Page 88 of The Uprising
Two sets of eyes bore into the official’s face, waiting for the big reveal. George was intrigued to discover where he’d lived in the nineties.
‘What’s the address?’ prompted Cara, shifting about on the hard seat, unable to sit still any longer.
Benjamin read out the address of Casa Cavendish, Seville, which was the Spanish villa where they had spent several glorious years undercover on behalf of Queen Victoria. The same villa where they made love the previous year, and the same villa where Cara had located George after the timeline had reset and she thought he was lost to her forever.
Casa Cavendish was central to their interwoven histories and was one of their favourite places.
Cara and George looked at each other. It seemed obvious to them both now; it was the perfect location.
‘That’s good news. At least the villa is still in our family, so the code must have either gone astray in the post or not been passed onto me upon our return,’ said George.
‘Or perhaps you filed it away somewhere and didn’t realise its significance,’ said Cara. ‘Would it be possible to send out a new notification of the code, please?’ She was determined to move the situation along now.
‘I don’t see why not—but it would have to be to the registered address.’
‘The Seville one?’
‘Yes, Casa Cavendish is the only address we have on record; there haven’t been any updates since...since...’ His words trailed off as he tried to find a date. ‘It’s highly irregular; I can’t find any date other than when we transferred the manual vault account to the computer records. This entry was logged as transferred from the original handwritten record. It’s most peculiar—I’ve never seen one like this before.’
‘If you would hit whatever button you need to hit to shoot off a new copy of the code to our mailing address, we’d appreciate that,’ said Cara.
‘Very good, Mrs Cavendish, I’ll do that for you now.’
Cara said, ‘Thank you. What sort of timeframe will it be for us to expect the letter to arrive to the address in Spain?’
‘I’d say, allow around ten days, as these codes must all be manually printed, validated and then mailed out by our security team, and it will also take longer for international post. As you might appreciate, we can’t have vault codes whizzing about willy-nilly.’ He stood, squared his shoulders as if to emphasise the importance of his statement, and then smiled apologetically at George and Cara. ‘I’m sorry it’s such a damned nuisance, but there’s no way around the security, I’m afraid.’
‘We quite understand,’ said George. ‘Thank you for your assistance.’
The clerk led them out of the room and back through the maze of corridors towards reception.
‘How bloody frustrating, I don’t see how we’re going to get the code to sell the painting in time,’ said Cara, sighing. ‘One thing determines the next, and the agent is chasing me for an offer. Maybe it’s a sign we shouldn’t reacquire Willow Manor, after all.’
George captured her hand in his as they exited the bank, ‘Nooooo, don’t say that. I know it’s frustrating, but if people gave up at the first sign of difficulty, most amazing things would never come to fruition. We’ll figure something out—we always do.’
‘I had a dream last night; well, it was more of a nightmare actually,’ she said.
‘Oh no. Why didn’t you mention it this morning?’
‘I thought I’d forget all about it.’
‘But, you clearly haven’t.’
‘No. That bloody blue-eyed man was chasing me, and I couldn’t reach you. It sounds crazy, but I think he might really be tracking us through time.’
‘Crazy? I think we’ve already whistled way past crazy,’ said George. He wrapped his arm around Cara and pulled her tightly against him, tucking her snugly into his side, so she leaned on him slightly as they walked. He kissed her forehead, and said, ‘Don’t worry, I promise to protect you from this blue-eyed menace. Shall we go for a drink and decide what to do?’
‘Great idea. I could do with a stiff drink after all that fuss.’
They made their way briskly back along Threadneedle Street, and the cold wind bit into Cara’s skin and turned her cheeks a rosy pink.
They found an old pub near Bank tube station and sat down in a cosy corner.
‘I never realised that Bank tube station was named because of the Bank of England,’ said Cara.
‘No, I didn’t either, to be honest. It never crossed my mind. What do you want to drink?’
‘A glass of white wine would be lovely.’
