Read Past Tense for Free Online Page B

extending his hand, a slight man of about Samantha’s height. “I’m so glad you could make it this morning. At my age, one can’t afford too many postponements.”
    “I had a bit of difficulty yesterday,” Samantha explained.
    The professor lifted one shaggy brow. “Oh? Not too serious, I hope.”
    “No, it’s all right. But I may have to leave London.”
    Eldridge’s affable face creased into lines of concern. “Not before you finish this work, I trust.”
    For a moment panic welled up in her. No attachments, she’d promised herself. Yet here she was again, caught, proving that no one lived in a vacuum. “No, we’ll finish the book.” She sat down and began to sort through her papers and dictionaries. “Shall we get to work?”
    * * * *
    The front of the bus, where she liked to sit, was occupied when she headed back to Central London that afternoon. She moved toward the back, oblivious of the press of people around her.
She’d taken a moment that morning to call Mr. Collins. As she’d suspected, he knew nothing of the envelope, citing the efficiency of his secretary. She’d been slightly relieved to learn that no one had contacted him requesting her address. He had assured her that neither he nor Mrs. Graham would give it out.
    She shifted the bag of groceries she’d picked up at a supermarket near Professor Eldridge’s house. Her mind strayed to Tony Theopoulos.
    Would she ever hear from him again? Not likely. She couldn’t suppress a faint regret that it had to be that way.
    The bus lurched to an abrupt stop. She glanced out the window at the sea of cars hemming them in on the winding street. Rush hour. She smiled ironically. When nobody was able to rush.
    The traffic began to move again, sluggishly, and the sweating passengers murmured their approval. Sam looked down to see a large black car inch past and forge a new place for itself ahead of the bus.
    She felt frazzled and out of sorts by the time she reached her flat, hoping that Miss Hunnicott wouldn’t make an appearance. No such luck.
    “Good evening, Miss Clark. Your telephone has been ringing all day. Most annoying. I couldn’t even take my nap.”
    “I’m sorry,” Samantha said, although what she could have done about it, she didn’t know. But again alarm woke in her. Who would be phoning her during working hours, when it was obvious she was out?
    “It hasn’t rung for the past hour,” Miss Hunnicott continued.
    “They must have given up. But I’m home now, if they try again.” She set down the bag of groceries and took out her key. “I’d better put my things inside.”
    “Your letter yesterday—” The faded blue eyes sparked with curiosity. “It was important?”
    Sam nodded, carrying her bag inside. “Yes. Thank you again. Goodbye, Miss Hunnicott.” She firmly closed the door.
    The phone rang twice during the evening, making Samantha wonder if Miss Hunnicott had been exaggerating. The first time a man tried to sell her insurance. Annoyed, she hung up. Her number was in phone book, making it available to anyone, but it was listed only as S. Clark, one of ten other S. Clarks.
    The second time it rang, Samantha was brushing her teeth. Her mouth filled with foam, she picked it up, hearing a humming silence followed almost immediately by the dial tone.
    Wrong number.
    * * * *
    Feeling guilty because of the day she’d missed, and sensing the professor’s urgency to complete the project, Samantha had agreed to work the next day, a Saturday.
    Late that afternoon, when she arrived home, two policeman stood outside her door, deep in conversation with Miss Hunnicott.
    “Miss Clark?” The old woman’s high-pitched voice carried easily along the short hall. “Oh, she’s an excellent neighbor, not like so many young people nowadays, with their loud music, tattoos, and strange manners.”
    “Good evening, Miss Hunnicott,” Samantha said rather more loudly than necessary.
    “Oh, good evening, Miss Clark.”
    Before she could