I went up to the second floor and after walking down several aisles full of bookshelves, I found a section replete with manuscripts.
I asked the person in charge of that section for the documentation I was looking for, and he proceeded to deposit a mountain of files on the table that exceeded my height.
‘Will that be all for today?’ he asked without a flicker of emotion.
‘I hope so,’ I replied, the tone of resignation quite obvious in my voice.
‘If you don't manage to get through it all, we have some shelves in reception where researchers can store any materials they are working on for the following day.’
‘Thank you very much. That’s most kind of you to suggest it.’
I turned on the small green lamp that was present on each table and opened the first dossier; a process I repeated many times over the following days.
After a few days into the research, I was beginning to regret my proposal. This wasn’t going to be as easy as I had imagined. The information seemed endless, and it would take years to study it properly.
I found out about all manner of explorers, from those who had discovered the most remote places in Africa, to archaeologists who had unearthed the historical legacies of the Middle East.
Around mid-morning, while turning a few pages, I looked up and noticed a man watching me from a few tables further up. I wasn’t sure if I knew him, or if he was looking at me for some other reason. A moment later, I looked up again, but he was gone.
After lunch, I went through the library shelves. It felt like a real privilege to run my fingertips over those volumes that held so many centuries of history: Stanley's personal diary of his odyssey through Africa until he found the sources of the Nile and his subsequent encounter with Livingstone; the hardships of Arctic explorers led by Shackleton when his ship was trapped in the ice for months and they had nearly frozen to death; the race for the conquest of the South Pole between Amundsen and Scott in which he tragically ended up losing his life; as well as various archaeological discoveries made by our most acclaimed explorers.
This investigation was getting me nowhere and I needed to come at it from another angle.
‘Excuse me, miss,’ I said to the librarian with whom I had spoken on the first day I arrived.
‘You said that in addition to written documentation, there were also certain maps which I could take a look at.’
‘Not only do we have maps, we also have newspapers and photographs that you can examine.’
For the cartography section, I had to go down to the basement in order to study different maps and newspapers from the 19th century. Although some of the material was interesting, most of the information was already known to the general public. My job was to discover something new and in those few days that I had been there, I had only found a couple of stories worth reviewing.
I was absorbed in newspapers that still gave off a strong smell of ink. I closed my eyes and the odour emanating from the ink gave way to a pleasant perfume I instantly recognised.
‘Adriana!’ I exclaimed with my eyes still closed.
‘Have you turned into some sort of a psychic?’ she asked smiling.
Adriana was Sicilian with intense green eyes, an easy smile and the best dancer I had ever seen. She had migrated to the UK with her parents while still a child.
‘What brings you here?’ she asked, sitting down opposite me.
‘You know what it’s like. When you’re a newspaper correspondent, you can be in Parliament one day and in a library the next.’
‘I’m quite jealous. I spend all day at the hairdressers.’
I nodded with a smile.
‘They told me at your newspaper office that you would be here. I come to find out if you’re coming to dance class this Saturday. I need a partner,’ she asked.
‘Of course!’
She laughed with delight. Those at the next table shot us a disapproving look.
‘I’d better leave you to your research. I'm going to see the latest Gloria Swanson movie tonight. Are you coming?’
‘Not a chance. I’ve got a lot of work to get through. I'll see you on Saturday.’
She gave me a peck on the cheek and then walked off smiling.
After quite a while searching among the shelves, I spied that same man who had been watching me for the last three days. So, I decided to go over to him and ask him what he was playing at, but on reaching the table where he had been sitting, I found no one there. I scoured some of the adjacent aisles but could not find him. It was as if the earth had suddenly swallowed him up. I was starting to get a bad feeling about him.
On Friday, rumours had reached me that my boss was not satisfied with how my investigation was progressing. I had repeatedly told him that I needed a research assistant, but he would not take my recommendations seriously.
The responsibility for the whole research had fallen on my shoulders. The most frustrating thing was that if the article turned out to be a success, all the credit would go to the newspaper and its editor. For me there would only be a small credit at the end of the article bearing my name. However, if it was a failure, I would have to take the entire blame.
After a week of investigation, Mr. Dillan sent for me. By the time I had reached his door, I noticed that the glass panes around his office had been changed and his name now appeared in much bigger letters.
‘So, what do you have for me today?’ He asked sceptically. He already knew from my colleagues that I had not discovered anything new. ‘Have you dug up anything that we can publish?’
I took off my raincoat and hat and hung them up next to the umbrella stand. Then, I sat down on a worn oak chair.
‘I have a couple of stories about explorers who have discovered rivers on Africa’s west coast.’
The Scotsman shook his head over and over. He went to the radio and turned off a rather boring government speech.
‘By adding a little adventure and embellishing the article, we could publish it,’ I added.
‘And is this all that you’ve come up with after a week?’ He replied staring at me. ‘You could’ve been at the pub with that brunette, for all I know.’
I shook my head.
‘I spend all day working in the museum,’ I replied. ‘Adriana is just a good friend who teaches me how to dance the Charleston.’
‘That brazen American dance?’
‘It's fun,’ I said, smiling. ‘You should try it.’
Mr. Dillan fixed his eyes on me with a stern look on his face, forcing me to look down.
‘We’ve been allowed into the Royal British Geographical Society to go through the accounts of expeditions at their facilities,’ he announced, handing me a document. ‘From tomorrow, you’ll be carrying out your research there.’
‘That’s excellent, sir!’
‘You’d better bring me some good news next time. Now get out of here. I’ve a lot of work to do.’
The next morning, I got up and made myself a strong cup of tea feeling more refreshed than ever. It was my first day at the library of the Royal British Geographical Society, the most important department in the organisation’s headquarters when it came to accounts of expeditions. Normally, only high-ranking academics and influential figures from Oxford and Cambridge Universities were allowed into the place to study their records. Luckily however, Mr. Dillan was the nephew of one of the institution's most notable patrons, and he had managed to obtain permission for me to investigate there for two weeks.
The Society's library was smaller than that of the British Museum, but it held some real treasures. The first few days of my inquiries continued along similar lines to those at the British Museum. The accounts were all written by the most famous explorers in the history of the British Empire.
