Behind the Beanie

So....Where Were We? Ah Yes, The Lion

After a few hours, our bus finally arrived at central London. I marveled at the beautiful sites and famous buildings of the city, eyes glowing with wonder. I had always wanted to visit London!

Conner nudged me and I turned. "This is the most proper place I've ever been in my life," he said. "Just being here makes me feel like I should be dressed up."

The bus stopped near a hotel, at a place named Trafalgar Square, and it was swarming with tourists. Conner and I crept out of the bus as the teenagers rushed outside, and once on the street, we found an ATM machine. Thankfully, Conner had a credit card, and before inserting it into the slot he whispered something, like a prayer, and I moved forward to cover him from prying eyes as mounds of English money came piling out of the machine.

My eyes went wide as Conner shoved the money into his pockets. "That's a lot of money—in any country. But it's smart of you to take out a bunch of cash so no one can use your transactions to trace you," I added. "They do that to find suspects in the crime books I read."

Conner shrugged. "Oh, I never thought about that," he said thoughtfully. "I just took out as much as I could because it was my first time using an ATM."

I chuckled. His sense of humor was starting to grow on me.

We bought a map from one of those merchants who were selling on the street and started looking for clues to find the statue lion.

"There's one!" Conner exclaimed.

"What were you looking for?" I asked.

"A library. We'll go to the library and look up where to find the Red Lion Brewery."

I frowned. "Are you sure you don't want me to look it up on the Internet with my phone?"

Conner waved the idea away with his hand. "No, I don't trust those things. I'd rather do it the traditional way—we're in London after all."

"Suit yourself."

We followed the map a few blocks, checking the directions every few minutes, until we arrived at a small library in the corner of St. James's Square. A middle - aged woman sat at the front desk in front of the library; her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun and a pair of thick - framed glasses sat crookedly on her hooked nose.

She stared at us as we approached. "Are you members?" she said.

Conner was staring at the woman with his mouth slightly hanging open, and, remembering Buckinghamshirevillton, I figured I'd better step in before things went awry.

"No," I said, stepping forward, "but we're interested in joining. May we have a look around?"

The librarian nodded, gesturing for us to proceed, but then stopped us when she saw our luggage and permitted us to enter only when we had set down our bags by the door. We obliged, and soon we were opening the glass doors into a wide - spaced dusty room filled with rows and rows of bookshelves, a high brown mahogany ceiling stretching
above us.

I grinned, ecstatic; I loved libraries. There were always so many books to choose from, so many options, and a calming stillness in the air that always relaxed me. I took a deep breath, inhaling the musty smell, and tried to remind myself that we weren't here for enjoying ourselves but that we had business to do.

"I'll be right back," Conner whispered, "I'm going to find some books." And he disappeared behind a row of shelves.

   Meanwhile, I looked up on my phone (the Internet was so much easier) and typed on Google RED LION BREWERY.