Page 16 of The Number of Love
But he wasn’tright. He was shaggy instead of bald, bearded instead of clean-shaven, wore a blue jacket instead of a buff, and hewasn’t Gregory.
Her feet halted beside the table, where a chessboard was not set up. Her throat felt tight. “Where’s Gregory?”
Wrong, wrong. Maman would be glaring at her if she were here, her eyes shooting daggers that said,You’re being rude, Margot.But she couldn’t even manage a smile to soften her question.
The man glanced up at her but then back down to his board, hislips moving silently. His eyes didn’t seem to focus on her. His fingers twitched, and he coughed.
Dot moved up behind her. “Margot?”
She drew in a deep breath. The English had a saying about flies and honey—though she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to catch this particular fly or shoo him away. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. But Gregory Westrom is usually here this time of day. Are you meeting him? Playing a new game together?”
The man didn’t bother looking up again. His twitchy fingers lifted from the table and moved to the game board. For a moment they hovered over one of the black stones. Then, with a spasm, he moved it to another intersection of the lines.
Margot winced. A stupid move, even though he seemed to be playing no one but himself. Though rarely did anyone appreciate her pointing out such things.
Dot edged forward another step. “What game is that? I don’t recognize it.”
Margot swallowed. That was part of thewrong. She didn’t know anyone in England who played this game. Didn’t know anyone who did at all, aside from the German officer who had occupied their home when they were in Brussels after the invasion. In her head, it was his voice that sounded, though it emerged from her lips in her own tones. “It is called Go. From the Han Chinese empire, but it has become quite popular in Germany.”
“Germany?” Dot jerked away a degree.
Margot sucked more oxygen into her lungs. “Apparently its popularity is spreading.” She could still feel the smooth round stones against her fingers if she tried hard enough. Still remember sitting for hours at that game board in Brussels, trying not to be too clever in her play, lest theGeneralleutnantrealize she was more than what she could safely admit to being.
He’d seen anyway, despite her playing like a dunce. They’d had one honest game together before Lukas had found her and Maman and secretted them out of Belgium, into England. Playing Go had been nearly as much fun as cryptography.
She’d been unable to find a game board here in London, and her mother wouldn’t have let her spend the cash on it even if she had. Not to mention that she had no one to play with.
All of which rather begged the question of where this usurper had found a board, and with whom he meant to play. And sucha beautiful board, at that, engraved and gleaming. It was a striking contrast to the player, who looked pale and half sick.
“Good morning, Margot. Or afternoon, I suppose.”
Margot spun away from the game board and the scruffy man who was reaching now with his spasmodic fingers for a white stone. An ancient woman, Mrs. Rourke, was settling onto her usual bench, drawing a ball of yarn and a crochet hook from her bag.
Sometimes Maman would bring her knitting to the park on a fine day, and she and Mrs. Rourke would ply their crafts together, chatting about the weather and the news and everything in between. Margot usually had a game of chess with Gregory on such occasions.
She summoned a smile for Mrs. Rourke. “Afternoon.” And then motioned toward the interloper. “Do you know where Gregory is?”
“Oh. Oh dear.” Mrs. Rourke’s face collapsed into folds of wrinkles. “Had you not heard? Gregory died. Tuesday last. You know he’d not been well for some time.”
True, he hadn’t. His trips to the park with the chessboard were about all he could manage. But she hadn’t thought he wasdying. She’d thought ... well, she’d thought he was part of the park, she supposed. As ever-present as that tree yonder, or the gravel of the path.
Stupid. She curled her fingers into her palm. “I’m very sorry to hear that. Had we known, we would have paid our respects at his funeral.”
“Oh, it was a quiet affair, and you and your mother would have been at the office. Just his son and a few of us neighbors came.” Mrs. Rourke blinked a few times. “We shall surely miss him.”
“As will I.” And why, if the friendly old man had only been gone for a few days, was his place already filled at that table? Had the scruffy man no respect? She stepped closer to Mrs. Rourke and pitched her voice low. “So who is this newcomer?”
But the lady just shrugged. “Don’t rightly know, dear. First I’ve seen him. But if he sticks about for any length of time, I’ll sure we’ll learn.”
Margot nodded because it was expected. Smiled because it wasn’t Mrs. Rourke’s fault. And then turned back to Dot because her friend looked uneasy. It took a bit of effort to keep the smile on her face. “Sorry for the detour, Dot.”
“Think nothing of it. But hadn’t we better get to your brother’s house?”
Margot nodded and said a quick farewell to the old woman. Of course, turning back to the path meant again walking by the game that wasn’t chess and the man who wasn’t Gregory. Seeing his fingers push another black stone into another stupid move.
Once they were out of earshot, Dot leaned close. “I’m sorry about your friend. Gregory.”
“Thank you.” It wasn’t, of course, just the absence of Gregory and his chessboard that had thrown her. It was the presence of a stranger with Go. No numbers buzzed a warning in her head, but still she couldn’t quite settle her nerves. Couldn’t quite settle her stomach.
