WFOL 2016
BBTV Round Robin
Chapter 3
By CB
“When did Hannah come to you?” Catherine asked.
“Less than a month ago.”
“Where did she come from?”
To her surprise, Vincent looked a little abashed. “That’s just it. It seems none of us knows. Somehow, she appeared, and Father assumed Mary knew about her, and Olivia assumed the same…” he shrugged, “and so forth.”
“How often does that happen?”
“It’s never happened! At least, not with children. There was once a rumor that no one knew how a man name Quincy came into our circle, but that was just among the children. Well, among us when we were children. The adults knew, and that was one of the lessons that taught us about respecting peoples’ privacy.”
Catherine sighed and looked at the photograph again. “Maybe I should go up and talk to her. And Mary.”
Vincent seemed to lean into her a little. “Everyone’s meeting in Father’s Chamber in a few minutes. Maybe you should be there for that.”
More than loathe to leave him so soon, Catherine nodded and followed him to the main passage.
“Catherine and Vincent passing Checkpoint 8,” Catherine heard on the pipes.
“That’s new,” she said.
He nodded. “It adds to the pipe traffic, but not as much as you’d think.”
“And if it’s not someone they recognize?”
“Carmen and Edward.”
“Has anyone spotted either one of them?”
“No.” He stood aside to let her precede him into Father’s office. The room was full, and they wound up sitting on the stairs. To her delight, Catherine found herself on a lower step with Vincent behind her. He pulled her between his knees to lean on his chest, and she nearly got lightheaded. He rested his arms on his knees so that she was surrounded, a de facto embrace, something he’d never actually done in front of anybody, and now they were in a room full of people.
Isaac looked over at them and grinned, that smile a friend has when they catch you canoodling with a beau they approve of. Catherine’s lawyer mode kicked in and she realized she’d just narrowed her eyes at Isaac when he chuckled quietly. First last night’s story session inside her apartment, now this. Something was going on here. What? And was it a bad enough thing that she needed to figure it out?
Oh, this was definitely not bad. This needed encouraging, subtly and steadfastly. She let Vincent feel her sigh as she relaxed against his chest and focused on the speaker in the room.
Sarah, the Tunnels’ blanchisseuse, was Above with the children, but Brooke had been charged with the morning’s laundry poll about missing clothing. Besides Jamie, three young women had reported missing items, mostly jackets or sweaters, and one long-sleeved dress. Mouse had surprised his intruder before anything was taken, but Stephen had lost a jacket. Interesting mix. Four female, one male, all young and relatively slim. Did five thefts mean five intruders? Except for the dress, all outer clothing was memorable as belonging to those people, as Catherine had thought she’d seen Jamie because she recognized the frumpy sweater. If this wasn’t coincidence, these people could be thought to have been watching the Tunnelers enough to know which articles of clothing to steal. Creepy thought.
Catherine was roused from this reverie by Pascal saying, “I’ve told everyone who’s missing something to identify themselves to each sentry as they pass. Otherwise, every time the sentries see someone go by they think is, um, them, they will send out an intruder code.”
“One thing worries me about that,” Catherine piped up, and the room turned. A few eyebrows raised when people saw how she and Vincent were sitting, but Catherine forged on. “If you speak up every time you pass a sentry point, aren’t you identifying a sentry to an observer? Those posts are supposed to be hidden.”
Father and Pascal, among others, frowned a little. “True,” muttered Pascal.
“Sing,” said Isaac. “Or whistle.”
“I can’t carry a tune in a bucket,” grumbled Jamie, and Mouse chuckled. She glared at him. “Neither can you.”
William shrugged. “Rub your nose.”
“Pull an ear,” said Olivia.
Father waved a hand in the air. “You five work something out with Pascal.”
After that, while William reported in detail his current inventory, Catherine found that she’d drifted away a moment, musing about how hard it would be for her to figure out if a single article of clothing was gone from her closet. It might be easier if someone removed something she wore often, something that could be considered “signature”, but otherwise, it was rather embarrassing. She couldn’t decide whether she saw herself as unobservant, forgetful, or self-indulgent.
Vincent nudged her as he leaned to murmur in her ear. “Something wrong?”
She shrugged. “No, just working on tearing down my self-esteem.” She turned to quirk a grin at him when she caught his confused look.
Above, Mary stood on Catherine’s balcony, marveling at the sunlight and the cold. She always told herself that she didn’t miss the sun, and she certainly didn’t miss the cold. But did that mean she couldn’t enjoy them now? Tiny traffic noises drifted up from the street, and above her head she could hear pigeons cooing. She hadn’t given it a thought when they were hurrying to gather up the children. She was going Above, just like that. Something she hadn’t done in so very long. Many years ago, she would accompany children up to the park, but that was when Devin was in that pack of children, and she’d had to leave little Vincent behind. Such a long time ago. But somehow, Catherine’s apartment didn’t register as being “Above” last night.
“Oh, it’s Above, all right,” she thought.
Jacob stayed resolutely Below, and as time went on, she’d stayed with him more and more, a show of solidarity that he couldn’t recognize. Come to think of it, why would he? Then he went Above and he brought back Margaret. Veering away from that painful thought, she wondered what he’d think of this view. A breeze kicked up, enough to remind her that there was a limit to enjoying this much cold.
She entered the apartment thinking about a hot cup of tea. Sarah was combing little girls’ hair. She stopped Mary as she walked by, holding out a brush. “Here,” she said cheerfully. “You do that one.” She nodded towards little Hannah.
Mentally bidding tea good-bye, Mary sat and held her hand out to Hannah. “Come here, sweetie. Let me do your hair.” When she’d first arrived, combing Hannah’s hair had involved some difficulty, and the little girl hesitated this time, too, but when Mary smiled and beckoned, she decided to approach her. Mary took her hand and drew her close enough to kiss her forehead. “OK,” she said. “You stand right here.” She pirouetted the girl to face away from her and started to brush the fine dark hair. “Pretty and shiny,” she crooned. “And as straight … oops, knot, here comes a tug ... as you could ever want it.” She worked to loosen a knot with her fingers and started to brush again. “Does your Mommy like to brush your hair?”
“I don’t have a Mommy.”
Mary mentally kicked herself. How was it she didn’t know that? “Well,” she said, “I like to brush your pretty hair. Who usually helps with your hair?”
“Tessie.”
“Who’s Tessie?”
But the little girl didn’t answer. She hugged her dolly tight and started to chew on her hair.
“Don’t chew your dolly’s hair, dear,” said Sarah from across the room. “You don’t want to make her bald.” Hannah only stared at her in fascination. Mary gently reached around and pulled the yarn from her mouth.
Finally in the kitchen, watching the mug in the microwave rotate, Mary was joined by Sarah. “Who’s Tessie, I wonder,” Sarah mused.
“I was just wondering who Hannah is,” said Mary slowly. “I don’t know who brought her in. Do you?”
Sarah shrugged. “No. But then I don’t suppose I would. When did she come?”
“About four weeks ago. I’m trying to remember who brought her to me but, you know, all I can remember is Brooke leading her into the nursery, saying, “I found Hannah in the passage and brought her back.”
Sarah frowned at Mary. “She has no family?”
“Apparently, she doesn’t have a Mommy.”
“Who approved her coming Down?”
Taking in an orphan child was a long and careful process. They would foster the child with a Helper until they could explore that the child wasn’t being looked for, or a runaway from a city home. They had Helpers who could discreetly research a child’s records, if those were available. It wasn’t just a matter of snatching a child from the street and integrating her into the group. How was it she knew no facts about this little one? How was it she didn’t think about this until now? “I suppose I’m going to ask some questions when we get back.” She retrieved the mug from the microwave and put another in for Sarah.
Sarah leaned against the counter and cast an appraising look around the little apartment. “So. This is how the other half lives,” she said. “Somehow, I expected … more.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A gilded staircase, maybe.”
Mary chuckled. “Wherever would you put that?”
“That’s just it. It’s just two rooms. Nice rooms, mind you, and a beautiful view. Fancy building. A doorman, I suppose. And she has lovely things. Have you seen the collection of perfume bottles on her vanity? Do you know how much those cost?”
“You’ve snooped around her vanity?”
“Don’t make it sound so bad. It’s all right there in plain sight. Why wouldn’t they be? She lives here.” She munched a cookie and peeked out at the kids who were piled on the carpet, transfixed by cartoons. “She just doesn’t live as sumptuously as I thought she would. Although, it is all very feminine. Imagine Vincent trying to sit on those little wee couches.”
Mary suppressed a grin as she recalled Vincent dominating one of those couches last night. “I don’t have to imagine. He was here last night.”
“Was he?”
“Yes. Read a story to the children and helped get them finally to bed.”
“Sitting on the little wee couch?” said Sarah with an impish grin.
“Indeed.”
“I think that if she wants to keep him coming around, she should probably do a little redecorating. Get some furniture that he’d want to sit on.”
“I don’t think she has to worry about his coming around.”
“How does he get here after all? He certainly doesn’t come past the doorman.”
“No. He comes to the balcony.”
Sarah raised her eyebrows at that. “Is that safe?”
“I decided not to think about it.”
A commercial came on and there was a ruckus as two of the boys started to tussle, bumping into the china cabinet full of delicate crystal things. “Boys!” Mary called, and two of the girls started to pull the boys apart.
“I’ve always wondered what it is in boys that makes them have to do that,” mused Sarah. “There’s only so much rough-housing they can do here before they break something. The things in that cabinet don’t look exactly like you can fix them with glue.”
“We’ll just have to keep them calm as long as they’re here,” said Mary. She didn’t sound very optimistic.
“Wonder how long this will last, anyway?” said Sarah.
“I wonder of this is linked to the Mystery of Hannah.”
“How, do you suppose?”
“I can’t imagine, but I’ve learned that too many coincidences are, well, not coincidental.”
“I’m going to be selfish and spend an hour with you before I go up and help with the kids,” Catherine said as they entered Vincent’s chamber.
“I was going to propose a picnic at the Falls today, but I don’t think we should be that far away now.”
She suppressed a twinge of disappointed annoyance. “Well, we have that travelogue about Angel Falls instead.”
“Indeed, we do.” He pulled the book from the shelf and stared at the image on the cover. “Tallest falls in the world, aren’t they?”
She nodded. “How tall are our falls, after all?”
He seemed to smile at her use of “our.” “Not that high, I suppose. More like Niagara, perhaps.”
She squinted in thought. “Niagara is like less than 200 feet. Angel Falls about 3000.”
“Niagara is 167 feet.”
“Show-off.”
He gave that low chuckle that always did funny things to her insides. She had sat on the bed, propped cozily up by the pillows with her back to the window. She watched him walk to his big chair and then hesitate, turning to look almost speculatively at the bed. She held her breath, folding her hands in her lap to keep herself from patting the bed beside her.
“Carmen is making a sandwich,” declared the pipes, and as Vincent whirled towards the door, Catherine nearly swore.