14
In between customers, we pore over the rest of the books looking for a clue to three further numbers, but we don’t find anything that immediately makes any sense.
According to Barney, there are more comic-related clues doodled within the pages, but nothing that gives us any numbers.
What we do discover, though, is that the doodles are always drawn in a different pen than the rest of the notes within the books.
‘The notes were all written in black ink with a fountain pen,’ Ben says. ‘While these doodles are done with a more modern ballpoint pen, it would seem.’
‘They must have been added later,’ I say. ‘When did people start to use ballpoint pens?’
‘So do we all agree then that the main body of notes were written pre-sixties and the added doodles sometime afterwards?’
‘Not necessarily,’ Ben says. ‘Some people still use fountain pens today.’
‘But the novels all date from pre-1960, don’t they, so it’s more than likely.’
Adam takes a quick look through all the books again. ‘Yep, they are all published before 1960; the latest one is the Agatha Christie in 1940. The editions we have here are all dated before 1960, too.’
‘Even though the comics began in the forties, some of these references are from much later,’ Barney says. ‘Earth was not referred to as 616 until the eighties.’
I know Barney is an expert on comic books, but I had no idea how much of an expert until today. He knows every fact and hasn’t looked anything up on the internet.
‘So we’re thinking that the original notes were written in and hidden in the books before the sixties, and the doodles were added post-eighties, then?’ I ask.
Barney nods. ‘It seems likely.’
‘It certainly seems to narrow it down to those dates,’ Ben says.
‘If only we could figure out what the missing book is,’ I say. ‘I feel like there’s going to be something really relevant within its pages.’
‘The elusive book number eleven,’ Adam says, sighing. ‘Knowing our luck, that one will likely hold all our answers.’
Ben yawns. ‘Excuse me,’ he says, stretching in his chair. ‘I’m not used to being in company for this long since my illness. Perhaps I had better go.’
‘I’m sorry we’ve kept you, Ben,’ I say. ‘You’ve been incredibly helpful, though.’
‘I wish you all every success with your endeavours.’ Ben leans on his cane as he slowly rises to his feet.
‘It’s a conundrum that I have a feeling you might be close to solving.
Perhaps there’s other branches you could explore than just the books?
That might help you find what’s between your two shops. ’
‘I guess,’ I say. ‘But the books are all we have right now.’
‘In my experience, taking a break and standing back from the problem sometimes allows the brain to think new thoughts, and the eyes to see new solutions.’ He begins to walk towards the door of the shop. ‘Nice clock,’ he says, passing the grandfather clock. ‘Is that the time already?’
‘No, it’s …’ I glance at my watch. ‘Ten past one. The hands have been stuck at half past two since I got it.’
Ben nods. ‘What a shame. It’s a fine-looking clock.’
‘Yes, I might be able to sell it if it actually worked.’
‘Perfection is rarely interesting, Eve. Sometimes, it’s the fault in something that makes it that extra bit special.’
After a bit more discussion, Adam eventually goes back to his shop, and Barney and I go about our business in Rainy Day Antiques.
It started to rain a little while ago, so the shop immediately became busier while people found shelter, but now the rain has set in, the flow of customers is rapidly diminishing.
‘He’s all right, Adam, isn’t he?’ Barney says as we decide where to hang some new paintings on the wall. We recently sold a couple of large watercolours, so we are trying to fill those gaps without having to move too many of the other paintings.
‘I suppose, yes.’
‘You clearly like him.’
‘Do I? What makes you say that?’
‘I’ve known you long enough by now, Eve, to tell when you like someone.’
I look down from the little wooden trestle ladder I use for reaching things down from high shelves and hanging paintings on the wall, at Barney’s grinning face.
‘You can talk,’ I say, not answering his question. ‘I know when you like someone too.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Orla?’ I climb down the ladder with a watercolour painting of a riverbank in my hand.
Barney’s neck immediately begins to flush again.
‘See? Two can play that game. I noticed you get all flustered when she was here earlier and it’s not the first time.’
‘Orla is very pretty,’ Barney says shyly.
‘You’re a similar age. Why don’t you ask her out?’ I say, about to try a different painting against the wall. ‘She might say yes.’
Barney looks at me like I’m crazy. ‘Yeah, right.’
‘Why not?’
‘As if someone like Orla is going to be interested in me.’ He looks down at his legs.
‘You underestimate Orla, if you think your disability is going to bother her. It made no difference to me when you came asking for a job here, did it?’
Barney grins. ‘I’d have had you for discrimination if it had!’
‘I know you would!’ I climb the ladder again with the new painting, an oil this time of two King Charles spaniels curled up in a basket.
‘But seriously, Barney, you’re kind and funny, and you’re honest – too honest sometimes!
But people value honesty. I think Orla in particular would think you were quite the catch! ’
‘Quite the catch!’ Barney grins. ‘What am I – a fish!’
‘You know what I mean.’ I hold the painting up to the wall to see what it looks like. Happy, I hang it on the hook already in the wall.
‘Giving someone like me a job and dating someone like me is very different,’ Barney says quietly.
‘True,’ I say, descending the ladder again. ‘But I think you should give Orla the chance to make that choice for herself.’
‘I’ll think about it. Now, that painting isn’t straight.’ He looks up at the wall. ‘I’d offer to do it myself, but me and ladders aren’t really a good match.’
‘Excuses, excuses,’ I say, pretending to grumble as I climb up the ladder again with one of the oil paintings from Past Times House.
‘So you and Adam, then?’ Barney says. ‘I’m sure that’s how this conversation began before you changed the subject.’
‘There isn’t a me and Adam,’ I say firmly. ‘There, is that straight now?’ I adjust the painting of the dogs a little.
‘Perfect. But you like him, right?’ Barney continues.
‘He’s pleasant enough.’
‘Pleasant! Is that what you old guys call it?’
‘Hey, enough of the old. We’re hardly ancient. I’m barely ten years older than you!’
‘Twelve, actually. Adam must be older, though – what is he, forty-five?’
‘Don’t tell him that,’ I say, hanging the next painting – a modern-looking oil, almost abstract in its composition. ‘Adam is forty. He was born on the same day as me.’
‘Another leap-year baby.’ Barney wheels himself back to look up at the new painting. He gives a thumbs-up. ‘What are the chances?’
‘I know. It’s quite the exclusive club.’ I descend the ladder again and take a quick look at the painting to check it is straight. I then choose another smaller picture to hang in the last small gap. ‘I was very impressed with your knowledge earlier today about the comic books.’
‘Thanks,’ Barney says, looking pleased. ‘It’s been a hobby of mine for a long time. That’s why I was so excited when you brought those bits from Past Times House. It’s a dream of mine to own my own shop selling all that kind of thing one day.’
‘Really?’ I say, climbing the ladder for the last time. ‘I thought you liked working at the university.’
‘I do. My background is in science, but my passion is comic books and their heroes.’
‘Well, you just never know. I didn’t set out to own an antiques shop and yet here I am, and Adam didn’t set out to own a bookshop and look what’s happened to him this year.’
‘True – and he’s taken on a lot more than that, it would seem, with all these mysteries hanging around everything.’
‘Yeah, I know. We’ll probably end up unlocking that door and find nothing behind it.’
‘But what if there is something? It might be something really exciting.’
‘I’ll believe it when I see it. But, you’re right, there is something going on here – there’s just been too much happening to believe it’s all a coincidence.’
‘More than the books and the door?’
‘Oh, yes, so much more.’
I climb back down the ladder and quickly explain to Barney everything that’s been going on that he doesn’t already know.
‘So, let me get this straight,’ Barney says slowly when I’ve finished telling him. ‘You’re saying this family not only wanted you to do their house clearance, but they also had some strange photos of both your great-grandparents hidden in the attic that you and Adam just happened to discover?’
I nod.
‘Adam has taken on the bookshop that his great-grandfather once owned – yet he didn’t know that when he bought it,’ Barney continues, wide-eyed.
‘And subsequently you’ve now discovered not only a locked door hidden away behind many layers of wallpaper, but a set of novels with notes, equations and diagrams that are clearly supposed to tell you something important, but as yet you don’t know what? ’
‘Yes, that about sums it all up. Sounds a bit crazy, doesn’t it, when you put it like that.’
Barney shakes his head. ‘It doesn’t sound crazy, it sounds very much like you and Adam were meant to discover all this. Like it’s been the plan all along.’
The rest of the afternoon is quiet so I tell Barney he can go early, which he gratefully accepts.
I tidy up the shop, pausing to look at the pictures from Past Times House we hung this afternoon.
Is Barney right? Has it been the plan all along for Adam and I to find everything we’ve discovered so far?
But if that is the case – why? What possible reason could there be?
The particular painting I’ve paused in front of is the abstract one. It’s nothing like any of the other pictures that hung on the walls of Past Times House, but something about it spoke to me so I added it to the others in the hope it might be to one of my customers’ tastes.
Depicted in the oil painting is a tree standing in the middle of a garden.
There’s a pile of books in front of the tree, with a single apple balanced on top of them.
Inside the trunk of the tree is a clock, and dotted about in the branches are lots of random objects, including, very oddly, a black-and-white-spotted dog.
I’m about to move away from the painting when I stop and take a closer look. Something about it is familiar …
What is it? I look closely at the artwork.
Is it the tree? But really it could be any tree, it’s depicted in such an abstract way.
The books? Again they could be anything.
I count them – there’s exactly twelve. And the objects – they are such an odd assortment they could mean anything.
And the red apple balanced on top of the books looks like any other apple.
Perhaps it’s the clock? I stare at it for a moment and then it hits me – the time!
The time reads half past two, just like the broken grandfather clock.
I look across at the clock face and then down at the carving on the door underneath.
The tree on the door looks exactly the same shape as the one in the painting!
But why do the two clocks say exactly the same time?
Is it simply a coincidence or does it actually mean something?
And what is so special about the time half past two?