Nell thought the trouble with becoming extremely close to another person was that you started to sense that person’s thoughts and emotions. She was finding she was doing so with Michael, more and more. On the whole, this pleased her. She had had something similar with her husband – almost a subliminal sensing of emotions. On the day he died in the motorway pile-up, Nell, alone in their house, had felt a sudden overwhelming sensation of panic and immense confusion before the phone rang. In the crashing pain and anger that followed Brad’s death, she had thought she would never experience that shared understanding with anyone again. She had not, in fact, wanted to experience it, because it had been something between her and Brad exclusively. And then Michael had walked into her antiques shop. Nell smiled, remembering. ‘Whoever loved, that loved not at first sight,’ he had once said, hiding behind a quotation, as he often did when he was feeling deeply emotional. But the meeting had been a happy one, and it had led to delighted intimacy. She thought Brad would not have minded her closeness with Michael, not after four years, and she liked to think he would have approved of Michael.
But that mental closeness meant you sensed the other person’s thoughts and sometimes that could make for a difficult situation. Particularly if there was something you wanted to keep to yourself.
‘I’ll be devastated to leave Quire Court,’ Godfrey Purbles, from the antiquarian bookshop adjoining Nell’s shop, had said, two days earlier. ‘But I’ve always wanted to have a shop in Stratford – well, who hasn’t? It’s going to cost me an utter fortune and I dare say I’ll end up in a debtors’ gaol – do they still have debtors’ gaols nowadays? – but the premises are quite near the Rose Tavern, which couldn’t be much better, on account of the tourists flocking and cavorting everywhere. And as a hunting ground for rare books and theatrical memorabilia it’ll be tremendous.’
‘You’ll probably end up discovering the famous unknown play,’ Nell said, smiling.
‘Yes, and I’d probably pay several fortunes for it, only to find afterwards that it’s a Victorian fake.’
‘I’m glad for you, but I’ll miss you.’ Nell liked Godfrey and found him companionable.
‘Oh, you’ll visit me, of course. And I’ll come back to Oxford. But here’s the thing, Nell. The shop.’ He looked at her hopefully, clearly wanting her to voice an unspoken thought.
Nell said, ‘The shop? Your shop, d’you mean?’
‘Yes. It’ll have to be sold, because I can’t afford both places. At least, the lease will have to be sold. Assigned, they call it, I think. How would you feel about taking it over? I mean in addition to yours, not instead of.’
Nell was very aware that life often presented you with odd twists, and quite often you had long since seen or suspected what those twists might be. But this was not a twist that had ever occurred to her.
‘The lease is probably the same as your place as far as ground rent and repairing obligations and whatnot,’ said Godfrey. ‘But there’s about thirty years left to run on mine. And the two shops adjoin – I’ll bet you could knock them into one.’
‘The freeholders would have to approve that,’ said Nell, looking round Godfrey’s shop with the rows of bookshelves, and the lovely old tables for customers to consider the wares and discuss them in leisurely fashion.
‘It would double your present floor area,’ said Godfrey. ‘It might even more than double it – I think this shop is a bit bigger than yours.’
‘Godfrey, I don’t know if I could afford …’ But Nell was already remembering the insurance payout from Brad’s death, some of which the bank had invested in various funds and bonds, most of them incomprehensible, but all of them paying reasonable dividends, even in the current depressed and depressing market. If she called them in, would there be enough to take over Godfrey’s shop? And even if there was, would she want to use all of that money, which she had meant to keep for Beth? But then she looked round Godfrey’s shop again – yes, it was larger than hers – and she found herself thinking that she could turn the annexe behind her own shop, where she and Beth currently lived, into a big workshop which would allow her to return to renovating furniture, which she loved doing.
‘Come and see the rest of the place anyway.’ Godfrey was already leading the way. There were two more book-lined rooms, and a large alcove for prints. The living part at the rear had a beautiful large sitting-room looking on to a paved courtyard, with a small dining area leading off. There was a big square kitchen. Everywhere was immaculate – Godfrey was inclined to be fussy in a slightly old-maidish way – and the place would not need so much as a lick of paint.
‘Two huge bedrooms and bathroom up here,’ said Godfrey, starting up a spiral staircase. ‘From the main bedroom you can see across to All Saints Church.’
For a wild moment Nell saw herself waking in this room – Michael would be there on some mornings – and seeing the misty silhouette of All Saints against the dawn with him next to her. This was such an alluring prospect that she thought she had better slow down before she got carried away.
‘And a couple of storerooms at the top of these steps,’ said Godfrey, going across a small landing and up four more stairs. ‘I’ve never really used them – except for storing old stock. This one’s directly under the roof, as you can see. But I should think you could make two more bedrooms up here, or a study, if you wanted.’
‘Yes,’ said Nell, looking about her. ‘Yes, you could.’
But as they went downstairs, she said, ‘Godfrey, we have to be very straight with each other about this. I’m attracted to this, but I’ve only got a certain amount of money, and it really is all there is. I’m not going to start borrowing from banks or building societies.’
Godfrey beamed, and pattered into the little office to put the kettle on. When he came back, he was wearing the rimless spectacles which he always donned for serious work, and which made him look like a pleased owl.
‘Let’s work out some figures over a cup of coffee,’ he said.
The figures worked out surprisingly well.
‘We’re making a few assumptions,’ said Godfrey. ‘And we don’t know how much it would cost to knock the two shops into one. But I don’t think we’re very far out.’
Nell hoped they were not, because it was looking as if this really would be affordable. It would be a bit of a risk, because it would take most of the squirrelled-away investments, but it would not take all of them. The money earmarked for Beth would not need to be touched. She promised Godfrey that she would give him her decision within the next two days after she had talked to the bank and perhaps to a builder as well, then she went back to her own shop. Awaiting her was a message from some Japanese customers who wanted to buy a pair of Regency sofas which Nell had been trying to sell for six months. This was so encouraging, and would replenish the coffers so well, that Godfrey’s project looked even more promising.
After supper, when Beth embarked on her music practice, Nell caught herself thinking that if she took on Godfrey’s shop, Beth could have a bedroom in one of those unused upper rooms, and one of the present bedrooms could be turned into a music room. She was immensely proud of Beth’s progress and pleased with Beth’s continuing interest in the lessons, but it had to be acknowledged that the annexe was a bit small when it came to the practising of scales.
‘Would you like a proper music room, Beth?’
Beth’s small face, so heartbreakingly like her father’s at times, lit up. ‘I’d utterly love it. Where could I have it? Here somewhere?’
‘No, not here. But if we were to move to a bigger shop you might. It’s only an idea at the moment.’
‘We wouldn’t move away from Oxford, though? We couldn’t move away from Oxford, and leave Michael.’
Beth sounded anxious, and Nell said, ‘No, not away from Oxford.’ Certainly not away from Michael, she thought. ‘But perhaps to a bigger shop here in the Court.’
‘That’d be lavishly good,’ said Beth, and by way of expressing her approval, started in on a lively Mozart piece which her teacher had transposed and simplified for her.
‘It hasn’t happened yet and it might not happen at all. So don’t say anything to anyone,’ said Nell. ‘Understood?’
‘Um, yes, OK. Not even to Michael?’
‘No, I’ll tell Michael myself. And isn’t it your bedtime? In fact, isn’t it past it?’
‘One more Mozart. You like Mozart,’ said Beth, hopefully.
‘Yes, but if you play any more tonight you’ll never sleep – your mind will be too active.’
‘I bet Mozart wasn’t made to go to bed when he didn’t want to.’
‘Mozart didn’t have double geography and an arithmetic test in the morning. Yes, you do have,’ said Nell, as Beth opened her mouth to protest.
‘I hate geography.’
‘Well, how about if we just do a few capitals of countries. And afterwards you can play one short Mozart.’
‘Um, OK.’
Beth diligently chanted a few capitals, identified one or two outlines of countries in Google Earth, then enthusiastically banged out a truncated version of a rondo. She finally went happily to bed, and burrowed down into sleep straight away. Nell, following some time later, found her own mind was too active for sleep. The prospect of taking over Godfrey’s shop was becoming very enticing. She was already thinking how she would retain part of the book section for Godfrey’s Oxford customers, and how she would have the space to hold small antique events and weekend courses for eager amateurs, as she had in Shropshire.
Punching the pillow for the tenth time, and trying not to look at the beside clock ticking through the small hours, she thought she would phone Michael early tomorrow, and ask him to supper so she could tell him about the project. She considered this to see if it fell into the category of not being able to make her own decision without his approval, and concluded it did not. Then she spent a further half hour wondering how much she ought to take into account Michael’s presence in her life in reaching a decision about the shop. But this opened up such a complicated tangle of emotions that Nell put the problem away, sat up in bed, switched on the bedside light, and reached determinedly for her book. She fell asleep before she had read two pages of it.
The next morning brought a large envelope from Ashby’s Auctioneers in London. Inside was a sheaf of photocopied letters, with a covering note from her contact in the sale rooms. He wrote, cheerfully, that they were looking forward to dealing with the silver golem for her client, and that he had been doing a little research of his own.
‘I’m fairly sure that it’s one of the pair I mentioned to you. They both disappeared around 1942 or 1943, but interestingly and rather intriguingly Ashby’s archives have some correspondence relating to one of them. (We have archives going back to the company’s inception in 1853, would you believe?)
‘I thought it might interest you, and your client as well, to see these letters, so I’m enclosing photocopies. And if the figure you’ve been offered really is one of that vanished pair, what we’d like to know, of course, is where the other one is!’
Nell did not dare immerse herself in the photocopied letters yet. She oversaw Beth’s breakfast, then bundled her into the car and whiled away the short journey by chanting through the capitals of the world once more. Beth went happily into school, prophesying she would be top in the geography test, and Nell drove back to Quire Court, forcing herself to keep to the speed limit.
It was ten minutes to nine, and she did not usually open the shop until ten, so she had a clear hour to read the material from Ashby’s. She poured a cup of coffee, carried the envelope into the small office behind her shop, and slid the contents out. There were only four sheets, and with a pleasurable sense of anticipation, she began to read the first.
It was not quite what she had expected. The phrasing – even allowing for the stilted formality of correspondence in the 1940s – was awkward, and Nell thought the letter struck an odd discord.
Department for Criminality and Theft
Post Box No B7921
London
February 1944
Sir
I act for a private firm of investigators who try to trace two silver figures, of Jewish workmanship, in the form of the Jewish emblem, the golem. Both figures were taken illicitly from a synagogue just outside Warsaw several months since, and enquiries inform us that they were smuggled to England by the thieves.
Please could you tell us if you have been offered such a figure, and if so, the present owner’s identity. I remind you that it is a duty of all citizens to assist in cases where crimes may have been committed.
Yours respectfully.
The signature was indecipherable, and across the foot of the letter, someone who was clearly an Ashby’s employee had written, ‘No such department exists. Treat this one with caution – recommend advising Inspector George Fennel at New Scotland Yard. He will know how and if this should be investigated.’
New Scotland Yard,
London
February 1944
Dear Sirs
I am most grateful to you for notifying us of the contents of the somewhat curious letter regarding the apparent theft of two silver golem figures. As you surmised, there is no ‘Department of Criminality and Theft’ here.
Enquiries with our Warsaw people reveal that two silver figures of this description did indeed vanish from a small synagogue in a village just outside Warsaw. However, no formal report seems to have been made of any theft, although you will appreciate that it is difficult to obtain information from that part of Europe at present.
At first look, there seemed no reason to suspect any espionage activity. However, the post box address has proved to be an accommodation address in London’s East End – a small general shop, which we have had under what we term ‘light’ surveillance for some months.
It seems unlikely that enemy agents would go to such trouble to trace the whereabouts of two Jewish objects, however valuable. It is more probable that it is the ‘singer not the song’ that interests them – that it is the present owner or owners of the silver golems they wish to find. We cannot hazard a guess as to why they might be going to all this trouble to find the whereabouts of one or two people, but that is our conclusion.
I advise you to send a polite acknowledgement, saying you have no record of these figures. If you receive any reply, I would be very glad if you would notify me at once.
If, of course, you do hear of such figures being sold, either by your auction house or by any other similar establishment, I would be glad if you would send word to me without delay.
Yours faithfully,
Inspector Geo. Fennel.’
Carbon copy of letter sent by Ashby’s of London to Post Box B7921.
February 1944
Dear Sir
We have to hand your enquiry regarding two silver golem figures, but have not, at this present, been commissioned to deal with anything matching your description. However, should we be requested to handle such a sale, we will be very happy to advise you.
Yours faithfully,
for and on behalf of Ashby’s of London.
Department for Criminality and Theft
Post Box No B7921
London
February 1944
Sirs
We thank you for your prompt reply.
The golem figures are ones we are anxious to trace. If you hear of their whereabouts, or of any persons trying to dispose of them, we will be most grateful to know.
They are both stamped with an extra mark, alongside the main hallmark, but separate from it. One of those marks is of three vertical lines jutting up from a horizontal line. I sketch it at the foot of this letter for you so you may identify that figure if offered to you.
Yours respectfully.
This letter bore the same scrawled, illegible signature. The sketched symbol was the one Nell had found on Professor Rosendale’s figure. The symbol Michael had also found inside Deadlight Hall. She looked at it for a long time, then turned to the next two letters.
Carbon copy of hand-delivered letter to Inspector Fennel
Ashby’s Auction Rooms
London
March 1944
Dear Inspector Fennel
We have received a further enquiry about the Warsaw golem figures. This, however, comes from someone with whom we have dealt several times over the years, and who we believe to be a genuine dealer in jewellery and objets d’art. He is a Jewish gentleman of Polish extraction, modestly known in his particular field, and as far as we know, entirely trustworthy.
It is, however, a curious coincidence, and in view of the contents of your last letter, we are hesitant about trusting this to the normal postal service, hence the special delivery.
Yours sincerely,
for and on behalf of Ashby’s Auction House.
City Postbox 2991
Prague
March 1944
Dear Sirs
I write to enquire whether you ever have for sale silver objects with a particularly Hebrew connotation. A well-established client who collects such things is interested in acquiring a golem figure, and has commissioned me to make tentative enquiries. I am addressing the same question to other auction houses and appropriate jewellery establishments, but having dealt with your excellent company a number of times in the past, am hoping you may be able to help.
If you were to find yourselves offering such an item, I should be most obliged if you would let me know. Postal services to my country are, of course, erratic and unreliable in these times, and my work necessitates a degree of travel, so I have provided a poste restante address. As an alternative, Drummonds Bank, Charing Cross, can be used.
Sincerely yours,
Maurice Bensimon
Ashby’s Auction Rooms
London
March 1944
Dear Mr Bensimon
We have to hand your enquiry re. a silver golem figure, but have to advise you that we have no such object at present in our catalogues.
This is something of a specialist area, as you will appreciate, although we do occasionally receive commissions to sell such objects. If we should be asked to deal with such a piece, we will inform you at once.
If you wish us to undertake a search for the figure, under the arrangement we have agreed with you in the past, we would be happy to do so. To this end, we enclose a note of our charges and commission fees.
Assuring you of our best intentions at all times, and with our very best wishes,
Yours sincerely,
for and on behalf of Ashby’s Auction House.
Hand delivered note to Ashby’s Auction Rooms
New Scotland Yard,
London
March 1944
Dear Sir
Thank you for letting me have sight of the letter from Mr Bensimon. I return it herewith for your records.
It now seems as if two sets of people are trying to trace either these silver figures or (more likely) the present owners of them. My department will continue to look into this.
Our initial investigation accords with your information, and suggests that Mr Bensimon’s enquiry is indeed genuine. Indeed, our intelligence hints that he is part of a certain discreet network in that part of Europe – a network which we have no wish to disrupt or endanger.
With kind regards,
Yours sincerely
Inspector Geo. Fennel.
The soft chimes of one of Oxford’s many churches broke into Nell’s absorption. Ten o’clock. She slid the letters back into their envelope, forced her mind into the present, and went through to the front of the shop to unlock the doors. She stood for a moment, looking out into the court.
She liked Quire Court at this relatively quiet time of the morning. Michael, when he was caught up in one of his romantical flights, sometimes said this was the hour when any lingering ghosts were whisking themselves back to their shadowy half-worlds, shamefaced and rather apologetic, like guests who suddenly realized they had stayed too long at a party. If you had opened your door a few seconds earlier you would have seen them, he said, spinning one of his stories for Beth, who loved them. And they were not ghosts you would ever have to be afraid of, he explained; they were all the people who had once lived in Quire Court, and who liked to occasionally pop back to see how it was getting on.
Beth, round-eyed, had wanted to know more about this. ‘Do dead people sometimes come back like that? Might my dad?’
Nell had paused in the act of serving out food, trying to think how best to answer this, but Michael had been ahead of her. He said, ‘Yes, certainly he might, Beth. Don’t expect to ever see him though, will you? But he could be around now and again. Just briefly, just to know how you’re getting on. And I’ll tell you something else. If he does, he’ll be so pleased to see you doing well at school and being happy. He’ll be really proud of you.’
‘Um, well, good,’ said Beth, with the awkward shrug she accorded to most emotional topics and particularly to anything to do with her father.
Without missing a beat, Michael had merely said, ‘Yes, it is good. Nell, is that casserole ready, because if so I’ll open some wine to go with it, if you want. Beth, shall we chunk up some of that French bread, as well?’
Nell, looking out at Quire Court, remembering that conversation, suddenly wished, deeply and painfully, that she could have talked to Brad about extending the shop into Godfrey Purbles’ premises. But whatever I do, I can make the decision myself, Brad, she said, in her mind. And if you do ever nip back, like the ghosts in Michael’s story, you’ll be able to see I’m doing all right. I really am.
Across the court, Henry Jessel, the silversmith, was unlocking his door. He waved to Nell, and pointed skywards, turning up his coat collar and miming a shiver. Nell grinned, and went back inside to hunt out soft cloths and beeswax to give the curled and carved walnut frames of the Regency sofas an extra buffing before the Japanese customers arrived. There was a small inlaid table of around the same date: she would set that alongside the sofas with something tempting on it. There was a really beautiful Feuillet workbox with enamelled painted panels, which might be sufficiently unusual to attract them.
She might bring one or two things in from the small workshop at the back of the shop as well, in preparation for the weekend. Saturdays were often busy in Quire Court.
But her mind was still filled with the 1940s, and that strange, sinister enquiry about the owner of the silver golem.
There was no point in wondering, all these years later, if the anonymous person had been successful.