Page 32 of Strangers in Time

“Molly, dear, I really must protest.”

“Yes, Mrs. Pride, I imagine you must. Goodbye.”

Molly closed the door behind her, gave a sweeping look around, and got her bearings. She was heading to Covent Garden. It wasn’t that far, and it was a lovely morning with no bombs falling. And, she mused, during a world war, why waste such a glorious opportunity for some adventure?

A FIRSTLIE

ON HER WAYMOLLYpassed the enormous Hyde Park on her left and the much smaller Green Park on her right with the Palace to the southeast. The quite fashionable areas of Mayfair and Soho were ahead of her along Piccadilly. Covent Garden was in the Strand to the east of Soho.

As she walked along, the city was coming fully awake. The sky was clear, and the rising sun was already lending warmth to the chilly air. Along the way she stopped and asked people if they had heard of The Book Keep in Covent Garden. No one had. Perhaps there was no such bookshop. Charlie Matters might be far too glib than was good for him. And that glibness might cost him a half crown, she thought.

When in the country she had walked miles at a time, but doing so here, she had to admit, was different. There were more people to dodge, as well as rubble to bypass or climb over, and there were motorcars, bicycles, buses, and the occasional horse-drawn cart to look out for, as they occasionally left the roadway and invaded the pavement.

As she widened her search and trekked toward the Thames, Molly stopped at one corner near the Savoy, where she had takentea, and also had a dress fitted at a shop on the short drive into the hotel. Now it looked gloomy and barren, though there was a suited doorman in front and a few cabs were idling at the hotel entrance. A large wall had been erected that blocked the view to the river. And there were sandbags stacked everywhere. She supposed it must have to do with protecting the hotel against bombs. Molly didn’t know that directly below the hotel was an air raid shelter exclusively for the Savoy’s guests that was quite luxurious and unlike any shelter most Londoners would flee to when the bombs came calling.

As she turned back around, she noticed a two-door Riley with a pair of men inside parked across the street. There was nothing unusual in that. But whatwasodd was that Molly was certain she had seen the same car with the same two men across the street from her house as she had stepped out that morning.

Either I’m quite going mad, or I’m being followed.

When the car abruptly pulled off, she decided, as before, that she was simply unsettled by her current plight and was thinking nonsense. She refocused on her mission, determined to see it through to a successful conclusion, as she had tried to do with all her endeavors. Molly had always been an exemplary student. Her mother had told her that she could grow up to be anything she wanted. Her father had said the same, so long as it was a teacher or perhaps a secretary to a powerful man. And, of course, there was the inevitable marriage to just the right sort. But Molly wanted to go to university. Which made her think of something that Charlie had mentioned that might aid Molly in her search.

St. Saviour’s School. Surely someone would know wherethatwas. And indeed, one gentleman she encountered did. He graciously tipped his hat, stroked his respectable mustache, and volunteered that he had been a student there himself, before telling her the way. Although he seemed puzzled at her query, since St. Saviour’s School, as he informed her, was only for males.

“My brother,” said Molly. “I’m meeting him there.”

The man smiled and said, “Ah, well then,” before gliding away.

Well, that was the first lie I ever told.

And Molly was surprised at how satisfying it had felt to carry it off.

She hurried off in the direction of St. Saviour’s but never arrived there. As she was passing the mouth of an alley, she happened to look down it and saw the green awning that Charlie had described. Now, to be fair, she knew there were a great many green awnings in the city. She rushed down that way and gave an exclamation of pleasant surprise—like one does when one receives the actual present one wanted for a birthday instead of the gift the giverbelievedthe person wanted.

THE BOOK KEEP

I. OLIVER, PROPRIETRESS

There it was, plain as the day. And that meant Charlie had not lied to her, which made Molly feel quite comforted. But she was also confused.

Proprietress?Surely Charlie had said…

When she peered through the dirty glass and saw the jumble of books, Molly was immediately taken aback. She had been in many London bookshops, and none had looked like this. Had the war simply changed everything? She hoped not. There were standards, after all, that should be observed.

As he had put her on the train to the country, her father had warned her, “Anarchy must be avoided at all costs.” The Germans preach about efficiency and method, he had said. This pertained to their trains, their uniforms, even their Blitzkrieg, which Molly had understood to be war in a hurry against a far weaker foe. But what the Nazis really wanted, according to her father, was anarchy. Anarchy of thesoul, he had further explained, which was the very worst anarchy of all. And then he had kissed her on both tear-stained cheeks, patted her head, smoothed down her braids, and seen her off. That was the last time she had ever been with her beloved father.

Her mother had been too distressed at Molly’s leaving to accompany them to the train station. And that was probably a good thing. There were so many mums and dads saying goodbye to so many children with identification labels pinned to their coats, and gas masks in hand and small bags over quivering shoulders holding all that they possessed. It was a necessary flight of innocents from coming evil, to be sure, but certainly one of the saddest in all of history.

She opened the door to the shop, the bell tinkled appreciatively, and Molly entered The Book Keep of I. Oliver, with the unwieldy comingling of trepidation and hope in her heart.

A SECONDVISITOR

MOLLY TOOK A FEWmoments to look around and concluded that her second impression of the shop differed from her first. Yes, it was cluttered, but it was jumbled like one’s mind was when one had too much to think about. That was not always a bad thing, was it? She actually found herself smiling as she took in the swollen shelves and the teetering towers.

The next moment the curtain parted and there he was.

“Yes, Miss, may I help you?”

He looked kind and eager and not remotely like the “strange bloke” Charlie had described.

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