Three Things About Elsie(75)

Beyond the souvenir stalls and the arcades, where the concrete turned to boardwalk and the wind tripped away from the sea and argued with the tourists, Simon found what he was looking for. The tent was only small, perhaps six feet square, and draped in red velvet and fringing. There was a blackboard propped up outside:

Gypsy Rosa

World Famous Clairvoyant and Spiritualist to the Stars

Speak with the dead and discover your destiny

Underneath there was a Post-it note Sellotaped to the velvet:





Simon looked at the line of black-and-white photographs pinned outside. In all of them, Gypsy Rosa was standing next to someone, and in each one, she was wearing the same headscarf and the same expression. The only thing that altered was her arms, which adopted a variety of poses suggesting she had perhaps conjured up these people by magic. Simon wasn’t sure who the people were supposed to be. Perhaps they were the stars mentioned on the blackboard, although he didn’t really recognise any of them.

‘Don’t waste your money, mate!’ someone shouted from across the pier. Simon wasn’t sure who it was, and he didn’t feel as though he wanted to turn around. Instead, he walked over to a little wall and sat next to a poster about a jumble sale, whilst he waited for Gypsy Rosa to return with her latte. If Miss Ambrose should spot him – or even worse, Miss Bissell – he could claim a sudden interest in bric-a-brac.

He studied the seagulls to pass the time. One of them was having a fight with a bin bag, and it hammered and battled with the plastic until it found what it wanted. As the gull disappeared across the harbour with its treasure, the rest of the bag coasted across the walkway, and the breeze began to lift and turn the contents. As he watched, a crisp packet broke free and came to a standstill by his feet.

He stared at it.

It was cheese and onion.





FLORENCE


For a town filled with history, you would expect Whitby’s library to be a building with criss-cross windows and crumbling steps. Instead, it’s made of concrete and glass, and there are little turnstiles to prevent you running away with all the books.

I got a bit confused in the turnstiles, and Elsie had to come back and help me, and she got confused as well, and in the end we both had to be set free by a member of staff. Jack wandered over to the encyclopaedias, because I think he wanted to keep a distance between himself and all the commotion. When we finally got ourselves inside, I couldn’t believe how big it was. Who knew there were so many stories that needed telling? The shelves stretched as far as you could peer, and above our heads was a whole second floor of adventures.

‘Where do we even start?’ I said.

‘Local history,’ said Jack, and he disappeared through a gap between the Iron Age and Elizabethan England.

If you were in the mood for a slice of Captain Cook, you’d found the right place. He was everywhere. He covered all of the tables and waited for you inside glass cabinets, and he was even hung on the wall, looking down on everyone to make sure they didn’t forget about him.

‘Pleasant-looking chap, isn’t he?’ Elsie stood in front of the portrait. ‘Kind eyes.’

‘I thought Gabriel Price had kind eyes,’ I said. ‘It just shows how deceitful eyes can be.’

‘Perhaps,’ she said. ‘We shouldn’t judge a person based entirely upon one aspect of their anatomy, though, should we?’

‘I’m not ready to judge him at all yet,’ I said. ‘Not until we’ve spoken to someone who really knew what kind of man he was.’

Jack turned to us. ‘Captain Cook?’

‘No.’ I might have tutted a bit too loudly, because a couple of people looked up from their microfiches. ‘Gabriel Price.’

‘Cook was a pioneer.’ Jack walked up to the painting. ‘A man of courage. Can you imagine how it must have felt to sail from England’s coastline and not know what was ahead of you, to not know if there was anyone else out there?’

‘I wonder if he was afraid,’ Elsie said, and we both looked into the eyes of the painting, to see if there might be a clue. ‘Because to be courageous, you must have fear, surely?’

‘No one experiences that now,’ said Jack. ‘We all know too much. Even astronauts are told where they’re going.’

‘Except death,’ I said.

They both stared at me.

‘It’s the last voyage into the unknown, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘Like Captain Cook setting sail from a harbour. No idea where we’re off to, no idea whether there’s anyone else out there.’

‘And it takes courage, I suppose. To die,’ Jack said.

‘Every journey takes courage.’ Elsie turned away from the painting. ‘Even the ones in which we have no choice.’

Captain Cook was all over the shelves as well. It was difficult to find anyone else, to be honest, although we did come up with an Anglo-Saxon poet, an abbess called Hilda, and an odd mention here and there of Harry Potter.

‘I’m going to watch that film,’ said Jack.

‘If you’ve still not got around to it, I doubt you ever will,’ I said.

‘I will watch Harry Potter before I die,’ Jack put the book back on its shelf. ‘It’s a promise.’

Gabriel Price was nowhere to be found. I checked each shelf and ran my finger along the smooth, polished wood. From time to time, I was held up by an interesting spine, and Elsie had to jolly me along.