GARDEN, CHRIST CHURCH, OXFORD UNIVERSITY
"R ight now, you're walking under the famous Tom Tower." The Pillar is playing my tourist guide through the phone. "It was designed by Christopher Wren, who was also the architect of St. Paul's Cathedral in London."
"All right?" I remind myself that I am on a mission and that I might never see Jack again.
"The Tom Tower is a major tourist attraction. I can spend all day long telling you about it. One thing is that it houses the Great Tom, the loudest bell in Oxford."
"Do I have to know about this?"
"Everything I tell you is important, Alice. You might not use it now, but later." The Pillar is back in his lecturing mode. "The Great Tom bell is sounded 101 times every night, around five past nine, Oxford time. In the past, it was used as a curfew alarm to remind students to get back to their dorms. Also, somewhere up there was Lewis Carroll's photography studio."
"Lewis Carroll was a photographer?"
"And a mathematician and painter, among other things. The guy was a genius. He even predicted Einstein's theories in a paragraph in his other book, The Hunting of the Snark ."
I am very curious about his photography. "What were his pictures like?" I don't know why, but something tells me I have to see the photos.
"They were of girls, mostly, but we'll get to that later. Focus only on everything I tell you, Alice. Everything is important," the Pillar insists, as I walk through the huge cloisters.
I get inside Christ Church College and look at a vast green area in front of me. The college is a fortress, a quadrangle of Renaissance buildings encompassing the green garden in front of me from four sides. There is a fountain in the middle of the garden. The scenery makes me forget about Jack. This place has an unprecedented presence. It's like it holds great secrets, like great men and women have walked its earth.
"I see you went speechless," the Pillar says.
"I can't explain it, but there is something about this place that feels so…"
"Mad? It's one of the most mysterious places in history. Mad people know that. Sane people think it's just a college, where you get a degree and hang it on the wall. Walk around for a minute, Alice. Let it sink into your soul. Breathe the same air Lewis – and many other geniuses – breathed centuries ago. By the way, you should use your headset since I will be in your ear for the rest of the day."
"That's reassuring." I purse my lips, then put my headset on.
"That's better. Here's a brief history of this frabjous place," the Pillar says. "Christ Church is one of the largest colleges in the University of Oxford. It has a world-famous cathedral choir, a most respectable library, and a unique and very old cathedral. Let alone the many untold secrets it keeps safely from the sane people of this world."
"I'm listening." It's true. I wonder why I hadn't read about it before I arrived. I am already enchanted by it.
"Over the years, Christ Church has had many distinguished students, tutors, and visiting academics. In my eyes, they are the most amazingly insane men of history. To name a few: madman and philosopher John Locke, madman and scientist Albert Einstein, more than thirteen madmen British prime ministers. And, of course, our most beloved madman of all, Lewis Carroll."
"He went to Oxford? I thought he only used the place above as a studio."
"It's almost an insult not to know that, Alice. He was a math tutor at Christ Church."
I come across a temporarily closed area. The police are all over the place. Students can only pass by showing their IDs and having their bags inspected.
"I assume you've arrived at the crime scene by now," the Pillar says. "Where the Cheshire killed a girl, a professor, a jock, an old woman, and a young girl two days ago."
"How do you know that?" I look around to see if he's watching me nearby.
"You're very predictable, like most people, Alice." I can hear him puff his pipe. "You'll have to learn to be unpredictable if we want to catch the Cheshire Cat. Now walk ahead toward the police, and don't look too long at the crime scene. A regular student should have seen it before."
I approach the policeman. I can't help but shrug. It's not like I am a criminal. I am afraid he knows I belong to an asylum and will put me back in. I just can't help it. I mean, the cold oxygen I am breathing here still feels like a dream.
"Alice Pleasant Wonder," the police officer says, reading my name on the card. "A lovely name."
All I do is smile. I hope I come across as sincere and normal.
"It reminds me of the girl who killed her classmates two years ago," he says.
My heart sinks to my belly.