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“Why were you in my back garden without permission?” Judith asked Mrs. Beckwith.
“Someone had inadvertently dropped a scarf there earlier, and I came to retrieve it.” Her frowning glance flew to Judith. “Though when I found it, the material was in sad shape. It was a valuable scarf, and I’d expected it to be pristine.”
Abbie’s first thought was that Granny Chan’s spell casting might have damaged it. “Where is it now?”
“Mostly destroyed.” Bran fished a tiny scrap of material from his pocket. “I caught her holding a piece of cloth that looked torn and burnt, but bigger than it is now. When I grabbed it, she tugged back. Then I heard you call my name, and the material exploded in our grasp.” He gave Abbie the tiny piece. “This is all that’s left. What was it?”
Judith, standing closer to him, took it before Abbie could. “Did you see a dragon pattern on it when it was larger?”
“Yes,” Bran and Mrs. Beckwith said together.
“What does the immortal want with my gran?” Judith asked her.
“Who’s that?” Mrs. Beckwith asked, wide-eyed.
“The man who gave you that scarf,” Abbie said. Did she not realize who she dealt with?
“Look,” Mrs. Beckwith said in a reasonable tone, “there’s some kind of misunderstanding here. A man didn’t give me the scarf.”
“Then who did?” Judith asked.
“No one. It’s not even mine. I came by to retrieve it for a friend. Now I’m sorry I ever agreed to do this favor.”
Abbie nodded. That made sense. She’d been correct the first time. This wasn’t the woman Figg had shown them speaking to his master.
“Who is your friend and why was her scarf in Judith’s garden?” Abbie asked.
The lady lifted her chin, looking belligerent. “It doesn’t matter who she is. I offered because Granny Chan is an acquaintance and she wouldn’t have minded if I came by to get it.”
“How do you know my grandmother?” Judith asked.
“We met at the Silk Quilt Den,” Mrs. Beckwith said. “It’s one of my favorite shops in town. When my friend said she’d accidentally left the scarf at your place, and after your Gran went missing and they found that dead body, she was afraid if the police found it, they might think she was involved. She asked me if I’d come by and ask for it back.”
“Why didn’t you knock, then?” Judith said.
Mrs. Beckwith shrugged. “I was about to when I thought, well, what harm could it do if I went around back and got the scarf? I wasn’t there to take anything that belonged to you or your grandmother.” Her gaze swung to Bran. “Except you were all doing something weird in the kitchen, and then he attacked me.”
“When we get back,” Judith said, “I’ll expect you to report to Detective Inspector Sally Turner and explain exactly what you were up to in gran’s garden today and identify your friend. He or she might be a murder suspect.”
“Oh, no,” Mrs. Beckwith said, shaking her head. “I know she’s innocent. She wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“What do we do now?” Bran asked. “If we have to find our gran and Judith’s, we have little time to spare. No pun intended.”
“First things first,” Abbie said. “You two need to get into time-appropriate clothing before we leave this alleyway.”
Handing her torch and scrap of silk to Bran, Judith faced Mrs. Beckwith. “You first.”
Bran shoved the silk scrap and broken hourglass into one of his pants pockets and held up the torch so Judith would have light to work under.
“What’s she going to do to me?” Mrs. Beckwith asked, eyeing Judith with a wary frown.
“Adding you to our program.” Judith’s fingers were already hard at work fitting their unexpected guest with an outfit suitable for 1959.
The lady cried out in delight. “Oh, wow! How cool.”
“Not surprised by what Judith can do?” Abbie asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“She’s Granny Chan’s granddaughter, isn’t she?” Mrs. Beckwith asked as Judith dressed her in a blue-and-white striped cotton dress and matching shoes. “And Granny Chan is in charge of the Silk Quilt Den, and everyone knows witches run that magical shop.”
“They do?” Abbie asked, surprised.
Mrs. Beckwith shrugged. “Course. Well, my husband calls my belief in witches poppycock. But then, a lot of what he believes is foolish. So, we’ve agreed to disagree on most topics as long as we remain aligned about how kindly we treat each other.”
Finished with Mrs. Beckwith, Judith worked on Bran, fitting him with a loose gray suit, yellow shirt, and skinny brown tie. Even in the dark, by the time she finished, her cheeks were stained pink.
“This is all very nice,” Mrs. Beckwith said, “but why do we need these costumes?”
“Because we’re not in our London,” Bran said. “We are in 1959 London.”
“What?” the woman asked, wide-eyed.
“That was a time spell you interrupted,” Abbie explained. “We’re here to find Granny Chan, who might be here against her will.”
“You mean you don’t even know for sure that she’s here?” the woman asked, shocked.
“Good point,” Abbie said. “Comet, can you sense Granny Chan’s presence now?”
“Who are you talking to?” Mrs. Beckwith asked.
“My broom,” Judith said, and held out her hand.
Comet swooped around the councilman’s wife and into Judith’s grip. She tilted her head as if she were listening to the broom and then said, “She’s here. Comet can find her, but all four of us on this broom for a long flight might be dodgy. Let’s take a taxi instead.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Beckwith said, looking disappointed.
The new plan thrilled Abbie. She was done with riding Comet. At least, until it was time to return home. She glanced toward the alley’s opening, which was a good way down. “It’s dark, and pedestrian and vehicle traffic up ahead seem light. We should be able to hail a cab. You’ll still need to do something with that broom.”
“Agreed,” Judith said.
“Can you transform her into something less conspicuous?” Bran asked.
“What do you suggest?” Judith asked.
“A black cat?” Mrs. Beckwith said with enthusiasm.
“A purse?” Abbie suggested, aiming for practicality.
Bran pointed the torch gaze, sweeping the length of her. “You don’t currently look it, but you’re a constable. Don’t you want a weapon?”
Comet instantly transformed into a gun.
“Yes,” Judith said, “but I’d prefer something subtle.” She tilted her head as if mentally speaking to Comet. The broom then shifted into a torch like the one Bran held.
Abbie came over for a better look. Comet resembled a torch, but she sensed it was way more powerful. For starters, there were more buttons on top. “That’s not an ordinary torch.”
Judith shone its light toward the wall and pressed a button. A map of London appeared where the light fell, with a figure of a woman on a street.
“Ooh...does it have GPS?” Mrs. Beckwith whispered in an astonished tone. “My husband is crazy about electronic gadgets.”
“Not an ordinary GPS,” Judith said with a sly smile. “It will direct us to Gran.” Her gaze met Bran’s. “And fire a bolt at an intruder that can pin them down if needed.”
“Once home, we’ll have to tell Talin about this,” Abbie said, knowing he’d want one.
“Then, let’s crack on,” Judith said. “The sooner we find my gran and then yours, the sooner we can go home.”
In short order, they’d hailed a black cab, and Abbie, Judith, Bran, and Mrs. Beckwith got into the long backseat. It had no seat belts, but considering how packed they were, even if they had a headlong crash, she doubted any of them would move an inch.
Though, saying Bran sat with them might be an exaggeration.
Her brother spent most of his time during their journey across London leaning forward to question the driver about the bare-bones steering wheel, the three-speed automatic transmission, how many liters the diesel engine used, and its horsepower. They learned all about how the driver had gained a thorough knowledge of a six-mile radius of Charing Cross before he could get his cab license.
“I had to memorize where all the housing estates, government offices, and even registries and town halls were,” the man said, sounding proud of his accomplishment.
“Where did you get your training?” Bran asked.
“I’m an ex-serviceman, sir,” he said. “So, I trained at the British Legion School. Took me an entire year to finish the course. I spent months riding around town on a bike memorizing landmarks and finding the best shortcuts.”
As they drove toward the river, Abbie realized it would be another three decades before the London Eye’s iconic circular image would appear on this skyline.
What fascinated Abbie was the Christmas decorations around town. There were hot-air balloons and large stars. Even a huge Christmas tree and strings of lights along the streets.
“Ooh, look at that.” Mrs. Beckwith pointed out the window, her voice hushed as they drove down the Tower bridge. Lighted ships outlined the water scene.
That view brought a nostalgic ache to Abbie’s heart. When she returned home, she made a mental note to take her kids to London next Christmas to show them the lighted Thames.
When they turned onto Wapping High Street, Judith whispered, “We’re getting close.”
Abbie crashed to earth, reminded of their mission to locate Granny Chan. She reached for her mobile to check the time and realized she’d left it behind. “Driver, what time is it?”
“Half-past the hour, miss.”
She was about to ask which hour when a clock rang from somewhere. Once. One o’clock in the morning.
Their hackney cab pulled up. “Here you are, guv’nor, ladies.”
Judith stopped Bran from reaching for his wallet and handed him some coins.
Abbie exited the cab and waited for Judith to join her before asking, “From 1959?”
“1958, to be safe,” she replied.
They walked around the cab to join Mrs. Beckwith on the pavement.
“Which way now?” Bran asked as the cab pulled away.
Judith pointed her torchlight up a lane. Her torch now shone a simple light instead of the map. “I’d say less than a hundred feet that way.”
They turned down a side street and stopped across from a rowhouse. Behind them were offices. Judith looked around, confused. “She should be here, on this side of the street.”
Abbie was wondering how they’d get into the building beside them to look around when someone behind her whispered, “Grimm.”
Abbie glanced along the street in shock. How could anyone here recognize her?
The lane was empty.
“Over here,” a whispery voice called.
Abbie inched back along the way they’d come. An opening between two buildings came into view and a pale hand motioned her closer with an urgent wave.
“Who are you?” she asked, inching closer, bolstered by the sound of hurrying footsteps behind her that suggested Bran, Judith, and Mrs. Beckwith were closing in. She had backup.
She’d reached the opening when a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her into the shadows.
It was too dark to see who’d accosted her, but her instincts said she wasn’t in danger. Her cord volunteered the identification. Granny Chan.
“Oh, it’s you,” Abbie said, enveloping the witch in her arms, uncaring if she minded being embraced by a Grimm. She smelled like singed chocolate-chip biscuits; the very things left burning after she vanished.
“Judith!” Granny Chan said over Abbie’s shoulder, sounding shocked.
Abbie stepped aside.
The old lady reached up with a shaky hand to stroke Judith’s face with tenderness. “Have I ever mentioned that you look like me at your age?”
“Gran!” Lips pressed tight, Judith shone her torch over the length of the elderly Chan, eyes flicking to check for injuries. “We’ve come to take you home.”
Judith had rushed to arrive and her rapid breaths came out in white puffs.
“Hello, Granny Chan.” Bran entered the alleyway next, aiming his torchlight toward the elder witch’s feet.
Mrs. Beckwith came last, wearing a sheepish expression. “Hello.”
Granny Chan turned to the councilwoman’s wife. “I can understand these two foolish young folks traipsing through time to find me, but why are you here?”
“I’m with them by accident.” Mrs. Beckwith left it at that.
Granny Chan took her injured arm. “You’ve hurt yourself.”
“A little scratch,” Mrs. Beckwith said.
“I can fix that.” Granny Chan laid her hand over the wound and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she smiled and said, “There, should be all better now.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Beckwith said in wonder. “It’s tingly.”
“Gran, we’ve little time to spare,” Judith said. “The artifact we used to arrive here broke. Comet can direct us to Abbie’s grandmother, who has another, but we’ve now less than twenty-two hours to get there and convince her to lend us hers.”
“That’s too bad,” Granny Chan said, her gaze turning cool as she crossed her arms across her bosom. “Because I’m not ready to leave yet.”
“What?” Abbie said. “Why not? You didn’t mean to come here at all, did you? We believe you only meant to look into the past. So, why can’t you leave?”
“The one I’m seeking hasn’t arrived yet.”
“If you mean Wen Liwei,” Abbie said, “DCI Radford has dug up information about his case. I can review that with you once we’re home.”
“No,” Granny Chan said. “They know nothing. I’m staying until Liwei arrives.”
“Gran,” Judith began in a pleading voice, “what if he never comes? You fell in love and married grandfather. Why can’t that be enough?”
“Yes, I loved your grandfather,” Granny Chan said. “I’m not here to change the past, Judith.” Her voice softened as she added, “I would do nothing to alter you being born. I need to know what kept Liwei from finding me, that’s all.” She thumped her chest. “We forge the chains we wear in life.”
“This is no time for one of your pithy phrases, Gran,” Judith said. “Especially that one. It means nothing. We can form new chains anytime we want. I choose my destiny.”
“I won’t argue with you,” Granny Chan said with a stubborn tilt of her chin that was reminiscent of her granddaughter. “I know he intended to come for me tonight. Something stopped him. You can help me find out what that was, or you can leave without me.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Up to you. I’ve made peace with dying here.”
From the moment that hourglass broke, a clock counted down in Abbie’s mind. Now it pounded in her head like a hammer.
“But why?” Judith asked, sounding as frustrated as Abbie felt. “If you loved your husband, what difference does it make what happened to Liwei?”
Granny Chan pointed across the street. “See the woman in that window on the top floor?”
They all peered across the street and three flights up. A lone silhouette was visible pacing across the window.
“That’s me,” Granny Chan said. “I live in that flat, alone. I immigrated here from southern China four months ago. The only job I could get was at a Chinese restaurant. They offered me room and board and little pay. I hated it there. The owner, a distant cousin, treated me more like a slave than family. I was so lonely.”
Judith put her arm around her gran and pulled her close.
If she hadn’t, Abbie would have. Her tears were welling at hearing this heartfelt tale.
“Gran,” Judith asked. “How did you end up here so far from the old Chinatown?”
“I didn’t have friends or family to support me or guide me,” the elderly witch said, sounding stubborn, but it encouraged Abbie that Judith’s gran didn’t pull away from her granddaughter. “I wondered if I’d made a mistake in coming to England when a white woman gave me a way out. She offered me a position in her dress shop.”
Granny Chan’s smile was fondly reminiscent as she nodded across the street. “Her family owns that building. When a flat came up for rent, cheap, she told me to apply and I got it. She even hired an English teacher for me. A friend of a friend she said. His name was Wen Liwei.”
She then took Judith’s hand. “He came over every night to give me lessons. I practiced during the day at the dress shop by asking my new friends if they’d teach me how to cook their favorite British dishes if I taught them how to cook some Chinese ones.”
“That’s why you’re such an excellent cook,” Abbie said, impressed by her ingenuity.
“Yes,” Granny Chan winked at Abbie. “I attempted to befriend South Asians, too, because I love curries.”
“Who doesn’t?” Bran said and chuckled.
“This woman who befriended you, was she a witch? Judith mentioned that a western witch introduced you to magical practice in England.”
Granny Chan shook her head. “No. That was someone else I met. She taught me how to cook a good pot roast. The woman who introduced me to Liwei wasn’t a witch.”
She turned to Judith. “Liwei opened Britain for me. He gave me a chance to have a good life. Tonight, he promised to meet me for my last lesson. I planned to ask him to marry me.”
“Oh, Gran,” Judith said. “I’m so sorry.”
“How can we even know he plans to come tonight, though?” Mrs. Beckwith asked. A cool wind blew through the alleyway and she shrugged her coat tighter, shivering a little. “No offense, but most men are notoriously unreliable. He could have changed his mind.”
“I checked on that before casting my spell,” Granny Chan said. “His brother said Liwei planned to come to see me tonight.”
How had she spoken to Liwei’s brother without alerting the desk clerk at his care home? According to Callum, they’d said that Liwei’s brother hadn’t had any visitors lately.
“According to his brother,” Granny Chan continued, “Liwei was bringing me flowers and planned to wear his best suit. He even borrowed his brother’s new car, a blue Ford Consul. His brother never saw the car or Liwei again.”
Granny Chan’s story matched Callum’s findings, so Abbie believed that was what had happened on this day.
“You report him missing to the police tomorrow,” Abbie said, as it finally sank in why Granny Chan was here tonight, refusing to return home. If any of Abbie’s friends disappeared, she’d have done the same.
Abbie met Judith and Bran’s gaze. “We can wait a short while before heading to Kent.”
“We won’t have to wait at all.” Bran nodded across the street where a bright shiny blue Ford Consul had pulled up and parked a little way down the lane, closer to the row house.
A young East Asian male carrying a bright bouquet of yellow flowers jumped out.
“I’ll go talk to him,” Judith said. “To warn him to be careful.”
“No!” Granny Chan called, but Judith ran off before Abbie or her gran could stop her.
“Hello,” Judith called, waving a hand at Liwei.
“Fen,” he said, turning around. “What you doing out here? It’s late.”
“He must believe she’s you,” Abbie said, suddenly worried for no reason. She held onto Granny Chan’s hand as the old witch pulled away. “Wait. Judith’s a constable. She can take care of herself and she has Comet.”
Liwei suddenly covered Judith’s mouth and pressed her against the car and she slumped in his arms.