Chapter 28 #2
We headed into the gallery, where all the taxidermy was fixed into dioramas to be shown in its natural habitat. I didn’t know if that made it better or worse. I read the rest of the clue again and looked at the list of the animals before the answer leapt out at me: The Groundhog.
Of course, it was located on the far side of the gallery so I had to pass all the other exhibits.
As we walked through the gallery it struck me that the last time that I’d been anywhere like this had been in Dublin with Noah.
We’d walked around the whole museum then, and I’d managed it unscathed. I could do this.
When I reached it, I stood as far back from it as I could and took the photo.
‘How can that freak you out? It looks so cute,’ said Amy.
‘It’s a marmot, isn’t it? Is that what a groundhog is?’ Caz peered at the text panel to get more detail.
‘Look at it on its hindlegs. It’s freaky.’ I shook my head. It definitely made it worse that it was surrounded by prairie land. It looked even more lifelike and like it could pounce on me at any minute. ‘Can we wait for Paul’s reply in the lobby?’
Amy nodded and guided me out. I passed the grey fox, and, as he eyeballed me, I got flashbacks of my nan’s taxidermy fox.
It was camouflaged amongst the foliage, but it had the same eyes as Felix.
Where once it might have scared me, now it didn’t.
It wasn’t that I would choose to have one in my hall like Nan, but perhaps the WhatsApp photos over the years from Noah, and the jokes everyone had had at my expense, had finally done their job. Exposure therapy worked after all.
My phone pinged in my pocket.
‘Next clue is in.’
I noticed the looks between Caz and Amy.
‘Do you guys know what’s coming?’
‘That would be telling.’
‘Right, The first word of “Bohemian Rhapsody” with an American spin. What does that mean?’
‘We can’t help you,’ said Amy.
‘But we can sing it if you like?’
Amy and Caz giggled as they started to sing Queen’s famous song, other visitors to the museum giving them a wide berth.
‘Mama – that’s the first word, with an American spin.’ The more I went over it in my mind, the less sense it made. ‘Mama? Mama?’
‘What do American people call Mama?’
‘Mom? Is it like an abbreviation M.O.M.?’
‘Moma,’ coughed Caz. Amy glared at her. ‘Oh, come on, she was never going to get it and time is ticking on.’
‘Moma? What’s moma?’
‘Check the guidebook,’ said Amy.
I pulled it out of my bag and scanned the list, before I found it. ‘Oh MOMA. The Museum of Modern Art, of course.’
‘Got there eventually,’ said Caz.
‘Yeah, thanks to you.’
‘What, it’ll be dark soon.’ She raised an eyebrow.
‘You’re right, you’re right. Come on,’ said Amy, leading us out.
It was mid-afternoon, and fun as it had been scrambling between the places all day, when Caz suggested we get a taxi, we all leaped at the chance.
We pulled up outside of the gallery and Amy squealed a little.
‘I’ve been dying to come here,’ she said. ‘How about you do this clue by yourself? I really want to go and see Starry Night.’
‘Me too,’ said Caz.
‘I can meet you there then, once I’ve taken the photo.’
‘Uh-huh,’ said Amy, ‘and this is the last clue to find. We’ve only got one more place to go after this.’
Amy paid for us at the counter and took her guide book back. ‘You won’t be needing this. Send Paul the photo and he’ll send you where you’re going.’
She gave me a quick wave and it was like they couldn’t leave me quick enough. I hoped I was able to solve the clue without them.
It must have been well into the evening back in the UK and I hoped that Paul hadn’t got sucked into doing the kids’ tea and bedtimes and forgotten about the treasure hunt. But no sooner had I sent it, than a text pinged back.
Time for a little maths. Your new age times the age you are in reality plus three.
I read it over twice, my brain trying to make sense of it all. Forty times ten plus three equalled four hundred and three. I started climbing the stairs until I found myself on the fourth floor and I knew almost instantly where I was heading as soon as I caught a glimpse. MOMA’s Rothko exhibition.
It was the polar opposite to the room at the Tate Modern, which had been moody and atmospheric. This was all whitewashed walls and space between the paintings. And the paintings themselves were full of colour. Yellows and blues and bright red.
But despite the differences, they still had the same effect.
I was drawn to one with the familiar reds and purples.
People bustled around the gallery in a way that they hadn’t in London.
There I’d felt you could have heard a pin drop, but here it was full of life, like the colour in the paintings themselves.
A couple that had been sitting on the bench in front of a red and purple painting got up to go and I took their place. I found myself getting sucked in, just as I had at the Tate.
I turned to my side, for a second wishing that Noah was here. This had been our artist, the one that we’d both connected with. I looked over my shoulder, and for a second, I scanned the gallery for him.
I took out my phone, snapped a photo of the artwork in front of me, and I sent it to the group. Then I opened up my messages to Noah. He hadn’t seen the Happy Birthday text I’d sent him after I’d finished on the phone to Mum last night. There was no point in sending him another one.
I couldn’t help but think about him though.
It felt like such a strange coincidence that Paul would send me here.
And to the taxidermy. A shiver ran down my spine as I started to connect the dots.
The boating lake in the park. The ferry to do French sightseeing. It was all there. It had been all day.
This wasn’t a treasure hunt the girls had put together out of coincidence; this was a treasure hunt of mine and Noah’s leap years.
My phone beeped and it was another message from Paul.
I know you don’t believe in fate, but you’ll know where to go. Sometimes all you need is serendipity.
I gasped out loud. The room starting to spin around me. Noah. It had to be him. Was he here?
I read the message again. Serendipity.
The ice rink, like the film.