Chapter 4

“Holy invasive procedures,” Dorothy said, straightening her clothes as she entered the waiting room with the rest of us. “The least they could have done was buy me dinner first.”

No one was in the mood for jokes, but I gave Dorothy a half smile.

“My last gynecology exam wasn’t that thorough,” Ruby Mae mumbled.

Dorothy was the last of the group to finish the examination, so we were all waiting. Irma had been the first to finish and was closest to the door. Nana Jo was uncharacteristically quiet, but periodically she cast a look in Irma’s direction that would have withered a less self-absorbed person.

Ruby Mae tossed her yarn in the trash. Apparently, the TSA was afraid she was hiding something dangerous in her yarn and had unraveled the entire skein and left a tangled mess of bright yellow wool.

Nana Jo glanced at her watch. “We’ve got to run if we’re going to make our flight.”

The search took longer than I would have thought possible, and I had an overwhelming desire to shower, but it was finally over, and I was ready to push this episode to the back of my brain.

We took one last glance at our boarding passes to confirm the departure gate and off we raced. Because the cosmos wasn’t done torturing me, our gate was at the farthest point from the TSA screening office as possible. In addition to racing through the airport, we had to take a shuttle, an escalator, and then run another stretch, dodging people, luggage, strollers, wheelchairs, and carts. I didn’t have time to think about the fact that my grandmother and her friends from the retirement village were in better shape than me and had passed me like I was standing still. Even Irma, who was the least athletic of the group, ran like a gazelle in spite of the six-inch hooker heels she wore. I decided to chalk her athletic prowess up to the fact that she weighed less than one hundred pounds and lumbered along.

I didn’t stop to look at the gate signs. I merely followed my ears.

“You listen here, I don’t give two flying figs about your schedule,” Nano Jo said. “If you close that door before my granddaughter gets here, I’ll scream bloody murder and sue your airline for discrimination against the elderly.”

“I’m coming, Nana Jo,” I yelled as I turned the corner and caught sight of my grandmother standing in the jet bridge. One foot on the plane and the other on the bridge, she had both arms extended and was blocking the door from closing and the bridge from being removed.

I flung my boarding pass to the attendant standing at the entrance, who reluctantly scanned it and passed it back.

Only when I had checked in did Nana Jo move to allow the bridge to be removed. As I entered the plane, I saw two armed security guards, who I suspected had been called to physically remove my grandmother.

Nana Jo and I sidled past the spacious first-class passengers, who were sipping champagne, and the slightly less spacious business class seats down to the cramped economy seats. We arrived only to find that our seats were already taken.

The flight attendant hurried down the aisle to help. One glance at all of the boarding passes indicated that because we were late arriving, the airline had given our seats away.

This was my last straw. My nerves were gone, and I had nothing left. I opened my mouth to ask the flight attendant if there were any other seats available. However, what came out was a wail and then more tears. I’m not one of those women who can cry cute. Nor am I a woman who can have an intelligent conversation while crying. I could tell by the stricken look on the flight attendant’s face that the words that were in my head bore no resemblance to the ones coming out of my mouth. When one of the pilots came down the aisle to find out what the delay was, I cried even harder.

A third attendant who walked and talked with the authority of leadership came, assessed the situation, and took charge. She picked up my bags. “Follow me.”

Nana Jo and I followed her back down the aisle to the front of the plane. However, rather than ordering us off, she pushed aside the curtain that separated first-class from the rest of the plane and pointed to two seats.

The relief made me cry harder, but Nana Jo pushed me down into a seat and fastened my seatbelt. “She’ll be fine, now. Thank you.”

I tried to say, “thank you,” but I’m sure it was merely a gobbled mess.

The attendant leaned down and whispered to Nana Jo, “Does she have any medication?”

“No, but I think a glass of champagne might help to steady both of our nerves.”

The woman nodded and hurried to get our drinks.

When she returned, I had calmed down enough to thank her. “I’m sorry, it’s just been such a horrible day.”

She nodded. “Well, you can sit back and relax now. We’ll be taking off shortly.”

Indeed, the plane started to back away from the gate as she spoke.

Nana Jo turned to me. “You all right now?”

I took a sip of champagne and hiccupped. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Stress and nerves.” She leaned back. “Although, I have to admit, your nervous breakdown managed to get us some great seats.”

“I didn’t have a nervous breakdown.” Even I could hear the petulant denial in my voice.

Nana Jo ignored it. She waved away my protests with her menu. “Whatever it was, I’m not complaining. Those appetizers in the VIP lounge have worn off, and I could eat a horse.”

I rested my head on the seat back and gazed out the window as the plane sped down the runway and lifted into the air. In a few hours, I would be in England, researching my next book. A book that would one day be on the bookshelves at libraries and bookstores just like mine. I took a deep breath, said a prayer, and pulled the notebook from the bag near my feet.

“Dashed bad timing,” Lord William said and puffed hard on his pipe.

The Marsh family listened intently, ears glued to the wireless of the BBC newscast.

Lady Penelope sat on the sofa. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief in one hand, while the other hand clasped tightly to her cousin, Lady Clara.

Lady Elizabeth, who was a fast knitter, was knitting much more slowly than normal, as she stopped frequently and gazed around the room.

The only person unaffected by the broadcast was Captain Jessup, who sat smoking in a chair near the window, legs crossed and smiling as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

When the announcer finished, Lady Penelope let out a gasp and cried softly.

“Darling, please don’t upset yourself,” Victor said and hurried to his wife’s side. “It doesn’t sound as though anyone was injured.”

Lady Penelope sniffed. “It’s just so awful. I don’t understand why anyone would deliberately set off a bomb in a tube station. Innocent people could have been hurt.”

Captain Jessup chuckled. “That’s the point.”

Lady Penelope looked up. “What?”

“No point in setting off a bomb unless you intend to hurt people, is there?” Captain Jessup smiled.

“Barbarians.” Lady Penelope hopped up and rushed from the room.

With clenched fists, Victor took a step toward Captain Jessup. “Was that really necessary? She shouldn’t be upset in her condition.”

Detective Inspector Covington placed a hand on his friend’s chest to restrain him.

Captain Jessup threw back his head and laughed. “Sorry, old man. I had no idea your wife was so skittish.”

Victor looked as though he would throttle the man with his bare hands. However, after a long pause, he turned and left the room.

Lady Clara seethed. “You really are an odious, ill-mannered oaf. Can’t you see she’s worried sick?”

Captain Jessup shrugged. “Actually, the bombs were left in the luggage office. If they’d really intended to harm people, they would have left them on the trains.” He flicked imaginary ash from his pants and continued to smoke.

“Don’t be daft.” Lady Clara stood and paced in front of the fireplace. “It’s not just the IRA bombs. It’s the dreadful state of the world. First, that lunatic in Germany is running roughshod over a small independent nation like Austria and annexing lands from Czechoslovakia simply because there are German-speaking people there, and now we’ve got to worry about bombs within our own empire. It’s got every decent person worried.”

If Captain Jessup noticed the dig, he ignored it. He smoked with an amused smirk on his face. “That’s why women shouldn’t concern themselves with politics. You’ve got this all wrong.”

Lady Clara stopped pacing. She folded her arms across her chest and stared at the captain. “Oh, have I indeed? Well, why don’t you explain it to me then?”

He puffed on his cigarette. “You see, Hitler is simply fulfilling a plan that has been in the works for ages. It’s the circle of life. These smaller nations have been given aid and allowed to create laws, which have made them believe they’re in control, when in fact, they are mere puppets.”

Lady Clara stared at the man as though he’d lost his mind. “Puppets?”

“Certainly, they’re being used by the Jewish bankers and politicians who control their movements with their fat purse strings, but they were never intended to prosper and be independent, while the Aryan—” He broke off and took a few deep breaths. “Never mind, I doubt you would understand.”

Lady Clara narrowed her eyes. “I understand a lot more than you could possibly think.” She turned and marched out of the room.