“She didn’t have a name, just baby!” he says reluctantly, thinking, well, that is certainly the end of that investigation. She will banish me from here now! I must sound uninformed.
The woman surprises him once again.
“Then she will be in here!” Carefully, she pulls out a drawer near the ground. “Many of our children had no names at all, and we gave them names.” She pulls open the file that is quite stuck together over years of moisture, dust and neglect. Garty reaches over to help her but she shooed him away. “Go away. Leave it to me.”
There are numerous files in a row. He watches as Mrs Nagg rummages through dusty brown files that crumble at her touch. She takes out a bundle as if she has won a prize. She places them on the round table.
“These all have no names at all! Your best chance!” Her job is now done as far as she is concerned.
“May I take a look at what is inside?” Garty asks.
“You most certainly can do so. I must go and water the chickens, otherwise we will have no breakfast. “I do love a boiled egg, don’t you?” She didn’t wait for his reply.
“I shall leave you here, if you don’t mind, for a time,” she suggests. Her face has brightened and her mission is clear, to help friends and he was now her friend.
“I shall take good care of them, friend. I do enjoy a boiled egg very much!” She threw back a grin as he said that. He pleased her very much it seemed.
Garty stared at the pile of dust-impregnated brown files. He despaired at the thought of trying to figure out what mattered and what did not, in the pile of files scattered on the table, but every little clue helps, he surmises, as he has learned over almost five years. He thumbs through one by one. He reads the scribbled headings: gender of child; state of child; date and time; comments. He soon finds a speedy method of working. Garty has learned how to quickly discern what is valuable information and what is not. He separates the ones with earlier or later dates, gender of males from females. That brings the pile of around 100 down to 50 or so. That is more doable, he reasons. He reads all the little comments looking for one word: SCARLET.
His finger races over the words like flint or even as fast as lightning. His eyes race with his finger, keeping up the pace, reminding him of his glorious race with Crystalina today! What a joy, he muses, smiling to himself, and at once loses track of his project. He pauses for one moment, closing his eyes and believing he was hugging her, caressing her tiny perfectly round breasts, indulging his manly senses. A bird squawks.
Opening his eyes, he scolds his soul for its departure from its business. Get on with it, man! Beginning once again, he harnesses his mind. After some time, he has checked almost thirty of the fifty files and still not seen the word he wanted or something of note.
He remembered that Crystalina said her mother, a true Gypsy, was also a liar. He did not wish to believe it as he felt that she told him the truth, and she did not ask him for money, a very honourable trait for someone from a people group with such a bad reputation in this area. As his finger moves to the last ten records, he stops thumbing. The word scarlet is written thereupon, in red ink. His eyes boggle for a moment. He has to read the whole report, which is filled with notes and markings. Could he take a page from a gypsy’s book and remove this file? He dared not wait for Mrs Nagg to turn up and give him a lecture and take the files away. He needed more time! It was getting late and he felt very hungry. He could not stay for dinner because he knew there was no dinner cooking here. Thoughts of Mrs Bouchée’s fine roasts, pies, stews, grills and baked goods arouse his hunger pains loudly.
I have to do this! He takes the folder with the notes and slips them inside his cape with its many pockets hidden from the naked eye. Just then Mrs Nagg stands in the doorway. Garty’s eyes leap in surprise. Did she see him taking the file?
“Did you find what you wanted?” she asks.
He stands up. “I may have. I just need to check a few more details,” he adds as he feels the stolen stiff paper in his side searing his conscience. “I must away for I have another engagement to attend.” He stands up and stares into her face. He must get this file out of here pronto and get his own rear end out as well.
I can bear this place no longer!
“I shall keep you informed about the king’s business. And hopefully, we shall meet again one day in Kallai Central where you were born on the first day of December? Firstly, I must put these files back into their places…”
“Do not bother yourself about that. I shall take care of these,” she says. “The chickens are watered and I found two eggs,” she says with a grin.
“How nice for you,” Garty says, returning her smile.
“I am glad I could help a friend,” she says. “Please return whenever you wish to check those details you mentioned.”
She is already picking up some of the scattered pieces of paper and shuffling them into a neat pile, like a pack of very large playing cards. Garty watches with his heart in his mouth. He can barely breathe wondering if she may miss one piece of her valuable files. But, she seems happy with his interest and smiles during the process of saying goodbye.
“I shall see thee away,” says Mrs Nagg, standing straight up and hobbling to the front door. “The latch is a trifle sticky,” she says, tugging at the brass knob. “Come back and I shall boil thee an egg.”
“Thank you kindly.” Let me out of here!
The last thing he remembers about her is the long bony hand holding the door ajar and her eye glued upon his person.
Brill had helped himself to a nice snack of wild grasses and flowers nearby, along with a clear pond that held darting goldfish. The pond is totally empty now, and Brill is happy. He hoped they are hidden behind foliage or underneath some small rocks. However, he has his doubts and feels that Brill may have had a snack of fish. Garty does not admonish Brill but pats his neck. A horse is a horse and can do as it pleases.
“Thanks for waiting for me, friend,” he says. The horse throws his head up and neighs with satisfaction.
“Okay, we are going home now,” he says, leaping on his back, settling down and with his fingers on the tip of his pistol, retrieved from beneath his saddle, kicks his knees gently into Brill’s sides, sparking a fine trot along the now darkening laneway as the sun creeps slowly behind the hills finished with its long day.
“It has been such a long day, Brill. I am famished!” I still could not stomach Mrs Nagg’s boiled egg.
Garty rode his faithful horse a little more slowly, to ensure the horse is kept in good stead. This faithful horse has endured this day just as well as me, he reckons.
Dusk has almost blanketed the streets of Scatt as Garty rides quietly into its sombre hub. A few dim street lamps are lit. Pulling on the reins, “Whoa boy,” he says, scanning the streets in the dim lighting. Lamps cast shadows over the inn’s facade and its perimeters. Garty cannot fail to notice a small sulky and three unfamiliar horses tied at The Maud Inn. Brill snorts in excitement.
Steering Brill towards a back street, Garty pulls his hat a little closer to his eyes over his forehead and holds firmly to the grip of his pistol. He senses instantly who these folk might be and his heart beats at double its usual pace. “Quietly,” he whispers to Brill, who has a knack of being able to move without a sound no matter how rocky or hard the earth below its hoofs. His steed understands his command and walks quietly, barely making a clink. Silently Garty dismounts at the back of the inn, where everything is quieter. Lamps are glowing along the passageway and a few servants can be seen darting in and out of buildings, which is their normal procedure at evening when food is required by guests or casual visitors alike.
He leads Brill into his allocated stable and almost scares the pants off young Bubba, who is raking the hay.
“Sorry Sir,” she says, pausing her work, looking into Garty’s face with an expression that appears as if she has seen a ghost!
“No, no, please do not apologise. I should be sorry for frightening you,” says Garty, speaking quietly. “Thank you for taking care of Brill for me.”
Bubba bows slightly and he notices a small hint of a smile on her face. “I see you have guests tonight?” he adds in a familiar tone.
“Yes, we do,” she says, nodding her head. “I have new friends to take care of, my favourite kind of friends,” she adds, obviously happy to enjoy animal interaction, indicating the stables alongside, where there are two more steeds enjoying a nose bag. “We don’t have any more room for the other pair, but I shall work something out,” she says with a glint in her eyes.
He loves seeing her so happy creating comfortable places for horses.
She was definitely created for this job, he muses.
“Do you have any idea where they have come from?” Garty asks, pushing his luck to find out a bit more about these guests.
She shakes her head. “All I know is that they arrived about an hour ago and they had a sweat up,” she says. “I had to cool them down with a wash and brush to help bring their temperatures and breathing level again. But it was okay then,” she says. “They are happy now!”
A figure appears from around the corner. “What are you doing here, there is work to do, you know?” said Ted, her associate and superior at times.
“Sorry Sir, I will just give Brill his nose bag,” said Bubba, obviously shaking and worried.
Ted had not seen Garty waiting in the shadows.