Chapter Four
Anya
Summer passed quickly. I couldn’t wait to make the move to St. Andrews. In August, I packed up my life in Oxford and said
a temporary goodbye to Sid, who was staying to finish up his PhD. I wanted to have some time with Mum before I went up to
Scotland.
Viv took some time off, so it was just Mum and me for a whole fortnight. We pottered: baking, doing some gentle work in her
cottage garden, a little walking, playing card games and chess. As she got stronger, we started to feel hopeful that she would
be able to endure a new round of chemo in September, which was what her doctors recommended.
My decision to accept the job in St. Andrews caused friction. No matter how often I told Mum that it wasn’t a compromise,
I couldn’t convince her. In the end, we avoided the topic because both of us got upset if it came up. But in September, when
Viv was back and Sid and I were packed up and ready to go, Mum wished us luck and gave us both a big, tight hug. She and Viv
waved us off from the cottage gate.
Viv is here, so I will be fine. Go live your life.
We were at the tail end of the summer’s heat wave, and the countryside looked baked as we drove north, everything waiting for rain.
Air shimmered over the asphalt on the motorway and Sid’s old car had no air-conditioning, so we drove with the windows wide open, buffeted by the hot draft, the music cranked up.
“Do you realize this is the first road trip we’ve made together?” Sid asked. He was shouting to make himself heard.
“I don’t know why we didn’t do it before.”
“We were working too hard.”
“True. But I think it was worth it, don’t you, Dr. Hill?” Sid had successfully defended his PhD with no corrections.
“I do, Dr. Brown.”
We smiled at each other. “Do you think that’ll ever get old?” I asked.
“I hope not,” he said. “It doesn’t even feel real yet.”
St. Andrews looked completely different from our first visit, like a summer resort. The North Sea was a glassy sheet, and
the beach could have been Mediterranean. Golfers speckled the old and new courses and packed the terraces outside the hotels.
We heard American accents everywhere.
The renovated cottage was gorgeous. Wooden floors, fresh white paint, cute kitchen and bathroom, brand-new windows throughout
framing the stunning views. When we opened them, a salty breeze made the muslin curtains dance. We took the second-floor room
at the front for our bedroom, and Sid moved his work stuff into the attic, where he had views to both sides of the building.
My new colleagues had left a welcome basket and stocked the fridge. In the evening we made a picnic and took it to West Sands
Beach, where we found a nice spot in front of the dunes. The tips of the golden grasses twitched. Sand stretched a mile in
either direction. In the distance, across the water, we could see our cottage.
We sat shoulder to shoulder and toasted our future with warm beer, chatting as the light faded gently, smudging outlines,
softly shrouding the town and the ocean.
Mum had had some words of advice for me before we left.
Living together for the first time is bumpy. Make sure you communicate.
We had that covered, I thought. I’d met a gentle, intelligent man. We loved each other and talked to each other, so we’d figure
it out. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so hopeful.
“You happy?” Sid asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Very.”
“Me, too.”
We stayed until the temperature dropped and we could barely see in front of us, then we gathered our stuff and walked home
in the darkness. Stars blanketed the sky, brighter than we were used to, and Sid pointed out the constellations he knew.
I could have written a paper about astrology as it appeared in manuscripts, how it was used in alchemy, witchcraft, medicine,
or whatever else you wanted to know about, but I realized I’d never studied the stars themselves as intently as I did that
night.
They created a sense of wonder in me; I thought they were beautiful, an ancient world in themselves, a silent witness both
to history and to our future. I felt more viscerally tethered than ever to the ancient texts I studied.
When I tried to explain what I was thinking to Sid, he said, “But stars are so much older than humanity. We’re irrelevant
to them. Did you know that any element heavier than helium needs to be forged in a star?”
“I didn’t,” I said. The science felt irrelevant to me just then, because I was too lost in my thoughts about history and symbols,
about the stories men and women tell themselves as they try to predict their destinies.
It amazes me now that even though I was immersed in the world of ancient signs and symbols, I saw no omens in my own life.
Instead, I believed Sid and I had enough agency to shape who and what we became, and that idea kept me smiling as we walked
hand in hand back to the cottage beneath the canopy of indifferent stars.
Diana
Diana Cornish sat in her office overlooking South Street, which was just waking up to a sharp wind and smatterings of icy
rain. Autumn had arrived overnight, the way it did here. The children who lived in the town house opposite had just left for
school. A few early-bird university staff were on their way to their departments. On a morning like this, it was tempting
to envy such ordinary academic lives.
At the far end of South Street, only a few hundred yards to the east, the sun was rising behind the cathedral ruins, visible
when there was a break in the clouds. It was a sight Diana usually enjoyed: the sun’s rays aligned with the east-west axis
of the cathedral, pouring through the orifices where its great windows had once been, telling the town it was time to wake,
to work. But not this morning. She’d been up all night, managing a devastating crisis as best she could remotely, grabbing
just a few hours’ sleep on the sofa.
She heard a soft knock on her door. “Come in,” she said.
Sarabeth entered, her coat still on. “What’s happened?”
It was a terrible thing to have to pass on bad news, even when it was expected. “The Kats have struck back. Revenge for Eleanor
Bruton’s death.”
Sarabeth paled. “What have they done?”
“They burned down Kamila Newman’s lab last night. All her work is lost.”
“Dear God. Is she okay?”
“She has some nasty burns to her hands. She’s in hospital but stable. They’re saying she’s lucky; it could easily have been
so much worse.” Watching Sarabeth’s reaction to the news made Diana feel the ice-cold shock of hearing it herself all over
again.
“Is everything gone?”
“All of it. Millions of pounds of investment and over a decade of work.”
“Christ,” Sarabeth said.
“It was only a matter of time before they acted. We knew that.”
“And yet it doesn’t make it any easier.”
“I know.”
Sarabeth stared out the window. She blinked back tears. When she turned back to Diana, her expression was steely. “What are
we going to do about it?”
“I’ve had a thought. Jamie Whitelaw is a third-year student here. I’m not sure if you’ve come across him?”
“I know we’ve been keeping tabs on him. His mother is Amelia Whitelaw?”
“Exactly. Her sister is treasurer of the Order of St. Katherine.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Jamie’s a star player on the university rugby team. He has the potential to be an international. I was thinking, wouldn’t
it be a shame if he suffered a career-ending injury?”
Sarabeth smiled.
“The rugby club has a social tomorrow night, at the student union. I expect Jamie will drink a lot, as usual. He might have
an accident on the way home.”
“That will hurt them.”
“It’s the best we can do at short notice. We need to strike back fast. Charlotte agrees.”
“As do I. Who started the fire at the lab, do we know?”
“Not yet. Charlotte thinks it could have been one of the women who worked in the canteen.”
“Nobody checked her out?”
“An oversight we’re going to have to live with.” Diana hated to make mistakes. They weighed on her. She wondered if she looked
as tired as she felt. Her adrenaline was dipping, and there was still so much to do.
“Can you please tell our girls about our plans for Jamie? I would do it myself, but Charlotte wants me in London. She promises me it’s good news. She wants me to bring Anya, too, to introduce her to the benefactor. She says it’s time.”
“It’s way too soon for her to meet him. We need to get her settled here first.”
“I agree. I said the same, but Charlotte wants what she wants. She’s spooked. She has been since we disposed of Eleanor Bruton.”
“It’s not like her to be so squeamish,” Sarabeth said. “She’d also do well to remember that the Order of St. Katherine isn’t
averse to taking lethal action. We’re more certain than ever that they killed that detective, by the way, Lillian Shapiro.”
Sarabeth was always braver talking about Charlotte than to her face, Diana thought, but it was pointless to say so. “I thought
they must have,” she said. “Shapiro must have been digging and got too close, so they’ve done us a favor, too.”
“We always knew that there would be a human cost to finding The Book of Wonder,” Sarabeth said.
“We did,” Diana agreed, though she thought Sarabeth sounded haughty, which bothered her. For Diana this wasn’t a comfortable
thing to think about, let alone talk about. It was time to end the conversation.
“Are you clear on what needs doing about Jamie Whitelaw?”
“Crystal clear.”
“Thank you.” Diana stood and smoothed the front of her skirt. “Okay. We must be ready for Anya’s arrival.”
“She’s a born teacher’s pet, so I imagine that will be any minute now.”
Diana allowed herself to laugh. “Indeed. The timing of everything is terrible, so it’s all the more important that her first
day is a good one, especially as I need to tell her that she and I are traveling to London tonight.”
Sarabeth reached out, took Diana’s hand, and squeezed it briefly before letting go. “Anya Brown may be valuable property, but she’s also just a pawn, our pawn, and we’ve planned our moves.”