The Atomic Weight of Secrets or The Arrival of the Mysterious Men in Black (5 page)

That night, they made a rather big puddle on the floor of their cabin. The puddle was water that splashed from the wash basin. First, Jasper spilled as he poured the nearly cold water into the basin. Pouring water on a train is not a simple task. Next, Lucy splashed her face and most of the cabin in her attempts to wash up. Needless to say, after they washed, the children had to change into a second pair of nightclothes.

No one had come to help them. Lucy and Jasper could hear their parents’ voices through the wall, but they could not hear what was being said. When Lucy pulled open the door to ask if Mummy or Daddy could tuck her in, she could see that someone else was in the compartment with them—someone with a voice that Lucy had never heard before, because, surely, if she had heard it, she would have remembered.

It was a man wearing what looked like a fluffy black wooly
jumper and a floppy black hat he wore pulled down to his nose. He had on a pair of dark shaded glasses so Lucy couldn’t see his eyes.

Lucy’s father stood and walked to the door. Lucy opened her mouth to say something, but Tobias Modest closed the door without a word, flipped the lock, and nearly pinched the tip of Lucy’s nose. He hadn’t even said “goodnight.”

Climbing into her bunk, her charm bracelet between her teeth, Lucy stifled the tears that threatened to fall. Jasper climbed down and tucked his sister in, kissing her on the nose and on the forehead. This is what their mother did when she was not away from home and not busy with something else, and when she remembered to come and tuck in her children at night. Then, Jasper climbed back into his bunk.

They could still hear the voices next door, but they were much more muffled. Lucy got out of her bunk and climbed up into her brother’s. Neither Modest child fell asleep easily that night, even though the train trundled along like a great cradle, rocking from side to side.

Later that night, it was Lucy, in the upper bunk with Jasper, who noticed the crack of light coming through the top of the doorway. Jasper had begun to doze in earnest when someone turned the lock. Pressing close to her brother, Lucy shut her eyes quickly so whoever was coming through the door would think she was asleep, too.

Lucy felt soft lips upon her forehead and realized it was her mother. “Bonne nuit, ma chére petite fille,” Isabelle Modest crooned softly. Lucy didn’t notice as her mother unhooked the clasp on the bracelet that the little girl had worn as far back as
she could remember—and that was very far back—but she did notice when Isabelle Modest slid the bracelet off her wrist. Then, she did the same with Jasper’s. “Je les en ai besoin, mes chers,” she said softly, explaining that she needed to take them, speaking to what she believed to be her two sleeping children. “Mais... j’espére... je souhaite...” Isabelle Modest began, but what she hoped and wished was not expressed aloud.

Tobias Modest stepped into the cabin and walked over to the bunks, placing his hand on his wife’s shoulder. The two walked out, the crack of light bending, then disappearing, as they closed the door behind them.

Lucy turned over and clung to Jasper. Her wrist went instinctively to her mouth, but there was nothing to chew. It was then and there, for the first time, that Lucy brought a finger to her lips, and she began to nibble at her nail. She buried her face into her brother’s back, and slowly fell into a fitful sleep.

In the morning, Jasper and Lucy lay together in Jasper’s upper bunk, looking at the rolling countryside from the window. They both waited to be fetched for breakfast, but no one came. They knocked on the adjoining door, but no one answered. The door was still locked. They could hear no voices from the other side.

Jasper and Lucy thought that their parents might still be asleep. The children dressed and left the cabin, thinking to try the hallway door. They knocked and the door fell open. The room was tidy, as if no one had been there. Neither their parents nor their parents’ belongings were anywhere to be found.

“There’s nothing under the table, then?” Jasper asked, helping his sister out of the tight space.

“Not even a crumb,” said Lucy.

“Not even a crumb?” asked Jasper, amazed. “On a train?”

They searched the room thoroughly, including behind the closet door, and in the water closet. They even checked under the bunks. Nothing—not even a speck of dust or dirt. The beds looked as if no one had ever slept in them. The carpet looked as if it had never been trodden upon.

The children walked down the hallway in hopes of finding their parents or someone who knew where to find them. They even hoped to find that odd man Lucy had seen, or the others who had come to their house that fateful evening. They went up to the observatory, back to the caboose, and all the way to the engine. Along the way, they peeked into the dining car, which smelled of breakfast and coffee, and the lounge car, where well-fed travelers reclined in well-stuffed chairs, well-stuffed themselves with breakfast. To the great displeasure and dismay of several inhabitants, the two Modest children peeked into private compartments that were unlocked or ajar. Unable to find either their mother or their father, Jasper and Lucy shuffled toward the smell of sausages, eggs, and coffee.

They sat themselves down at a dining car table for four in hopes their parents would arrive with an explanation. After waiting a half an hour, they ate breakfast on their own. They had ordered eggs, but when the man in the black apron brought the food, Lucy found she couldn’t eat them, because they jiggled too much as the train bumped along. She nibbled on the corner of a piece of toast, tearing bits from around the edges. If nothing
else, this kept her from crying. Jasper, on the other hand, ate four eggs, sausage, bacon, tomatoes, and three scones smothered in strawberry jam and clotted cream. For later use, he placed two more scones in his pocket, not knowing what might happen next. He and Lucy thanked the steward, who looked at them sadly. He hadn’t seen either of their parents on this journey, he had said when they had asked him. Jasper and Lucy walked back from the dining car to their cabin.

The two leather cases that held all their personal things were now packed and sitting at the door of their compartment, which was otherwise completely empty. Like their parents’ cabin, theirs had been scrubbed top to bottom, as if no one had ever been in it. Even the big wet spot on the carpet where Jasper had spilled from the pitcher was gone. The two Modest children sat in silence, gazing out the window, wondering where this train was taking them and what was happening to their lives. They sat and watched the countryside change as the sun moved across the sky.

“My bracelet!” Jasper said suddenly. He startled Lucy, who was deeply involved with a hangnail on her third finger. “Lucy, where are our bracelets?” It was not until this moment that he realized the bracelets were gone.

“Mummy took them,” Lucy said, her face sad and her voice resigned.

“When?”

“When we were asleep. Well, you were asleep. I was almost asleep, but you were totally asleep. I was more like pretending.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jasper tried not to shout, but suddenly, for the first time, it truly, deeply, painfully felt like his entire world was crashing down around him, and he was
helplessly watching.

“We were so busy, investigating.” Lucy’s eyes were frightened. “I didn’t think it would help find them. I’m sorry.”

Jasper opened his mouth to scold, but stopped. What difference did it make now? Lucy was right.

“Why,” he said, swallowing, “why did Mummy take them, Lucy?”

“She said she would need them.”

This, to Jasper, seemed utterly absurd. “Need them? For what? Grandmother gave them to us when we were small—so small we don’t even remember. They were ours, we always had them, they... they were ours.” Jasper found himself crying. Lucy was crying too now, right into his shirt. “She didn’t say anything?” Jasper said, wishing he hadn’t gotten so upset in front of Lucy.

“Just that she wished...”

“Wished what?” asked Jasper.

Lucy sat up a bit and cocked her head to one side. Then she shook it. “She didn’t say. Just that she would need them both, but not for any particular thing.”

“What could she need a charm bracelet for? Two children’s charm bracelets? It’s not like they’re made of gold, or belong to King Edward or something. They don’t do anything. They’re ours.” He noticed Lucy chewing on her torn fingernails. “Stop that!” Jasper said grumpily.

How could his parents leave him to take care of Lucy, let alone himself, on a train, in a foreign country, without his charm bracelet? This was not right. He put his arm protectively around Lucy’s shoulder.

Well, he would take care of her. Clearly, no one else was
going to do it.

The train ended its journey in Dayton, Ohio in the early afternoon. No one came to fetch them from the cabin. No one let them know where to go. Jasper and Lucy took their bags and walked to the exit at the back of their train car. They looked out at the sea of people, waiting to greet their long-awaited arrivals. Among the coaches and horses and carts, Jasper and Lucy saw the one they knew had to be theirs—a big black carriage, like the ones that had taken them from their home to the ship, and then from the ship to the train. Gingerly, the two children stepped down from the train.

As soon as they descended, a man grabbed for their bags. Jasper cried out and struggled to keep a hold of them with both hands. With a flick of the wrist, the man yanked the bags from Jasper’s grasp and, with one hand, held them well above Jasper’s reach. With the other hand, the man hustled the two children along the platform. Jasper turned to shout and, for the first time, got a good look at the man.

Wiry, dressed in a black linen jacket and trousers much too large for his skinny frame. His hat, too, seemed much too large, and his face was invisible in the shadow it cast. It was precisely because of this strange black attire that Jasper knew this man was there to fetch them, and was not some nefarious stranger out to do them harm. Well, he might well be a nefarious stranger out to do them harm but, if so, he was their own personal nefarious stranger, and Jasper knew they had no choice but to follow. The
man placed their bags next to the black carriage and disappeared into the crowd.

“Where are our parents?” Jasper asked of a second man—this one in a black brimless hat bent at the very top and dark thick triangular glasses the same shape as his hat, as he heaved their bags up onto the carriage. The man did not answer, but he ushered the children toward the open coach door. Jasper stopped and Lucy bumped into him.

“We’re not going anywhere with you until you tell us where our parents are,” Jasper said. “What have you done with them?”

The man simply grabbed the children, one by one, and placed them bodily into the carriage. Jasper fought burning tears of anger and humiliation as he sat like a prisoner. Lucy clung to his arm, the little fingers of one hand digging deep into his flesh, the other hand poised against her chin. As she nibbled her nails, Jasper pulled Lucy’s hand away from her mouth. Lucy looked down, feeling a bit sheepish for having been nibbling unawares. She placed her hand firmly in her lap. Within seconds, however, once again without realizing it, she put her fingers back into her mouth. Jasper did not say a word, but simply took her hand into his and held it.