by C T Cassana
She took another sheet and scribbled a few lines, but then suddenly stopped. This letter was much harder; it was much more difficult to explain, and above all to justify, her participation in the whole affair.
CHAPTER XIX: Terrible News
Following the new parameters the news agency had given him to work with, Gregg Foster had spent several days gathering information on any paranormal events that had occurred recently in London. A city with some seven million inhabitants offered news for every taste, but this week there was nothing about ghosts, spirits or visions of the next world that could stand up to the most basic investigative journalism. So, after having exhausted all his usual news outlets, Gregg decided to comb some less trustworthy albeit colorful sources, such as the online forums and blogs dedicated to the topic.
There he found a wide range of information on all manner of encounters with the other world, some more terrifying than others. Many of them bore a curious resemblance to familiar movie scenes, betraying the tragic lack of imagination of those who claimed to have witnessed them. A few others, however, were quite original and convincing, and Gregg investigated all he could on these experiences. For several days he explored these forums, employing his usual aliases, until he had identified and fleshed out the stories that seemed to him the most interesting. Finally, he decided to keep just a couple that offered enough for a reasonably self-respecting journalist to work with.
After reviewing the data he had gathered, he wrote up the news story and posted it on the agency’s intranet.
“Paranormal Experience in the Heart of London: A security guard claims to have had a brief conversation with a ghost in the historic building where he works. The episode occurred while he was on night shift and was also witnessed by his co-worker. Although the encounter was relaxed and even friendly, the ghost in question made a point of displaying its supernatural powers. Source: GhostlyExperience.com”
“Spaceship Sighting in Outskirts of London A young man and his girlfriend claim to have seen three circular objects flying in the night sky. The objects were no larger than helicopters and they were all flying at a similar height. They were dark gray in color, almost black, and despite the darkness they were clearly visible. ‘They had a kind of night-time camouflage,’ claimed one of the witnesses. ‘They were flying in perfect synchrony, kind of like the way dragonflies move,’ stated the other. Source: UFOsRus.net”
When he’d finished, he saved his work and began reading the news stories posted by other informants.
. . .
Charlie and Lisa were engaged in a lively conversation on their way from the school bus stop to their house. After returning from nineteenth-century Paris the previous afternoon, they had agreed to go back once more for a meeting with Monsieur Denon. Lisa had been on the verge of discovering what had happened to the papyrus scroll on two occasions, which suggested that Denon had no qualms about sharing the information with her.
Fortunately, the children were able to find out where the French scholar would be when they went to see him thanks to the biography that Miss Rotherwick had included in the dossier she had given them. In 1815, Monsieur Denon submitted his resignation from the public posts he held and retired to dedicate himself fully to his private art collection. The place he chose to do this was the residence he had purchased some years earlier, an apartment at Number 5 Quai Voltaire in Paris.
The only thing left for them to decide on was the specific date they would travel back to. They both agreed they should choose the earliest one possible: November 30, 1818, exactly nine years after their previous visit. They also determined that Lisa would see Monsieur Denon on her own, as it would be less obvious that she had not aged nine years since they had last met.
“I just hope I don’t run into Monsieur Costaz again,” said Lisa. “I’m sure he recognized us.”
“Well, if he did, he didn’t say anything,” replied Charlie. “I guess he didn’t dare to because he would have looked like an idiot or a madman in front of Napoleon.”
“You never finished telling me what all that joking about licorice and cheese was about,” she remarked.
“It’s because Napoleon always goes around with licorice in his pockets, and because I smelt so much of cheese, he decided it would be a good idea to give me a little,” explained the boy. “He was really nice to me; in person he’s not as fierce as they make him look in the paintings.”
“And who was the little dog you were playing with?” asked Lisa.
“Fortune, Joséphine’s dog,” replied Charlie. “He’s very clever, although I think the Emperor doesn’t like him much.”
The children turned the corner onto their street.
“Come on, let’s hurry,” said Lisa, picking up the pace. “I have a feeling that something really important is going to happen today.”
. . .
Max Wellington had ruled out thirteen of the fifteen E. Milfords on his list by reason of age, health or a confirmed alibi at the time that the bubonic plague patient was being treated at St. Thomas’ Hospital. None of them could have been the time traveler. There were just two individuals left that he had been unable to contact.
After calling their phone numbers once again and getting no answer, he decided to sign into his news agency intranet to see whether there was any interesting news. He sifted through the informants’ reports one by one, reading the first few lines and then moving onto the next. His instinct was well trained, and a few words were enough for him to determine whether a news story might be related to a time traveler.
Suddenly, one story caught his attention, and he read it from beginning to end not once but twice. It seemed that his mysterious traveler had been discovered by a couple of security guards in London and had even made a point of offering them a demonstration of his powers.
By this point in his life, Max Wellington had seen it all; time travelers of every shape and size with all kinds of inclinations, moral standards and personalities. Nothing surprised him anymore. Nevertheless, he had never before come across a traveler who was so careless, and so determined to put his life in danger.
. . .
The moment they opened the door they could feel it. The sounds in the house that afternoon were muted and throbbed in their ears; the air felt heavy and strange, and reflections of light shot at their eyes like pins stabbing at the retina. Everything looked the same, yet it was all different, as if the house itself was trying to warn them that something terrible had happened, and to prepare them for the news they were about to receive.
Their intuition turned to agonizing certainty when they saw their mother. She shouldn’t have been there at that time of day, with the opening of the Nefertiti exhibition so close. And her face wore a grave expression. Marcus was there too, sitting in the background, unobtrusively but ready to offer his support to anyone who might need it. When they saw them, the children assumed something must have happened to one of their grandparents.
“What’s wrong?” asked Lisa, unable to wait for their parents to take the initiative to tell them.
“Let’s go sit down in the kitchen,” said Marcus.
This suggestion could only mean they were right. Charlie and Lisa sat down at the table, utterly overwrought. They felt the suspense like a weight pressing down on their chests, yet they weren’t altogether sure they wanted to hear the news. The children adored all four of their grandparents; each one of them was a wonderful, unique individual and an essential part of their lives.
“Something terrible has happened,” said Maggie.
Charlie studied his parents’ eyes, trying to guess who had died. His father was distraught but had not cried; his mother, on the other hand, had clearly been weeping. It had to be either Grandpa Henry or Granny Louise, Maggie’s parents. The boy swallowed hard, preparing for the news.
“Helen Rotherwick has passed away,” Maggie continued, trying to hold back her tears.
Charlie thought he would feel relieved to know that his grandparents were
alright, but the moment he heard that name tears began flowing from his eyes and he felt an intense sorrow descend upon him.
Maggie also dried the tears that had begun running down her cheeks.
“What happened?” asked Lisa.
“This morning she didn’t come to work,” replied their mother. “She always calls if she can’t make it or she’s running late, so we were worried. At first just a little, but when she didn’t answer any of our calls we went to her house. The doorman opened the door for us; Helen had given him permission to do it if something like this occurred.”
Charlie and Lisa stared at her in bewilderment. Why would Helen have expected something like this to happen?
“She was very sick,” explained their mother. “She didn’t tell anyone, but she knew she only had a little time left.”
These words took on a new meaning for the children. Miss Rotherwick had said more than once that time was running out, but they had understood that she was referring to the exhibition, not to her own life.
“The poor woman passed out while she was sitting at her desk. It was very sudden; she didn’t suffer or feel a thing,” said Maggie, her eyes filling with tears once more. “She was writing farewell letters to us at the time.”
Maggie paused, trying to contain her emotion, while she took a sealed envelope out of one of her pockets.
“This is for you, darling,” she said, handing it to Charlie. “I think she had become quite fond of you; your letter and the letter for her lawyer were the first ones she wrote.”
The boy took it and went straight to his room to read it alone. Lisa kept her eyes fixed on her mother, but didn’t dare to ask.
“I don’t think she had time to write yours,” said Maggie when she caught her gaze. “She was writing to me when she fainted, and she only had time to write a few lines. I’m sure your letter would have been next.”
“I understand,” replied Lisa. “And she didn’t finish yours?”
“No, darling. I wish she had,” replied Maggie mournfully. “She began the letter with an apology, but I don’t know what it was for.”
Lisa understood at once. She didn’t want to appear insensitive, but she had to make sure.
“But, why would she have wanted to apologize?” she asked.
“I’m afraid I’ll never know, darling,” replied her mother. “She only managed to write a few words, but I can assure you that Helen Rotherwick never did anything that could have upset me. All that she ever did was help me.”
Lisa stood up and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. She felt terrible about Miss Rotherwick’s death, and she knew that the mysterious apology would trouble Maggie for some time. But she also knew that Miss Rotherwick was trying to apologize for helping them look for the papyrus scroll and that the next thing she would have written would have been about the cape. And for better or for worse, fate had stepped in to stop her.
. . .
Max read right through all the posts on the GhostlyExperience.com forum. The security guard had concealed his identity with the nickname “Ghostbuster”, a choice that reflected a considerably limited imagination. The guard did not go into much detail, perhaps due to his obvious lack of experience with ghosts. However, there were two things that supported the veracity of his story. The first was the way he described the ghost appearing and disappearing a few yards away from him. The second, and more important, was his comment that at first he thought the ghost was no more than a head floating on its own in the dark, until he realized that in fact this was just a terrifying optical illusion caused by the black cape that it wore, which covered its whole body.
Max posted a message in the hope that the man might be online and want to chat with him.
“Hello Ghostbuster,” he wrote. “My brother told me about a very similar experience to yours and I’m curious to know whether it could be the same ghost. Send me a message when you’re online so we can chat. Best, Sleepy Hollow”
. . .
Before going to bed, Lisa looked in on Charlie. He hadn’t said a word at dinner and had hardly touched his food. His eyes were red, revealing that he had been crying and that the news of Miss Rotherwick’s death had affected him much more than she had at first imagined.
“How are you, runt?” she asked affectionately.
“Alright,” he replied, with tears welling in his eyes once more. “It’s just that, whenever I think of her, I just start crying. I can’t help it.”
“It’s normal, Charlie,” said Lisa. “It’s clear that you too were very close. I think she became really fond of you when you stayed at her place. I guess she felt kind of lonely.”
“I’m sorry I went with her to Vienna without telling you,” said the boy. “I know it was wrong.”
“I treated you unfairly that time in Nefertiti’s tomb. You had a right to be angry and I’m sorry for how I acted.”
“It’s forgotten,” answered Charlie.
“It’s forgotten,” repeated Lisa, who leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Then she turned to go.
When he saw her leaving, Charlie frowned.
“You’re going without even asking me what was in the letter?” he asked in surprise.
“That was my plan.”
“But... don’t you want to know what she said?”
“You know I do, Charlie, but it’s your private business,” replied Lisa. “If you want to show it to me sometime, I’d be delighted to read it, but only with your permission.”
The boy stared at his sister with a bewildered look. Lisa was the nosiest person in the world, and her interest in knowing what Miss Rotherwick had written to him was beyond any doubt. And although she acknowledged this openly, she seemed willing to respect his privacy and keep out of it. This was quite unprecedented.
“Here, you can read it,” said the boy, taking out the letter, which he’d hidden under his pillow, and handing it to her.
Lisa opened it and read it in silence, and Charlie saw that his sister was moved by it.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, folding it carefully and handing it back to him. “It’s obvious that she really liked you.”
CHAPTER XX: The Egyptian Dinner Service
Lisa repeatedly tried to convince Charlie that they should go see Monsieur Denon, but he kept putting it off, saying that he didn’t feel up to taking another trip yet. She begrudgingly accepted these delays, although she worried that her brother had lost his interest in finding the papyrus scroll and revealing the truth about Nefertiti to the world. And worse yet, he was not the only one. Their mother also seemed to have lost all hope that the Nefertiti exhibition would be a success, and to have forgotten how much that success had meant to Miss Rotherwick.
The death of their friend had plunged both Charlie and Maggie into a fog of sadness and dejection, and neither of them seemed to realize that the best homage they could have paid would have been to make her dream come true.
Lisa counted the passing days in despair, which by Thursday afternoon had turned into a sense of utter helplessness. There were only three weeks until the opening of the Nefertiti exhibition and their investigation had ground to a standstill.
After asking her brother again when they would make the trip and receiving the less than reassuring answer “I don’t know, we’ll see”, Lisa took refuge in the leather couch in the library. She seriously lamented that it had been her brother and not her who had found the ring that controlled the cape, leaving her with no option but to wait until he wanted to travel back into the past. She let out a sigh filled with equal parts resignation and rage.
Then she decided to jump into action. She couldn’t visit Monsieur Denon until Charlie finally decided to go with her, but she could make good use of her time until then. And the best way to do it was by taking the most important advice that Miss Rotherwick had given them: to find out everything they could about the person and the moment in history they were going to visit. So Lisa decided to study as much as possible about Vivant Deno
n and his era, and to take all that information with her when they went to see him.
“Dad, I have a history project to do,” she announced at dinner. “I’ll need to borrow your computer for a few days.”
Marcus sighed, but just as he prepared to put up a fight, Maggie interjected.
“I’ll bring you my computer tomorrow,” she said. “Your father has a big backlog of work right now and I can use Helen’s computer at the museum.”
Lisa nodded and looked over to Charlie. Although the boy knew his sister’s real intentions, he went on eating unperturbed, as if the conversation had nothing to do with him. But his apparent indifference didn’t bother Lisa. She knew him well enough to know that he would soon come around. And when he did, she would have everything ready to go in search of the second papyrus scroll.
. . .
Marcus helped his daughter set herself up in the library. Between the two of them they pushed the old leather couch to one side and set up an end table near the bookshelves so that she could work on the computer and consult the books there if she needed to.
“What is your assignment about?” asked Marcus, while he hooked up the laptop cable.
“It’s about the era of Napoleon Bonaparte,” she replied, thinking it to be a vague enough answer to allow her to look up information on a wide range of facts and people.
“Hmm, very interesting, but perhaps a little broad,” said Marcus, scratching his chin with one hand. “It covers a rather large period, and to do it justice you’d have to address a lot of topics. Why don’t you focus on a shorter time period, or specifically on the life of Napoleon?”
“I’ll think about it,” answered Lisa. “For now I’m going to look up general information, and if I find a person that I particularly like, I might decide to focus just on them.”
She smiled at her father and then got to work.
. . .