The Other Side of the Wall Read online

  Tess imagined they were in a snow globe. One that her mother could keep on her desk, and inside it would be a horse and carriage on a cobblestoned street that was lined with gray stone mansions side-by-side. And when you turned it upside down and turned it back again, the snow would fall in tiny petals around the carriage in the glass.

  ~ CHAPTER THREE ~

  a visit to the park

  Mr. Cortland leaned his head into the window, looked at Aunt Evie and asked, “And which park did you want to be going to, M’Lady?”

  Max wanted to point out that they hadn’t told him they wanted to go to a park, at all. But before he had a chance to, Aunt Evie replied, “Why Hyde Park, naturally. I know it’s only a few blocks away, but I saw you at the curb and thought it would be fun to ride in a horse and carriage and I had no idea you were waiting for us . . .”

  Mr. Cortland smiled, sat back up, and clicked his tongue again, and Comet made a right turn as if the horse did know exactly where she was going.

  Tess was impressed how well Aunt Evie knew London. The way she’d immediately answered, “Why Hyde Park, naturally.” Tess knew Evie had lived here with Uncle John. But she was starting to realize Aunt Evie was sophisticated, worldly, self-assured, and as they’d always suspected, quite opinionated.

  As they pulled up to the park, there was already snow on the ground. Max jumped out of the carriage, as he saw some kids playing with a large slip of cardboard sliding down a hill and wanted to go join them.

  Aunt Evie and Tess followed and watched as he made a friend who let him use the cardboard and Max very happily slid down the hill. Snow was falling all around them. Max’s cheeks were rosy and a little sparkly, too. And he was smiling.

  He joined Tess and Aunt Evie. He noticed Tess was staring off in the distance. She almost thought she was imagining it.

  “You’re not imagining that,” said Max before Tess could even ask the question.

  Off in the distance was the distinct image of a Ferris wheel.

  Aunt Evie looked over, as well, and she explained. “There’s a winter carnival in Hyde Park,” Aunt Evie said. “It was on my list,” she added, “but I thought we should wait till your parents get here—it’s remarkable to go at night. There’s a festival of lights.”

  Tess and Max weren’t quite sure after the experience they had last summer at the carnival that they wanted to find out how remarkable it was.

  Tess said quickly, “There are so many things to do in London. Why don’t we see what Mom and Dad want to do and what you want, Aunt Evie? I know Max wanted to see the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. I sort of want to see that, too.”

  At the same time, Tess couldn’t help but feel drawn to the carnival even though she didn’t mean to be. She could hear the music in the distance. She wondered if there were rides besides the Ferris wheel and if there was a skating rink with professional ice-skaters dancing in a show. She wondered if there were elves and reindeer. She knew she was too old for elves and reindeer, but she still liked the idea of them. Well, maybe not too old for elves.

  “It is sort of magical, isn’t it Max, that there’s a winter carnival in Hyde Park?”

  “Not really,” said Max, “it seems logical that there would be a carnival in the park in winter right around Christmas when it snows. And, also a festival of lights is a very normal thing around Christmas. Normal,” he repeated just for emphasis.

  ~ CHAPTER FOUR ~

  afternoon tea

  The horse and carriage was still parked at the corner outside Hyde Park. Mr. Cortland jumped out the moment he saw them.

  “Did you think I wasn’t going to wait for you?” he asked.

  “Don’t know what I thought,” said Aunt Evie, “but I’m awfully glad you did.”

  They bundled cozily into the back seat.

  Aunt Evie looked at her iPhone and announced, “Maybe it’s a perfect day. I think we’ll be back for tea time.”

  Tess had to admit that so far it had almost been a perfect day.

  * * *

  • • •

  The first thing Tess saw when she walked into the dining room at the hotel was a boy, a little older than Tess, maybe fourteen, sitting at a round table covered with a white tablecloth. All the tables were set with elaborate dishes, silver forks and knives, linen napkins, individual teapots, and lovely china tea cups. The boy was having tea by himself. His plate was full and very arranged with a combination of tea sandwiches, three petits fours, and two small scones with whipped cream and raspberries ladled on top of each. And also, in front of him was a full cup of tea, the color of which seemed to indicate he’d added a touch of milk to it, the way Tess liked her tea, too—the English way. Max liked lemon—it was one of the differences between them.

  The boy seemed—Tess couldn’t quite explain it—lost in thought. Tess couldn’t tell if he’d taken even one bite of a sandwich or a nibble of a scone. He was just staring straight ahead.

  They sat down at the table just in front of him. Tess tried hard not to turn around and look at him. The waiter was on his way over to take their order. Tess had noticed the boy was elegantly dressed, with a black jacket and a white dress shirt, its cuffs visible, and what seemed to be silver cufflinks in his sleeves.

  Max was starving—he was so hungry he wasn’t even going to make fun of the tea sandwiches, no comments about cucumber and butter on peculiar triangles of bread that weren’t even toasted. He wouldn’t complain out loud about Nutella, if that was one of the choices. (Secretly, he was certain that he wasn’t the only person who didn’t like Nutella.) He would not eat Nutella even if it was the only sweet available.

  The dining room was half filled. Sitting next to them was an Indian family, two boys and their parents, speaking what Aunt Evie said was Hindi. The mother was wearing a beautiful royal blue sari with stars embroidered on the front. On the other side of their table, two women, who looked a lot like sisters, were also dressed up, wearing silk blouses and very long necklaces. One of the sisters had a large emerald pin on her collar and an even larger emerald on her middle finger. The large emerald was so deep green, it almost looked as if you could fall into it, the way a lake looks in a hidden forest, or if you looked hard enough at it, you might see an image, as if it was related to a crystal ball. Tess stopped herself from imagining that the emerald was sort of a mirror. But she did wonder if she would see anything if she looked deeply into the emerald.

  “We also have a kids’ menu,” the waiter said, starting to wheel over another cart. “‘Nutella . . .’”

  “Oh no,” Tess interrupted, so Max didn’t have to, “we aren’t really that fond of Nutella. Aunt Evie says it’s ‘an acquired taste’ and I’m afraid we haven’t acquired it yet. My brother hasn’t for sure.”

  Max was embarrassed. He felt his cheeks turning red.

  “It also features almond butter and marmalade, our version of”—the word “version” sounded very British—“peanut butter and jelly.” He gave a small laugh.

  But Aunt Evie blinked her eyes at him, a way she had of blinking her eyes when she sort of disapproved of something. “Is it on whole wheat bread?” actually making a joke but it went right over the waiter.

  “Actually, it is,” the waiter said, who smiled again and then got a tiny bit flustered.

  Tess jumped in. “We’ve been to England before,” Tess said brightly, “and we’re fine with the grown-up version. Are there petits fours and scones and Devonshire cream?”

  “Yes, of course,” he said.

  “And little egg salad sandwiches?” she asked.

  Aunt Evie said, “Lovely.”

  “And I’ll even eat cucumber with butter,” said Max. “I’m awfully hungry from the park!”

  “Grown up it is. We also have a selection of éclairs and chocolates.”

  “Really?” said Max. “That’s very exciting, isn�
�t it Tess?”

  But Tess wasn’t paying any attention to him. She had turned her head and was distracted by the boy at the table behind them. The boy smiled at her which made her feel a little shy, but she smiled back. And then he proceeded to—almost as if he was an artist on view, not quite performance art but definitely creative—with a magician’s precise sleight of hand, and an interesting architectural eye, he started to pile petits fours onto petits fours, using éclairs as walls, tea biscuits as windows, and tea sandwiches as tiles for a roof, and constructed a very interesting rendition of a house with a blueberry for a doorknob and a sprinkling of Devonshire cream on the rooftop as if it had just recently snowed. It was quite a remarkable creation. And it seemed to Tess to be a show for her. Tess smiled and quietly laughed and turned away so as not to draw attention to him. She didn’t point it out to Aunt Evie or Max. It was kind of like it was their secret, hers and the boy who was sitting at the other table.

  “The curried turkey is delicious,” said Aunt Evie. “Really, you should both try it.”

  Tess took a bite just to appease Aunt Evie, quite certain she wasn’t going to like it, but she was surprised—it had raisins in it and walnuts and chutney.

  Tess turned back for a second to the boy sitting alone at the table. It was almost as if she’d imagined the house which was made of confections and tea sandwiches and had white drizzled snow made out of Devonshire cream. The entire concoction had disappeared and everything was back in its place, the sandwiches laid out on the silver platter and set out on his plate as they had been at first.

  The waiter arrived again, causing Tess to turn back to their table, as he wanted to know if everything was to their satisfaction and they didn’t want to order anything else.

  “No, it’s lovely,” said Aunt Evie, “absolutely perfect.” Tess obediently took a bite of an egg salad sandwich this time and declared it, “Delicious.” And Max just nodded as he had a mouth full of éclair.

  After the waiter left, Tess couldn’t help it, she turned back around to catch a peek at the boy at the other table, who she was starting to think was quite mysterious and funny.

  Now, he seemed to be staring at her, except he wasn’t really. His eyes were looking in her direction and she was looking at him, but it didn’t seem like they were making eye contact. Maybe he was just spaced out. Max got that way sometimes when he was tired. She’d felt that way right after they’d unpacked. She recognized the mood. The silver three-layered tray was still on the table with more sandwiches piled high and petits fours, scones, jam, and cream, in addition to the amazing assortment already laid out on his plate, not constructed just laid out for eating. But he really didn’t seem to have eaten any of them. Not a bite. Maybe he was waiting for his parents. That must be it. He was waiting for his parents and he’d been taught to be polite. There was something so strange about the way he stared.

  “Do you see that boy, Max?” Tess asked, staring in the boy’s direction.

  “It’s not nice to stare, Tess,” said Aunt Evie.

  “I know, Aunt Evie. I’m sorry.”

  “What boy?” said Max.

  “That boy sitting over there.” Tess nodded her head back in the direction without looking, as Aunt Evie had admonished her for staring.

  “What boy?” said Max again.

  “That one,” said Tess and turned around to look at him, but there wasn’t anyone there.

  No one, at all. Just a white tablecloth and four settings, as if no one had been there at all.

  The waiter was hovering again, wanting to know if they needed more hot water for their tea. The waiters were very attentive at the hotel. Maybe they’d cleared the table in a snap. Maybe.

  Tess turned back to look at the table again where the boy had been. Spotless, not even a hint of a chocolate or a tea stain. Perhaps they’d changed the tablecloth in an instant, too.

  “No, thank you,” said Aunt Evie to the waiter who was standing at attention. “Everything was perfect. Tess?”

  “Absolutely perfect,” said Tess without missing a beat.

  The waiter started to clear their plates. Tess heard something rustling behind her.

  She turned and saw at the now empty table something that seemed to be tapping at the long white tablecloth which practically touched the ground. Tapping might not have been the right word. Tess was sure she saw something darting around under the tablecloth. And then a paw appeared for a moment and disappeared. And then a baby calico cat appeared. It had stripes of orange even down its tail. It was playing with something intently, batting something back and forth, as if it was playing a game.

  Tess nodded to Max who was paying enough attention to her, now, to look back at the table. Max smiled.

  It was definitely a kitten. It was having an excellent time pushing whatever it was on the ground and jumping a bit to catch up, as the object rolled every time the cat tapped it with its paw.

  The cat was definitely visible in the dining room, now, if anyone did look down. And Tess was afraid that in London, cats might not be supposed to be in a dining room, not a public one anyway, and was going to get into trouble any minute—especially if that overly attentive waiter looked down when he came back to clear their tea cups.

  Tess reached down to try to pick the kitten up—and the cat thought that was a game, too, and batted the round object directly to Tess. It hit the side of Tess’s foot and rolled to a stop. The baby cat ducked back under the tablecloth leaving what looked like a marble on the floor next to Tess’s foot.

  Tess leaned down and picked it up. She held it up to the light. It was clear glass and had a red swirl in it, along with a tiny patch of black mixed into the swirl.

  Tess held the marble up to the light, in order to see it better, and the spiral inside started to spin, as if Tess was spinning the marble, except she wasn’t. It was just the inside of it that was twirling, all by itself, strangely, almost the way a screw spins, so the spinning is almost on a diagonal the faster it goes. And it was starting to spin really fast.

  She was probably imagining it. She was tired and, she reasoned, her eyes were probably tired, too. No wonder the marble looked like it was spinning—or rather the inside of the marble looked like it was spinning. Tess set the marble down on the tablecloth and it stopped spinning immediately as if it hadn’t been doing anything, at all.

  Aunt Evie picked it up and examined it. “It’s very old,” she said and then she laughed. “Hmm,” after examining it longer, “it’s a cat’s eye marble and it was being played with by a cat.”

  But Tess didn’t laugh. She was very relieved the marble wasn’t spinning when Aunt Evie picked it up . . .

  “It looks as if it’s blown glass,” Aunt Evie said. “Hand-made. I wonder how old it is.” Aunt Evie set the marble back down on the tablecloth and it sat there very still, clear and still.

  Tess wondered if the marble belonged to the boy she’d seen sitting at the table. And she couldn’t help it, she also wondered if the marble could do anything else besides spin. . . .

  “I see you met Ginger,” a voice behind them said.

  Tess looked up and saw the waiter. “Our hotel cat. She’s usually in the library. Shh,” said the waiter, “she’s not really supposed to be in here. We found her when she was a tiny kitten, tucked away in a laundry basket with no other kittens or cats around. Fed her myself from a bottle at first,” he said very proudly. “She’s only twelve weeks old and she is a little bit mischievous.” He said this word as if it had four syllables in it: mis-chi-ev-ous.

  He leaned down gently, deftly put his hand under the tablecloth, and with true skill and confidence, came out with the young kitten resting on his palm. He barely hid the kitten under the lapel of his vest, one leg sticking out and a bit of a whisker and an ear. “Shh,” he said again. “I’ll be right back,” he said to Tess and Max and Aunt Evie. And then speaking to Ginger he said,
“It’s off to the library with you. And if you’re good,” he whispered to the cat but loud enough so Tess and Max could hear him, “and you promise not to tell, I’ll bring you a bit of chicken and a bowl of Devonshire cream later.”

  He stood listening. “What? No, of course not,” the waiter said, “not curried. Just plain chicken for you. There. Now, say goodbye.”

  And the waiter scurried off leaving Tess to wonder if he really thought he was having a conversation with the cat or was just doing that for show. Tess and Max couldn’t help it. They both started laughing.

  Tess looked at the cat’s eye marble sitting on the table. It wasn’t spinning, now, and she didn’t know whether it had been her or the marble, but she was certain it required further examination or at least should be given an opportunity to be reunited with its owner, if she ever did see the boy again. She sort of hoped she might. She very quietly reached her hand out, folded it quickly around the cat’s eye marble and deposited it safely in the right front pocket of her jeans.

  ~ CHAPTER FIVE ~

  hiding away

  Evie had wanted both Tess and Max to come down to the restaurant for a proper dinner, but Tess begged off, saying she was tired, worried she might be getting a cold. Max had dutifully chimed in, “I’ll meet you Aunt Evie. I’ve been looking forward to Shepherd’s Pie for weeks.” Shepherd’s Pie was a particular English dish, a pie filled with ground meat layered on the bottom with mashed potatoes and sometimes peas. It was very comforting. Max was still hungry, even after the enormous amounts of tea sandwiches, scones, and petits fours he’d consumed at tea. And, he didn’t want Aunt Evie to eat alone. Their mother said part of Evie’s problem was that Aunt Evie spent so much time alone that she was getting good at it, and their mom didn’t think that was necessarily a good thing.