Page 44 of Strangers in Time
A LL M ADNESS L IES T HEREIN
W OULD YOU LIKE ANOTHER cup of tea, Charlie?”
Charlie glanced up to see Molly looking at him. They were seated in her father’s study, in front of a slowly dying fire.
“No, Miss, I’m full up.”
The swirling rain beat down outside, pelting the glass and making the chimney howl.
“I used to sit here with my father when it was cold or raining outside. We’d have a fire and he would read to me. My mother would be lying down.”
Charlie looked at her. “Did she lie down a lot?”
“It didn’t seem so at the time, but then I had nothing to compare it to. But looking back I can say that it probably was quite a lot, yes. I’ve come to learn that she is rather… fragile.”
“Will you go to Cornwall to see her?”
“It would be very difficult. You heard what Mr. Oliver said.”
“But she might do better if she can see you. She might come home even.”
“The thing is, Charlie, my mother nearly burned this place down by accident because she was a bit off in the head.”
He shrugged. “My grandfather was gettin’ forgetful like and sometimes seein’ what weren’t there. Gran just let him be and he come back right after a time.” He paused. “If you did end up goin’, how would you get to Cornwall, Miss? By train, like Mr. Oliver said?”
“I suppose so, yes. I’m just not sure how much it would cost.”
He looked around the elegant room. “But surely you got plenty of money.”
Molly looked at him uncertainly. “My father left some funds, but they’re running low.”
Charlie glanced guiltily at his teacup and set it down on the table. Then he stared at the cast-off shoes she’d bought him like they were terribly expensive things instead of costing a few odd shillings.
“My mother loved me very much. Perhaps too much.”
“You said that before, but I still don’t know what you mean by it,” said Charlie.
“Do you know the word ‘obsessive’?” she said cautiously.
Charlie shook his head.
“It’s when someone cares so deeply about another that it affects their mind. They can do things that will actually be harmful to themselves and the ones they love because of it.”
“And you think your mom is like that?”
“I think she might be. I just couldn’t see it before. But I’m much older now and I can understand things more clearly.”
“Well, even if she was this obsessed thin’, it’s still hard not to be with her. I’d give anythin’ to have my mum back.”
“I feel the same way, Charlie. My parents mean everything to me.”
Charlie looked into the flickering flames. “You’d think your father would want to be round to help you. And her.”
She shot him a glance. “Y-yes. There must have been something very important for him to go off like he did. To abandon us like that.”
“He don’t sound like that kinda bloke.”
Molly said in a strained voice, “But he just walked out, Charlie. Without a word to me.”
“I don’t want to say it, Molly, but…” He looked at her warily.
“I know he might be dead. But he wasn’t dead when he left home, obviously. He could have communicated with me, but he chose not to. That was not right!”
“What if he don’t come back?”
“Things will become… complicated. Even more so than they are now.”
They fell silent and listened to the rain as the wind continued to hurl the drops against the glass. Molly turned her head slightly to gaze at Charlie. He looked both far younger, and, in a certain way, older than she. They had both lost their parents—he permanently so, while there was no guarantee that the result for her wouldn’t be the same as the one Charlie now endured.
“My mother’s family is originally from Yorkshire,” she said abruptly.
“Yorkshire?”
“Yes. It’s in the north. Quite far away, nearly to Scotland, in fact. It’s the largest county in England. So large, in fact, that it’s divided up into all sorts of boroughs and ridings and the like. It’s quite famous. It was where the War of the Roses took place.”
Charlie gave her a confused look. “Eh? Blokes fightin’ over flowers?”
“No. The House of York versus the House of Lancaster. The red rose was part of the Lancaster coat of arms and the white rose that of the House of York. They were fighting for the throne of England.”
Charlie shook his head miserably. “Where did fightin’ get anybody, eh?”
“I read up on it after Mrs. Pride told me my mother was from there.”
“Hang on. Mrs. Pride told you? And not your mum?”
“That’s right. The Tinsdales. That was their name. They were apparently quite well off.”
“You reckon you still got family there, Miss?”
“I might.”
“You could go and see ’em then.”
“Why would I do that?” she said, glancing sharply at him.
“If they got money they might be able to help you and your mum, that’s why. And they even might be able to help find your dad.”
Molly pondered this for a few moments as Charlie watched the fire.
“And yet if I traveled to Yorkshire and Father came home, or perhaps a letter would arrive about Mother, then that would not be good.”
“You could write to the place where your mum is,” Charlie suggested.
“That’s right. Perhaps I can have Mr. Oliver help me word the letter properly. He seems very smart and informed. And very kind.”
“Y-yeah, I guess,” mumbled Charlie.
She looked at him. “Is something the matter?”
He shrugged.
“Charlie, tell me.”
“It’s just that I seen Mr. Oliver doin’… well, doin’ quite odd stuff.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
He told her about the man and the packet of pages. “He said it was a man-u-scrip or some such.”
“A manuscript . Like a book before it’s a book. Well, that seems perfectly normal for someone who owns a bookshop to be receiving manuscripts.”
“But then I seen Mr. Oliver go to some place in an alleyway and he come out with papers. And the same man was there.”
“Was it a publishing house?”
He shrugged again. “Dunno. It were just a door in an old buildin’. And he looked sort of, well, nervous while he was doin’ it. And so did the bloke that give him those papers. He looked, I dunno, shifty, like he knew he were up to somethin’ no good. And it was long after midnight when I seen ’em the first time.”
Molly looked disturbed by this information. “That is not when one would expect to drop off a manuscript. Do you remember where this other place is?”
Charlie nodded and picked up his cup. “Yeah, I think so.”
Molly thought for a moment and then came to a conclusion that astonished her. Well, not exactly. She was feeling she had no control over her life right now. She was sick with worry over a mother she couldn’t visit. She felt abandoned by a father she had adored. But with this she could take charge, even if it meant finding out that Oliver was simply visiting a friend.
She stood. “Well, let’s go there and see what we can see. Mrs. Pride has already gone to her room. We can nip out now and she’ll be none the wiser.”
Molly found wellies and raincoats for them both, and a large umbrella.
Charlie was about to open the front door when Molly suddenly stiffened and gripped his hand to stop him.
“What?” asked Charlie.
“If those same men are watching the house, I don’t want them to follow us.”
Charlie nodded in understanding. “Right.” He ventured to the back door, opened it, peered out, and saw the fence that surrounded the rear yard.
“Can you climb a fence?” he asked Molly.
“I’m sure I can.”
“Okay, follow me then. Keep low, eyes away from the street, in case somebody flashes a torch. Your eyes reflect, see?”
They slipped outside and, keeping low, slunk over to the fence. Then Charlie gave Molly a boost up and over. He tossed her the umbrella, clambered over the fence, and dropped gracefully to the ground on the other side. Grasping her hand, he led her through the rear yard of the neighboring house, where he once more helped her over a fence before nimbly scaling it and landing easily on his feet. Charlie then led them at a brisk pace, zigzagging through streets, and with him abruptly turning around every so often to check for followers. They reached another street and he slowed his pace.
“I think we’re okay now.”
Molly said breathlessly, “You’re quite practiced at this, um, skullduggery business.”
“Don’t know what that word is, Miss. But if you mean I don’t like blokes following me, well, where I’m from, you sort of have to be that way.”