Chapter 22
Keeping Vigil
1900 – London, UK
Debbie stared at the detail of her manicured nails, flexing her fingers this way and that. Her daughter's voice from across the room startled her out of her idle musing.
"Mummy. Do we know anything about daddy yet?"
Debbie turned to see Laura standing in the doorway. The stricken look on the child's face struck her like a deeply landed punch.
"No sweetheart. Nothing yet."
Reginald bristled at the forlorn tone of his wife's response as he sipped his neatly poured scotch.
"Well Laura," he said with a sniff. "Your father does live a life of intrigue."
The child regarded him from a distance. "What do you mean?" she said.
"I mean," he said, lifting one finger from around the glass to point randomly around the room. "One moment he's here, the next he's there, then he's gone."
"Reginald," Debbie scolded softly.
"You don't know anything about my daddy." Laura said toying with a slender object in her hand.
"Does anyone really?"
"You shut up!" Laura said squinting her eyes, nostrils boldly flaring.
Reginald sat up straight, almost spilling his drink, a finger now pointed directly at Laura. "Child, mark my words, you had better be the one shutting their mouth! Debra, are you hearing this?!"
"You're antagonizing her," Debbie said striding angrily across the room.
"Debra!"
She ignored him, moving instead to her daughter and crouched down to meet Laura's gaze.
"They said everyone was gotten off of the train honey. We just need to wait. I am certain daddy will contact us."
Laura felt her mother's gentle hands on her shoulders, but also the icy glare from the man on the plush cushioned sofa. Her brown eyes tracked to his location, and she squeezed the object in her hand even tighter. Debbie noticed.
"What are you holding?"
"Nothing."
"Surely you have something in your hand. What is it honey?" Debbie sat on the floor next to Laura hoping she would reveal what she was obviously clinging to.
Slowly the child's fingers opened from around a pocketknife. The wooden handle was worn, but the metal casing was impeccably clean. Debbie's breath caught. "Where did you get that?" she asked, reaching to take it.
Laura pulled away. "It belongs to daddy."
"What?" Debbie was taken aback. She had never seen Laura with any sort of weapon before.
"He gave it to me in case I needed it." Laura clutched the knife in a fist and drew it close to her chest.
"What is it? A grenade?" Reginald said with a snide laugh.
Debbie rolled her eyes at her husband and said, "When did he give it to you?"
"When he had to go with Uncle Spanner today. He knew I could protect myself because he taught me what to do. I didn't need it, by maybe he does."
Debbie's mouth opened and closed. She could not find the words. She looked from Laura to the knife and back again. Her mind swimming with the recognition of her daughter's concerns. Reginald gulped down the remainder of the scotch and shot to his feet.
"Would one of you please tell me what the great mystery gadget is?"
"You don't care!" Laura blurted out.
"That's right!" Reginald said saluting the air with his empty glass. I do not. But I do care about the stir your father always seems to create."
"My daddy went after bad men." Laura said scalding him with her eyes.
"Did he now? Why would he do that and leave you with strangers?"
Debbie stood. "That is enough Reginald!"
"No. Harte should have seen his daughter home, as planned. I am not playing into this drama of his."
"He's not playing. I saw those men." Laura said waving the closed pocketknife at Reginald.
"Honey. Stop that. Give me the knife," Debbie said.
Laura backed away from both adults. "No."
"Ha, a knife is it? He is totally mad. Give your mother the knife. Now!" Reginald ordered.
"You're not my daddy!" Laura said backing further away.
"Laura. It's OK. Just give me the knife honey." Debbie's steps were hesitant, her voice patient.
"No! You don't understand! Daddy may need it. I'm going to find him!" Laura whirled around and sped to the front door.
"You will do no such thing!" Reginald said stomping towards her.
"Watch me!"
"Laura please!" Debbie pleaded.
The front door slammed shut.
"Laura!"
Debbie's voice echoed hauntingly in the cold, marbled entryway.