The Queen's Belt

Chapter 1: Grandpa's Study

Vicky was on her way home from school. The early spring sun was bright, although not warm enough to melt away the winter-like coldness in the air. Vicky took her usual route through the park and could already see the grey roof of the familiar cottage. It was her grandpa's house where on her way home from school, she would often get a cup of tea with biscuits or candy.

As she approached the building, a mist of tears made everything into a blur.

"Oh, grandpa," thought Vicky as she wiped the tears away, "why did you have to go?"

It had only been two weeks since her grandpa had died, and she felt that she was yet far from getting over her loss. It was also hard not to think about him when she daily had to pass by his cottage. In the mornings, a ride in her parents' car saved her because they drove by the other side of the park where the bushes and trees hid the cottage. But on the way back, if she caught sight of it, it inevitably triggered the memories of their afternoons together.

Grandpa's cottage was small and old-fashioned. From what Vicky learned in her history class and from the pictures in the history books she would have said his house looked Victorian. Inside, it always was a little damp, so by Mondays the cookies, which grandpa had bought during the weekend, would have become soft. She did not mind: she dipped the biscuits into the sweet tea, so that they would get mushy anyway.

Vicky felt regret for not telling grandpa often enough just how much she enjoyed his company.

"He knew it of course," thought Vicky, "otherwise I wouldn't have visited him almost every day."

Despite these attempts of convincing herself, she wished she could go back, turn time backwards just for one day so that she could see him one last time.

Since grandpa had died, Vicky hadn't yet once felt the desire to come by his cottage. She rather found herself inventing new routes home avoiding the park. Today, however, Vicky chose her usual walk past his house. On this occasion she expected that same regret to accompany her just as previously, yet instead she felt something more resembling curiosity. She felt her pockets for the key. Grandpa had given her the key in case he would be out walking Lumpy in the park when she would arrive. Lumpy was his dog, a miniature schnauzer, which got its name because as a puppy it often got burdock flowers tangled into clumsy lumps in its fur. Now Lumpy moved in with Vicky and her parents and became her sole responsibility, which she eagerly welcomed.

Vicky fished the key out of the pocket and hesitated. Everybody forgot about her key in the kerfuffle after grandpa's funeral. She hoped to keep it at least until her parents had put the house out for sale. She turned the key in the lock and went inside.

Everything was in its usual place as if grandpa was still alive. Any minute now he could have walked inside and smiled in the anticipation of their tea ritual. She was still standing in the corridor when she awoke from her daydream.

At the end of the corridor grandpa had a study, which she had never entered. It was a kind of a silent agreement between Vicky and her grandpa that she would never do it, and she never had done. In his younger days, grandpa had worked for the Edinburgh Geological Society. He had told Vicky that in the study he kept boring papers and samples of stones from the times when he had been on excavations in different parts of the globe.

Standing in the narrow corridor, the curiosity came over Vicky again, only this time she knew it was connected with her grandpa's study in particular. She remembered that the room was locked. At least this is what she had always assumed as grandpa had retired some years ago and had presumably not used the study for work since. She walked through the corridor and stopped before the door. Just to make sure that her assumption was correct, Vicky pressed the door handle. The door was indeed locked. Suddenly it dawned on Vicky that she still was holding the key to the cottage in her hand.