Page 68 of Strangers in Time

F RANKNESS ON D ISPLAY

M OLLY, WITH O LIVER’S PERMISSION , had used Imogen’s typewriter and The Book Keep stationery to compose her letter to Dr. Thaddeus Stephens of the Beneficial Institute. She had gotten Oliver’s comments on several handwritten drafts until she believed she had struck upon the right tone. She had duly posted it early one morning, and had walked back to the shop to prepare for work.

She had previously told Oliver about Lonzo Rossi’s having come to the clinic.

He had said, “My God, I helped bring him there that night. I thought I recognized him but I couldn’t remember from where.”

“Sister says it looks like he was beaten .”

“Yes. The thing is, the inspector told me that they had arrested Lonzo.”

“Do you think he might have escaped?”

“I don’t see how he could have possibly managed that,” replied Oliver.

“But then how did he sustain—” She paused and then exclaimed, “But surely the police wouldn’t have… would they?”

Oliver had looked at her uncomfortably. “Before the war, Molly, there were certain things I would not have believed. But after what I’ve seen, I’m afraid that is no longer the case.”

Molly had thought back to what had happened to her mother at that shelter. “I guess I feel the same way.” She added, suddenly horrified, “You don’t mean that… that Charlie…”

“I don’t know, Molly. I just don’t know.”

Molly came out of these depressing musings and looked out the window for a moment. “Your friend at the War Office?”

“Major Bryant, yes?”

“He must be wrong about my father. He can’t be a criminal.”

“I would think as you do, Molly, but I also know Bryant. He is not known for making unsubstantiated allegations like that.”

“But what crime is he accused of committing?”

“I have no idea.”

She said doubtfully, “I know he worked in money matters in the city before the war and traveled quite a bit.”

“Perhaps some missing funds, then?”

“I suppose it is possible. I mean, he has disappeared.” Molly looked utterly crushed.

“But if that is the case, I wonder why the War Office is involved.”

“Did you write your friend back?” she asked.

“I would not, without your permission.”

“I simply can’t leave it as it is,” said Molly.

“Then I will make further inquiries.”

“Thank you.” She nervously twisted her fingers. “Do you think that would explain why those men were watching my house?”

“It certainly could, Molly.”

The following weeks went by rather quickly, and thankfully there were no more bombing raids. Each evening, Oliver told Molly of his efforts to locate Charlie.

“I’ve been everywhere I thought he might be,” he said. “So far, I’ve had no luck. But I will keep trying.”

“What if he was arrested?”

“I think we would have heard, I really do,” he said.

Each week Molly had duly given him, despite his protests, her entire salary. “It’s not much, I know, but it’s something.”

“It’s more than something, Molly, it’s quite substantial, in fact, and I will pay you back when I am able.”

“Please, without you I would have no home.”

“And I did write Major Bryant for further particulars. I will let you know as soon as I receive a response.”

As Molly sat and ate the dinner Oliver had prepared, and watched him bustle around the tiny kitchen, she was thinking about how Imogen had died.

She decided to broach the subject with him. “I happened to meet Mrs. Macklin.”

“Did you now?” said Oliver in surprise as he sat down across from her with a cup of tea.

“She was outside several weeks ago and called to me one evening. She… mentioned she knew your wife. I mean, I already knew that because you had told me.”

“She also knew Imogen’s father, who owned this bookshop before her.”

“Yes, she mentioned that as well. Mrs. Macklin also talked to me about… Cornwall.”

Oliver set his cup down. “Cornwall? Indeed. Wait, do you mean…?”

Molly’s face paled. “Yes, she told me what happened. I didn’t ask about it, I promise.”

He looked down. “As I told you, Imogen and I spent our honeymoon in Devon. It was such a happy time for us. Thus, it did puzzle me that she would choose nearby Cornwall to do what she did.”

“And you had no idea she had gone there?”

He shook his head. “Imogen said she was traveling by rail to Bristol to visit an old school friend. When the police came round… Well, it was quite impossible to believe what they were saying. I made myself think they had gotten it all wrong somehow. But when I rang the friend in Bristol, and found that she knew nothing of a visit from Imogen, and then the fact that Imogen never came back? Well, it became rather self-evident, didn’t it?”

“Perhaps it was an accident? She might have—”

“No, no, I was told that the witnesses were quite clear in their statements. She… jumped.”

“Did you… did you never go there and see things for yourself?”

“I thought I would have done. I planned to go, in fact. I never got the exact location from the police down there but… I…” He halted.

“I know this is so very difficult,” interjected Molly, her features full of compassion.

“I finally decided not to make further inquiries because what would have been the point? I could not bring her back. They could tell me nothing other than that they saw her jump, which I already knew to be the case. And… and I simply could not bring myself to go to the place where she… died.” He looked up at her. “Do you think that wrong of me?”

“I can’t judge you, Mr. Oliver, having never been faced with something like that.” She played with her napkin as she seemed to be mustering courage. “Did you ever think why she might have done what she did?”

“Yes, I have given it a great deal of thought.”

“You said that had you acted she might still be alive. But you never explained that.”

As she said this Oliver’s eyes closed and tears seeped from under the lids.

Molly looked alarmed. “I’m so sorry. I never should have brought it up. I just didn’t want Mrs. Macklin to mention to you what she told me. I thought it better for you to hear it from me.”

He lifted his specs, wiped his eyes with his napkin, and said, “I do appreciate your telling me, Molly. As to why Imogen would have done that, all I can say is that she was a complicated person. A loving, caring, quite dear woman, but… complicated, nonetheless. And when the truth came fully round, I think she couldn’t accept… things.”

“The truth? And what things?” she asked. Molly’s mind was returning to the cut-out book and the mysterious visitor and the strange machine Charlie had found along with the paper in German. She couldn’t believe that Oliver was involved in anything criminal or suspicious. But she also couldn’t understand what was going on. Had Imogen killed herself because she thought her husband was… a traitor? Her stomach uncomfortably clenched.

When he looked at her, there was something there she couldn’t quite identify at first. Then she hit upon it.

Fear.

He got up and walked out without answering her, which did absolutely nothing to curb Molly’s growing anxiety.

The following morning Molly readied herself for work as Oliver prepared her breakfast. He had insisted, despite the canteen at the clinic, on making her breakfast and dinner each day.

Molly’s mind could not stray far from their very candid conversation from the previous night. Imogen Oliver had killed herself because the truth had fully come around and she couldn’t accept “things.” And Oliver felt guilty. And he might have been the reason she had jumped off that cliff in Cornwall. It was all so bewildering.

She ate her breakfast, put on her nursing cape and hat, and left the shop.

Mrs. Macklin was outside sweeping the cobbles. Molly sensed she had been waiting for her to leave for work.

“Off to nurse the sick and injured, are we?” Macklin said with a hint of sarcasm.

“Yes, I am.”

“Least no more bombings for a bit.”

“Yes, thank goodness.”

“How is Ignatius?”

“He’s fine, quite nearly healed.”

She was about to say goodbye and walk on, when Macklin said, “Just so’s you know, I saw that lad around here again.”

Molly froze and turned back around. “What lad?”

“The lad that was here with you. Seen him in the shop with you and Ignatius. I talked to him before. He said he wanted a job with Ignatius, but I don’t think he was telling the truth.”

“When did you see him?”

“Oh, a while back. Weeks it was. Do you know him?”

“I… I don’t know if we’re talking about the same person.”

“See, the thing is this Inspector Willoughby, I believe was his name, came by to see me, probably the same time he talked to Ignatius. There was a lad and a bobby killed down that way, you know, like we was talking about before. That inspector was keen to find one of the lads. Said his name was Charlie… Matters, yes, that’s right. Could have sworn he was the same one in there with you and Ignatius. Fit the description and all.”

“I’m sure a lot of boys look alike, Mrs. Macklin.”

“What’s your lad’s name then?”

“Tommy, Tommy Barnwell,” said Molly immediately. It was the first name that came into her head. It was actually the name of a boy she had met in the country, the son of a farmer, with a thick shock of red hair.

“So where is he now?”

“He left us and we haven’t seen him since. So it’s quite surprising that you saw him outside the shop. I wonder why he didn’t let us know he was here.”

“Yes, yes, that is quite puzzling,” said Macklin slowly. She clearly did not believe a word of what Molly was saying. “And where is he from?” she asked.

“Um, somewhere around here, I believe,” Molly said cautiously.

“Really? The boy told me he was from the East End.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. I got mixed up.”

Macklin gave her another incredulous look. “Thing is, this last time I saw him, the boy had on one of them messenger uniforms.”

“I’m sorry, messenger uniforms?”

“You know, the telegram lads? Riding their bicycles around in their smart uniforms and pillbox hats, with the pasteboard flapping around their necks saying, ‘Why don’t you send a telegram to your cousin in Brighton for a shilling and make him smile.’ I know who’d be smiling, all right. It’d be the one with all them shillings.” She looked wistful. “I haven’t sent a telegram in years. Have nobody to send one to. But they do a nice business with the war and all, so I’ve heard.”

“Oh, well, are you sure it was Tommy?”

“I just know it was the same lad what was there before. I can’t tell you his name.” She looked sharply at Molly as she said this.

“Yes, well, thank you, Mrs. Macklin. I hope you have a good day.”

“It will be a good day, if the damn Germans don’t show up and ruin it.”