I thought of Cornelia Armstrong’s Yue Lao. The invisible thread. But not the one between Finbarr and me. The one that connected me, still and always, to Genevieve. I could feel it like a living, tactile object, stretching out from my heart to hers. Taking me not to the Timeless Manor, but to the train station. Chilton had agreed not to prosecute me for murder. I felt safe in assuming he’d overlook auto theft as well. After all, anything I could do to win Archie back was to his benefit.
If Agatha and Archie reunited, I’d never again have access to Teddy. I needed to see her at least one more time. I needed to tell her if she ever found herself in trouble, she could find me, and I would take care of her. Whatever it took. I don’t know why I believed that would help. My mother had made me the same offer.
I love you. I sent the message telepathically, which was not something I believed was possible. But still I hoped and prayed Finbarr – however abandoned – would hear it and understand. Perhaps there was a part of me that hoped I’d return to London to find myself shut out of the Christies’ world. The failure of the plan I’d worked on single-mindedly for three years was the only chance for Finbarr and me to be together. If I had to accept its failure, then so be it. But I would never be the one to let it go.
Meanwhile, Chilton had to go on foot to the manor house – no longer timeless – to collect what Agatha had asked of him. Her typewriter, and everything she’d written in the midst of this adventure. She would never think much, in later years, of the work she did while she was away. A short story or two, and the beginnings of her novel The Mystery of the Blue Train. She always said it was the least favourite of all her books. But she published it just the same. She published everything she wrote – even the short story ‘The Edge’， which ended with my doppelganger dead at the bottom of a mountain. It appeared the following year in Pearson’s Magazine, with the ending changed so that my character was not pushed, but leaped.
Chilton had no plans to transport Agatha’s typewriter and work to Sunningdale. He would take it with him back to Brixham, so that she’d have to find him there.
‘But where’s Nan?’ Finbarr asked, when Chilton told him Agatha had been discovered.
Chilton placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. He had already given me the gift of freedom. He did not have the remaining generosity to wish for Finbarr’s romance resolved in favour of his own.
‘I’m sorry,’ Chilton said. ‘If Nan’s not back by nightfall, I don’t expect she ever will be.’
‘She’ll be back,’ Finbarr said, but he didn’t sound sure. As if to confirm this, he said, ‘If you see her, tell her I’ll be waiting in Ballycotton, ready to go anywhere in the world she likes. She can find me there when she comes to her senses.’
But alas. I never did.
A New Year
1928
YOU DON’T NEED to guess. You already know. Agatha and Archie’s reunion did not last. The urgency to continue her marriage had left Agatha. Instead, she mooned about Styles mourning the loss of the Timeless Manor. All I had to do was reappear before Archie – smiling and smiling. Agatha left, this time for good, taking Teddy with her.
But eventually she sent Teddy back to Styles. By then Archie and I were married – a diamond ring and wedding band replacing Finbarr’s Claddagh. Teddy would stay with us a full year while Agatha went off on her own, adventuring, the first of many journeys she’d take aboard the Orient Express.
Honoria brought the child to us from London. I had planned to be downstairs with Archie to greet Teddy on her arrival. But when the car pulled into the drive, I found myself overcome with emotion I didn’t want my husband to witness. I’d seen Teddy several times since returning to Archie but this would be our first extended stretch, together in a home we shared, with myself her official stepmother.
‘Are you quite all right?’ Archie asked, placing a hand at my waist. He had learned a bit about being solicitous since his first marriage.