Toad in the Hole

by Paisley Ray

  Before he could continue in the foggy silence, I closed the space between us. His chin tilted down and mine up, our lips met and his beard stubble sanded the corners of my lips. Inside, my nerves endings zipped and pinged. Within Travis’s embrace, the anxiety I’d trapped in my neck and shoulders released and for a moment, my brain stopped over-thinking everything. Pressed together, something prickly near his front pants pocket jabbed me and I stepped back, his arms releasing me.

  In an effort to break the quiet before it became awkward, I rubbed my thigh and whispered, “What have you got in your pants?”

  We both looked to the impressive bulge in his trousers and laughed. He reached into a pocket and pulled out two green conkers.

  “Rachael, what are we doing?”

  Being chased, not knowing where we were going, and unable to find my grandmother in a foreign country made me vulnerable and I guessed he was, too. “I don’t know. Let’s go back to the boat, read the note, and figure out where the High Street and the Blue Boar is located.”

  Wrapping an arm around my shoulder, he walked beside me along the river. The moored boats lay dark in the water and I had trouble gauging where we’d anchored ours. I was about to ask Travis if he remembered, when he slid his hand over my mouth, pulling me off the path, and up a slight hill.

  I didn’t know what he had in mind and was intrigued.

  From the cover of another large chestnut tree I heard the mumble of voices carry upwards.

  “Someone’s on our boat,” he said.

  “Callahan?” I asked, figuring he’d arrived.

  “Doesn’t sound like him,” Travis said.

  Straining my ears, I heard voices of two males carry up the slope. I worried that they were Ahmed’s men, but these were real British accents. It was impossible to see the trespassers, but the conversation and the glow of their moving flashlights on deck gave them away. Feeling my legs lock, I clutched Travis’s arm. Why were we still being followed? I didn’t have the brooch.

  “What do you want to do?” I asked

  “Maybe we should confront them.”

  “You want to march up and say ‘Hey, foggy night, isn’t it? What are you doing on our boat?’”

  Travis pondered my comment. “They may not have anything to do with GG or the brooch. They may be boat robbers.”

  A throaty breath escaped me. “It’s not like we have anything for them to steal. I have the leftover cash with me. There’s nothing on board but our clothes, some food.”

  “My backgammon game.”

  I’d seen enough matches between Sonny and Travis. “Let’s just go and try to find a bed and breakfast.”

  “There’s one thing we can’t leave behind.”

  “I’ll buy you another backgammon board.”

  “The painting I won from Sonny. Rachael, it’s important, right?”

  NOTE TO SELF

  We Kissed?!

  CHAPTER 24

  Taking the Biscuit

  If I had to choose a between a trip to Alaska or Hawaii, hands down Hawaii. Stripping off my shirt and pants, I left them on shore and lowered myself into the bleak river water between two narrowboats. This dunking was probably overreacting, but I wasn’t so sure.

  I had a bad feeling about the intruders on our boat, and sneaking onto Her Grace, unnoticed, then leaving undetected was the best solution we’d come up with. Travis would provide the distraction while I retrieved the painting Sonny had “lost” to him. I’m no daredevil, and normally won’t delve into water any cooler than a lukewarm bath, but this was different. Under the guise of principle, I tolerated dipping into the brisk Stratford-upon-Avon River. The oyster brooch had been stolen and underneath my skin, and I was miffed at myself for being so careless. But now Travis had something of value that could help lead us to whatever King Edward and Wallis had left behind. The painting was still within reach and I was going to get it. Only one slight problem—it was tucked inside the cabin of Her Grace where two men now loitered on the deck.

  Sometimes you just have to suck it up. Ignoring the algae tainted smell and whatever lurked below, I struggled to move forward in the bracing cold that numbed my limbs. I told myself this would be quick. At least there were no sharks or fish with teeth in this river. I worked to convince myself that it was like a giant swimming pool with ducks. A breaststroke, quiet on top, but frantic underneath, kept hypothermia at bay and propelled me to the ladder next to the engine. Chilled to the core in my wet bra and panties, I held myself still on the ladder and listened to my heart threaten to find another home.

  “Bloody hell,” a guy on the boat groaned. “Someone’s hit me with a conker.”

  “Could this be them?” the second one spoke.

  “They’re bloody idiots if it is. Let’s go get them. I’m going up that slope, you go left then flank them.”

  I heard a plonk. Travis missed and his second conker hit the deck and bounced overboard. My numb feet were clumsy, and as they made contact with each metal slat I held my breath, while the water dripping off me spilled back into the river below.

  On deck my teeth chattered and in the bleak river haze, I futzed with the keychain on my wrist to open the cabin. Struggling to align the key into the lock, it finally clicked. Edging the door open, I slid inside and closed it behind me before moving toward the Murphy bed and cubbies that stored our clothes. Shivers rippled down my giblets and I wore the scent of pond. Removing my underwear, I tangled with a sweatshirt and a pair of Travis’s boxers that had been left in a pile while listening for noises on the deck above. Floorboards groaned under my feet. Behind a bench cushion, there was a compartment where the painting had stayed safe. All of our things were as we’d left them, and I wondered why the intruders hadn’t broken into the cabin. When feet clomped above, I scurried inside the closet-size latrine, careful to close the folding door.

  “Should we call it in?”

  I flattened my back against the bowl-size sink, held my breath and listened.

  “And say what? Max is still cheesed off about having to let the Turks go. Give him a conker story and he’ll discharge you on the spot, mate. It was probably just some local kids. We probably already missed these two idiots. Our shift is over at three, then it’s up to the next rendezvous point.”

  Through the tiny window, I spied the men’s black and white Adidas trainers and faded blue jean pant ankles.

  “Did you read the file?”

  “Bloody irony. Another American and our reputation’s at stake again.”

  Who were these two and were they talking about me?

  “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 Tweedle
dee 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?

  CHAPTER 25

  Beaters

  Inside 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 En
glish 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.”