by Amy Cross
"Nonsense," she says, already heading over to the escalators that lead to a small upstairs bar. "Come on, I'll buy you lunch".
"You don't need to do that!" I call out, but she's already out of earshot. Sighing again, I adjust my backpack before hurrying after her. This little charade is clearly going to drag on a little longer. My mother's been a bag of nerves for the past couple of days, and I don't think she's adjusting very well to life without my father. Damn it, it's at times like this that I wish I had a brother or sister who could take the strain. As it is, I'm having to endure the full force of my mother's neurosis, and it's starting to drag me down. I swear, I'm going to start sprouting gray hairs any day now.
"Are you sure about this?" my father's voice asks.
"No," I reply, "but I don't see -" I suddenly stop dead in my tracks and turn around. There's no-one behind me, but I swear to God, I heard him.
"Elly!" my mother calls out. "Come on, we don't have much time!"
"Coming," I say, a little disconcerted as I hurry to catch up to her.
"Can't a mother buy her daughter a bite of lunch?" she asks as we enter the bar. "It's not like I'll see you any time in the next few months. Then again, I suppose I could come and visit -"
"No!" I blurt out.
She turns to face me, looking a little shocked at the forcefulness of my response.
"I'm going to be so busy," I say, trying to rescue the situation. "You know what it's like. Final papers to be written, projects to be finished. I'd love you to come, but I'm worried it'd get in the way of my studies". I pause for a moment. "The last thing I want is to let my grades slip".
"True," she says, turning and heading over to the bar. "So what do you want?" she asks as she takes a look at the menu. "I've never eaten here before. I've got no idea what the food's like".
"It's good," I say. "Dad brought me here once when he was dropping me off. We had burgers".
She smiles wistfully. "You and your father were always eating burgers," she says, sounding a little sad. "It's basically a child's meal, isn't it? Adults should eat something more substantial. Burgers are for Americans and children".
"Seriously?" I ask, staring at her. Sometimes she can be so offensive, I just want to shake her until she comes to her senses.
"I suppose it was some little club the two of you had," she continues. "Your father certainly had a childish streak, but it could be rather embarrassing at times. Whenever we went out anywhere, you'd both have burgers, and I've have something more... sensible. More adult".
I shrug. "It's just burgers".
"You don't understand," she replies. "The burgers are a symbol of something. They're a symbol of your determination to remain a child forever, Eleanor".
I sigh; I hate it when she calls me Eleanor. "It's Elly," I reply through gritted teeth, "and besides, burgers are just food. They don't have to mean anything". Damn it, I regret following her in here. I should have just let her wander off by herself.
"Fine," she says, turning to the woman behind the bar. "Two burgers, please! With lots of extra ketchup and... whatever that sauce is that you use".
Once we've sat down and we're waiting for our food, there's an awkward silence that lasts several minutes. I keep glancing at my watch, desperate for time to pass so I can pretend to go and catch the train. As far as my mother's concerned, I've spent the past few days meeting friends, and now I'm heading back to Bristol; she has no idea about any of the stuff that happened with Mark. There's a part of me that would love to just blurt it all out and see the shocked look on her face.
"Can I ask you something that might seem a little silly?" she asks after a moment.
"Shoot".
She pauses. "Well, it's just that I overheard you talking to one of your friends on the phone the other day, and..." She smiles sheepishly. "Oh, you'll think I'm being so stupid".
"What's wrong?" I ask, figuring she's about to spew out some new stupid idea she's cooked up.
"When you referred to your father, you called him Dad," she continues, "but when you referred to me, you used the word mother". She stares at me. "Why the difference? Why don't you call me Mum? Or Mom, like the Americans? Why do you refer to me as your mother?"
"Er... because that's who you are?" I reply. "You're my mother".
"It just seems a little strange," she says. "He's Dad, not father; and I'm mother, not Mum. I suppose it just sounds like you feel closer to him, that's all. Maybe if I'd -"
"Let's not talk about this right now," I say, feeling a knot of frustration building in my stomach.
"I was just going to say," she continues, her voice getting higher and higher as she becomes more and more animated, "that perhaps if I'd been the kind of mother who eats burgers, maybe things would have been different. Maybe we all would have bonded over minced beef in little buns and..." Her voice trails off as our food is brought over. "Thank you," she says politely, though I can tell she only ordered a burger to prove some kind of point to me.
As soon as I take a bite of my burger, the taste reminds me of when I was here two years ago with my father. He'd brought me to Paddington so I could head off to Bristol for the first day of my new college course. I was terrified, and we had burgers because he thought it'd help settle my nerves. I really miss moments like that, and it definitely doesn't help that my highly-strung mother is trying to make a huge fuss about everything.
"So when do you think you'll be back?" she asks after we've finished eating.
"I don't know," I say, which is true: I have no idea when I'll see her again, although right now I feel like I want to leave it as long as possible.
"I suppose you'll be looking for a job in Bristol once your course is over," she says after we've paid and started walking back down to the concourse.
"I suppose so," I reply.
"Your father would be very proud of you, Elly".
"Thanks," I say as we wander toward the ticket barrier. Up ahead, I see the same ticket guard who fined me when I arrived. He glances over at me, and I can immediately tell that he recognizes me. "Okay," I say, stopping and turning to my mother, "I can take it from here. You don't have a ticket anyway, so..." I pause for a moment, and suddenly I feel my anger start to subside. My mother can certainly be annoying, but I'm struck by the fact that she has to go back to that empty old house. With my father gone, she's not no-one. "I'll call," I say. "I'll be in touch".
"Yes," she replies, reaching over and giving me a hug. "Good luck with your studies. Don't be a stranger".
"Sure," I say. Once the hug is over, I turn and wander over to the ticket barrier. I glance back over my shoulder and see that my mother is already walking away, heading back to her car.
"I'll need to see your ticket," the guard says.
"No worries," I reply, pulling the ticket from my pocket and handing it to him. "Bye," I add, turning and hurrying away. I reach into my coat and pull out my phone, and I quickly bring up Jess's number.
"Hey," she says when she answers. "Do you know what time it is?"
"It's lunchtime," I reply. "Deal with it". Speeding up, I hurry toward the exit, making sure to head out in a way that means there's no danger I'll accidentally bump into my mother. "Listen, Jess, I've got some news. I'm not coming back. Not yet, at least. I called the faculty this morning and deferred".
"What the hell?" she replies, suddenly sounding wide awake. "What's going on?"
"I'm fine," I say, "it's just that I've -" I pause, realizing how stupid I'll sound if I tell her the truth. I can't even begin to tell her what's happened to me over the past week; in fact, I'd feel stupid even telling her that I'm staying in London because of a guy. "It's just some stuff I have to deal with," I continue. "I don't know when I'll be back, but it won't be for a while".
"So you're leaving me all alone for the next term?" she asks.
"You're not all alone," I reply, emerging from the station into the busy street. "You've got loads of people there".
"What about the house?" she says.
"Are we still living together?"
"Yeah," I say, though I'm not totally certain whether I'll ever be going back to Bristol. "Yeah, we are. I just need to do some things here. Everything's changed, and I can't leave at the moment".
"Are you deliberately trying to be mysterious?" she asks.
"No!" I reply. "Listen, there's one other thing. I know it probably won't come up, but if you happen to somehow end up speaking to my mother for some bizarre reason, you have to not let her know about any of this. She thinks I'm heading back to Bristol today".
There's a pause on the other end of the line. "Are you okay, Elly?" she asks.
"I'm fine," I say.
"Are you sure? If something's wrong, you can tell me".
"Nothing's wrong".
"Is it a guy?"
"No," I say firmly.
"Are you ill?"
"No".
"Is it cancer? Have you got cancer? Oh my God, Elly, are you sitting bald in some hospital bed and -"
"I'm fine!" I say. "I just have to stay and do some stuff. Honestly".
"Do you need money?" she asks, sounding as if she's panicking a little. "I don't have any, but -"
"I don't need money," I reply, smiling as I imagine what she'd say if I told her I was spending time with a billionaire.
She sighs. "Whatever. Tell me when you're ready. Just get your ass back to Bristol as soon as possible, yeah? In some fucked-up way, I miss you".
"Totally," I say. "I have to go, but I'll speak to you soon, okay?"
Once the call is over, I head down into the Tube station and make my way to Mayfair. My chest feels a little tight, as I realize the enormity of the decision I've made. After all, I'm throwing away most of my old life, in order to join Mark and... and what? I have no idea what to expect. I'm suddenly involved in some kind of game, and if the events of the past few days are anything to go by, there's some really weird stuff coming up. I'm pretty sure I'll be seeing Alice and Mr. White again soon, and I can't even begin to imagine what kind of things I'll have to do with them. For now, though, I just want to hang out with Mark and find out whether there's any future for us. I figure I can always back out if things get too difficult, and it's not as if this is a matter of life and death. Emerging from the Tube station in Mayfair, I look up at the Castleton Hotel and I think about Mark sitting up in the penthouse, waiting for me. Somewhere deep inside, I have this little voice that's screaming at me to stop and to head back to Bristol; at the same time, I can't help myself. If this is a mistake, at least it's my mistake. I'll play along with this little game for a while, if only to find out what Mark really wants from me.
I walk through the front door of the hotel. The strangest thing is that, this time, I suddenly feel like I belong here.
Epilogue
Today
"What have we got here?" asked Detective Michael Stone as he stepped out of the car, his foot immediately splashing into a muddy puddle. It was a cold Thursday morning, and he hadn't managed to get his first cup of coffee yet; consequently, he was in a foul mood and he felt like crap. His morning routine normally involved a leisurely session at his desk, reading through the latest files, but today he'd been called out following an 'urgent' discovery down in the docklands area of London. It would be the under-statement of the year to say that, as cold muddy water seeped into his shoe, he wasn't happy.
"Bones, Sir," said the investigating officer, Angela Harper, as she led him down from the road toward the banks of the river. "Lots and lots of bones".
"Be precise," Stone said, taking a packet of sunflower seeds from his pocket and eating a handful. "How many?"
"Hundreds," she replied.
"Human?"
"All human. Mostly female".
"How old?"
"Too soon to say. Some of them have clearly been down there for a hell of a long time, but others seem more recent".
Up ahead, Stone could see a gaggle of police officers and forensic examiners. They were stepping carefully between various sets of plastic sheeting, with bones piled high. Even in his cynical and groggy early morning state, Stone had to admit that this was a pretty impressive and unusual scene. Some of the bones were yellowing, while others were various shades of white and gray. At thirty-four years of age, he'd started to think he'd seen everything, but this... this was new.
"How many bodies?" he asked as he stopped next to one of the sheets. Looking down, he saw three human skulls staring back at him.
"We've counted one hundred and seven skulls so far," Harper said, "along with a load of arms, legs, pelvises and so on. We're checking now, but there could be more. A dredging company found them when they started removing silt from the river-bed. They weren't particularly shocked at first. After all, this is London, so you always find a body or two when you start digging. But as more and more turned up, they realized they were onto something pretty fucked up".
"That's one way of describing it," Stone said. "What do you think? Ritual sacrifice?"
Harper shrugged. "It's going to take us forever and a day to sort through them all, but given the early indications of time-span, I doubt this is the work of one person. It's more likely a cult or organization of some kind".
"Any kind of markings?" Stone asked.
Harper shook her head.
"Just bones, dumped in the river?"
Harper nodded.
Stone stared at the bones for a moment. "How do over one hundred people go missing, and no-one thinks to look for them? I mean, fuck, I haven't got any friends, but I'm pretty sure someone'd notice if I vanished".
"Depends who they were," Harper replied. "If they were homeless, maybe no-one cared. Besides, it also depends on how long this had been going on for. If we're talking a century or more, then it's only one body a year, maybe less. With a little skill and a lot of luck, I can see how this might remain hidden. Frankly, it was pure luck that the dredgers found them at all. They could easily have gone undisturbed forever".
"You see that?" Stone asked, pointing at one of the piles of bones as a reflective glint caught his eye. Screwed to the backbone, there was a metal pole. "Scoliosis," he continued. "That person had surgery to correct curvature of the spine. A titanium rod screwed in place to keep them straight. Do you know what that means?"
"It means we can maybe track the victim's identity by looking up the serial numbers?"
Stone nodded. "It also means the body was fairly fresh. They've only been doing those operations for ten, maybe fifteen years. I know, because my sister had it done". He paused for a moment. "So at least one of these bodies is recent".
"There's no flesh on any of them," Harper replied.
"Eels," Stone said.
"Eels?"
"Hungry little buggers. They'll nibble away at anything. You want to know where the meat's gone, dangle some worms in the water and wait for a bite. The eels in this stretch of the river are probably particularly fat and juicy".
"The guys from the lab say some of the bodies are centuries old," Harper continued. "Is it possible that this is all some kind of coincidence? Maybe the currents brought bodies from various parts of the river and deposited them here?"
"Possible," Stone said, "but unlikely. Let's take this on face value for now. Someone has been dumping dead bodies in this part of the river for a hell of a long time. They probably chose this spot because they knew there was very little chance of anyone ever finding the evidence". He took a deep breath as he stared at the bones. "Jonathan Pope," he said finally.
"Who?" Harper asked.
"Jonathan Pope," he said again. "You ever heard of him?"
Harper shook her head.
"Just someone I remember reading about, but..." He paused. "It seemed crazy at the time, but now I can't help wondering if there was some truth to all that stuff".
"What stuff?"
"There were these claims, over a century ago, about some kind of group... The whole thing was dismissed as nonsense at the time, but these bodies would actually seem to va
lidate some of the suggestions. I'll show you the files when we get back to the office. It's a long-shot, but maybe that's what someone out there is counting on".
"And who was Jonathan Pope?" she asked.
"A man who might have been involved," he replied. He took another deep breath, realizing that there was a danger he'd sound like a madman. After all, the Jonathan Pope case had been buried in the files for years, assumed by everyone to be some kind of joke. Anyone who took the claims seriously was laughed at, and Stone himself had long accepted the most popular explanation: that Pope was a raving lunatic, and that the claims were delirious stupidity. Stone knew that he'd have to be careful with this case, and that he'd have to move slowly. Still, something about these bones seemed to hint that the Jonathan Pope case might have some truth to it.
"I don't need to be here," Stone said eventually. "It's cold, my sock's wet, I'm out of sunflower seeds, and I need coffee. Let me know when you're done here and I can fill you in on Jonathan Pope at the office".
"Are you taking the case?" Harper asked.
"Why not?" Stone said. "Seems like a big one".
"But it's a cold case," Harper replied. "You don't do cold cases".
"Who says it's a cold case?" he asked, before turning and walking back toward his car. It was crazy, but something deep in his gut made him think there was something more to this discovery. He knew he'd have to go over the Jonathan Pope files again, to see if the details matched completely. It was probably just a coincidence, and he certainly wasn't going to start firing his mouth off, but he wanted to be damn sure of his facts. Getting into the car, he glanced back down at the shores of the river and watched as a group of divers brought yet another set of bones up from the depths. While he watched the morbid processor, Stone removed his shoe and slipped his foot out of the soaking wet sock. It seemed almost impossible that the bodies could be connected to the Jonathan Pope case, but something told him he'd have to consider the possibility, and that there was a chance the bones found in the river today might be connected to the mummified body that had recently been found in the basement of one of London's most prestigious hotels.
