“I remember now, woman!” Punch answered, grabbing her stick and tossing it away. “I promise this time I will not lose the baby while you’re away.”
The female puppet addressed the audience. “Now, children, I need your help. I have asked Mr. Punch to watch the baby while I’m away, but I want you to watch Mr. Punch and report back to me if he misbehaves. Can you do that?”
The children cried, “Yes!” Simon smiled when Marjorie answered as well.
Judy brought a small doll dressed as a baby out and much hilarity ensued as the baby clearly preferred her to Mr. Punch and cried every time she tried to hand him the baby. Then Judy departed, leaving Punch with the baby, and he was as inept as always. He tossed the baby in the air and dropped the baby, and the children laughed and laughed. Simon had seen this sort of play too many times to count, but it seemed new to Marjorie. He found himself laughing along with her, enjoying the way her eyes sparkled when Judy returned and the children told on Mr. Punch.
“Oh, no!” Marjorie cried when Judy went behind the curtain and returned with the long stick again. She grabbed Simon’s arm as she laughed at the way Judy beat Punch.
Then the play was over, and she was still chuckling as Simon led her across the square to a public house.
“I had no idea you were such a lover of theater,” he said.
“That was hardly theater,” she said as they entered the busy establishment and found an empty table near the window.
“You prefer Shakespeare then.” He said it casually, hoping it might spur some memory.
She shrugged. “I don’t know what I prefer. I have a feeling I wasn’t the sort of person who often went to the theater.”
“I couldn’t say.” He ordered them coffee and two plates when the server passed by. When he looked back at her, she was staring out the window.
“What is it?”
“I haven’t recalled anything yet. Surely, I’ve been in a public house before, but nothing at all seems familiar. Not the smells or the sounds.”
“The food will arrive in a few minutes. Perhaps that will taste familiar.”
She looked dubious. “What was the book you purchased at the bookshop? Something about smugglers?”
He pulled it from his coat pocket and handed it to her. “I thought I might read it while on watch tonight. Something to pass the time.”
She turned it over and opened a page and then looked up at the sound of a violin. Simon turned his head. “Ah, looks like they’ll have some music,” he said. “This is excellent. Music is a powerful conveyor of memory.”
A man took a seat on a stool before a drum and nodded to the woman who finished tuning her violin. Another man joined them, and he held a fife. A fourth carried a tambourine and he stood in the middle and counted. Suddenly, the group launched into “Early One Morning” with the tambourine player singing. The song was quiet and pretty and required no tambourine. Many of the house’s patrons turned to watch and a few sang along. Simon glanced at Marjorie. She looked intrigued by the song but wasn’t singing.
“Have you heard this?” he asked. “Thank you,” he told the serving maid as she set down their coffee and what looked like some sort of hearty soup and a crust of bread.
“It’s a very pretty song, and it seems familiar.” Marjorie was still watching the musicians. “Oh, don’t deceive me. Oh, never leave me,” she sang along.
“You do know it.”
Marjorie cut her gaze to him. “She sang that part earlier. I can’t tell if I remember it or just learned it quickly.” She tasted her soup and drank some coffee. Simon wanted to bang his head on the table when she didn’t suddenly gasp as her memory rushed back. He’d been so certain this trip to the village would rouse something in her. What the devil was he supposed to tell the smugglers when they came tonight? He couldn’t ask them to wait another night. Their window to make the rendezvous would be incredibly slim, leaving no margin for error. He was running out of time. England was running out of time.
The singer launched into “Barbara Allen,” which was an old ballad.
“You must know this,” Simon said.
Marjorie shook her head and pushed her soup aside. “It’s hopeless, Simon. If we return to London now, could Melbourne send someone else to give the rendezvous point in time?”
“No. The captains must be away tonight for the best chance at making the rendezvous. If they go with the tide in the morning, they might still have a chance, but every moment that passes that chance is slimmer.”
She put her head in her hands. “I’m sorry. I wish—”
He reached over and took her hand. “This isn’t your fault.”
“But it is my fault. Why did I go out that night? Why didn’t I share the information I held so I wasn’t the only one who knew?”
“We still have a few more hours. Try not to think about it. You seem to remember more when you aren’t so focused on it.”