Chapter One: A Lost Contact

London, 8 months before the explosion.

"Good morning, Hershel," said Claire as she entered his study. The whole room looked as if a wave of papers and documents had hit it. Hershel had tried to make the place tidy, she knew that, he never stopped talking about them buying a house together and how he was already packing. The problem was that he would pack up a room, then find he needed something he had packed and before you knew it the place had been turned upside down. Whenever he tried to box it all up again he kept getting distracted, as, by the looks of it, he was now. Claire placed one of the cups of tea she was holding on the desk beside him.

"Good morning," Hershel replied, pecking her on the cheek, and "Oh! Thank you" when he spotted the tea. Claire pulled over a chair and sat next to him, drinking from her own mug.

"So," Claire examined a pile of hopelessly disorganised letters. "I can see the tidying went well." Hershel blushed.

"I am beginning to fear that an untidy room is one puzzle I shall never be able to solve," he said rather sheepishly.

Claire smiled, "You of all people should know that every puzzle has an answer," she assured him, then she saw the small notebook in his hands. "Hmm? What's that?"

"I found it while I was packing." Claire was not surprised to hear this, in fact she heard nearly every day.

"What is it?"

"It's my address book from the end of university" he replied "Most of these people I haven't heard from in years." He turned another page and a loose piece of paper fell out, landing on the floor. Claire picked it up.

"Clark T," she read aloud. "Oh, as in Clark Triton?"

"Clark?" Hershel took the page from her hand and examined it.

"It's been a very long time since I've seen him or Brenda," Claire remarked "I remember you two, always talking about becoming famous archaeologists and all the treasures you would find together." Hershel smiled to himself.

"It certainly has been a long time" he sighed.

"You two were so close, how come you don't speak any more?" she asked.

"Well, I have always felt it was mostly my fault we lost touch."

"I'm sure that's not true," Claire assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "But, what happened exactly?"

"It is a bit complicated," said Hershel, "but I shall do my best."

"A few years ago, shortly after we finished university, Clark proposed to and married Brenda."

"Yes, I remember the wedding," Claire beamed, "and you were his best man!"

"Yes, that was quite an honour. After getting married, Clark and Brenda were ready to settle down in London. But sadly, Clark's mother unexpectedly died. Clark and his mother had no other close relations left, so Clark received everything she had, including a house in… Misthallery I think it was called. Well, Clark and Brenda decided to move into this house, I tried to keep in touch for a while but I became less and less sure of how to speak to Clark after his mother's death. I wonder what has become of him?"

"You should write to him," suggested Claire, finishing her tea. "If he inherited that house I would say there's a good chance he's still there."

"Hmm, perhaps I will," said Hershel, reaching for his letter set… to find it wasn't there.

"Maybe tidy up first?" Claire giggled as Hershel blushed with embarrassment. "And try organizing where you pack everything, it's worth it I promise."

It took quite a while to think of what to write, every time Hershel tried and reread his work it just didn't seem right. After a long time he got something that would do.

Dear Clark

I found your address when going through some things and wondered how you were getting on. Life is going very well here in London, Claire and I are buying a house together soon. You remember Claire, don't you? She has a job as a lab assistant now and I am looking into teaching at a university. I trust you two are well and I hope to hear back from you soon.

Regards, Hershel Layton.