Page 102 of Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt
Cecily gave a shrug. ‘It is necessary. The bristling disapproval of society would be palpable. I could, of course, handle it with no qualms, but Stella, on the other hand... she already faces so many challenges as a young black girl. It is better for her that things are this way.’
‘You’ve done an amazing thing, Cecily.’ I gave her a sincere smile. ‘Without you, who knows what would have happened to little Stella. Thank you for showing her kindness.’
‘As you said earlier, Mr Tanit, I merely did what anyone would have.’
‘And as you replied to me... I don’t think that is factually accurate,’ I retorted.
Cecily chuckled and raised her champagne flute. ‘Well then. Cheers to kindness.’
Elle and I talked to Cecily about our life in Britain, working for the Vaughans firstly at High Weald and then at Arthur Morston Books. Cecily asked about Elle’s French accent, andwe repeated the line that we both fled Paris due to the threat of Nazi occupation.
‘But recently, we’ve had some good fortune,’ Elle told Cecily. ‘Robert here has inherited some land in Switzerland on the shores of Lake Geneva. We hope to move there as soon as we can.’
‘How wonderful!’ Cecily replied. ‘Nature is so important, isn’t it? I imagine the still peace of the lake will be just the ticket after all you’ve been through.’
After a delicious pudding of deep-dish apple pie, it was time to part ways.
‘Thank you so much for lunch, Cecily. It’s tremendously nice of you,’ I said, shaking her hand.
‘Don’t be silly, Mr Tanit. I’m only too glad that I managed to track you down before you return to England. Although, if you don’t mind, I will keep that business card of yours. After all, one is never quite sure when one might need one’s guardian angel.’
My involvement in the New York skirmish was the last piece of bad luck I was to have for a while. At the turn of 1949, Mr Kohler informed me that the process of obtaining my Swiss citizenship was in its final stages. In addition, the bookshop had been reporting record sales. After all these years, I felt my shoulders beginning to drop a few inches.
I found myself breathing easier.
I was sleeping better.
Perhaps my relaxed state was underpinned by something else entirely – the absence of Kreeg Eszu. I had not laid eyes on him since that awful night in Leipzig. Reader, I allowed myself to believe that he was dead – killed in the war like so many of his fellow soldiers.
And then I saw him.
It was a cold day in London. Rupert and Louise Forbes were in town, and had come to the bookshop to visit us. It was, as always, a great pleasure to see them both. I was very happy to hear that Flora was well, despite Teddy and his new American wife driving High Weald into the ground.
The couple had brought their new baby with them, a bouncyand bubbly boy named Laurence, whom Elle duly fussed and cooed over. Once the child was asleep, Elle began proudly showing Rupert and Louise the new stock, and I returned to my desk to look through the accounts. As I mentally questioned a calculation, I found myself staring out of the large shop window and onto Kensington Church Street. At that moment, a tall figure in a greatcoat and trilby hat came in to view, smoking a cigarette. I continued to watch as a young woman passed by him, then turned to admonish him for a comment he must have made. The figure threw back his head and laughed heartily, which is when I saw his face. The blood froze in my veins.
‘Elle!’ I cried.
The three other inhabitants of the shop wheeled around, to see me pointing out of the window. Elle followed my finger, and immediately ran to the light switch.
‘What on earth is wrong, dear chap?’ Rupert asked. There was nothing I could do but drop to the floor, below the level of the window. ‘Good Lord, what’s happening?’
‘Mr Tanit, has something frightened you?’ Louise enquired, looking fairly concerned herself. I lifted my head above the window line once more, and saw Kreeg crossing the street towards Arthur Morston Books.
‘Elle, come here, now!’ She ran across the shop, and the pair of us scuttled through the back door which led up to the flat, closing it behind us as the shop bell rang. Elle went to sprint up the stairs, but I grabbed her, fearing that my assailant would hear her footsteps. Elle’s eyes were full of fear, and I squeezed her hand tightly. Then I put my finger to my lips, and gently leant my ear to the door.
‘Good morning,’ Rupert said. ‘Welcome to Arthur Morston Books.’
‘Thank you very much,’ Eszu replied, in his deep, hoarse voice. ‘What a charming shop you have here.’
‘That’s awfully kind of you to say. I wonder, is there a particular book that I can help you locate?’
‘Are you the owner?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘I asked if you were the owner of this bookshop,’ Kreeg repeated coldly.
‘Yes. I’m Rupert Forbes. My wife and I co-own the place.’
