though Andrew gives me fits, I’m still glad I came. I’ve always wanted to see London.”
“So have I.” Lydia sat forward, her spirit lifting. “Why don’t we do some sightseeing next time we have our half day?”
“That would be nice. What do you want to see?”
“Maybe the changing of the guard at the palace, or we could go to a picture show.”
Ann smiled. “Yes. Let’s check the newspaper and find out what’s playing next week.”
Lydia started to reply, but something caught her eye. About thirty yards away, a young woman in a dark coat crossed the park toward the lake. She wore no hat, and though her back was to Lydia, the tilt of her shoulders and the way she walked looked familiar.
Lydia took a sharp breath and squinted against the bright sunlight reflected off the lake. The woman looked like Helen! But that didn’t make sense. What would her sister be doing in London … at Wiltshire Park?
“Lydia, what is it?” Ann followed Lydia’s gaze.
A heavyset, broad-shouldered man walked with the woman. He wore a red plaid cap, faded brown jacket, and heavy work boots. Lydia’s heartbeat sped up. It was hard to tell from the back, but he looked a bit like Charlie Gibbons, the farmhand who worked for their neighbors, the MacGregors.
The woman turned, bringing her profile in view.
Lydia gasped and jumped to her feet. “Helen!”
The woman slowed and looked over her shoulder, scanning the park. The man grabbed her arm and tugged her off at a quick pace through the trees at the side of the path.
Lydia lifted her skirt and ran after them.
“Lydia, wait!” Ann jumped up from the bench.
Lydia reached the spot where the woman had disappeared and skidded to a stop. Panting, she bent and peered through the trees, but there was no sign of them now.
Ann caught up with her. “Lydia, what are you doing?”
“I thought … I thought I saw Helen.”
Ann’s eyes widened. “Your sister? The one who ran away?”
“Yes.” Lydia lifted her hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath.
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t know. It looked like her.” Lydia rubbed her eyes and glanced around, trying to make sense of it.
A shout rang out behind them. Lydia and Ann spun to find that the marble game had turned into a wrestling match. Andrew grabbed hold of a pudgy blond lad’s jacket. The other boys circled around, clapping and shouting, urging them on.
“Oh no!” Ann ran toward the tussling pair.
Lydia hiked up her skirt and hurried after her.
“That’s enough!” Ann grabbed hold of Andrew’s shoulder and pushed the other boy away.
Andrew’s face glowed red beneath his freckles, as he squirmed and tried to break free. “Let me go !”
“Not until you settle down.” Ann gave Andrew a slight shake and a stern look. “What’s going on here?”
The other boy thrust his finger toward Andrew. “He cheated!”
“I did not!” Andrew’s eyes blazed.
“I saw you move the marble with your foot.”
“That’s not true!” Andrew glared at the other boy. “You called me a liar!”
The blond boy’s mouth twisted into an angry grimace.
“All right.” Ann looked back and forth between them. “Misunderstandings happen in games and in life, but it’s better to talk them out or walk away rather than trying to settle them with your fists.” She turned to Andrew. “Why don’t you say you’re sorry and offer to shake hands?”
Andrew crossed his arms and turned away, his jaw set.
Ann stepped closer to Andrew and lowered her voice. “You better do as I say, or I’ll tell your father what happened. And if he finds out you’ve been fighting, I won’t be bringing you back to the park anytime soon.”
The battle raged across Andrew’s face for a few seconds, but he finally turned around and extended his hand. “Sorry.”
The blond boy continued to scowl.
“Go on, then.” Ann tapped the blond boy’s shoulder. “Shake hands like a gentleman.”
“Oh, all right,” he muttered
The Science of Leonardo: Inside the Mind of the Great Genius of the Renaissance