Page 111 of Strangers in Time

“Well, it ain’t easy, mate, I can tell you that. You got to label all these counties and rivers and whatsis on a map ’a England. Then you got to list down what the government does to get folks to buy War Savings. Then you got to know alls ’bout a gent name of Ma-cowber. And then they ask you questions about this quite odd woman from She-lott who keeps lookin’ in a bleedin’ mirror.”

“I don’t know none ’a that,” said a befuddled Charlie.

“Me neither, mate, why I’m ridin’ this here bloody bike.” He paused and his expression turned somber. “People look at you funny, though,” he said. “For not bein’ in the fightin’, I mean. Think I’m a damn coward. But it’s not like I can show ’em pictures of my chest. I didn’t ask to have no funny heart.” He glanced at Charlie with an anxious look. “Least I’m in some sort of uniform. Right, mate?”

“Right,” said Charlie.

“Eh, how old are you anyways?” asked Duckett as they rode back to the postal office for fresh messages to deliver.

“Old enough for this job,” replied Charlie.

ONCESEEN

THE NEXT DAYCHARLIEworked alone, whizzing all over London to deliver messages. His wages obviously weren’t due yet, so he got a cup of milk and fried Spam and some chips from a WVS canteen as his only meal of the day.

Outside the postal office he had taken considerable time to thoroughly clean his bike with a rag and some water and a bit of noxious cleaner Benedict had given him. After he was off duty he rode to Covent Garden and made it to the alleyway. He parked his bike and ducked down by the large window. The shop was dimly lit as he watched through a crack in the blackout curtains.

He was startled when he saw Molly in what looked to be a nurse’s outfit. And then there was a stiff-legged Oliver slowly moving across the floor to pluck a book off the shelf before turning to Molly and saying something.

Part of him wanted to rap on the door and announce to them both that he was fine and now had a paying job. But they surely would have been told to report any contact they had with Charlie to the police. And if they didn’t they could be arrested.

He turned to leave and froze. The woman across the way was at her door and staring at him. He could tell by her expression that sherecognized him from their earlier meeting. He dashed away on his bike.

Later, Charlie carried his bike up the steps of his digs and collapsed onto his bedding. He didn’t feel entirely safe here. If Lonzo had told the police about this place they might come searching. But wouldn’t they have come before now? And granted these lodgings weren’t much, but it was better than anything else he had, and if he didn’t have to leave them…?

The warning sirens had jarred Charlie from a deep sleep that night and had driven him to a nearby tube station. The smells and the heat of so many comingled bodies had made him nauseous, particularly on a mostly empty stomach.

A woman had noticed Charlie’s thin features and offered him a bit of bread and cheese. He had gratefully accepted, and when he wolfed it down, another lady offered him some of her provisions.

When the all clear sounded, Charlie had trekked back to his place around four in the morning. A few hours later he rode to the postal office to begin work.

Benedict looked kindly upon the clearly tired and overly thin Charlie and said, “I’m offering new lads partial wages, Ignatius, if you’re interested. Just a bit of pocket change.”

“I’m ’nterested,” replied Charlie immediately.

He put the shillings safely away and headed out.

For weeks on end Charlie rode through the streets with abandon. He was also becoming quite good at talking folks into availing themselves of his services, especially businessmen.

“Just a bit of coin for gettin’ your ’portant messages where they need to be,” he would spiel. “Why, just ’magine how good it’ll make people feel to hear from you.”

That line worked more often than not. He had taken to riding by the Ritz and the Dorchester hotels, and other such places where the well-heeled folks could afford to stay. He made pounds instead of pence there.

And Arthur Benedict was very pleased. “You have a knack forthis line of work, you mark my words, son.” He quietly placed an extra crown in Charlie’s weekly pay. “You could teach the older boys a thing or two, you could.”

When Charlie got back to his digs that night and changed out of his uniform, he knew immediately that something was off. His things had been gone through, and some of his possessions appeared to be missing.

Charlie had all his money on him, so that was all right. And he had hidden the journal under a loose section of wainscotting that looked solid enough. He plucked it out and gathered up what he could and left, thinking of where he might go.

He had just reached the street with his bike when someone cried out, “You, boy, you stay right where you are.”

The man yelling at him was the same stout man he’d seen at The Book Keep talking to Molly and Mr. Oliver—the copper.

Charlie did not stay right where he was. He rode swiftly away, while the slow-footed Inspector Willoughby and Constable Higgins ran futilely after him.

It took Charlie ten seconds to disappear into the streets of a city he knew better than most.

Willoughby and Higgins finally stopped running and bent over, sucking in one deep breath after another.

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