Page 59 of Right Place, Right Time
‘The maps are definitely old,’ Adam says, looking closely at one. ‘It’s been a long time since some of these countries have been known by these names.
What’s this?’ He picks up something on one of the desks that looks like brass. ‘It has numbers on it – I think they might be dates? And a sun and a moon too.’
I go over to see what he’s holding.
‘It’s a perpetual calendar,’ I say, taking the flat, circular piece of brassware from him. ‘It’s a pretty old one too by the looks of it. These dials here turn so you can make dates, months and years. Often there’s a limited amount of years you can make up, but this one seems like it might be infinite, looking at how they’ve done the numbers in Roman numerals.’ I put the calendar back down on the desk and go over to one of the filing cabinets. I expect it to be difficult to open, but to my surprise the drawer easily slides out. Inside there are rows of Manila files. I pull one out and open it.
It’s a typed report dated May 1942. I skim-read it quickly.
‘What have you got there?’ Adam asks.
‘I don’t know – it seems to be a report about a visit someone has made. There’s talk of a successful trip and it mentions a few streets I recognise in Cambridge, but then …’ I feel my forehead crease as I try to understand what the report is saying. ‘There is talk about 1912 and some difficulties getting back because a door or something was obstructed?’ I look at Adam. ‘It doesn’t really make sense? It’s almost like it’s coded.’
‘Is the other cabinet full of the same thing?’ he asks.
I pull open another drawer and randomly lift a file.
‘Yes, this is very similar. But the date at the top is earlier – January 1942. But this time …’ I trace my fingerdown the page a few lines. ‘Yes, at the same point it mentions 1896 instead of 1912.’
I pull out a few more files, passing the previous one to Adam each time, and I find similar reports all written in code, but all mentioning different dates at the same place on the page.
‘Have you noticed something else about these reports?’ Adam asks after we’ve looked at six or seven files. ‘They are all stamped exactly the same at the bottom of the last page.’
I look at the last page of the report I’m currently reading.PROJECT EDENis stamped in red ink at the bottom.
‘What’s Project Eden?’
‘I have no idea,’ Adam says, looking around the room again. ‘But if this room was used in the forties, I’d hazard a guess that anything called project something around then was something to do with the war.’
‘I wonder if it’s something to do with Anthony Eden?’ I say, still looking at the stamp.
‘Wasn’t he a prime minister?’
‘Yes, but much later, in the fifties. During the Second World War, I think he was in the cabinet. I’d have to check.’ I pull my phone out of my pocket. ‘No signal. These walls are obviously quite thick.’ I put my phone back and lift another report from the cabinet.
‘Whatever we’ve discovered hidden away down here, it was obviously top secret,’ Adam says. ‘There’s another door over there. It’s probably just a cupboard, but we should take a look.’
‘We’ve come this far,’ I say, walking towards it. ‘Why stop now?’
With Adam following me this time, I gently open the door. I feel for a light switch on the wall like Adamdid previously, and flick it on. The bulb works, but only provides just enough light for us to see what’s inside.
‘Why is it so dark?’ Adam asks from behind me.
In front of me is a tiny, narrow room – more like a large cupboard. There’s a long table covered in trays, and above it what looks like a washing line with pegs on. ‘It looks like a photographic developing studio.’ I strain my eyes to see properly. ‘Yes, there’s still a few negatives over there on the table and some photographic paper.’ I manoeuvre myself into the tiny room and pick up the negatives. ‘The paper is still blank,’ I tell Adam as I look quickly through it. I carry the negatives back out into the light and hold them up.
‘What can you see?’ Adam asks impatiently as I go silent.
‘You’re not going to believe this,’ I say as I examine all the photos one by one.
‘I bet I do,’ Adam replies. ‘After what we’ve discovered tonight, I don’t think anything is going to surprise me any more.’
‘This might. It’s a series of photos of my great-grandmother, Dotty.’
‘What? Are you sure?’
‘Yes, it’s definitely her,’ I say as I continue to look through the photos. It is a really strange feeling to see her in these negatives. Unlike the more formal photos I’ve seen of her before, she looks so alive in these pictures – like she’s really living her best life. She’s smiling and I can see she’s genuinely enjoying herself.
‘What’s she doing?’ Adam leans over my shoulder to try to see the tiny strip of photos for himself.
