The Little Shop of Hidden Treasures Part One: Starting Over

by Holly Hepburn

  She straightened up without touching it. ‘There’s something else in the box.’

  Both Will and Mr Young stopped their conversation to stare at her.

  ‘That’s what Brodie is trying to tell you,’ Hope went on. ‘There’s something in the box – it might be some kind of paperwork, a receipt or something.’

  ‘Well, now. Do you mind if I take a look, Brodie?’ Mr Young asked.

  The little girl hesitated for a moment, then nodded and held the puzzle box up for him to take. Using a pair of tweezers, Mr Young slowly teased the paper out.

  ‘Sadly, it’s not a helpful receipt that tells us everything we want to know,’ he said once he’d unfolded the yellowed and almost translucent sheet. ‘In fact, it’s a letter, date marked nineteen twenty three.’

  ‘Who is it from?’ Hope asked, wondering if it held a clue to who the ring might have belonged to.

  He scanned the letter, his forehead furrowing as he read. ‘Fascinating,’ he said, beckoning Hope forwards so that she could see the letter laid out on the counter. ‘Why don’t you take a look?’

  With tentative fingers, Hope turned the paper towards herself and stared at the faded, old-fashioned handwriting.

  10th April 1923, York

  My dearest K,

  I trust that you are well, and that the excavations continue apace. How I envy you for being there! It is hard to believe it has been over a month since I left Egypt – the days have passed so slowly but somehow it is already April.

  I have not the faintest idea how I shall write these next words – I know they will break your heart as surely as they break my own. And yet they must be written, for as much as it feels impossible for us to be apart, it is now equally impossible for us to be together. It grieves me sorely but I must therefore end our engagement and return this precious ring to you.

  I know you will refuse to accept this but I implore you not to argue. I do not believe I shall ever return to Egypt and you cannot come to England so we must, from this moment on, be as though separated by death. Please know that I will hold you in my heart always and pray that we may meet again in the next life.

  Ever yours,

  B

  Hope’s heart began to thump as she reached the final paragraph. ‘Oh,’ she said softly, gazing at Mr Young. ‘It’s a Dear John.’

  He nodded. ‘That certainly explains the ring.’

  ‘The writer is breaking of her engagement and returning it to her fiancé,’ she explained to Will. ‘But it doesn’t give any names – just their initials. And it’s dated April nineteen twenty three.’

  Will appeared satisfied. ‘Which fits with what I thought.’ He glanced down at the letter. ‘I wonder who they were.’

  ‘There’s mention of an excavation in Egypt,’ Hope mused. ‘You said there’d been a revival of interest in the Egyptian style during the twenties – isn’t nineteen twenty three around the time Tutankhamun was discovered?’

  ‘Nineteen twenty two, in an expedition led by Howard Carter,’ Mr Young replied. ‘There were a number of women involved with the excavations so there could be a connection. I’ll have to look up the paperwork regarding the house clearance, find out who the customer was.’

  Hope blinked. ‘How long ago was it?’

  Mr Young pursed his lips as he thought. ‘Six or seven years, I believe. But I’ll do my best to track them down. It would certainly be interesting to see if we can find out more about the provenance of the ring.’

  ‘And the woman who broke off her engagement,’ Hope added, with a curious glance at Will who was reading the letter. ‘What do you think – family pressure?’

  ‘It certainly sounds that way,’ he replied. ‘That line about breaking both their hearts makes it fairly clear that ending the relationship isn’t what she wants to do.’

  Hope nodded. ‘And the part about hoping to meet again in the next life. I think it broke her heart to write the letter. I wonder what made her do it.’

  Mr Young was eyeing her shrewdly. ‘Would you like to try and find out?’

  ‘Could I?’ Hope asked. ‘I mean, wouldn’t you rather do it?’

  ‘Why don’t we consider it part of your training? You can go over the paperwork and liaise with Will in case he uncovers who made the ring.’ He shrugged. ‘There’s only a small chance you’ll get anywhere but I think it would be good for you to try.’

  Hope glanced at the puzzle box, still resting in Brodie’s hands. ‘A mystery within a mystery,’ she said, smiling. ‘I’d love to try and unravel it.’

  Mr Young beamed. ‘Then it’s settled – Hope Henderson investigates. I think it’s got a bit of a ring to it, don’t you?’

  It took Hope a moment to register the joke but she couldn’t help laughing when she did. ‘It’s got a lot of a ring to it,’ she answered, and smiled at the little girl beside Will. ‘Well done for opening the box, Brodie. I can’t wait to find out more.’

  Chapter Five

  ‘How’s the job going, love?’

  It was Wednesday evening and Hope was at her parents’ house in Upper Poppleton. What had begun as a one-off invitation when she’d first moved from London – dinner with her father while her mother was at choir practice – had developed into a weekly tradition, almost without her realizing it. But she enjoyed spending time with him, just the two of them. Sunday lunches in Upper Poppleton usually involved the whole family and were always chaotic and noisy. Wednesday night dinner was much less hectic and Hope found it a real comfort to relax amid the quiet familiarity of her childhood home.

  She finished her mouthful of cottage pie and smiled at her dad across the battered oak dining table that had been at the heart of the kitchen for as long as she could recall. ‘Really well, thanks. Everyone is so friendly and I enjoy the work.’

  ‘You always did love that shop,’ he said fondly. ‘Do you remember the time you gave us the slip at the Minster? One minute you were behind us, squabbling with Harry and Charlotte, the next you’d vanished. We eventually found you with your nose pressed up against the windows of the Emporium, the way other kids stared into sweetshops.’

  ‘Really?’ Hope asked as a bubble of incredulity rose up inside her. ‘I don’t remember that at all.’

  He raised his salt-and-pepper eyebrows. ‘You’d have been around seven or eight, I think. And you had no idea what the fuss was about – you seemed to think we’d know where you’d gone.’

  Hope shook her head. ‘Wow. Sorry, Dad, you must have been frantic.’

  ‘Your mother was,’ he said. ‘Once the initial panic died down, I had an inkling where to find you. And it’s no real surprise you’ve ended up there as an adult but I’m glad it’s going well. You need something solid to lean against.’

  It was an odd way of putting it but Hope thought she knew what he meant; to anyone looking in, working at the Emporium might seem like just a job, and a part-time job at that, but already it felt like more than just a workplace. Perhaps it had something to do with feeling useful again – she’d drifted along for months, just getting through each day. Now she had a purpose and it felt good to be connected to something again, to be part of a team. Meeting Iris had helped too; making a friend who hadn’t known Rob somehow helped cement the idea that Hope was starting again. But it was possible her dad was right – maybe it was the Emporium itself that was the steadying presence. She felt a sense of rightness when she was wandering along the aisles, admiring the everyday treasures that surrounded her, as though she was somehow exactly where she was meant to be.

  ‘There’s something very soothing about being around things that have lasted a lifetime or more,’ she said with a wistful smile, then paused. ‘I guess you don’t have to be Freud to unravel that one.’

  ‘No,’ her father conceded. ‘But I wouldn’t worry too much about unravelling things. Has Mr Young got you working on anything interesting?’

  Hope leaned forward. ‘Funny you should ask that. The most amazing thing happened yesterday.’


  She described how Brodie had solved the secret of the puzzle box and revealed the scarab ring, with its mysterious letter.

  ‘I spent most of yesterday evening trying to find out if there were any society scandals involving the Tutankhamun excavations in nineteen twenty two or twenty three, but no real luck so far,’ Hope finished, shaking her head. ‘The only gossip I could find was about Lord Carnarvon’s daughter, Evelyn, and Howard Carter, the famous archaeologist, but that was all strenuously denied and certainly never reached the point of an engagement.’

  Her dad shrugged. ‘It might have been a clandestine affair. Maybe no one knew they were engaged.’

  Hope considered the suggestion. ‘It would definitely have been a scandal – he was quite a bit older than her and didn’t move in the same social circles. But Evelyn was still in Cairo in April nineteen twenty three. Her father died there and she came back to England afterwards, plus the letter was signed B, so it can’t be her.’

  ‘Sounds like opening the box was just the start of the puzzle,’ he said. ‘I agree that your mystery writer was probably a member of the aristocracy, though. Archaeology held a real fascination for a lot of them so she might even have been working on the excavations, if she had the right family connections.’

  It was a possibility that had occurred to Hope too but details about the women who’d been part of the incredible discoveries in Luxor were almost non-existent, at least as far as Hope had been able to discover. There had been plenty about the men, of course. ‘Maybe,’ she said, sighing. ‘But I don’t know where to start looking. The only facts I have are a date, an initial and a location.’

  ‘And the ring,’ her father pointed out. ‘That sounds quite distinctive.’

  She brightened. ‘That’s true. Will was going to see whether he could find out who manufactured it, which might lead us somewhere.’

  ‘It might,’ he agreed. ‘You could also try the university. They have a pretty distinguished Department of Archaeology and I’m sure they’d be interested in looking at the ring. And if your heartbreaker was a local archaeologist, they might know who she was.’

  It was a great idea, Hope thought as she sat back in her seat. ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’

  Her dad tapped the side of his head gravely. ‘See? Not just a hat rack.’

  ‘Definitely not,’ she said, grinning. ‘Thanks, Dad, I’ll look up who to contact on the university website.’

  ‘Just make sure you keep me in the loop,’ he said. ‘I’m hooked now.’

  ‘I will,’ Hope said, and reached for her phone. The sooner she emailed the university, the sooner she’d get a response.

  * * *

  It took two days for a reply to come through. Hope had sent it to a general address, with a request that it might be forwarded on to the most appropriate person, and the response came from a Professor McCormack.

  Hi Hope,

  Thanks for contacting the university with your enquiry. I’m a specialist in Egyptology so your email has found its way to me and I confess I am intrigued by both the letter and the ring you describe. You mention that the ring is being restored by a local jeweller but it would be a good idea to put the letter in an acid-free document sleeve, to ensure it is protected from damage.

  I’d be very interested in seeing your artefacts and shedding any light I can on their origins – might it be possible for you to bring them to the university? The Department’s administrative manager is Judy Medrington and she has access to my diary – for ease, I’ve copied her into this email.

  I look forward to being of help.

  Kind regards,

  Ciaran McCormack

  She forwarded the email to Mr Young, who suggested they discussed its contents further on Tuesday morning, when Hope was working next. But the mystery scratched at Hope’s subconscious and she found herself falling down online rabbit holes, searching for clues that might help her identify the letter writer. By Saturday afternoon, she gave in to her restlessness and braved the hazy heat that hung over the city’s crowded streets to visit her favourite bakery for a much-needed treat. And since she was already out, it seemed silly not to wander a little further north to High Petergate and the Emporium.

  Predictably, the shop was busier than during the week and the aisles seemed to be bursting with treasure seekers. Mr Young was behind the counter, manning the till, but he caught her eye and smiled as she walked in.

  ‘Five minutes,’ he mouthed over the head of the woman he was serving and Hope nodded in reply. She made her way to the book room, where the browsing customers seemed to sense a respectful silence was required, and immediately lost herself among the shelves.

  She wasn’t surprised to see half an hour had passed when Mr Young finally came to find her. He apologized for keeping her waiting but she waved it away. ‘It’s my own fault for coming in at the weekend,’ she said ruefully. ‘I should have known you’d be busy.’

  ‘Never too busy to turn detective,’ he replied. ‘At least, I assume that’s why you’re here.’

  Hope nodded. ‘Tuesday seemed such a long way away,’ she admitted. ‘Have you got a few minutes to talk now?’

  Mr Young smiled. ‘Of course. Shall we escape upstairs?’

  Once they were seated in the small but impeccably organized first floor office, Hope pulled up the email on her phone.

  ‘Obviously, the ring isn’t an actual Ancient Egyptian artefact but I thought I’d mention it to encourage a speedier reply,’ she explained. ‘Who can resist the whiff of romantic scandal?’

  Mr Young inclined his head gravely. ‘Who indeed? I hope you reassured Professor McCormack that we have taken professional care of the letter.’

  Hope felt her cheeks grow warm. ‘Of course. I didn’t say that I worked here in my initial email, but I mentioned it in my follow-up message.’ She hesitated. ‘I hope you don’t mind but the Professor had a window in his diary on Monday afternoon so I snatched it up.’

  ‘I don’t mind at all,’ her employer said. ‘Enthusiasm is always to be encouraged. But you’ll need to collect the ring from Will. I understand he’s finished his analysis so that shouldn’t be a problem.’

  She allowed herself an inward sigh of relief. The ring was clearly a very valuable object and she hadn’t worked at the Emporium for very long – there’d been a faint worry in her mind that Mr Young might not trust her to take it away from the safety of the shop. ‘Thank you. Maybe I could pick it up on Monday, on my way to the university.’

  Mr Young frowned. ‘I believe Will doesn’t open on Mondays. Let me call him now, see if you can collect it today.’

  A few moments later, he replaced the office phone on its stand and nodded. ‘He says they close at five o’clock but you can pop in any time before then. Perhaps you’d like to choose a little gift for Brodie from the stock, since she’s the one who set us on the trail of this mystery.’

  ‘That’s a lovely idea,’ Hope replied. ‘I’ll see what I can find.’

  The Emporium was a little quieter when they made their way back downstairs, which allowed Hope to browse the aisles in comfort. The obvious choice was one of the flamingos but she wasn’t sure how Will might feel about welcoming a large, feathery bird into either his shop or his home, and Brodie’s response was equally uncertain. Eventually, Hope settled on a set of exquisitely painted Russian nesting dolls.

  ‘Ah, the Matryoshka dolls,’ Mr Young said. ‘I think Brodie will like these very much.’

  The May sun seemed to have brought everyone outdoors and the Shambles was thronging with tourists and shoppers. Hope eased her way through the crowd, edging around the outside of the glass-covered marketplace to Will’s shop, and she was glad to push open the door and step into an oasis of air-conditioned tranquillity. A smartly dressed, middle-aged woman behind the counter looked up as she entered.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ she said, smiling. ‘How can I help?’

  Hope explained she was there to see Will and the woman nodded. ‘Ah,
you must be Hope,’ she said. ‘Will mentioned you’d be stopping by. One moment, I’ll let him know you’re here.’

  She disappeared through a doorway behind her, leaving Hope alone. Glancing around, she took in the floor to ceiling display cases filled with glittering jewellery and watches. Everywhere she looked, something sparkled; it was a real Aladdin’s cave. Had Will made all of this, she wondered, remembering Iris describing him as an artist. She took a step towards one of the displays and the first thing her gaze settled on was a tray of wedding rings. Some were traditional in design, thick bands in gold and white gold, but others were more intricate, studded with diamonds or interwoven with a combination of different metals. A few had clearly been designed as matching pairs – his and hers. Almost subconsciously, Hope touched the ring finger of her left hand, where the skin still felt smooth and naked without her own wedding ring. Rob had insisted she shouldn’t continue to wear it after he was gone.

  ‘I don’t want you to feel bound to me forever,’ he’d said, when they’d finally faced the devastating truth that he wasn’t going to get better. ‘I want you to meet someone else and be happy again. Promise me, Hope.’

  At the time, she’d shaken her head and tearfully declared she would never take it off but his gentle insistence had worn her down. Now she wore it on a chain around her neck, still there but hidden. She didn’t think Rob would object to that.

  ‘Hello, Hope.’

  She turned to see Will in the doorway behind the counter, with Brodie peeking out around his legs. ‘Hi. I hope I’m not disturbing you.’

  A smile wreathed his face. ‘Not at all. Brodie and I were just about to have a biscuit and some tea. Will you join us?’

  Once again, Hope felt herself drawn in by the warm sincerity of his expression. ‘That sounds lovely.’ She raised a hand in a tiny wave. ‘Hi Brodie.’