Toad in the Hole (18 page)

“Max said the Turkish embassy has been applying pressure for the return of the priceless amethyst. Keran Evren even arranged a visit.”

“Who’s that?”

“Are you daft? The Turkish president. Their embassy’s thrashing around to arrange a deal where the Queen gives it back. They claim they’ll house it near the site at Troy.”

“Where do you think it is?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be standing in this damp river fog pining for a cuppa.”

“Has anyone checked the vaults at Windsor, Buckingham, or Balmoral? Royal crap is always going missing, only to be found in some mislabeled cardboard box years later.”

A gruff chuckle puffed out and I watched one pair of feet shuffle. “Did you eat?”

“I was about to when I got the call. Left a Cornish pastie on the table to come here.”

“Give me a fiver and I’ll go get some fish and chips. We’re here for a while.”

The two went on and on about their food cravings, which made me realize I hadn’t eaten either. Nor would I if I stayed on the boat. Delicately lowering the lid to the toilet, I sat down and squeaked the water from my drippy hair onto the floor. I shouldn’t be here. We were meeting GG and Edmond in the morning. Sorting out this whole jewelry debacle had become a menace. Relaxing a little, I clunked the back of my head to the wall and my elbow almost landed on the flusher.

Listening to Tweedledee and Tweedledum discuss their children’s football leagues, the smashing tits on the new secretary at headquarters, and where they were going on their next holiday made time tick by like a lifetime. Moored to shore, there was a subtle rise and dip motion that after awhile became soothing, even peaceful, and without realizing it, I dropped into sleep.

The clomp of heels thudding beside my ear, blew away my zen. Voices spoke on the deck above. In a light slumber, my left cheek pressed against something cold and rigid then I felt a cramp nettle the muscles down my back.

“Are you sure?” I heard a woman ask.

“She climbed up the engine and went inside. The guys were only on shore a few minutes then they went back aboard. I watched for hours. She didn’t come out. She has to be in here.”

“How did she get on board without being seen?”

“Rachael swam.”

Hearing my name, my eyes opened. My mouth was parched, my skin itchy, my back achy, my hair had a canal-water, air-dried crunch which turns out is a stronger hold than foam mousse. As the pocket door folded toward me, I pulled my face off of the metal sink and prepared to surrender.

“Rachael?”

I blinked in the dark. “GG?”

NOTE TO SELF

Will not be joining the Polar Club—ever.

Hiding in small lavatories, becoming modus operandi?

B
eaters

I
nside Warwick station, the not-overly-special brick building with cobalt blue trim, GG purchased tickets for the four of us to Yorkshire. Before we boarded, I changed into clean, dry clothes and ran a wet brush through my hair, which gave me some humanlike qualities. The engine on the train chugged and the metal wheels on the track ground a bup-perty-bup rhythm. In my twenty years of living, I wasn’t an early morning riser by choice. But seeing the way the dawn light played on the English countryside made me think that maybe it wasn’t so bad to wake up early occasionally.

Travis was seated next to me. I glanced at his rumpled hair and the dark circles under his eyes. Squeezing my wrist, he whispered, “I’m glad we’re on land.”

Edmond removed a paper cup of tea from a cardboard tray container and handed me the first one. “You okay?”

A stream of warmth penetrated my palms. “I am now.”

The train pushed along at a steady clip. From the window I watched swallows burst out of a tree and soar across a field of wheat. Grazing sheep dotted distant pastures like erupted dandelions seeds.

Between sips of tea, GG watched me with intent eyes. Edmond had his own routine: glance at me, GG, Travis, out the window, then take a sip and repeat. I didn’t mind the attention.

Travis’s head tilted back to rest and his eyelids closed. On the short car ride to the station, questions and accusations had been slung from Travis and me.

When I’d confessed that the brooch had been stolen at Garrard’s, GG’s revealed that she already knew.

“It took me two days to figure out why the Scotland Yard plods detained Edmond. All along they wanted the brooch. It wasn’t theirs for the taking, and I told them so. I know, well, knew the owner. Wallis was rather famous and why not? She married a king. So I supposed the accessory may have some historic value. But they showed me photos of Ahmed trailing you and told me you were in danger. I had to tell them that you and Travis had it and that you were headed to Garrard’s.”

While I was too exhausted to battle, inside the car, Travis accused GG of selling us out. But she’d reassured him that the Yard had promised to leave all of us alone once they had the brooch.

“Where is the brooch now?” I asked.

GG’s lips tightened and she released an exasperated shrug. “The cops arrived at Garrard’s as you were leaving. They grabbed the Turks and found the brooch when they searched them.”

Travis opened his eyes. “How did the Turks know what’s engraved inside?”

“I don’t know that they do. I never mentioned that Rachael discovered an inscription.”

My gaze found Travis and he nodded.
No secrets,
I told myself. “We traveled up the Grand Union Canal instead of the Oxford route and stayed at Sonny’s Dovecote.”

Unable to contain himself, Travis piped in. “Sonny engraved the half shell for the king before he abdicated. It was a gift from him to Wallis. He thinks it shows the coordinates where a stolen gem from the scepter is located.”

Shifting in his seat, Edmond pitched a whistle. “Shut the front door.”

My grandmother processed the information. “Rumors and hearsay do bubble in underground circles. One that has swirled for years tells of a large Siberian amethyst, priceless, that was smuggled by a foreign contractor during the Crimean War from the site he thought to be Troy.”

Words were bursting inside my mouth, but other commuters seated themselves around us. For a half hour on the train ride to Birmingham, none of us broke the wall of silence.

AS THE MORNING ROLLED on, so did a pounding headache. Stepping off the commuter train at the Birmingham Station, the four of us made our way to the departure track for York. Inside, a congestion of people bustled about like a mini-city. It was a place to people-watch or easily get lost. Sweet smells wafted from kiosks serving morning breads where we bought sausage sandwiches and another round of to-go cups of tea. There wasn’t much time between trains, and once we found track number eight, passengers had already begun boarding. Edmond led us to the back of a train car and ushered us into four cushioned, high back seats arranged in a square.

“How long is this leg?” Travis asked.

“Three hours,” GG said.

“Why didn’t we ride with Callahan?” I asked.

Edmond sat on the aisle seat, his back to the door between carriages. I scrutinized his signature ponytail and I swore that since I’d last seen him, the gray around his temples had crept closer to his ears. “He’s taking care of returning the narrowboat to the docks in Stratford, and since none of us are accustomed to driving on the left side of the road, GG figured a train ride would be best.”

“And with Edmond’s back acting up,” GG said, “If he needs to, he can walk about and stretch.”

The train pulled out of the covered station and sunlight swelled through the windows, warming my face. GG drew a shade halfway down. She looked so smart in a turquoise knee-length skirt and matching leather loafers. Even the scarf on her neck and the bracelet she wore matched. Her pulled-togetherness made me self-conscious of my sloppy appearance. I hadn’t showered and felt the tacky film of the canal still on my skin.

“What if the Yard is waiting for us at York?” Travis asked.

GG looked to Edmond and he shrugged.

“Why would they?” she asked.

“I think it was them on the boat,” I said.

A closed-lip smile flashed across my grandmother’s face. “My dear, they’ve questioned us and we’ve obliged them with answers.”

Travis rested his elbow on his knees. “Why did they suspect Edmond of having the brooch?”

Edmond rolled his eyes.

Drumming her fingers, GG said, “They wanted me, but settled for him, knowing I’d follow.”

During the journey, Travis and I spilled highlights of navigating
Her Grace
into London, going to Garrard’s, meeting a tiddled jeweler who showed us a hidden drawing of the royal scepter, being assaulted by Ahmed’s men, and riding with Sonny up the Grand Union Canal to his dovecote behind Stoke Park.

The train slowed. An announcer on a speaker called out a nasally, “Reading,” and passengers shuffled off. A group of a dozen men and women dressed in old-fashioned ruffled shirts and baggy britches got onto our carriage. My eyes scanned the leather buttons, ripped sleeves, and vintage boots and clogs. Tipping his hat, one of them said, “Goodday M’lady.”

Travis’s finger waggled. “Don’t tell me this is the latest fashion trend.”

GG brushed his knee with her hand. “Wouldn’t that be the be-all and end-all!”

“That’s a troop of English Civil War reenactment enthusiasts. It’s a big deal around here,” Edmond said. His wealth of information on obscure topics wasn’t lost on me, and I wondered how often he’d visited this island.

“It’s a big party,” Edmond continued.

“How do you know?” Travis asked.

“You don’t get to be my age and not know a thing or two.”

A few moments later the doors closed and we pushed forward.

“Sonny,” GG mused, “How is he?”

“He’s wicked on a backgammon board,” Travis admitted.

“He’s a borderline eccentric, borderline quack, who doesn’t mind going for days in the same pair of pants.”

My grandmother smiled. “Hmm, hasn’t changed.”

The eccentric quack part or the doesn’t-change-his-pants part or both?

As we chugged along, so did the sunny skies that drenched our seats in warmth. Travis asked if I wanted to trade places and I declined. I still hadn’t shed the cold of the canal from the night before.

Edmond tipped his shoulder into the aisle before straightening back up. “Did you glimpse the royal scepter at the Tower?”

“We saw it at the Tower and Sonny showed us the craftsman drawing of it in the jewelry store’s basement.”

“You’ve been in the vault?” GG asked.

Travis and I nodded.

“My dear, that’s a coveted room few have been allowed to access. It’s where they housed the royal…”

“Jewels,” Travis said. “We know.”

“Where is the drawing now?” Edmond asked.

“Sonny has it,” I replied.

“Did you scan it carefully?” Edmond asked.

He and GG watched me. They knew about my little gift. The one inside my head that can take a Polaroid, down to the minute details of something I look at. I have to admit it’s useful and at the same time annoying. Sometimes I think the details of the stuff that’s passed before my eyes clogs my brain.

“I looked at it.”

Breathing a heavy sigh, GG glanced at Edmond before she asked, “Did you get a good look at the scepter in the Tower?”

“It would’ve been a better look if it weren’t for the people mover. That thing whizzes you by. But Travis and I got back in line and rode it three times.”

GG and Edmond held their breath, waiting for some epiphany.

My tongue scraped across my eyetooth. “Put a little pressure on a tourist.”

“Rachael,” Edmond said, “tell us what you saw.”

Before I could continue the nasal voice called out, “Sheffield,” and passengers began moving about. A line formed at the end of our car as the train slowed to stop. Commuters shuffled off and on, and a few more ragtag costume types passed by. The four of us small-talked while we waited. I asked if Edmond or GG had checked in with Dad. Edmond had; he said all was well. Trudy, Dad’s annoying aerobic-instructor girlfriend, was helping out at the shop and I wondered if that meant financial ruin. As far as I could tell, her only gift was encouraging others to stretch their glutes until they ached.

A costumed enthusiast and his buddies sat across the aisle from Edmond. He wore a pair of headphones attached to a cassette player and bobbed his head. A bandana scarf was fastened around his forehead with the tails of fabric dangling behind his ear. He looked like Simon Le Bon of Duran Duran merged with Howard Jones’s jaw and I was intrigued. His buddies weren’t so bad either and for a moment, I wished I had my girlfriends with me instead of my grandma, Edmond, and Travis.

Raising the blinds, I watched the towering hedges zoom past the window as the train sped out of Sheffield and into more countryside. On a hillside, outdoorsy types who wore earth-toned coats waved white flags. They dropped and swung the banners through the tangle of ground cover, like the starter of a Nascar race, startling a flock of low flying birds into the sky.

GG watched my fascination. “Beaters, dear. They’re flushing the scrub for game birds: grouse, pheasant, pigeon. I’m not sure what season we’re in.”

At least the beaters knew what they were after. I, on the other hand, had no idea who, if anyone, was after me, and if what I chased even existed.

The four of us butted our heads together and I spoke softly. “Nothing struck me as out of place, but Sonny had some insight. After a royal visit, back in the 30’s, he noticed the prongs on the Russian amethyst in the scepter. He thinks they’d been worked, but doesn’t have proof.”

Gears inside of GG’s and Edmond’s heads ticked.

GG reached for a cigarette. “The rumor could be true. What a scandal if it’s a bloody fake that King Edward planted,”

I was surprised she’d held off smoking this long.

“So the engraving inside the brooch must be code to a safe, somewhere.” Edmond guessed.

“Rachael thinks it’s a set of coordinates.”