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"Yes," I said.

"So? Come on." He looked up at the sky. "It's supposed to rain today. We should get going."

"All right," I said. "I'll go get my jacket and be right out."

"This is great," Randall said.

I had to laugh.

"I think you believe we're in the middle of some dramatic opera or something."

"That's what life is--`a stage, and all the men and women merely players.' Remember your Shakespeare so you can impress him when you do meet," he half-joked.

I shook my head and hurried into the house. On my way out, my great-aunt was descending the stairs. "Oh, Rain, where are you heading today?"

I paused, not knowing what to say.

"Just a walk with a friend," I said. "More sightseeing," I added.

"How nice, you make friends so quickly," she said. "My sister will be pleased to hear it. May Boggs drop you off anywhere?" she added. She looked past me so I turned and saw him standing there. How he could appear and disappear without a sound amazed me. Maybe he was the ghost.

"No thank you:' I said and muttered under my breath, "we'd rather walk."

Boggs smiled coldly.

I said good-bye and left the house like someone fleeing from one nightmare but terrified of entering another.

9

A Difficult Decision

.

From the moment we left Endfield Place until

we arrived at the street in Hammersmith on which Randall believed my real father lived, my heart throbbed with a pulsation that echoed through my bones and kept my chest tight, my breath short. Randall, sensing that my nerves had been turned into sparking wicks of dynamite, talked incessantly, rambling on about sights we passed, people we saw, things he had eaten. He understood that silence fed my anxiety, which sat like some hungry monster at the base of my stomach and growled.

"How do we know he's even home now?" I asked, finally finding the strength to give voice to the storm of thoughts and questions that flashed and thundered across my brain.

"We don't. We could stop at a Dolly Malone and call," he suggested.

"A what?"

"Dolly Malone, a phone," he said smiling.

"Randall, I'm not in the mood to fool around with cockney slang at the moment."

"Okay, okay, I was just trying to get you to relax," he said.

"I can't relax," I said, slapping my closed fists against my thighs so hard even he flinched. "I don't even know why I'm doing this."

"Okay, okay. I'll call to see if he answers or if he's there and then I'll hang up. How's that?"

"Stupid," I said. "We might be tormenting some innocent man who just happens to have the same name."

"And just happens to teach Shakespeare? Don't you think that's too much of a coincidence?"

"Do you even know if he's black?" I asked.