
�� Angie broke the silence. “Let’s get going. I need to stop at some point and get food.”
Like kids hurrying off to school, they closed the doors to their rooms and dashed down the stairway. When they arrived at the curb, Angie grabbed Rennie’s arm to stop her from stepping into the street and an approaching car.
“Oh, my gosh!” Rennie exclaimed. “I forgot to look the other way. How do they drive like this?”
On the other side of the street, they checked their maps and headed to the museum entrance on Great Russell Street.
Looking at the imposing columns and entry steps, Rennie asked herself what he was thinking on his first day at the museum.
They proceeded into the building. Angie purchased a map of the collections, and Rennie suggested they first find the Egyptian rooms on the upper level.
Before moving on, Rennie touched Angie’s arm. “My heart is racing. After reading his journals, I almost expect him or Priscilla or Warrington to walk down this hallway.”
Amazed with the impressive displays, Angie whispered, “I’ve got to read those journals.”
For nearly an hour, they strolled through the extensive first floor exhibits. When they arrived on the second floor, Rennie’s eyes darted around, as if she was remembering where to go. Reaching the point where a hallway intersected to the left, her steps slowed, and she cautiously glanced in that direction.
Rennie was on guard, listening and watching. Entering a room on Coptic Egypt, she felt confusion and betrayal. She turned to Angie. “This was it. This was the work room where they sorted the artifacts. Over there is where their desks were.”
Rennie pointed to the end of the gallery. “Angie, this is where they were.”
Angie slipped an arm around her. “They’re gone. It was a long time ago.”
“I know. I’m sorry. His words were so personal and current. I’m so confused. This is the place, but it’s not.”
Rennie glanced over Angie’s shoulder and out the door. She hurried into the corridor and approached another doorway. A sign read “Staff only.”
She grabbed the handle with a strong hand and jerked it. It was locked. Rennie grit her teeth and pulled again. A docent at the end of the hallway noticed the women and briskly moved in their direction.
Angie appeared to be confused. “What are you doing? Someone’s coming.”
The docent was an elderly, pleasant man. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
“Is this a staff room? I mean, is it for lunch or breaks?”
“Lunch? Oh no, ma’am. It’s a storage room. It’s not available to the public. Is there something I can help you with, ma’am? Perhaps, directions to the restaurant?”
He smiled pleasantly.
“Thank you, but no. Come on, Angie. It’s this way.”
Rennie took Angie’s arm, turned and went down the hall, turning right at the first corridor.
She stopped and put her hand over her mouth. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel so frantic.”
“Why don’t we get something to eat? We’re both exhausted.”
Angie took Rennie’s hand and escorted her away.
After a satisfying meal, a server in the upper-floor restaurant brought a check for their meals.
Rennie looked at it. “Thanks for your patience with me. I also want you to know that I’m beginning to remember what year it is.”
“Good. I didn’t want to have to tackle you as you raced down the hallways yelling ‘Matthias! Professor Justus!’”
Rennie snickered. “I deserved that.” She relaxed into the back of her chair. “This has been good. Now, let’s see if we can find Mary and then Matthew. I guess Mary is in a nursing home, but we don’t know about connecting with Matthew. Is that okay with you?”
“Let’s do it. By the way, do they live in this century?”
Rennie picked a piece of parsley off her plate and tossed it at Angie.
They hailed a cab in front of the British Museum and discovered the congestion of central London streets. They rode quietly, watching the traffic, people, and sights of London pass by. Across the Thames, the locations became more industrial than where they had been. The cab stopped in front of the nursing home where Mary MacDonald lived. It had the appearance of a cheap hotel. Litter was scattered on the street and windows in an adjacent building were boarded up.
As they entered, they immediately noticed a smell of cleanser and humid, human presence. The old woman at the reception desk didn’t ask for identification or show any interest in the two women from America when she gave directions to Mary’s room.
Climbing an old stairway to the third floor, they discreetly glanced into the rooms. Occasionally, a moan or cry could be heard down the hall. The women held hands when they reached the third floor and proceeded down the dimly lit corridor.
Another visitor directed them to room 309. Finding it, they peeked in and saw four hospital beds, one in each corner of the modest room. A television was on, but no one was watching it. The four residents lay quietly in their beds.
Rennie observed the details in the room. Her intensity grew in anticipation of meeting a living connection with a great mystery. Angie walked to one bed and then another, looking at a small note cards at the ends of each of the beds. She stopped at the second bed, and then motioned to Rennie to come.
As Rennie approached, she reached into her bag and removed a notepad and pen. She stepped up to the head of the bed and looked at the old woman. Her white hair was matted in a few places and her sunken lips suggested she had no teeth. Her breathing was shallow and quick.
Rennie leaned over her. “Miss MacDonald? Can you hear me?”
She waited. Just as she was about to speak again, the old woman’s eyelids opened.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
Rennie quickly leaned back. “Well I just wanted to see you for a moment. I wondered if you were the daughter of someone I knew once. I mean someone I read about once, long ago.”
“And, who’s that dear?” The old woman had a mischievous smile. Her brown eyes were clear.
“Her name was Priscilla Shefford. Her name became MacDonald. She worked at the British Museum. Was she related to you? Was she your mother?”
The old woman tried to see Angie, and then looked back at Rennie. Her eyes shut, as though a bright light hit her. “What’s this about? Who are you?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m from America. I came here to meet you. I read about Priscilla Shefford, and I wanted to meet her family. Are you her family?”
The old woman nodded. After a few breaths, she said, “Yes, she’s my mother.”
Her eyes closed and she seemed to rest. Rennie and Angie pulled a couple of chairs up to the bed.
“Miss MacDonald?” Rennie asked. “Can you hear me alright?”
“Did you bring anything for me?” the old woman asked.
Rennie looked at Angie and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We don’t have anything. If we can visit you again, we’d be delighted to bring you something.” Rennie smiled and added, “We could bring you chocolate.”
Mary’s eyes opened again, and she said, “How about some cigarettes? I like the unfiltered ones.”
Rennie looked at Angie’s shocked face. She leaned closer to the old woman. “I’m sorry, but neither of us smoke. I’m not sure that would be alright in this facility.”
“Oh, they don’t care,” Mary said with energy. “What’s your name?”
“My name is Rennie, and this is my friend Angie. May we call you Mary or do you prefer Miss MacDonald?”
Mary turned to get a better look at each of her visitors. “You can call me Mary, girls. You know what the boys used to call me?” She grinned with satisfaction. “They called me ‘Happy Time.’ Do you know why?”
Rennie looked at Angie in surprise.
Angie chuckled. “Hi Mary, my name is Angie. Could tell us a little about your mother? It seems she was quite a woman.”
Mary motioned to a glass of water. Angie took it with some hesitation and glanced at Rennie.
Rennie slipped her hand under the woman’s pillow and gently lifted her head so she could drink. When she removed her hand, Rennie felt sickened when she noticed the old hair and grime on her hand and sleeve. She discreetly shook her arm.
“My mother was quite a woman. She would have nothing to do with me, though. I was my daddy’s princess.” Mary grinned again. “He wouldn’t have nothing to do with my brother or nobody else. I was his little princess. That’s what he said all the time.”
“Mary,” Rennie asked, “who was your father?”
“He was the Duke!” Mary exclaimed. “They called him the Duke of the Riverfront. He ran the river, some said. I was his little princess.”
“Mary, that’s impressive.” Angie added. “You must have been proud of him. What was his name?”
“Yes, I was. I was very proud of him. I was his little princess.”
Rennie and Angie shared a glance of concern.
“Mary, did your father also work at the British Museum?”
“Oh, no. Only my mother worked there. But that was long before I came along. My daddy, he never did nothing but do business along the river. People used to say that nothing happened on the river unless Reggie MacDonald had a piece of it.”
Rennie fell back in her chair and stared at the old woman. “Mary, tell us a little about Priscilla and Reggie,” Angie urged. “And, also about you and your brother.”
“Do I get some ciggies?” Mary smiled.
Angie grinned. “We’ll see Mary. We’ll have to check with staff, and it will depend on how much you can tell us.”
“Okay girls, we’ve got a deal.” Mary responded. “Well, life was never too kind to me. My mother used to say I was my daddy’s daughter. You’ve got to fight for life, you know. Mother was all prissy-like, trying to be some upper-class person. We were just common folks. My daddy didn’t try to be classy. He was tough, ‘cause we lived in a tough place. My brother was like my mother. She wanted him to be smart and like a gentleman. When he got old enough, my daddy let him know how men really behave. That’s when he left.”