The Little Shop of Hidden Treasures Part One: Starting Over

by Holly Hepburn

  ‘I thought you said it was low-impact,’ she said to Iris, as the class disbanded. ‘I’m sweating!’

  ‘That just means you worked hard,’ Iris replied. ‘Did you enjoy it?’

  The word ‘no’ started to form on Hope’s lips but she caught herself. She’d missed some of the moves, had been shaky on the turns and her goddess pose had been more oh god than anything else but, in spite of all that, a strange sense of wellbeing was bubbling up inside her. And she had focused so hard on keeping up that all the frustrations of the day had flown out of her head, leaving her mind clear and her spirits cheered. She smiled at Iris. ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘Good,’ the florist said, with obvious satisfaction. ‘Now come and meet Fleur.’

  She introduced Hope to the dance teacher and they chatted for several minutes, as the other dancers called out their goodbyes. Hope wasn’t surprised to discover Fleur was every bit as kind and encouraging as she’d appeared during the class.

  ‘But it was your first time,’ she said, when Hope apologized for not keeping up. ‘You did very well, especially considering it was a mixed ability session.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ Hope said, embarrassed. ‘But at least I didn’t hit anyone with my flailing arms.’

  ‘Not even close,’ Iris responded. ‘And next time it will be easier. Right, Fleur?’

  The other woman nodded. ‘Absolutely. Today you planted seeds that will grow each time you dance.’

  ‘Which basically means you have to come back,’ Iris said, with an exaggerated wink. ‘Or the flowers will die.’

  Hope laughed. ‘Well, since you put it like that…’

  ‘We’re here every week,’ Fleur said warmly. ‘It would be lovely to dance with you again.’

  It wasn’t as though she had anything else to do with her Monday evenings, Hope thought. And it would be nice to master some of the moves she’d tried, or at least learn how to do them in time with the music. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

  It had been a hot day and the summer heat was lingering in the narrow courtyard outside the studio. Hope felt the contrast to the cool of the air-conditioned studio immediately; sweat bloomed on her forehead and she stopped to remove the cardigan she’d pulled on at the end of the dance class. Just ahead, Iris was checking her phone. She let out a loud groan that bounced off the buildings and echoed around the yard.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Hope asked in concern.

  Iris stared at her screen for a few more seconds, then stuffed the phone into her pocket with a sigh. ‘What would you do if you’d been on a first date with a guy and he was keen for a second but you knew it wasn’t going anywhere?’

  The ghost of a smile pulled at Hope’s lips. She hadn’t found herself in that situation during her brief foray into dating but she’d certainly watched her messages go unread and it hadn’t been a pleasant experience. ‘I’d tell him,’ she said, starting to walk towards the alley that led onto Newgate. ‘No point in wasting everyone’s time if you’re not into him.’

  ‘That makes sense,’ Iris said as they made their way along Newgate. ‘It’s like ripping off a plaster, isn’t it? Best done fast and decisively.’

  ‘Something like that,’ Hope agreed. ‘It’s kinder than leaving him hanging for days and then disappearing altogether.’

  Iris gave her a sidelong look. ‘That sounds like the voice of experience. Did you have a tough time getting back into dating after the divorce?’

  Hope hesitated. She should have expected this, especially after mentioning her wedding earlier in the evening. But she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to the flutter of panic that hit her every time she had to explain about Rob’s death; people looked at her differently once they knew. For a moment, she considered going along with Iris’s assumption that she was simply divorced, but she liked the florist and didn’t want to lie.

  She kept her gaze fixed on the cobbles and strove to keep her voice light. ‘I’m a widow, actually. Almost two years ago now.’

  Iris stopped walking, her face a mask of consternation. ‘Oh my god. I’m so sorry – I’m an idiot.’

  Hope shook her head. ‘Don’t apologize, you couldn’t have known.’

  ‘But I could have been a bit more sensitive.’ Iris bit her lip. ‘Is that why you moved to York? To get away from the memories?’

  ‘Partly,’ Hope admitted as they picked their way through the sporadic clusters of window shoppers and diners. ‘I’ve got family nearby so it seemed like as good a place as any to start over.’

  There was a silence, which was something else Hope was familiar with after she’d used the W word, then Iris cleared her throat. ‘Have you dated anyone since… since you lost your husband?’ She cast a mortified look at Hope. ‘Sorry if that’s too personal. It’s just that you’re so young to be a widow.’

  Tell me about it, Hope thought but didn’t say. ‘I went on a few dates,’ she answered. ‘But they backed off when we got to relationship history.’

  ‘Idiots,’ Iris said, scowling. ‘And I bet they didn’t even have the courtesy to be honest with you. I bet they just stopped messaging.’

  ‘Pretty much,’ Hope said. ‘Which is why you should tell your super keen guy that there’s no chance of a second date. It’ll sting but it’s much better than being left hanging.’

  ‘You’re right,’ she said, opening her phone and tapping at the screen with a purposeful air. ‘One plaster, coming right off.’

  Dusk was falling and the streetlights were beginning to glow as they walked. The narrow, twisting streets that made up the heart of York – the ginnels and snickelways, as they’d been known for centuries – were one of Hope’s favourite things about the city, although not when they were thronged with tourists. But now, when the shops were closed and fewer people were out, that was the best time to wander round and gaze into the backlit shop windows. She was enjoying getting to know the hidden alleys and secret snickelways again. It was meeting up with an old friend.

  ‘There’s Will’s shop,’ Iris said, pointing past the Shambles main street to a black and white timbered shop with ornate bars across the window. ‘He’s a really talented jeweller – an artist, to be honest. You should go in and take a look sometime.’

  Hope never needed an excuse to visit the Shambles; the ancient street that ran alongside the marketplace was made up of crooked, higgledy-piggledy buildings that grew nearer to each other with every storey. It had such an otherworldly air that just to walk along it felt almost like stepping back in time. But Iris’s observation reminded Hope of the incredible floral displays on show in the window of Blooming Dales. ‘Speaking of artistry, did Brodie like her flamingo flowers?’

  ‘I think so,’ Iris replied. ‘She especially liked the feathers I wove in among the roses. And it was my last delivery of the day on Saturday, so she got a little ride in the empty bike trailer.’

  ‘I bet she enjoyed that,’ Hope said, picturing the solemn-faced little girl laughing as Iris pulled her along.

  Iris tipped her head. ‘She did. I told Will he should get her a bike of her own and teach her how to ride it. He didn’t look entirely thrilled.’

  Hope grinned. ‘Ha. My brother has two boys and he claims his back has never recovered from teaching them to ride.’

  They reached Fossgate, where their paths diverged. Iris was going back towards her flat above Blooming Dales, and Hope was heading for her own apartment, one of many in a converted mill beside the looping River Foss.

  ‘Thanks for inviting me this evening,’ Hope said as they prepared to go in opposite directions. ‘I really enjoyed it.’

  ‘Thanks for coming, I’m glad you had fun,’ Iris said. ‘And you’re working tomorrow, right?’

  Hope nodded. ‘I’m on the shop floor in the morning and helping to do a stock check in the book room in the afternoon.’

  ‘I’ll wave at you from across the street, then,’ Iris answered. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes, see you t
omorrow,’ Hope echoed with a smile and gave a little wave.

  The glow from the ornate streetlight sparkled on the water as she crossed the gentle curve of the tiny Foss bridge and made her way to the wharf. Being near the river had been top of her list when she’d been looking for somewhere new to live; the flat she’d owned with Rob in Greenwich had overlooked the Thames and she had wanted to be near the water in York too. And Rob had made sure that money at least wasn’t something she had to worry about – their mortgage had been settled upon his death and she’d discovered another insurance policy he’d never even mentioned that gave her a cushion against the aching loss that permeated every other aspect of her life. But although she’d fallen in love with the top floor flat in York almost the moment she’d seen it, she didn’t feel settled there yet. It felt strangely empty, as though something vital was missing despite having all her furniture and possessions filling the space, and she often felt a dip in spirits when she came back after a day at work or time spent with her family.

  Something was different tonight, however. She was glad to hang her coat on the hook in the hall, grateful to kick off her trainers and pad out onto the still-warm balcony that overlooked the river, with a glass of cold white wine in her hand.

  She sat for a few moments, stretching her tight calf muscles and gazing across the rooftops to the peeping spires of the Minster, twinkling against the darkening sky in the distance. Perhaps this little shoot of contentment was a sign that York was beginning to feel like home, she thought as she sipped her wine. Perhaps she could carve out a fresh start, one where she actually lived instead of simply getting through each day. And perhaps Iris might turn out to be part of what Hope was missing – a friend to make new memories with.

  On impulse, she raised her glass towards the Minster. ‘Here’s to starting over,’ she said softly, picturing the Ever After Emporium and Blooming Dales nestling in its shadow. Then she remembered something both Fleur and Iris had said. ‘And here’s to being kind.’

  Chapter Four

  The Emporium already had its first visitors when Hope arrived the next morning. Mr Young was leaning against the counter, chatting to Will, and Hope wasn’t at all surprised to see the puzzle box in Brodie’s hands as she perched on a rose velvet armchair nearby.

  Mr Young glanced across the shop with twinkling eyes. ‘Ah, and here’s Hope. Good morning.’

  ‘Hello,’ she replied. ‘How are you today?’

  ‘We’re grand,’ Mr Young said. ‘Will was just telling me about the puzzle box his mother owns. They were popular in the Victorian era and around the turn of the century, so the older ones do pop up as family heirlooms.’

  Will smiled. ‘I’m not sure I’d call ours an heirloom. My brother and I weren’t exactly delicate in our efforts to open it.’

  Hope eyed the little girl, who was methodically testing every inch of the cedarwood box. ‘Luckily for us, Brodie is more careful.’

  ‘She is,’ Mr Young said approvingly. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know much about the provenance of the box, other than to say it’s probably from Morocco rather than Japan or Switzerland. It came in from a house clearance some years ago and we’ve all spent hours trying to work out its secret.’

  ‘I think Brodie has similar plans,’ Will admitted dryly. ‘She practically dragged me in here today.’

  ‘She’s very welcome to spend as long as she likes – I’d love someone to work out its secret,’ Mr Young said. ‘But you’ll have to excuse me now, I’m afraid. The dreaded paperwork beckons.’

  He nodded at Will and Hope, then bent to catch Brodie’s eye. ‘Do you know, I’ve got a feeling you’re going to solve the mystery. Keep going!’

  The little girl’s hands stopped moving for a moment as she glanced briefly up at him and Hope thought her mouth curved into the faintest of smiles before she bowed her head again.

  ‘Thank you for letting her try,’ Will said.

  Mr Young shrugged as he straightened up. ‘No need to thank me. Puzzles are made to be solved, after all.’

  With a final amiable nod, he made his way along the aisle and out of sight, leaving Hope and Will standing together in a slightly awkward silence. She was just wondering whether to offer him a cup of tea when Will spoke. ‘Iris told me you’re new to the city as well as the Emporium. How are you settling in?’

  ‘I’m not exactly new,’ Hope replied, uneasily wondering how her name had come up in conversation between Will and Iris. ‘I grew up on the outskirts of York so I know it pretty well. But a lot has changed – I’m still getting reacquainted with some things.’

  He tipped his head. ‘It’s a lot busier, I expect. Especially in the high season.’

  ‘I don’t remember quite as many visitors,’ Hope conceded, thinking of the packed public gardens that lined the River Ouse and the crowds spilling out around the Minster. ‘But I’m used to London, which is always full of tourists. High Petergate hasn’t reached the terrifying heights of Oxford Circus in the sales yet.’

  A pained look crossed Will’s face. ‘Let’s hope it never does. I know tourism is a huge part of the local economy but it brings plenty of challenges too.’ He paused and seemed to mentally change tack. ‘Look, I know you’re not a stranger to York but if you ever need someone to show you round, I’d be happy to help. There are a few new places you might enjoy that the tourists haven’t discovered yet.’

  The offer caused a pleasing fizzle of excitement in Hope’s stomach even as her brain reared up in panic. Was he asking her out? Or just being friendly? Had Iris put him up to this? What had been said? And how should she respond? ‘Thank you,’ she managed, after a momentary tussle with her suddenly jumbled thoughts. ‘I don’t know many people here now so that’s a very kind offer.’

  Will opened his mouth to reply but whatever he’d been about to say was interrupted by the merest of clicks and a sharp intake of breath from Brodie. Hope looked down to see her holding the puzzle box out in front of her. Its lid was open.

  ‘You did it!’ Hope gasped. ‘That’s amazing!’

  Will crouched down beside her, tilting the wood so he could see inside. ‘There’s something in here.’

  Carefully, he tipped the box sideways until a small package wrapped in yellowed tissue paper tumbled into his palm. He glanced up at Hope. ‘Over to you, I think.’

  He placed the package in her hand. It was heavier than she expected and the temptation to peel back the aged paper was strong. Reluctantly, Hope forced the urge down. ‘Over to Mr Young, I think,’ she corrected. ‘I’ll call him down from the office.’

  Moments later, the antique shop owner was standing beside them. He beamed at Brodie. ‘Didn’t I say you’d crack the mystery? Let’s see what treasure the box was hiding.’

  Hope held her breath as he gently pulled the paper apart. Something sparkled in the light and she craned her neck to see what it was. Mr Young became very still. ‘A treasure indeed,’ he said, his voice soft. ‘Look.’

  He held up a silver and gold ring with the biggest emerald Hope had ever seen. The gold had dulled with age but the oval jewel shone brightly under the shop lights, amplified by a cluster of diamonds set in delicate silvery filigree on each side. Will let out a low, appreciative whistle. ‘That’s a beauty.’

  ‘It certainly is,’ Mr Young said. ‘I wonder how long it’s been in the box.’

  ‘May I?’ Will asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Mr Young said, placing the ring in his hands. ‘You’re the expert where jewellery is concerned.’

  Will held the ring up to the light and Hope felt the breath catch in her throat at its beauty. Now that she looked closely, she saw that the diamond clusters were wider at the top, thinning and curving into the side of the emerald as they neared the base, like folded wings. Two tiny silver triangles peeped over the top, adding height to the jewel. The effect was breath-taking; she’d never seen anything quite like it.

  Will ran a finger across the domed emerald and smiled. ‘It’s a scarab bee
tle,’ he said, tilting the ring so that it was angled in the light. ‘Look, you can see the shape of the carapace has been carved into the surface of the jewel. The diamonds on either side have been set in platinum to form the legs, neatly tucked into the body.’

  Legs, not wings, Hope noted as the gemstones sparkled. And platinum, not silver. Just how valuable a treasure had Brodie discovered?

  Will was now squinting at the inside of the golden band of the ring. ‘Unfortunately, there’s no hallmark but the Art Deco style and scarab detail suggest that it was made sometime in the 1920s. Ancient Egypt was a huge influence back then, particularly on jewellery.’

  ‘Almost a hundred years old,’ Hope murmured and then remembered she was surrounded by a myriad of objects that were considerably older. But none of them were as breath-taking as this.

  Mr Young seemed to understand. ‘Everything in the Ever After Emporium has a story but every now and then, we discover something special. I strongly suspect this is one of those times.’

  Still holding the now empty puzzle box, Brodie tugged at Will’s trousers. ‘Not now, sweetheart,’ he said absently, studying the ring. ‘It feels like 18 carat gold, and the emerald is probably 10 carats alone.’ He looked at Mr Young. ‘I could clean the whole thing up, verify the quality if you’d like?’

  ‘That would be wonderful,’ Mr Young said. ‘If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble.’

  ‘It would be an absolute pleasure, believe me,’ Will said, as Brodie began to pull on his arm. He frowned. ‘Wait a minute, please, Brodie. I’m talking.’

  Hope caught the look of frustration on the girl’s face; it was the kind of expression she’d seen before on the faces of her nephews and it usually meant an explosion was imminent. While Will and Mr Young continued to discuss the find, Hope bent to Brodie’s level. ‘Is everything okay?’

  Brodie glanced upwards, clearly wanting Will’s attention, but since that didn’t seem to be forthcoming, she fixed her blue eyes on Hope and pointed inside the puzzle box. Obediently, Hope peeked inside. And there, folded into a tiny square and flattened against the bottom of the secret compartment, was a flimsy piece of paper.