Chapter 1

Cynara opened her eyes to sunlight streaming in through the lace curtains adorning the window at the foot of the bed. It took her a few seconds to understand where she was. Then smiling, she jumped out of bed and ran to gaze outside at the garden. Daisies were blooming everywhere. It was a beautiful Saturday morning with no clouds in the sky. Cynara looked around the spacious bedroom and whispered a small prayer for her good fortune at getting this job in such charming surroundings.

She had finished University in May and found a job as a teacher at a girls’ school in York, starting in September. While she was here interviewing, she had also applied for a part-time summer job advertised in the local papers. She was successful in getting the position. Now she was all moved into a beautiful cottage within the estate of her part-time employer, Elizabeth Stewart. This job was officially beginning from Monday and would last all the three summer months, June through August. However, Mrs. Stewart had agreed to let her move-in the weekend before. Her teaching assignment would start right after, from September 10, when the new Term began. The timing was just too perfect.

Cynara’s contemplations about her perfect life were interrupted with the ringing of her mobile phone. She quickly reached out to grab it. Charles was calling. “Hi Cynara. Good morning. Did I wake you?”

“No not at all. I was already up,” Cynara chirped happily.

“How is York?” Charles enquired.

“Great but I have not seen much of it. I reached late last evening and took a taxi to the house. The housekeeper gave me the keys to the cottage and brought me here. I unpacked and fell asleep,” Cynara responded.

“How is the cottage?” he asked.

“Quaint is the only word for it. It is quite large with two bedrooms, a comfortable sitting room, a separate dining area, and a good-sized kitchen. You will like it. When are you coming?” Cynara hoped it was soon.

“In July. I have already applied for leave and it should come through. Let’s talk later as I have to rush back.” Charles disconnected the call.

Cynara sat on the bed and continued to think of Charles. He was her brother, older by ten years. They only had each other. Their parents had died in a car accident about six years ago. Charles was already working in the Diplomatic Corps while she was still at school. He had taken care of everything and ensured she completed her schooling and then went on to University. In a way, he had taken her father’s place. Now at twenty-three, she felt she could finally face life on her own without having to hold Charles’ hand all the time.

Making a life in York was what Cynara had always dreamed. Her mother had been from here and she had very fond memories of visiting her grandparents every summer before their deaths. Her last visit to the area had been when she was twelve, for her grandfather’s funeral. Her grandmother had died a few years earlier. Cynara’s mother sold her parents’ house, as it was difficult to maintain from abroad. They had been living in Spain at the time.

Cynara’s father had also worked in the Diplomatic Corps. His job had kept them out of England throughout her school years. She was actually born in Greece. It explained her unusual name, Cynara, of Greek origin. The hospital where her mother had given birth had a nurse with that name. It had been a very long and tiring labor and the nurse had stayed by her mother’s side throughout. She had seemed like an angel to her parents and they had decided to christen her with the same name. In addition, one of Cynara’s great grandmothers had also hailed from Greece.

Cynara had always resided with her parents, going to international schools wherever they were. Charles, on the other hand, had been at a boarding school in Leeds and graduated from there. Maybe all the travelling she did as a child endeared her to live now in a very English setting and Yorkshire was certainly that. The town of York with its rich heritage and history had an old English charm that cast a spell on her at every visit.

Breaking her reminisces, Cynara jumped up from the bed and rushed into the bathroom. After completing her toilette, she examined her appearance critically in the mirror, green eyes, long black hair, a smooth complexion, and a dimpled smile. She and her mother had both inherited their looks from their Greek ancestry, more than from their English ancestors. Her mother had been pretty with attractive features. According to Charles, Cynara bore a startling resemblance to her.

Cynara’s stomach suddenly growled with hunger. She had not eaten anything since her arrival in York. There was no food in the cottage. She quickly dressed and decided to find some breakfast before she fainted. Grabbing her purse, she walked out and locked the door.

The cottage was behind the manor house against the east boundary wall. The grounds were enormous, about hundred acres of land all together. There were enchanting gardens surrounding the main house and two cottages in the back. The pool was just behind the house. The gardens lent it complete privacy. Cynara was not sure if the other cottage was also occupied. Mrs. Stewart had a housekeeper, a cook, and a butler. She had briefly met all of them. The housekeeper had been waiting for her arrival the previous evening. There were paths leading around the sides of the house to the circular driveway in the front, which ended in a detached garage on the west side. A tall iron gate stood majestically at the start of the driveway and led into the property.

Cynara swiftly walked out through the gate and turned left. She remembered the bus stop at the intersection of Stockton Lane. It was at a short distance. Luckily, she did not have to wait at all. The bus approached just as she reached the stop. Cynara climbed on and paid to go to the city center. Sitting down on a window seat, she noted the neighborhood passing by. It was quite affluent. Her employer seemed to be living in the biggest estate around. Nevertheless, the entire area had beautiful homes.

Cynara still could not believe her lucky break in finding this summer job. Charles had noticed the advertisement while reading the local newspaper on the internet. He had advised her to apply for it. Cynara was so glad she did. The independent cottage would make Charles’ forthcoming visit in July very comfortable. He was currently working and living in Perth, Australia. She was really looking forward to seeing him. They had last met during Easter. Australia was just so far, really a land down under.

Cynara hopped off the bus near the city center. She spotted a café and decided to listen first to her rumbling stomach. As she entered, she was immediately assailed with an aroma of fresh bacon. There were very few occupants and she found a table next to the window. She sat down and looked over the menu. A woman in her mid-fifties came up and asked for her order. She decided to go for a full English breakfast. It was the right choice. She was ravenous and the delicious food filled her stomach to satisfaction.

After paying the bill, Cynara wandered around the street outside the café. There seemed to be many curio shops, probably to entice visitors. York was a very popular tourist destination. It was seeped in history. The city was built around the junction of two rivers, Ouse and Foss. It had been founded by the Romans in 71 AD. The city had a rich historical heritage and offered a very attractive getaway with its unique architecture, old buildings, and medieval cobbled streets. There was so much to see that it was popular with both couples and families.

After roaming around and exploring for a few hours, Cynara decided to stock up her pantry. She spotted a supermarket across the road. After buying some basic food and toiletries, she flagged down a taxi and gave the address, Park Drive off Stockton Lane. The taxi driver was familiar with the residence. He asked, “Are you visiting Mrs. Stewart?”

“No, she is my new employer,” Cynara replied.

“She is a wonderful lady. Never seen any like her before. Was such a tragedy to lose Mr. Stewart in that bombing last year,” he said.

“What happened?” Cynara asked in shock.

“It was at the races. There was a suicide bombing, one of them terrorists. Mr. Stewart along with twenty other people and the terrorist were blown to bits,” he replied.

“Oh, that’s terrible!” she exclaimed.

Cynara recalled reading about the case. It was at the time of the Ebor Festival in York in 2013, three days of horse racing held every August. A young man had strapped a bomb and had blown himself up along with all the people around him. The story had run in the papers for a few weeks. The bomber had been a young Englishman turned Jihadi. They had found a video he made before his suicide and played that on TV. Cynara did not remember his exact reasons for killing himself other than something about being disillusioned with England and Christianity. He had converted to Islam and believed he was sacrificing his life for the Islamic cause. The interesting fact had been that no Islamist group had ever come forward and taken the blame. The anti-terrorist unit that had worked the case concluded publicly that the man had acted alone.

Cynara knew her employer, Elizabeth Stewart, was a childless widow. She had not known that Mr. Stewart had died in the bomb blast. Just thinking about it sent a shiver down her spine. Mrs. Stewart was probably around thirty years old. It was tragic to be widowed so young and under such grievous circumstances. This explained her somewhat aloof demeanor and her sorrowful eyes.

Cynara had met her employer twice during the interviewing process. Mrs. Stewart had been seeking someone to help her with paperwork during the summer months. As Cynara’s school did not start until the end of summer, it was ideal for her. Mrs. Stewart had seemed impressed with Cynara’s writing skills, as English was her forte. She had just graduated in English Honors and was going to be teaching English at Woodstock School.

There were so many advantages to having secured this job, the cottage being the number one benefit. It also gave Cynara the opportunity to become familiar with York, maybe meet people and make some friends. Once the new school year began, she would become very busy. There was accommodation within the school boundaries for all the teachers. She could move into her staff quarters a week prior to the start of the term. Until then, Cynara was going to enjoy her time at the spacious cottage.

The taxi turned into Park Drive and reached the manor house. It really was a fine stately home, built somewhere around the year 1700. The entire area had belonged to the Stewart family for centuries. They were fortunate that they still owned the original manor and a lot of land around it. The two cottages behind used to accommodate the managers of the estate in the olden days. The family had sold the farmlands in the 60’s and built a boundary wall around the remaining land, encompassing the house and the cottages.

The main gate stood open and the driver asked Cynara. “Shall I pull in?”

“Yes please. I have quite a few bags to carry,” she replied.

The driver turned into the driveway and Cynara asked him to stop at the path on the right, which led behind to her cottage. He graciously helped her carry the bags and deposited them on the porch. She paid and thanked him for his help. “Jimmy Spencer used to live here,” he remarked just as he turned to leave.

“Who is Jimmy Spencer?” she asked puzzled.

“He is the one who blew himself up last year, the suicide bomber,” the cabbie replied.

Chapter 2

Cynara entered the cottage in a daze. She was stunned by the taxi driver’s remarks. He had explained that Jimmy used to be Mrs. Stewart’s chauffeur. She felt very unnerved. It was unbelievable to think she was actually living in what had once been the home of a terrorist. After putting away her groceries and the rest of her shopping, she texted Charles to call her when he was free. Luckily, he rang within a few minutes. She explained everything, especially about how perturbed she was feeling. He assured her there was no need to worry. It was just an unfortunate coincidence. Sensing her discomfort Charles suggested talking to Mrs. Stewart and seeing if she would agree to let her move to the other cottage, if it was unoccupied. Cynara felt reluctant to approach her employer. Charles then lightened her mood by making jokes about Jimmy’s ghost haunting her.

By the end of the conversation, Cynara felt much better. She decided to be practical about the matter and walked around the cottage scrutinizing every detail. It seemed to have been professionally cleaned. The furniture also looked new. Each room had windows and a lot of natural light. The kitchen had all the basic utensils, cutlery, and crockery. There was a television in the living room. Cynara had selected the bigger bedroom for herself. It had a full sized bed, a nightstand, a dresser with a mirror, a study desk with a computer in one corner, and a small walk-in-closet. Good thing she had brought her own linen. The terrorist had probably slept in the same bed but at least the sheets were her own.

Cynara felt positive with this thought. The cottage had a happy atmosphere and she forced herself to imbibe it. Feeling optimistic, she went into the kitchen and made herself a sandwich for lunch. She ate while watching news on the TV. Cynara then decided to go back into York and buy more necessities. The rest of the day passed swiftly.

Cynara again awoke Sunday morning to a sunny room. It was going to be another glorious day. She decided to make sure she had everything she needed, as she did not want to go shopping during the first week of her new job. That meant a few more trips to the shops. Cynara quickly dressed, ate a light breakfast, and headed back into town. She methodically set about purchasing all the essentials for a comfortable set up. It took two trips back and forth before she felt satisfied. By the time she finished putting all the things away in their proper place, it was 2 p.m. Charles called before going to bed and reassured himself that she was over yesterday’s shock. Cynara decided to return to town, eat a late lunch, and sightsee.

As Cynara walked towards the gate leading out of the driveway, she heard someone calling her name. She turned around and was surprised to see Jane Clemmons, a tall, slim, and pretty brunette in her mid-20s with warm brown eyes. She was another teacher at Woodstock school and taught Mathematics. Cynara had met her during the interviewing process. She had been extremely friendly.

“What a surprise to see you!” Jane exclaimed.

“Yes, I have a summer job which starts tomorrow and am staying in a cottage behind the house,” Cynara replied.

“Oh, I had no idea. Are you working for Elizabeth?” Jane asked.

“Yes. Mrs. Stewart was looking for someone to help her with paperwork. I met her while I was interviewing at the school and I got the job. It is only for three months and provides me with an occupation during this interim summer period before I begin at Woodstock,” Cynara explained.

“Fantastic.” Jane’s eyes shone delightedly.

“What are you doing here?” Cynara asked.

“I was just dropping off something for Elizabeth. She is my cousin sister-in-law from my mother’s side. It is strange she did not mention you. Actually, she is still not quite herself. You have probably heard about the tragedy. She was so in love with George. Half the time, nowadays, she seems to be in some kind of a trance,” Jane gushed.

“Yes, I heard about it. It was very appalling. I actually remember watching it on the news last year but did not realize that Mr. Stewart had been a victim,” Cynara said.

“Life is full of tragedies. Anyway, where are you going?” Jane asked.

“To the city center just to walk around and get some lunch,” Cynara replied.

“Have you finished unpacking?” Jane asked.

“Yes. I arrived Friday evening and am pretty much all set up,” Cynara replied.

“Are you taking the bus?” Jane enquired.

“Yes,” Cynara replied.

“Well I also came by bus and am headed back in the same direction. Lunch sounds lovely. Can I join you?” Jane asked.

“That would be great!” Cynara exclaimed happily.

Cynara and Jane got on the bus. Jane chattered nonstop the entire way. Cynara was happy to just listen. She found out a lot about her talkative companion. Jane had recently turned twenty-five and was not in any serious relationship. She had always lived in York and her family was still here. After graduating from York University, she joined Woodstock school and was very happy with her work. She had a set of rooms within the school grounds, similar to Cynara’s. Most weekends she still spent at her parents’ house. Her dad was retired and she had an older brother who lived in London. Jane finally paused in her monologue and ruefully apologized for her jabbering. Cynara told her that she enjoyed listening to the conversation.

Jane and Cynara alighted near the city center. They were both ravenous. Jane took her to a little Italian restaurant down the road. They ordered spaghetti with garlic bread. The food arrived within a few minutes and was simply divine. Cynara enjoyed both the food and Jane’s company. She heard a lot of gossip about the other teachers at Woodstock. The teaching staff seemed to be quite friendly and close to each other. Jane told her that everybody still in town during the summer months usually socialized a few times. She promised to invite Cynara and take her along to their next get-together. The school was in session until June 6. Thus, the first summer bash would probably be towards the latter part of the month.

After finishing their lunch, Cynara and Jane decided to walk it off. They set off towards Museum Gardens near the River. It was not far and they reached in less than ten minutes. The Gardens were beautiful and quite crowded. Families were picnicking everywhere. Jane explained that it was a very popular spot. They walked towards the river and then followed the path alongside.

Jane asked Cynara about her family. Cynara explained that it was just her and Charles. Jane felt quite sympathetic to hear that Cynara’s parents were no longer alive. She came from a large family full of aunts, uncles, and cousins on both sides. Most of them lived in York. It was probably hard for her to imagine having only a brother. Jane generously offered Cynara to visit her home anytime Cynara felt lonely. She was moving back in with her parents for the summer.

They reached Homestead Park. It was a myriad of colorful flowers. The girls decided to sit on a bench to enjoy the scenery. Cynara was unable to contain her curiosity any longer and asked, “Jane, how are you related to the Stewarts?”

“George Stewart was my mother’s brother’s son, so my first cousin. We were not too close growing up as he was a lot older than me,” Jane disclosed.

“When did he marry Mrs. Stewart?” Cynara asked.

“They would have been married ten years this September. George met Elizabeth at a racing event when she was just twenty-one and he was twenty-five. It was love at first sight, an instant attraction. After a short whirlwind romance and courtship, they wed,” Jane revealed. “My uncle and aunt were initially very reluctant to accept Elizabeth. Being a very affluent and influential family, they had wanted George to marry within their fraternity. Elizabeth came from an underprivileged broken home. Her mother was an alcoholic and father had disappeared when she was just a child. The family was very wary of her. However, they soon melted under her charm and beauty.”

“Sounds like a fairytale,” Cynara remarked.

“Yes it was,” Jane agreed. “I still remember the wedding. It was beautiful, every girl’s dream. Elizabeth had looked exquisite. They had always talked about having a very special tenth anniversary celebration. But it was not meant to be.”

Mrs. Stewart’s story had a magical beginning with a tragic ending. “Why did they never have any children?” Cynara asked.

“I am not sure. When they first got married, they had both been so young and had probably decided to wait for a few years. However, I do not know why they remained childless in all the subsequent years. Elizabeth never broached the topic with any of us,” Jane replied. “It is probably for the best. Elizabeth might be able to move on in life after a few years, as the passage of time dulls most sorrows. It is easier to do so without children.”

“Yes, it is one less complication,” Cynara agreed.

Cynara and Jane both suddenly realized it was almost six in the evening. It had been a very pleasant afternoon. Cynara was very glad she had bumped into Jane. It made her feel she now had a friend in York. They exchanged mobile phone numbers and Jane promised to look her up after the end of term. She was going to be terribly busy the next week with exams. Cynara thanked Jane for her candidness regarding George and Elizabeth. The background provided her better insight into her employer.

“It must have been such a horrifying ordeal for Mrs. Stewart to lose her husband, that too in such a violent manner. And she must have felt so sickened when she realized the terrorist had been their own chauffeur, living on their estate in one of their own cottages,” Cynara commented.

“Another cousin of mine, Ruth, knew Jimmy since they were children. She does not think he was a terrorist. He was the bomber but not a terrorist!” Jane exclaimed.

Cynara was quite surprised by Jane’s remarks. Before she could ask for any clarifications, Jane regretfully looked at her watch again and told Cynara she really had to leave. They parted ways and Cynara walked to the bus stop to catch a bus back to the cottage. She was quite puzzled by what Jane had said. If Jimmy was not a terrorist then why did he go to the races strapped with a bomb and blow himself up along with all those people?

Chapter 3

June 2nd, 2014, was a new beginning for Cynara, the start of her first real job. She had set her alarm for 7 am. After waking up, she ate a hearty breakfast. She did not want to be distracted by hunger pangs on this momentous day. Taking time to choose her outfit, she finally settled for a light brown suede dress, which was formal but not excessively so. Cynara did not want to look too young or gauche. After a quick shower, she dressed and tied her hair in a ponytail with a shell clip that had belonged to her mother. She put on a light lipstick and just a touch of mascara to highlight her clear green eyes. The effect was quite pleasing and businesslike.

Cynara now felt ready to face the day. She hoped it proved to be quite ordinary, after the sensational revelations of the weekend. Cynara had been very surprised by Jane’s parting remark. Quite cryptic! Did Jane really know something more or was it mere speculation? There must have been a lot of conjecture in Yorkshire about the entire incident. After reaching home and thinking about the bombing for a long time, Cynara had decided to not let it affect her next few months. She was generally a levelheaded person and was now determined that the past should not hinder her future here in York.

Cynara walked to the manor house and rang the doorbell at exactly 8 a.m. Mr. Drake, the butler, opened the door. Cynara entered the house. She extended her hand and said, “Hello Mr. Drake, nice to see you again. I moved in on Friday.”

“I am well aware of that Ms. Walters,” he replied ignoring her hand. “Mrs. Stewart has asked you to wait in the study. She will be with you shortly. Please follow me.”

Mr. Drake really was very austere looking, almost expressionless. He ushered Cynara through the hallway into the study. It was a beautiful room with bookshelves adorning the walls. There were comfortable leather sofas around a fireplace and a desk made from mahogany wood in one corner. The room had a very cheery atmosphere due to the light from two tall windows on either side of the fireplace. The study faced the front of the house. Cynara started browsing through the books in one of the shelves. They were all hardbound classics nicely arranged in an alphabetical order, according to their authors. She loved to read and decided she would ask Mrs. Stewart if she could borrow them.

Mrs. Stewart walked into the room in a swirl of chiffon. She was wearing a simple dress in muted grey. Cynara realized how strikingly beautiful the young widow was. She was very slim, around 5’8’’, long blond hair almost down to her waist, deep blue soulful eyes, and arresting features. There was almost a regal air about her, her bearing and the way she carried herself. “Good Morning. I trust you are settled in comfortably Ms. Walters,” she remarked.

“Yes thank you. It is a beautiful cottage. The kitchen is well stocked with all the necessary utensils and dishes. I made a few trips to the city and bought all the other items I need,” Cynara replied.

“That is good to hear Ms. Walters,” she said.

“Please call me Cynara,” Cynara requested.

“All right Cynara. Let us get started. As I explained at the time of the interview, I was widowed about nine months ago and have not done any paperwork since. I need to get all my financial and personal documents organized,” Mrs. Stewart said.

Mrs. Stewart walked to the computer on the desk and showed Cynara how to log in. She gave her a box full of USB pen drives. Mrs. Stewart first wanted Cynara to go through each drive and methodically transfer all the documents onto the computer in proper directories. After explaining how she wanted everything separated and catalogued, she left.

Cynara selected a USB drive from the box. She inserted it into the computer and reviewed its contents. It contained about 150 or so files, Word documents and Excel spreadsheets. Cynara painstakingly ploughed through them. They were mostly bank statements or bank correspondence. Cynara created relevant folders on the computer, a parent directory for banks, and then a subdirectory for each specific bank. The Stewarts seemed to have accounts in multiple banks. She copied over each bank statement into its correct sub-folder and renamed it according to the date on the statement. There were a few electronic utility bills as well. She copied those into individual folders based on the type of the bill. It was a tedious task but she did not mind.

Mrs. Simpson, the housekeeper, walked into the room just as the clock struck twelve. She greeted Cynara pleasantly and invited her for lunch. Cynara was still not finished with the first pen drive. There were about five documents left. Before taking Cynara to the kitchen, Mrs. Simpson gave her a tour of the downstairs. There was a formal living room, a formal dining room, a second living room, a music room, a conservatory, the study, a billiards room, a ballroom, and a smaller sitting room adjoining the kitchen. Cynara felt she was back in the Victorian era. All the rooms were beautifully designed and richly furnished.

The kitchen was large with a round table at one end. Mrs. Simpson explained that the staff mostly dined there. The cook, Mrs. Keene, was a large woman with a sweet motherly face. She greeted Cynara warmly and asked her to help Mrs. Simpson set the table. Mr. Drake joined them just as they were carrying the dishes. They all sat down to a well-laid meal in front of them.

Cynara enjoyed the lunch, sandwiches, soup and salad, and the conversation. They were a talkative bunch. She learnt that Mrs. Keene and her husband, the gardener, lived in the cottage bordering the west wall of the estate. Mr. Keene usually ate in their cottage and joined them on special occasions. They had no children. Mr. Drake and Mrs. Simpson resided in the manor house, on the top floor. They each had their own set of rooms. These used to be the original servant quarters from the late nineteenth century, which had been converted into two suites after the Second World War. Mr. Drake was a bachelor and had always inhabited one of the suites. Mrs. Simpson used to occupy Cynara’s cottage but had moved into the other suite after being widowed about five years ago. Her husband had died of lung cancer. She had a son who lived in Leeds and visited her occasionally.

After they finished, Cynara helped in clearing the table. She enquired about Mrs. Stewart’s lunch. “I took up some soup for her earlier,” Mrs. Simpson replied. “She has a very small appetite and does not eat much. I do not know if you are aware, but Mr. Stewart died very tragically last year. Mrs. Stewart has still not fully recovered from it.”

“Yes I did hear of the suicide bombing at the races and that Mr. Stewart was one of the victims,” Cynara said sympathetically.

“She is still mourning his death. Hiring you has been very wise, trying to get all her affairs in order. She has to return to the land of the living. It takes time,” Mrs. Simpson said. “I know after Johnny died from that cancer, I was really broken hearted. But Mrs. Stewart was very good to me. She really supported me emotionally and forced me to overcome my grief. We are all trying to do the same for her.”

Cynara returned to the study and proceeded with her work. She had been very inclined to question Mrs. Simpson about Jimmy. However, she did not want to create a wrong impression and seem like she was gossiping. Therefore, she had resisted the temptation. As she opened the next document, Mrs. Stewart entered the room and asked, “How are things going?”

“Good. I am almost done with the first thumb drive. I have created directories on the computer and am filing everything in its appropriate folder. Majority of the files are bank related,” Cynara replied.

“If you are unable to understand a document, just save it in a miscellaneous folder and we will go through them together. Have you had lunch?” Mrs. Stewart asked.

“Yes thank you,” Cynara answered. “Mrs. Simpson took me to the kitchen at noon.”

“You can work till about five and then call it a day. I am going out and will see you tomorrow.” Mrs. Stewart pulled the door shut behind her as she left the study.

Cynara finished all the documents on the first USB drive. She then labeled it with a sticky tag and placed it in the top drawer of the desk. Cynara decided to ask Mrs. Stewart for another box for the processed thumb drives. She did not want them being mixed up with the ones she still needed to go through. It had taken her all morning to complete just one. Cynara took another USB stick from the box and inserted it into the computer. She started sorting through the documents. They seemed to be similar to the ones on the first drive. She worked non-stop until about four o’ clock when Mrs. Simpson came in with a tea tray.

“Take a break and have a cup my dear,” she said. “You can bring the tray back to the kitchen after you are done.”

“Thanks a lot,” Cynara said gratefully.

Cynara poured herself a cup from the teapot and added some milk and sugar. There was a plateful of ginger biscuits. She helped herself to a few and drank slowly. Her eyes ached a bit from concentrating so hard on the computer screen. She massaged them gently. After finishing her tea, Cynara picked up the tray and took it back to the kitchen. She found Mrs. Keene sitting at the table and drinking a cup herself. Cynara thanked her and went back to the study.

Cynara wrapped up the second thumb drive after about half an hour. It was only 4:45 and she did not think it appropriate to leave before 5 p.m. on her first day. Cynara decided to start on the next USB. She selected another one from the box. It strangely contained only two files, one with no file extension and another with a file extension she was not familiar with. Cynara managed to open the first file in a text editor. It seemed to be a letter or an email.

“Dear Jimmy,

Greetings my friend. Hope this email finds you well. I am very happy to hear about the girl also wanting to convert. If you trust her then so do I. I know you will never put me in any danger. Both of you can convert by reciting the Testimony of Faith, the Shahada. You can do this privately at home or go to an Imam at a Mosque. The Imam in Bradford is a holy man. He can help you achieve this. Do not mention me. He did not agree with my ideology. It might be safest to our cause if you do this privately. You can buy the Quran, prayer rug, and any other materials you need at the Muslim store. I welcome you both to our brethren. May it bring you peace. We will talk soon, inshallah.

Abaan Khalid Fakhri”

Cynara sat there stunned and read the note again. How was an email to Jimmy, presumably the same Jimmy as the bomber, saved on a pen drive in Mrs. Stewart’s box? It confounded her. She tried to open the second file multiple times but a message popped up at each attempt that the file format was unrecognizable. Cynara finally pulled out the drive and carefully placed it in the drawer. She then shut down the machine and left the study.

Mrs. Simpson was walking down the stairs and spotted her. “Are you leaving my dear?” she asked.

“Yes Mrs. Simpson. Is Mrs. Stewart back yet? I wanted to talk to her before going.” Cynara felt compelled to immediately share her findings with her employer.

“No she is visiting her in-laws. Senior Mr. Stewart is not well. She is going to have dinner with them and will not be back till late,” Mrs. Simpson replied.

“I am then done for the day and will see you tomorrow.” Cynara let herself out and slowly walked to the cottage. Her mind was very puzzled. She badly wanted to call Charles but it was the middle of the night in Perth. They were seven hours ahead. She remembered the computer in her bedroom and decided to check the facts on the bombing. Mrs. Stewart had told her the Wi-Fi connection in the house also worked in the cottages. She booted up the computer and launched Internet Explorer. The search page loaded. There was internet connectivity.

Cynara searched for all the old articles related to the bomb blast and quickly skimmed through them. Mr. George Stewart had rented a Melrose box at the races. His party had comprised of sixteen other rich and prominent people of Yorkshire. It was his annual tradition. Jimmy had walked into the box and detonated the bomb. The explosion had killed the seventeen present at the time in the box, including Mr. Stewart, four in the adjoining one, and Jimmy. Many had sustained injuries but there had been no other fatalities. The death toll could have been much worse because the races were extremely well known. People flocked to them from all over England.

One of the old sites had a link to the video Jimmy had shot and left on a DVD in his home. That would probably be this cottage, Cynara deduced apprehensively. She watched the video with trepidation. The recording was short and showed a man standing in front of a window. It seemed to have been filmed in the living room. The man, presumably Jimmy, was dressed all in black. He spoke into the camera saying he had become a Muslim, hated this country, and hated Christians. There was only hypocrisy in this world and so he was taking his life voluntarily. The video then ended with Jimmy kneeling down on the floor and praying like a Muslim.

The investigators who had been assigned to the case had been unable to connect Jimmy with any Jihadi group or known Muslim terrorists. The reasons for Jimmy’s conversion to Islam remained a mystery. He seemed to have no Muslim friends who had influenced him. They had decided he had worked alone. Then who was Abaan Khalid Fakhri in the email? Moreover, who was the girl wanting to convert?