Page 85 of Right Place, Right Time
‘Where?’ Adam asks, squinting.
‘Look, just there, in the bark. They’re really hidden. You wouldn’t know they were there unless you knew what you were looking for.’
‘But these look like the bark of the tree has grown around them over the years.’ Adam squats down to examine the Roman numerals. ‘I thought they would look like someone had carved them into the tree.’
‘Like a vandal?’
‘Yes, exactly that. Or when two people carve their initials inside a heart. These look like they’ve been here – for ever.’ Adam runs his fingers over the carvings and then he looks up. ‘What the hell is going on, Eve?’ he almost whispers.
Unlike the Adam who was full of bravado and questions up in his flat, this Adam looks anxious and a little scared. I crouch down next to him. ‘I don’t know,’ I whisper back. ‘I wish I could tell you otherwise, really I do.’
I do something then that I’ve never done before with anyone else. I cup Adam’s face with my right hand and gently stroke his cheek with my thumb. ‘I’m as lost as you right now.’
Adam closes his eyes at my touch.
‘I’m so glad this is you, Eve,’ he says, opening his eyes again. ‘I trust you. I’m not sure I trust everyone else up in my flat right now, but I love you.’
Adam stares at me, immediately registering what he’s just said.
‘Love or trust?’ I ask quietly, not letting my hand drop.
‘Both. Is that all right?’ He matches my gesture by gently cupping my face with his left hand. ‘I know we haven’t known each other all that long but—’
‘Of course it is,’ I say, putting my finger on his lips. ‘I feel exactly the same about you.’
We both lean forward and underneath the protective branches of the ancient oak, I have possibly the most romantic kiss of my entire life.
It doesn’t matter for now the chaos that’s ensuing just a few metres away from us up in Adam’s flat. What matters is that we’re together.
28
Eventually, after we can put it off no longer, Adam and I walk hand in hand back up to his flat and join the others.
‘The carvings are there,’ Adam tells Barney. ‘Just like Orla said they would be.’
‘Did you look at the doors in the antiques shop too?’ Barney asks. ‘Did they have the same markings on them?’
‘Oh, no, we got a bit … distracted,’ I say. ‘The bark of the tree was very interesting, though.’ I glance at Adam. He smiles.
‘Are we all ready to continue?’ Orla asks, from the sofa. ‘Ben, would you like to begin? Perhaps go back to explaining what happened in the war years?’
Adam and I take our place in the armchair again as Ben begins.
‘As I’m sure the two of you have guessed by now, your great-grandparents were working together on a secret project during the later war years. It was called Project Eden, for all the reasons that Orla has explained already. I’m assuming you are all familiar with the biblical story of the Garden of Eden?’
We all nod.
‘When war broke out in 1939, Archie of course already knew the secret that lay between his bookshop and the shop next door. Dotty’s sister, Amelia, ran that shop as a dressmaker’s at the time, but she was fully onboard with everything that happened in Clockmaker Court. Both your families have been keepers of the secret for many centuries and that’s what they intended to continue doing – keep it a well-guarded secret. But when the war continued for longer than anyone expected, and Hitler and his forces continued to advance across Europe, Archie decided that they might be able to use the powers of the portal to help defeat the Nazis.’
Ben pauses to see if we’re all keeping up, then continues.
‘Archie stepped back from his work at the university and decided to fund himself in his own war effort – Project Eden. He needed help, so he enlisted Dotty, who, because she was the youngest in the family, knew nothing of the secrets of Clockmaker Court, only that her sister had a shop there. Dotty was in the WAAF at RAF Duxford – the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force,’ he adds, in case we don’t know.
‘I did know that,’ I tell him. ‘She was one of the first female engineers there. But I thought Project Eden was funded by the government at the time?’
‘Who told you that?’ Ben asks, his dark brow furrowing.
‘A source,’ I reply cryptically, not looking at Barney.
