Bird of the Gods

Chapter Four

 Fiona climbed the stairs out of the Underground station and emerged onto the pavement just outside the Dominion Theatre. It took her a moment to get her bearings. The journey from Hammersmith had been close and claustrophobic, crowded amongst the Friday evening commuters heading across London. It was a relief to emerge into the chill October air and just take a moment to breathe and catch her bearings.

Tottenham Court Road, Oxford Street, New Oxford Street ... At least these hadn't changed much since the last time Fiona had been in London. She set her back against the street corner newsstand, out of the way of the shoppers and gawkers, and checked the map on her mobile. Great Russell Street was just past the front of the theatre and to the right. That would take her straight to her evening appointment. She skirted the queue of theatergoers and skipped over the drift of fast food containers that spilled from the bins outside the McDonalds, then followed the directions.

It was a relief to be on Great Russell Street. This was more like the London of her imagination –the London that she remembered from her visits with Grandpa Paul. She half expected to see a woman in a black dress go sailing by overhead, suspended on the evening winds underneath an umbrella; or maybe a group of young-men-about-town dressed in white tie and tails, on their way to a night at some club with a strange-sounding name. Instead, there were only a few people making their way down the narrow street, their coats held tight against the gathering cold.

The gates of the British Museum were only a short walk away. As Fiona walked past the railings that separated the museum grounds from the street, she glanced through them at the classical portico, orange spotlights casting long shadows across the frontage. The great bronze doors were still open, even though it was after five o'clock, and knots of people were climbing the steps to enter the Great Hall beyond. A nearby poster gave the explanation. "Late night at the Museum," it declared. "Every Friday until 8:30 pm." Fiona joined the short queue at the security tent.

A bored guard in a nondescript black uniform looked questioningly at Fiona. "Do you have a ticket?"

"A ticket?" Fiona reached for her phone and tapped the screen, scrolling through her emails. Grandfather Paul had sent her something. There it was! Fiona opened the attachment and held up the screen to the guard. "This?" she asked hesitantly.

The guard pointed a scanning gun at the phone. There was a beep, and the guard grunted. "Alright. Do you have any knives or sharp objects in your bag? Any lighters or flammable substances?"

"No. No I don't."

The guard grunted again. "Alright. Welcome to the British Museum." Fiona paused to thank the guard, but he had already turned to the next person in the queue behind her. She walked across the courtyard and climbed the steps into the museum.

The Great Court of the British Museum was an echoing space, full of people hurrying from one side to another. It took a moment for Fiona's eyes to adjust to the bright lights, the white stone and stainless steel. To the right of the entrance was an information desk, bright screens advertising the various exhibits. To the left was a pop-up cafe selling hot drinks and cakes, its stock almost gone. White stone plinths topped with statues had been placed seemingly at random around the hall, with footsore tourists sitting resting against them. But, straight in front, was the rotunda of the old British Library Reading Room. It dominated the court: a cylinder of Portland stone that stretched all the way up to the glass roof above. Once it had been hidden in a maze of rooms, accessible only to those few scholars lucky enough to possess a reader's card. But, with the move of the British Library to Saint Pancras, the old structures had been demolished to reveal this magnificent treasure for all to see. Fiona gawped.