Page 69 of Strangers in Time

“What?”

“My father isnotaway on business. He left home months ago and no one has seen him since.”

“What? And you’ve no idea where he went?”

“None. So, like you, I do not have parents right now.”

“I’m glad you told me, Miss. It’s not good to keep too much in your head. I do that sometimes, and, well, it ain’t good.”

“I came back to the city expecting to see both my parents. And now…?”

“But like you said, your mum and dad may come back.”

“Do you really think that’s possible?”

“I believe lots of thin’s are possible,” replied Charlie eagerly. “It’s not just believin’ that theycanhappen. It’s more unnerstandin’ there’s no good reason theycan’thappen.”

“But right now, I really don’t have anyone,” said Molly.

“Well, you got me.”

Molly turned to look at him. “And you have me, Charlie. So we have each other. That means an awful lot, doesn’t it?” she said, as though to buck up her own spirits.

“It’s loads better than bein’ all by yourself. Havin’ someone to talk to, and all.”

“We will survive this. I know that we will. Don’t you feel the same?”

“I’m startin’ to,” said Charlie quite truthfully.

The next moment their hands reached out, and held firm as they both turned back to stare solemnly at the resting places of the dead.

The wind picked up and rattled the aged trees that ran along one side of the graveyard. The fragile leaves, preparing to end their existence shortly, rippled as slender, weighted branches flexed and bent. Dozens of birds on these shaken limbs lifted off as one and raced headlong into the face of the breeze, clinging to invisible thermals, seeminglyunconcerned with where they might next locate a perch. It was a case of sudden independence, and truly something to behold on that drearily cold morning with both recent and aged death all around.

Behind one of these trees, a willowy maple with pointed dangling leaves, stood Ignatius Oliver. His old coat covered his lanky frame, his battered and stained hat rode on his head. He took a moment to wipe clear his specs on the sleeve of his coat. As he settled the glasses back on the bridge of his nose, he looked to the sky, where the birds still soared, looped, and dipped, living kites free of gravity’s harness.

He had gone to Charlie’s flat to check on him and learned of his gran’s passing. He had next gone to the firm of Wilkinson & Dunn because a neighbor of Charlie’s had seen that name on the hearse. That was where he had discovered the funeral date and location, and also of Molly Wakefield’s involvement. He had come to pay his respects, but to do so without intruding on Charlie’s privacy. Yet Oliver had heard all that had just transpired between the two children.

The last time he’d been at a cemetery Oliver had stood and looked at the spot where his beloved Imogen should have been laid to rest for all eternity, with him to lie right beside her when his end came. On the other side were the graves of Imogen’s parents.

While the birds artfully rambled above, Oliver walked slowly away.

He had learned something else today. Molly Wakefield was indeed being followed, because Oliver had seen the two men lurking behind some trees on the other side of the small cemetery. They were clearly there to observe the girl, and it made Oliver wonder why.

He slowly walked off, thinking that things were becoming as complicated as one of his encryptions.

ALLMADNESSLIESTHEREIN

WOULD YOU LIKE ANOTHERcup 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?”

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