day, Kit had promised to take her to tea at the seaside, to demonstrate the truth of his nutty claim about ley lines and alternate dimensions. “Sefton-on-Sea?”
“Aye,” confirmed the girl. “I be Maggie.”
“My name is Mina. I am pleased to meet you, Maggie.” Wilhelmina extended her hand to the girl, who, after a moment’s hesitation, took it and gave it a halfhearted shake. “Can you tell me what year it is?”
“Ye don’t ken the year?”
“No,” answered Wilhelmina. “I’ve been travelling a long time.”
The girl’s round face scrunched up in thought. The answer forced its way to her lips, and she proclaimed, “This be the year of Our Lord and King William I8 and I8!”
Wilhelmina smiled. No doubt the youngster was simply parroting back something she had heard, but it was enough. Wilhelmina thanked her and asked if she was hungry. The girl hesitated. “I was thinking of having some tea and a bun, maybe. Would you like to take tea with me?” Mina invited.
Maggie frowned. “I never, my lady,” she said, growing suddenly shy and polite. “I ent allowed.”
“Something else? A glass of milk, maybe?” Mina offered. “I have money, and no one to talk to. Maybe there is someplace you could show me where we might get something to eat and drink?”
The girl thought for a moment. “There’s the Old Ship,” she said. Extending a grubby finger, she pointed to a storefront a little farther along the street.
Wilhelmina glanced around and saw a low building painted white with a black door. A sign overhead bore the image of a ship under full sail on a stormy sea, the waves crashing against its prow. “Well,” said Mina, “I’m going to go there. I hope you’ll come too.”
She turned and started towards the public house. Maggie watched her for a moment, then followed a few steps behind. The door of the pub pushed open easily, and Wilhelmina entered a dim, low-ceilinged room. The air, redolent of stale beer and coal smoke, was thick and muggy, but not unpleasant, and unlike anything of Wilhelmina’s experience.
A plump young woman stood behind the heavy oak bar drying thick glass jars with a rag. “G’day, m’lady,” she called cheerfully. “What can I get ye?”
“Good day,” replied Mina. “I would like a cup of tea. Is that possible?”
“To be sure, m’lady,” replied the barmaid. Her eyes flicked to the youngster who had entered behind Wilhelmina. “You! Haven’t I told you ’bout comin’ in here? Now, get on wi’ ye.”
“Sorry,” said Wilhelmina quickly. “She’s with me. I asked her to join me.”
“That’s as may be, m’lady. But young’uns ent allowed in t’pub. An’ she knows better, that one.”
“Oh yes, of course. You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”
“You ent from around here, are you, m’lady,” said the young woman behind the bar.
“No, I-no, I’m not.”
“Just off t’ship, then?”
“Travelling, yes.” Wilhelmina, keen to change the subject, glanced around the pub. “Do you think I could have my tea outside? And maybe some cake if you have it?”
“We have some nice oat cakes just come out t’oven. I can give ye o’ that wi’ some good jam.”
“Would you?” said Mina. “That would be perfect. Bring me a pot, please-and a glass of milk. I’ll be waiting outside.”
Wilhelmina stepped back onto the seafront and, with Maggie in tow, found a pleasant spot on a wharfside bench to wait. The sun was warm on her back, and she gazed out on the peaceful little harbour, the sea glinting blue and silver beneath a cloudless sky. Presently the tea came-served in a brown crockery pot with two chunky cups- one filled with milk-a plate of small round oat cakes, and a tiny bowl of red jam.
“Will there be anything else, m’lady?” asked the serving girl.
“This is lovely,” said Mina. “Thank you, no. That will be all just now.”
“Just bring the tray back when you’re done.” She cast a last dubious glance at Maggie, then returned to the pub.
After a moment Wilhelmina poured her tea. “Sefton seems a pleasant place,” she observed, passing the cup of milk to her young companion. “Have you lived here long?”
“All me life long,” replied Maggie. “An’ have ye always lived in the Indies?”
“No,” replied Mina. “I used to live in London.”
“London,” mused the girl. The way she said it made it sound as exotic and far away as China. But then, Wilhelmina reasoned, being a deep-water port, little Sefton probably saw more folk from foreign climes than from the capital.
The two chatted amiably, and then a bell in a church tower somewhere in the town tolled the hour: three o’clock. Maggie jumped up and, curtsying awkwardly, took her leave, saying, “My da’ will be comin’ home wi’ the catch.”
“Then you’d better run along,” Wilhelmina agreed. “I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble. Good-bye,” she called as the girl scurried away. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”
Wilhelmina sat for a while longer enjoying the day, and thinking what a strange life she now led. Her experience in London, far from arousing any lingering feelings for her life there, merely confirmed what she had known, or at least suspected, all along-that she did not miss the place and no longer cared to live there.
When the clock in the unseen church tower tolled four, Mina gathered up the tray and took it back inside the Old Ship Inn; she paid for the tea and cakes, holding out an assortment of coins from her penny jar from which the barmaid selected a few coppers. She then returned to the alley to see if the ley was active yet. With a quick glance around to see that she was unobserved, she drew the ley lamp from her pocket and ascertained from the absence of blue lights that the ley was still dormant. Stuffing the device back into her pocket, she stepped back from the mouth of the passage and, as she did so, her eye fell upon a word scrawled low down on the wooden siding of one of the walls. The mere glimpse rooted her to the spot.
She blinked her eyes to make sure she was indeed seeing what she thought she saw. There, written in black grease pencil, was a name: Wilhelmina.
There was more-a brief message that read simply, Collect letter from Molly at the Old Ship Inn-Cosimo.
“What on earth… ” She stared at the unexpected communication. Cosimo! That was the name of the man Kit had met in the alley, his great-grandfather-the one Kit had tried to tell her about the day they made that fuddled jump.
Wilhelmina made quick strides to the pub. The round-faced girl was still there, still behind the bar. “Was there something else?” she asked.
“Yes. Are you Molly?”
“Aye, I am.”
“My name is Wilhelmina. I forgot to ask earlier, but did someone leave a letter for me-someone by the name of Cosimo?”
Molly the barmaid disappeared into the room behind the bar and returned a moment later with a thick yellow envelope. “Ye be a friend o’ Cosimo’s?”
“Yes, I think I am.”
“What’s yer full name, then?”
“Wilhelmina Klug,” replied Mina, then spelled out her last name so there would be no misunderstanding.
Molly peered at the writing on the envelope, then passed it to Mina, who thanked her and went outside. She resumed her place on the bench and carefully tore open the envelope. Inside was a single, tightly folded page written in smudgy pencil. She opened it to find a handful of shillings, two guineas, and a large silver five-pound coin. She scooped up the money and quickly scanned the note.
It read:
My Dear Wilhelmina, I can well imagine how confused and frightened you must be. But take heart in the knowledge that we are looking for you. I urge you to stay here. Take a room at the Old Ship on my account, and remain in Sefton until we come for you. Kit is with me, and sends his greetings.
Your servant,
Cosimo Livingstone
Pocketing the money, she read the message again, then turned the page over. On the back, scratched hastily in one corner of the page, was a little list of sorts-as if someone had been quickly jotting down ideas. There were
