You’re right, it’s one of the stories within the book of the same name. It’s a set of Aesop-style tales, Greek mythology, Roman stories, fables, et cetera. It says we have one copy. Let me see if I can find it for you.’
He made his way down through the maze of shelves as the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of Beryl humming to herself comforted Sophie. He took out a small stepladder in the section that said ‘Greek Stories’ and pulled down a dusty cover from a top shelf.
‘I’m afraid it’s not in great condition, Sophie, which is probably why I haven’t sold it. These are the kind of books I try to weed out. Fortunately, it managed to miss my overhaul of last winter, but you’re welcome to have it for half price if you’re interested in it.’
He handed it down to her. It was a heavy book with a leather-bound cover that smelled musty with age. Some of the pages had a little water damage, and she half-expected moths to fly out as she opened up the book. But they were crisp and as thin as those of a Bible, and also gilded. She quickly went to the front and ran her fingers down the contents. The name of the story was indeed ‘The Call of the Swallows’. It appeared to be the author’s signature story. She thanked Mr Kersley and made her way to a corner chair, where Beryl placed a coffee cup on a coaster, and she settled down to read the story.
It was set out in an allegory format, not unlike Arabian Nights or Aesop’s Fables. This one centring on the beginning of the world. It told the story of a magical interpretation of how the world was formed. A love story between a prince and princess from different kingdoms – one of the light, one of the dark, neither of whom were able to live in one another’s world. But then the prince became so obsessed with his love for the princess that he was prepared to let his kingdom die just to be with her. So she sacrificed herself for the good of the whole world and everyone else in it.
42
As Sophie closed the book, the final piece of the puzzle fell into place, and she knew at last what it all meant. Vivienne hadn’t died at the hands of her lover. She had taken her own life somehow, had sacrificed it for her country and to protect whatever she and Vonstein were doing. She had taken the fall. That’s why she’d reminded Marcus of the name of the story at the moment of her death.
She pondered Vivienne’s story on those terms. What if he hadn’t wanted to execute her? What if she’d forced his hand somehow, reminding him of her sacrifice? Though Sophie didn’t know all the pieces of the puzzle from so long ago, she knew one thing: her great-aunt had not been a victim, nor a sacrifice after a casual affair. The coded meaning was clear: she had been doing work for her country. Vivienne had never quit being a spy.
Sophie took the book to the front of the shop.
‘Did you want to take that old thing?’ asked Mr Kersley with a sniff.
‘I do. It’s the last piece to a puzzle that is extremely important to me.’
He smiled, looking pleased. ‘Well, in that case, I’ll even wrap it for you.’ He took out some brown paper and covered the book then taped it and handed it to her. ‘That will be five pounds, Sophie.’
She handed him the money and placed the book in her bag, thinking how this one small purchase for such a paltry amount of money had the potential to change the story of her family’s history.
And that of another person’s family too. A person who was on her mind. Alex.
Sophie had been so hard on him when she’d left, so harsh with him, and he hadn’t deserved that. Taking it out on him because she was starting to have real feelings for him and she despised herself for that. She had driven him away because she didn’t want her heart to get hurt again.
But now Sophie wanted to share all this news with him. She texted him straight away, telling him she thought that she’d found some more answers to the story. She noted then, with sadness, that he read it but didn’t respond. Maybe she’d blown it with him. The thought made her