Summer 2012
He entered the room, not that you could call it a room, it was more a like a dungeon, but on the outside, a utility cellar, a gardener's maintenance shed. A cold air brushed his cheek, like a feather or was it the touch of a woman. He looked about in the torch light, and saw nothing. The stale air escaped into the atmosphere. As his eyes became accustomed to the dark he made out the gardening equipment, as well as spades shovels, a rusting lawn mower stood upright in the corner. But smell now lingering was more a scent, a perfume a light fragrance of new mown grass, gardenias, lily of the valley…..a smell that could only be described as an English country garden.
-oOo-
The girl stood in the garden, the smell of cut grass, the flowers swaying gently in the summer breeze. The freesias', the honeysuckle draped over the trellises attracting the bees. A grasshopper chirped from the bushes. She stopped twirling the parasol as she saw the man approach. How strange he looked, in the black jacket, and the hat. It was like a cap, a flat cap of the working classes but the peak longer, but what she wondered was this labourer doing in the private garden.
"Sir?" she questioned, "Who are you and what is your business?" as Gibbs passed her and headed for DiNozzo.
"Teresa" a man shouted, "Time for church."
"Coming father."
"Found a second body Boss, behind the wall. Duks say dead about 6 hours so same as 1st one. No name but….." Tony shouted as Gibbs approached the scene.
"Teri Bart," Gibbs whispered as he looked at the corpse.
"You know her Gibbs?" Ziva asked.
"Nope, name just came to me," Gibbs replied as he smelt the perfume, her scent waft through the air, and Teresa glide past.
"Boss, are you OK?" Tim asked as Gibbs' face lost colour, "You look like you have seen a ghost."
Gibbs turned his eyes following the girl, only to seen the distance what he thought was a man in a dirty white shirt holding a spade and what looked like a body wrapped in a sheet, on the ground at his feet.
-oOo-
April 1912 Cobh Ireland
The young Irish navvy, by the name of Thomas Gibson climbed the gangplank of the world's largest and greatest liner, RMS Titanic. He had saved well, the cost of the passage a small fortune to this 22yr old. This was however going to be an adventure a new start a new life. He had no-one in Ireland, the famines and the poverty had seen to that. He was a craftsman a joiner and he was off farming stock, he cultivated, he was a gardener.
Steerage would be rough, but it would be worth it for the new start. He would have no trouble getting a job. Shown to his cabin, the men in the bow, in up to six berth cabins, you shared with strangers unless you were a large group. It wasn't all bad; all of the third class berths had springs in the mattresses and feather pillows. Food was provided and the large communal meeting room where people sang, danced and generally ceilidhed the evenings away.
"Hey," he heard a voice shout from the doorframe, that's mine, you got the one over there in the corner."
"Sorry I'm Tom," Gibson replied.
"And I'm Fred Walters, pleased to meet ya. You running from something?" the stranger now added handing Tom his hand, "And this is going to be some journey."
"What is your line of work?" Tom enquired.
"Me? I'm a general labourer, hear the railways are looking for men. You what's your trade?" now looking at Tom.
"I'm a gardener, a handyman, but I do carpentry so could always get a job as a joiner."
"Sounds good," as Fred now, lay back on his bunk, pulling his cap, over his face.
"And no I'm not running," Tom said "Just trying to start a new life."
-oOo-
The night or should that be the morning of the 16th of April, found the two young men in a life boat and then helped aboard the Carpathia which would eventually arrive in New York., they had lost everything, not that they had had much in the first place, now cold they had to seek out work. They moved inland, Tom the ever hard worker, managed to acquire work, Fred the hanger-on tagged along picking up odd jobs. It was the autumn of 1912 they reached Virginia. Blairhurst Manor, Tom got the job as the gardener/handyman, and Fred, he bluffed his way into a cosy number, chauffer to the owner Charles Bartholomew. It suited his style, his ego, only thing he hated was the uniform, but the perks made up for it. Tom watched from the side-lines, he loved nature and of course could indulge in his hobby carpentry.
-oOo-
Blairhurst ManorBlairhurst Manor, an eccentrically designed and built mansion on the style of an English estate house. It had been built in the early 1900's by Charles Bartholomew entrepreneur, in the early Electric and Telegraph Company, the family, of 3 daughters, Teresa, Maria and Alexandra, and a son Blair. The house was named after Mr Bartholomew's father in law whom had invested heavily in the company.
The house had a small chapel, many only for the use of the family or staff or if the neighbours so to speak wished to worship then it was fine.
The Manor had fallen into decay and disrepair, during the two wars and the Great Depression had not helped the family.
The 1980's saw the house being bought by a large global conglomerate, and after a total refurbishment costing hundreds of thousands of dollars, it had been turned into Blairhurst Manor and Country Club. Specialising in weddings, as it had its own church, and of course a 9 hole golf course had been added, as well as the Spa and Sauna facilities.
But the Manor held a dark secret, Teresa the eldest daughter had disappeared. It had been 1913 and Teresa had disappeared one night, as had the chauffeur, one Fred Walters. Not only had some family silver gone but monies from the safe. Suspicion had fallen on Tom as well for the theft, but Tom had been helping the Minister with some carpentry work for the chapel. Although Tom had been exonerated, things were not the same, "Sorry son, I got to let you go, I'll give a good reference." Tom nodded and had left with 6 months wages and a good letter of reference.
Tom decided to join the Marines. He heard there was a war down Mexico way, and he knew how war could split countries thinking of his own homeland, Ireland and Britain, so in the autumn of 1913 Tom joined the 2nd Marine Regiment and was soon on his way to the Mexican Border Wars.