CHAPTER THIRTEEN M: WHAT THE BUILDING COULD NOT SAY
Paul asked Nora to join him beside the inspection gate before the ceremony started.
The structural inspector was there, holding a hard hat beneath one arm.
She introduced herself as Elaine Porter.
“I wanted to explain something before anyone asks you about the wall,” Elaine said.
Nora nodded.
“I’m listening.”
Elaine pointed toward the exposed service corridor.
“The hatch is original to the building.”
“We know that.”
“The surrounding wall was added later.”
“We know that too.”
“But we don’t know why it was added.”
Nora looked at her.
“Could it have been routine construction?”
“Yes.”
“Could somebody have wanted to hide the hatch?”
“That’s possible too.”
Elaine folded her arms.
“The physical evidence can’t choose between those explanations.”
Nora felt frustration rising.
“Then what can it tell us?”
“It can tell us that the route existed and that somebody forced the latch.”
“Can it tell us whether the children came through?”
“No.”
“The witnesses can tell us that.”
“Yes.”
Elaine met her eyes.
“I don’t want you to feel disappointed by the limits of my findings.”
Nora looked toward the green tiles inside the corridor.
“My mother spent years being told that what she remembered didn’t count.”
“I understand.”
“Now people want the wall to do all the talking.”
Elaine nodded.
“That happens when witnesses have been ignored.”
Paul shifted beside them.
“I can describe what I saw when we opened the corridor.”
Elaine looked at him.
“And you can say that the building’s condition required an inspection before demolition.”
“That’s what I’ll say.”
Nora took a breath.
“Then I’ll tell them about Ruth.”
Elaine smiled faintly.
“That sounds like a sensible division of labor.”
Nora glanced at the old structure.
For years, people had treated the hall as a monument to a single man.
Now the building was being asked to settle arguments that belonged to living people.
She wondered how many workers had passed through its corridors without ever appearing in the official photographs.
“How many people worked here?” she asked.
Paul looked surprised.
“During the exhibition?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know.”
Elaine shook her head.
“Neither do I.”
Nora thought of Sylvia, Beatrice, and Owen.
She thought of the unnamed people who had carried barriers, cleaned floors, checked tickets, and handed coats back to frightened families.
“Maybe that’s another question worth asking,” she said.
Paul looked toward the stage.
“I hope somebody has time to answer it.”
Nora followed his gaze.
The crowd was larger than she expected.
Some people stood along the fence because every chair was occupied.
She could hear the murmur of voices beneath the snapping banner.
The mayor’s aide waved from the tent.
Nora thanked Elaine and Paul, then walked back toward the chairs.
