Chapter Five #2
Cheers arose from the crowd. Caleb grasped Amelia’s elbow, tugging her forward. “Let’s go,” he urged in a low voice.
“Wait,” Amelia said, tugging back. Reaching into her coat’s inner pocket, she took out a card and presented it to the waitress. “Our apologies. Please send the bill to this address and you will be paid in full.”
The waitress regarded the card with confusion. “The bill? For a tiny mess?”
“Is that Ottersock’s card?” Caleb asked, surprised.
“I always carry them in case of such moments,” Amelia said. “I have several printed off.”
Caleb raised an eyebrow, recognizing the sentence was incomplete. That was the problem with lifelong friends. (Well, that and them becoming suddenly, achingly attractive.) Amelia winced. “Every term,” she admitted.
Caleb laughed. Then the waitress, suspicion growing on her face, drew breath to ask another question—
“Must dash!” Caleb declared, and pulled Amelia away. They wove a path through the crowd, smiling, nodding, and ignoring all questions with the adroitness of teachers. As they emerged, Amelia saw Sergeant Sheffield on the far side of the street, standing to attention beside a—
“Good heavens,” she said. “What is that?”
“That,” Caleb answered in a disbelieving tone, “is a dogcart.”
They eyed the horse-drawn vehicle warily.
Dilapidated and clearly never having suffered from being washed, its four-seater body balanced in precarious fashion between two large thin wheels, seemingly reliant on dubious physics and a great deal of wishing from Vanity Tunnicliffe, who sat in one of the backward-facing seats, surrounded by piles of luggage.
Its horse put Amelia in mind of the Hereford teaspoon—ancient, gray, and looking like it too had recently been unearthed from a crypt.
“I’m starting to think Ottersock hired these people to torture us slowly and painfully,” Caleb muttered.
“Oh my God!”
At the sudden shocked cry, they glanced back to see the waitress had opened the pub’s door and discovered Caleb’s interpretation of “the tiniest bit of mess.”
“Hurry,” Caleb hissed, yanking Amelia so abruptly she stumbled.
He half dragged her across the road and, before she could chide him, set his hands on her waist and lifted her unceremoniously onto the cart’s rear footplate.
Amelia rearranged luggage until she was able to sit beside Vanity with a suitcase on her lap and another beneath her feet.
The young woman giggled. “Isn’t this a fun adventure?”
“Hm,” Amelia said so tonelessly, her family would have been proud.
Caleb was clambering into the seat behind Amelia, facing forward.
“Go, go, go!” he urged Sheffield. The sergeant made no reply, mounting his own seat and taking up the horse’s reins at such a calm, measured pace Amelia could practically feel Caleb’s nerves vibrating.
Flicking the reins expertly, Sheffield set the horse into a trudging walk.
“Stop those people!” came a furious shout from the waitress.
“Go!” Caleb reiterated to Sheffield, pointing along the street as if this would in some way help. In response, Sheffield flicked the reins again. The horse walked 0.05 percent of a mile faster.
Caleb leaned back against Amelia with a pathetic moan. “I’m going to get sick,” he complained.
“Cheer up,” she told him as lightning flashed through the dimming light. “You’re soon going to be too rain soaked to care. If, that is, the townsfolk don’t kill you first.”
Indeed, two waiters and an elderly lady were rushing toward them, brandishing fists and, in the case of the latter, a handbag.
“Remind me why I didn’t take up a quiet career, such as geography,” Caleb asked, looking over both his and Amelia’s shoulders at the pursuers.
“Because you don’t like getting dirty shoes,” she said.
He sighed, leaning back against her once more. “No, it’s because you were doing history. Which makes this all your fault, I believe.”
Amelia sensed Vanity staring at her wide-eyed and gave the girl an apologetic smile for Caleb’s nonsense. Then she held up a warding hand to the pursuers, who were nearly upon them.
“Gentlemen! Madam! Stop, please! Your behavior is unbecoming.”
Immediately, the waiters flushed, stumbling in their haste to obey her. The elderly lady, bringing up the rear, halted so abruptly her ruffled hat nearly flew off. She turned on a sensible heel and strolled off, chin high, as if she’d merely been taking exercise and was quite finished now.
“I told you that Oxford University would cover all costs,” Amelia lectured the men. “It is most unseemly of you to harass us in this fashion.”
“Er,” said one waiter.
“Um,” said the other.
Amelia raised her voice slightly as the dogcart continued to carry her inch by inch away from them. “I want you to write three pages on the importance of paying attention, and furthermore straighten your neckties.”
Automatically they reached for their collars.
“You may go now.”
Both men nodded to her thankfully, murmured apologies, and scurried away like schoolboys having been caught smoking behind the bicycle shed.
“Gosh!” Vanity exclaimed with delight. “That was remarkable, Professor! I can see why people call you—”
BOOM!
The universe proved its benevolence at that moment by sending a large clap of thunder. Vanity squeaked. Closing her eyes, Amelia lifted her face to the cold, somber wind. She felt a single raindrop like a kiss. She felt Caleb’s finger stroke the edge of her hand.
Flutter flutter went the whole world.