Page 86 of The Uprising
‘And you do, my darling. It will be ours again soon.’ George held onto her hand as she buzzed with excitement.
‘So, what’s next?’ he said, his eyes returning to the rusty key on the table which, all going to plan, would unlock their future.
‘We must go to the Bank of England and get the painting out of the vault.’
‘Do you think this old key will work?’ George pulled a face.
‘It hasn’t aged well, but fingers crossed, they’ll accept it. I had a message from the agent to say that the American group is moving forward with due diligence, so there’s no time to waste.’
‘We’d better get cracking then; let’s go to the bank as soon as possible.’
‘It might be a good idea to check their opening hours first, though,’ said Cara.
She searched on her phone and said, ‘Okay, so they do private audiences for vault-owners, but we need to book a time online.’
She booked the first slot available which was for the next day and they prepared to travel to London again, this time by train.
The following morning, Cara studied George surreptitiously from beneath her lashes as he handled the Porsche with smooth elegance. She marvelled how they never tired of each other. There was the occasional cross word, as any couple would expect; when one of them was in a low mood, but it passed quickly without any need to mention it again. They’d been together every day in the present-day timeline for over a year and their connection only deepened. But then, five hundred years was a long time, she mused. It made sense they wouldn’t get fed up of each other in one year when they’d been together through centuries.
‘I love you,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t love you more.’
He turned to look at her as he drove. ‘I love you, my darling.’
He gestured for her to hold his hand, and she gently rested her fingers on his hand all the way to the train station as he moved through the gears. Cara felt a wave of contentment wash over her—all of the heartache had been worth it. It was worth every second.
London - Present day
That afternoon, they made their way down Threadneedle Street towards the Bank of England.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever been here before,’ said Cara. ‘What a gorgeous building.’
‘Yes, it’s quite something isn’t it? But we had better hope we’ve been here before or the painting won’t be waiting for us in the vault.’
The huge stone pillars which lined the entrance of the bank were awash with the pale sun which cast a welcoming yellow light, as they stepped inside the building.
‘Mr and Mrs Cavendish. My name is Benjamin, and I’m so pleased to meet you. Thank you for scheduling, please come this way.’
They followed the immaculately booted-and-suited bank official who had been waiting to receive them, through a maze of corridors into a small room where he beckoned for them to have a seat. Neither of them remembered a previous visit to place the painting in the vault so it was like a first visit in every respect.
‘I took the liberty of looking up your details before you arrived, to save you time. I was astonished to find you are custodians of one of the oldest vaults in the bank. Only the royal family and a small number of other families have held a vault as long as you; right back to Queen Victoria’s reign.’
George nodded and said, ‘We can trace the family all the way back to the time of King Henry VIII, but I don’t think you had vaults then.’
‘That’s truly impressive,’ said the clerk. ‘We no longer offer vaults to new private clients, and even hundreds of years ago, it’s my understanding you could only secure one by special invitation.’
‘I see,’ said George. ‘Aren’t we the fortunate ones, then.’
‘I’ll need your code please,’ said the clerk.
George shifted from one foot to the other. ‘Code? We only have a key; and a rusty one at that,’ he replied.
The clerk coughed and scratched the side of his nose. ‘In that case, I’m afraid we may have a small problem. I’m only authorised to allow someone to access a vault if they are able to provide the code which is validated upon entry by our triple-backed security-vault-system.’
George’s eyes moved from Benjamin’s to Cara’s face. ‘Any ideas?’ he said.
Cara shook her head and also turned to look at the bank official. ‘When exactly was this new code issued?’
‘I couldn’t tell you the exact date off the top of my head, Mrs Cavendish...we’ve had the coded system in place for quite a number of years—long before my arrival at the bank. All I can tell you is that the bank’s old analogue systems were upgraded when it became obvious the keys were no longer a secure or modern way to protect the vaults, and many of them no longer worked anyway. We’re phasing out the private client vaults, you see.’
