Family of Spies, page 20
An intense feeling, just like when he collided with his great-grandfather’s soul, washed over him. It was like catching on fire from the inside out, but without the pain. Just heat as hot as the sun. Dizzy, he leaned on the bronze dog for support. The grass, cobblestone path, canopy of trees—flickered like an old fluorescent light bulb. He froze. Something was emerging between the flickers. No, that wasn’t quite right. Someone was emerging.
Great-Granddad.
A far older version of his great-grandfather solidified before him—the old man Ford knew from his grandparents’ wedding photos walked around the statues. Ford stumbled after him.
“Tom? Morah?” his great-grandfather repeated, this time his voice crisp and clear.
Morah rose from the bench and walked silently towards them. Tom followed, his face a mask, devoid of emotion.
“Silver Fox—Ed? Is that you?” Morah asked.
Finally, Ford could hear her.
His great-grandfather nodded, his eyes welled with tears. “I’ve waited so long to tell you, I am sorry. So very sorry,” he said.
Morah gathered him into her arms as he sobbed.
Tom stood close, gripping Great-Granddad’s shoulder. “The war is over, old man. It is over. Now you’re home.”
Great-Granddad withdrew from their embrace and sat on the bench.
“I am so deeply sorry. There is so much I regret. So much I wish I had done differently. The truth is, I should have known about Radley. I should have listened to your suspicions, Morah,” he said, his voice a raspy whisper.
“We’ll have none of that, shall we Tom?” Morah said, plunking down next to Great-Granddad. “We knew what the risks were, old chum. We knew what was at stake. That’s the real truth.”
“And the mission was far more important than any of us. Even you, Ed. Even more important than your regrets, and that is the rub, isn’t it? War is hell for those who die and for those who survive. I wonder, who would count themselves luckier, the living or the dead?” Tom said.
Great-Granddad shook his head. “Who knows? Surviving after losing you both was…painful and you need to know,” Great-Granddad’s voice broke. “I never considered you throwaways. No matter what our directives were, neither one of you was expendable—at least not to me.”
“We know,” Morah said.
Tom nodded.
Great-Granddad frowned. Ford thought he looked confused. “So, where have you been all these years?”
Morah’s eyes widened as she glanced at Tom. He stroked his moustache and shrugged.
“You don’t know?” Scout asked.
Ford staggered closer. His head swimming. His heart raced. “Great-Granddad doesn’t know he’s dead. The truth shall set you free,” he murmured. “He needs to hear the truth.”
“Ford, are you okay?” Gavin asked, grabbing his arm, tugging him away from the bench. “You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Ford said, frowning at his brother. “Wait. How can I see you in the middle of a vision?”
“I don’t know,” Gavin said.
Ford pulled free from his brother’s grip. “They’re here—all three, talking. Great-Granddad’s so full of remorse. I need to…” his words drifted off as he neared his great-grandfather. He wanted to touch him. See if he could make contact. “Great-Granddad,” Ford said, stepping closer.
His great-grandfather startled and frowned. He stood and squinted directly at Ford, his nose an inch away. His aura blasted out of him in waves, crashing into Ford. Ford stumbled two steps backwards, fighting hard not to fall.
“Who’s there?” Great-Granddad asked.
“It’s me,” Ford replied. “Your great-grandson.”
Great-Granddad looked across the garden.
“Ed, what’s wrong?” Morah asked.
“I’m not sure. Is someone here?” He stepped towards Ford, but looked right through him. “Show yourself,” he said, his voice a low growl.
Ford’s heart raced. Nothing in the world seemed as important as connecting with his great-granddad right now. “I’m here, Great-Granddad. I’m right here.”
Great-Granddad stepped back. “Did you hear that?” he whispered to Morah. “A voice.”
She shook her head and Tom stepped closer to her. They both looked ready to fight.
“I’m here,” Ford said and reached his hand to his Great-Granddad. It trembled like a leaf in the wind.
Great-Granddad extended an elderly shaking hand out in front of him, mirroring Ford.
Their fingers touched.
Warmth engulfed Ford.
Great-Granddad staggered backward, his eyes wide. “Who are you?” he whispered.
Ford smiled.
“I’m Ford, your great-grandson.”
Chapter 44
Great-Granddad removed his glasses and rubbed them on his shirt. He pushed them back on and examined Ford’s face. Was he looking for a resemblance? “You are my great-grandson, and I am long since dead?”
“Yeah, you died something like forty-five years ago, when my mom and aunt were little.”
“Huh.” Great-Granddad stared off into the distance, his hands folded in his lap.
“You didn’t know?”
“No…I-I didn’t.”
Ford looked over his shoulder at Tom and Morah, who whispered to each other. Why couldn’t they see him? What must they be thinking? Their long-lost friend suddenly appears, begs for forgiveness, and then parks himself on their bench and has a conversation with someone they couldn’t see. Did they think Great-Granddad was speaking to a ghost? But weren’t Scout and Tom ghosts? What did that make—
“Hello, Ford?” Great-Granddad said, bringing him back to the present.
“Sorry, it’s just a lot to take in.”
“Yes, it truly is. If I am dead and we’ve never met before today, why are we both here? What is this all about?”
“That is a very long story. Your other great-grandkids are here too: Ellie and Gavin. I wish you could see them. They’re standing over there, by the monument,” Ford pointed at them huddled together. Great-Granddad frowned. Likely, none of this was making any sense to him. “It’s all pretty complicated, but I can see into the past and see your old memories. Ellie and Gavin helped figure out your war history and together we used your memories to retrace your steps during 1944 and that led us here, to Morah and Tom. I think, after you died, you got lost somehow.”
He nodded, his brows knit further. “You led me to Morah and Tom…” he said slowly “…so I could make amends.” Great-Granddad cocked his head and smiled at Ford.
“Yeah, I guess so. That makes sense. And I have some bad news about the box you hid at the Catacombs…”
Great-Granddad leaned towards Ford, “Yes?”
“Uhm, well you see,” Ford paused. How was he going to tell him that after all these years his own family had failed him, that he had failed him?
“Just say it, Ford. I’m already dead, how bad could it be?”
“MI6 found it,” Ford blurted. “And it was our fault. We were so caught up in finding the box and figuring out what your great mystery was that we didn’t realize we’d been followed into the Catacombs. The agents threatened Ellie and Gavin and I didn’t want them to get hurt. So the real truth is, it’s my fault. I gave the spies your box. I’m sorry.”
Great-Granddad sighed. “Don’t you worry about it. I knew it was a long shot and keeping those missions and agents safe for decades is far more than I had hoped for.”
“So you’re not mad?”
He laughed. “Impossible. You know, you have a tremendous gift.”
“Yeah, it’s tremendously weird.”
“I wouldn’t call it weird. Your gift found me and saved me—a dead man. To me, that sounds like a miracle.”
“There’s something I’ve been wondering about. In your box, we found a metal tube with negatives inside. Was that important?”
“Ah, yes, the dead-drop spike. I meant to plant that in the Champs-Elysées gardens for Radley, but of course that was prior to uncovering his betrayal. The contents of that spike are best left in the past.” Great-Granddad flickered and dimmed. “I have to go now.”
Ford’s breath caught. “Can’t you stay a bit longer? I have so many other questions.” He wanted more time to talk.
“I’m afraid not,” Great-Granddad said, standing. “It’s my time to go. I have waited decades for this moment. Ford, you have my eternal gratitude.”
Great-Granddad began to fade and the years seemed to slip away as well. He grew younger and younger until he looked like the man from Ford’s visions. Tom slapped Great-Granddad on the back. He laughed, turned his head, and winked at Ford. Morah linked her arm through his and he turned to her and began to sing an old wartime song.
“We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when. But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day…”
All three continued to sing as they walked away across the garden, the fog swirling around them as they faded into nothing but memory.
“He’s gone,” Ford murmured, turning to face Ellie, Gavin, and Marie-Claire. A slow smile spread across his face. “We did it! We saved him from an eternity of guilt. That was our mission. Owl and Scout were waiting for him so he could make amends. And they weren’t even angry. Can you believe it? They died and they weren’t even angry.”
His stomach growled. Loudly.
“Time to eat,” he said, then collapsed to his knees.
Chapter 45
“Ford, can you walk?” Gavin asked.
“I dunno,” Ford replied, trying to blink away his swirling vision.
“You take one arm, I will take the other and we shall help him to the car,” Marie-Claire said.
“We are so late!” Ellie said, glancing at her watch. “It’s already 5:07! We need to hurry.” As fast as they could, they raced through the garden, down the narrow alley, and into the front street to Marie-Claire’s Fiat. Gavin flopped Ford onto the front passenger seat and buckled him in, then squeezed into the back next to Ellie.
Ford groaned as nausea rose up his throat.
“You need to eat, Wizard,” Ellie said, handing him a bunch of green grapes. “We can’t have you fainting on us. We need you in top form so we can spring up those stairs at the apartment block.”
She was right. If they didn’t get into their bedrooms before Mom woke up, they would literally be grounded until they were forty. Ford popped two grapes in his mouth as Marie-Claire peeled away from the curb, making a fast U-turn in the middle of the street. They drove over the curb on the other side, never slowing.
“Hold on tight, mes amis. We are going to fly like the wind,” she said, laughing. Ford held onto the door handle to brace himself as they flew down the street. The grapes on his lap flew to the floor as he rocked from side to side, around the corner and through traffic circle after traffic circle. The sky was brightening. Sunrise was moments away.
“We are almost there!” Gavin said. “I’m sure you can slow down now!”
Marie-Claire winked at Ford. “Your brother is a little bit of a scaredy-cat, yes?”
“He is a little protective.”
She smiled as she pressed on the brakes. “As it should be. And we are here.”
Ford unlatched his buckle. “Will we see you again?”
Marie-Claire shook her head. “Not likely. I am off to work in a few hours and you fly to England this afternoon, but we shall stay pen pals on the internet, yes?”
“That would be great,” Ford replied, trying hard to stop his yawn, which proved impossible.
“Au revoir, Ford. It was my pleasure to meet you. I do not know what I just witnessed, but I feel in my heart that it was important,” she leaned over the console and kissed him lightly on one cheek and then the other. “Stay safe, mon ami.”
“Yes, yes, I will,” he replied. He looked over his shoulder at Ellie and Gavin.
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Just for clarification, your eternal love was not what is important in her heart.”
Chapter 46
Ever so quietly, Ellie turned the key in the front door of the apartment. Slowly, she turned the handle and pushed the door open, wincing as it creaked. She stood still and looked down the hallway. The coast was clear. Ellie stepped inside the still dark apartment, with Gavin behind her, guiding Ford.
Without a sound, Ellie closed the door and the trio tiptoed towards their bedrooms. Gavin led Ford to his room and gently helped him sit on the end of the bed, as he pulled back the comforter. Ford’s blinks grew slower, his eyelids growing heavier.
“Time for sleep,” Gavin whispered.
“Thanks,” Ford mumbled as he crawled to the top of his bed and collapsed onto his side. Gavin pulled the soft comforter up to his chin.
“Sleep well, Little Brother.”
Ford smiled, but he couldn’t open his eyelids.
“You too…”
Chapter 47
Ford stretched and slowly opened his eyes. Streams of daylight cascaded into his room. He glanced at his clock. 1:15. He had slept past noon—way past noon—a record for him. Apparently, lack of sleep and a week full of Great-Granddad visions gave Ford sleeping superpowers.
Great-Granddad.
Ford sighed. Completing their mission felt bittersweet. Great-Granddad sure looked happy to be reunited with his friends, but life would be boring now.
He threw off his covers, swung his legs out of bed, and stumbled out of his room. Following the sounds of voices and laughter, he wandered down the hallway into the living room.
Dad looked up from his newspaper and smiled. “Well, look who finally decided to join us.”
“Good morning, son,” Uncle Jim said, ruffling Ford’s hair.
“Looks like sleep agrees with you,” Aunt June said.
“I should say so,” Mom said, her voice tender. “You look better than you have since we arrived. That jetlag sure took some time to clear, didn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Ford said, looking at Ellie and Gavin.
Ellie smirked. “That jetlag is a beast.”
“You’ll need to grab a quick bite and jump in the shower. Our cab arrives at four o’clock to take us to the airport. You’re one lucky young man. Ellie packed your bag for you while you slept,” Mom said.
“No need to thank me,” Ellie said. “Payment can be made in Euros or Pounds Sterling—your choice.”
Ford ran a hand through his hair. “I am confused. Aren’t we in trouble? Yesterday you grounded us, but today you’re acting like everything is perfectly normal.”
Mom laughed. “Oh, Fordie, you know we don’t stay mad for long. Forgiveness is one of our most redeeming family traits.”
“So true, MayDay, but that doesn’t mean we forget quite so quickly,” Aunt June added.
Mom winked at her sister. “You are utterly correct, JuneBug. Forgetting is most definitely not one of our defining features. So kidoooooos, we’ll be waaaaaaatching!”
Chapter 48
A cool, moist breeze blew off the Thames as Ford stood with his back to the railing of Tower Bridge, with Ellie on one side of him and Gavin on the other.
“Can you believe we are in London?” he said, through clenched teeth. His jaw ached from smiling nonstop for the past half hour. His lips started to twitch.
“Just one more,” Aunt June said, taking a few steps backwards. “I need to get the Tower of London in the background. It is the perfect backdrop for our first picture in jolly old London Town.”
Ellie crossed her arms. “Mom, come on! You’ve taken a hundred shots already. Surely one of them is a keeper.”
“Sweatpea, don’t you rush your mom through this moment. If she needs to take 200 or even 300 more pictures, you will smile as sweetly as you can in every single one.”
Ellie sighed. “Fine.” She plastered on a huge, cheesy grin. “Good?”
Uncle Jim laughed, “You are as pretty as a peacock in a fourth of July parade.”
“Oh, Daddy,” she said, laughing. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”
“Look here, everyone. The sun is at just the right angle. Now…say…cheese!” Aunt June said.
Click.
She checked her camera display. “That’s it! We’re through. Now let’s head to the Tower. I cannot wait to get inside that old fortress. There will be endless photo opportunities.”
“Oh, joy,” muttered Ellie.
Gavin laughed. “Hey, I told Mom and Dad about university last night and you were right, Ford. They were pretty cool about it.”
“I told you,” Ford said as they walked across the bridge. He frowned and stopped at the railing to stare at the Tower.
“What’s wrong?” Gavin asked.
“Nothing is wrong, exactly…”
Ellie slid off her sunglasses and stared at him from under the brim of her baseball cap. “Then what’s up?”
Ford smiled.
“I feel like I’ve been here before.”
The End
Acknowledgments
The idea for Family of Spies has bumped around my imagination for over ten years. In fact, I recall discussing my grandfather’s mysterious war years with a table of writers at my first Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators Conference in Los Angeles in 2007. However, the seed of the story was planted when I was only a child by my mom, Bonnie Neil (Crawford). Every time she told and retold stories of her father and rumours of a connection to Sir William Stephenson, Canada’s most famous spy, my imagination took flight. To put is simply: I owe her this book.
Every novel requires research, and with Family of Spies it was extensive and varied: from gathering facts about Britain’s Special Operations Executive missions to 1940s slang; mapping the Paris Catacombs to finding floor plans of the Eiffel Tower; and even sorting out my grandad’s relatives. Our family historian, Jim Crawford of St. John’s Newfoundland, ensured I kept all the Henry and Harry Crawfords straight. My deepest gratitude to Jim, for the photographs, newspaper articles, answering my innumerable questions, and giving me access to his carefully built family tree. It feels like coming full circle that in order to write Family of Spies, I had to return to Grandad’s roots in Newfoundland.
