The Little Shop of Hidden Treasures Part One: Starting Over

by Holly Hepburn

  The little girl studied her for a moment, then turned around and vanished. ‘I think that means come on through,’ Will said, in a half-apologetic tone.

  Behind the glamorous façade of the shop’s glittering displays was a white-walled workshop. A heavy wooden workbench sat in the centre of the room, its scratched and grooved surface littered with tools. Above it, a bright overhead light hung from the ceiling but there were also several angled lamps on the table, alongside an impressive silver and black microscope mounted on a stand and a couple of long-handled magnifying glasses. A door to one side seemed to lead into a kitchen and there was a battered velvet sofa set against another wall, with a thick rug in front of it that was scattered with Lego, books and toys.

  ‘Welcome to the workshop,’ Will said, waving a hand around the room. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve switched the security lasers off.’

  Hope nodded. ‘That’s good to know. Obviously, I’m only here to case the joint.’

  ‘Ah,’ he said gravely. ‘I’d better not mention the invisible guard dog, then.’

  Brodie glanced back and forth between them, her forehead creased in a bemused frown. ‘Oh, that’s right,’ Will said, slapping a hand to his forehead. ‘I forgot, it’s a goose, not a dog.’

  ‘Sounds like a genius idea to me,’ Hope replied. ‘Have you seen the geese down by the river? They’re fiercer than any rottweiler.’

  He grinned. ‘Aren’t they? There are signs up in the Museum Gardens, warning tourists not to even make eye contact.’ Pausing, he fixed her with an enquiring look. ‘Anyway, what can I get you? I’ve got tea, coffee or banana Nesquik.’

  ‘Hmmmm,’ she said, pretending to consider the options. ‘I think I’ll have tea please – milk, no sugar.’

  With a cheerful nod, Will slipped into the kitchen. Hope smiled at Brodie. ‘I guess the Nesquik belongs to you?’

  The girl nodded but her eyes were fixed on the open kitchen door, where the sound of a kettle being filled could be heard.

  ‘And are these your toys?’ Hope went on, pointing to the rug. ‘What are you building with your Lego?’

  Brodie hesitated, as though she was trying to decide whether to make a bolt for the safety of her uncle. But the opportunity to show off her toys was too great to resist and instead, she reached for a multi-coloured rectangle of blocks.

  ‘Are you building a house?’ Hope asked and had to hide a grin when Brodie flashed her a look that clearly suggested she was insane. ‘A castle? A rocket?’

  Sitting down on the rug, Brodie reached for another brick and added it to her construction. She stared at Hope expectantly.

  ‘A car?’ Hope hazarded, scouting around for further clues. Her gaze landed on a plastic silver dressing-up ring, complete with a flashing emerald in the middle, and the penny dropped. ‘Oh, it’s a puzzle box!’

  Brodie beamed at her. She picked up the ring and dropped it inside, placing one hand over the top as though she’d just completed a magic trick.

  ‘It’s just like the one at the Emporium,’ Hope said, clapping. ‘But I can’t help noticing it doesn’t have a lid. Would you like somewhere safer to hide your treasure?’

  Eyes wide, the girl nodded. Hope knelt on the rug, reaching into her bag to take out the gift she’d brought. She placed the tissue-paper wrapped package on the rug in front of Brodie. ‘This is a thank you present from Mr Young for opening the puzzle box.’

  Will appeared, with a steaming mug of tea in one hand and a glass of creamy yellow milk in the other. ‘That’s very kind of him. Go ahead and open it, Brodie.’

  At first, the little girl picked carefully at the edge of the tissue, peeling back one thin layer after another. But then impatience got the better of her and she seized the parcel to tear rest of the paper away. When the bright red and gold decoration of the rounded doll peeped through, Brodie slowed down and slid the last of the wrapping away. Then she looked up at Hope, her gaze questioning.

  ‘She has a secret too,’ Hope said, getting to her feet and taking the mug of tea from Will. ‘If you play with her, she might tell you what it is.’

  Immediately, Brodie lifted the doll to her ear and gave it a gentle shake. Her eyes lit up when she heard the rattle and she ran her fingers across the smooth painted wood, searching for the way in.

  ‘This is enormously kind of you of you too,’ Will said, leaning against the workbench with his hands cupped around his own mug. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘As I said, it was Mr Young’s idea,’ Hope said as she turned towards him. ‘But I chose the dolls. I thought she’d find them interesting.’

  Will tipped his head. ‘You chose very well. She’s going to be engrossed by them all afternoon.’

  The praise sent a ripple of satisfaction through Hope and she wasn’t able to prevent herself from smiling. ‘I’m glad.’ She glanced down at Brodie’s bowed head and her smile faded. ‘Iris told me a little about what happened. I’m very sorry for your loss.’

  He was silent for a moment, eyes fixed on his hands, but then he looked up. ‘Thank you. It’s been a very difficult time.’ He paused, as though trying to find the right words. ‘Some days are easier than others. But life goes on – the sun comes up and goes down and sometimes I think she forgets for a few minutes. Like right now.’

  Hope followed his gaze to the rug, where Brodie was employing the same methodical diligence she’d brought to opening the puzzle box. ‘It takes time. I’m sure you’re doing a great job.’

  Will sighed. ‘It helps to see her smile. Gives me optimism that she might start talking again one day.’

  ‘I’m sure she will,’ Hope offered. ‘Grief affects us all differently – sometimes we think we’re coming through it only to find another layer hiding underneath.’

  ‘A bit like the dolls,’ Will said, with a glimmer of understanding.

  ‘Yes,’ Hope said, her own lips twisting in acknowledgement. ‘Maybe one day, we finish opening all the layers and find a new version of ourselves waiting – smaller than we were, sadder, but ready to face life again.’

  He gave a thoughtful nod. ‘And then we put ourselves back together, hiding the joins from the rest of the world.’

  ‘But we always feel them there,’ Hope said quietly. ‘We’re never quite whole again.’

  She wasn’t sure if it was what she said or the way she said it that made him study her. For a moment, she thought he might ask how she knew. But instead, he took a long sip of tea and when he spoke again his tone was determined and bright. ‘Anyway, the present is perfect, as you can see. Thanks.’

  She couldn’t blame him for backing away from the deeper waters; hadn’t she done the same more times than she could count? Mindful of the unspoken boundary, she took refuge in professionalism. ‘You’re very welcome.’

  Silence hung in the air, long enough to cause a stirring of social anxiety in Hope. She opened her mouth to say something – anything – to fill the gap in conversation but Will beat her to it. ‘So, Mr Young said you’re taking the ring to someone at the university.’

  ‘Yes, there’s a professor who has asked to see it,’ she said. ‘Although it’s the letter I really want him to take a look at.’

  ‘If this was a movie, the letter would have been written by his great-grandmother, he’d tell you everything about her and the mystery would be solved.’

  Hope snorted. ‘If this was a movie, we’d all have been sucked into a parallel dimension the moment Brodie opened the puzzle box.’

  ‘True,’ Will conceded with a grin. ‘Well, I hope your professor is more help more than I’ve been. I was able to confirm the physical qualities of the ring but got nowhere with finding out who made it. I’m beginning to wonder if it might have been manufactured abroad.’

  ‘Maybe even in Egypt,’ Hope offered. ‘In which case there’s no hope of a paper trail, right?’

  ‘Probably not,’ Will said. ‘I mean, the emerald is a beauty – that originated in Colombia – but they were popular throughout the nineteen
twenties and thirties so that doesn’t tell us much. I’m surprised there aren’t any markings inside the band but that happens sometimes.’

  ‘You’ve been really helpful,’ Hope replied. ‘I’ll let you know what the professor says – he sounded intrigued in his emails.’

  Will grimaced. ‘Just don’t let him hang on to it. It’s hard to know for sure but the unusual design probably means it’s worth at least ten thousand pounds.’

  Hope almost swallowed her last mouthful of tea too fast. ‘Really?’

  ‘Something like that,’ he said, then threw her an amused look. ‘You look like the people on the Antiques Roadshow who find out the painting they’ve kept in the garage is worth millions.’

  The ring might not be worth millions but it did make Hope worry about putting it in her handbag to walk through the crowded market. ‘Wow. I’m not sure I’d have agreed to take it if I’d known.’

  Will eyed her with concern. ‘I can walk you home if you’re worried.’ Then he seemed to replay the offer in his head and his cheeks grew pink. ‘With Brodie, I mean. Although I’ve just realized I have no idea where you live – it could be miles…’

  He trailed off, looking even more embarrassed and Hope took pity on him. ‘I live on the wharf, down by Foss Bridge. But honestly, you don’t need to walk me anywhere. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ he said, frowning. ‘It’s no trouble and we could probably use some fresh air.’

  Hope looked at Brodie, who had discovered the secret of the dolls and had them all laid out in front of her. ‘No, don’t worry. But I should probably get going. I’m meeting Iris for dinner this evening.’

  ‘Of course,’ Will replied, and stood up straight. ‘The ring is locked away in the safe, I’ll just grab it.’

  While he was gone, Hope watched Brodie playing for a moment or two. On impulse, she crouched beside her on the rug. ‘Do you like them?’

  The answering nod was immediate.

  Hope smiled. ‘I think they like you too. And the nice thing about these dolls is that they love to listen. So, if you ever want to tell them anything – anything at all – they’d love to hear it.’

  Brodie’s blue eyes were wide as they met Hope’s. She brushed a strand of blonde hair from the little girl’s forehead. ‘Do you believe that?’

  Again, the nod was instant.

  Hope smiled. ‘Good. And the best thing is, they’ll never tell anyone else. So, you can trust them no matter what is worrying you.’

  Will came back into the room. He held out a dark green, velvet-covered ring box. Hope rose and took it. ‘Thanks.’

  He glanced down at Brodie, who was once more happily engrossed in the dolls. ‘No problem. But I think it’s me who should be thanking you.’

  ‘You did,’ Hope reminded him. ‘I’ve thanked you and you’ve thanked me, so I think we’re all sorted for thanks.’

  Will laughed. ‘I think we are. We’ll pop into the Emporium next week for a catch up – I’m already curious about what this professor is going to say.’

  ‘Me too. I hope it’s going to be worth the trip.’ She gave a little wave towards the rug. ‘Bye, Brodie.’

  The girl raised her own hand to wave back and her face split into a shy smile.

  ‘I think she likes you,’ Will said as he showed Hope to the door that led to the market square. ‘She doesn’t smile for just anyone, you know.’

  Warmth washed over Hope and she was glad all over again that she’d chosen the Matryoshka dolls. ‘That’s good,’ she answered, more than a little touched. ‘Because I like her too.’

  Chapter Six

  Hope wasn’t entirely sure what she’d been expecting a Professor of Egyptology to look like but a tousle-haired, chiselled-cheeked rock god had definitely not been on the list. Embarrassingly, she’d gaped when Ciaran McCormack had crossed the parquet floored entrance hall of the grand King’s Manor campus building to greet her and she felt she’d been on the back foot ever since. Were university professors supposed to wear leather jackets and skinny jeans and look like they’d just come off the Pyramid stage at Glastonbury, she wondered faintly as she sat in his wood-panelled office and watched him study the letter. Did they all have the kind of glorious Irish lilt that made everything they said sound like poetry? Attendance at his lectures had to be through the roof. In fact, he didn’t belong in a classroom at all – she could picture him battling bad guys and saving the world without even breaking a sweat. All he needed was a hat.

  ‘I can see why this letter caught your imagination,’ he said, without looking up. ‘There’s so much that isn’t being said.’

  Hope dragged her gaze from the way his dark hair fell perfectly across his forehead and forced herself to focus on what he’d said. ‘That’s what fascinates me the most. It must have been pressure from her family that made her break off the engagement but she doesn’t actually give a reason. She’s too intent on making sure he knows how much she loves him, which is at odds with the message overall.’

  Professor McCormack looked across the desk at her, his grey eyes interested. ‘So, what’s your theory?’

  She blinked. ‘My theory?’ she repeated, not sure if she understood the question. ‘About who she was?’

  ‘No, I already have a good idea who might have written the letter,’ he said, and leaned back in his chair. ‘But put yourself in her shoes for a moment. What would bring you to end a relationship with a man you knew it would be impossible to live without?’

  Once again, Hope found herself floundering. Of course, she’d wondered what had made the writer cut off all communication with the man she loved, but she hadn’t expected to be sharing that wildly romantic speculation with the expert she’d gone to in search of clues to unravel the mystery. Yet here he was, waiting for her answer with all the patience of a teacher who was used to students being slow to reply, and she knew she was going to have to give him something before he’d share the identity of the letter writer.

  ‘Okay, I do have a theory as it happens,’ she began, and took a deep breath. ‘Whoever B was, she came from a wealthy family – she might possibly have been a member of the aristocracy – and was working on the excavations in the Valley of the Kings. While in Egypt, she fell in love with K, who was outside her social circle and not English, but that didn’t matter to B and they embarked on a secret engagement. She fell ill and returned to England for treatment, where the engagement was discovered by her family, who forced her to break it off.’

  ‘Not bad,’ he said and smiled in a way that simultaneously made Hope feel like a teenager again and caused her stomach to somersault. ‘A few leaps of faith not directly supported by the source material but I can see why you went with them. Now, let’s have a look at the ring.’

  He opened the velvet box Will had given Hope a few days earlier and whistled when he saw the emerald. ‘Now that’s what I call an engagement ring. I’m not surprised it never found its way back to Egypt.’

  Hope sat up a little straighter. ‘So, it is Egyptian? The jeweller who assessed it suspected it might have been made abroad but he couldn’t say where.’

  Professor McCormack held the ring up to the light, admiring it. ‘I can’t be totally sure of the provenance just from looking but the carving is exquisite. And, of course, the scarab beetle is very symbolic – it represented rebirth or regeneration to the Ancient Egyptians. So perhaps this ring was meant to herald the beginning of a new life.’

  ‘I suppose marriage was often seen in that way,’ Hope replied. ‘At least for the woman, who basically left everything she knew behind her.’

  ‘Good point,’ he said and placed the ring back in the box. ‘And, in this particular case, I suspect you’re right to suggest there was a mismatch in status so the marriage would definitely have changed everything.’

  Hope forced herself to ignore her growing sense of impatience. ‘Who do you think wrote the letter?’

  He held up a hand. ‘Let’s not jump the gun. Tell me how you
found it.’

  She explained what had happened – that the Emporium had undertaken a house clearance in York that had included the puzzle box, how it had remained unopened for years until Brodie had solved the puzzle and why that had led Hope to the University in her quest for more information.

  Professor McCormack considered her for a long moment. ‘Have you ever heard of Elenor Lovelace?’

  Hope racked her brains. ‘I’ve heard of Ada Lovelace,’ she said doubtfully.

  ‘Everyone has,’ he said without rancour. ‘Lovelace was a reasonably common surname for centuries – it means lawless or outlaw – and Elenor’s family was distantly related to Ada. But that’s all beside the point. The Right Honourable Elenor Lovelace was one of the most promising female archaeologists of her day. Howard Carter allegedly claimed he might never have found Tutankhamun’s tomb without her and the list of her previous archaeological achievements is impressive.’

  Hope couldn’t help herself. ‘But the letter is signed B.’

  His forehead furrowed into a frown. ‘A nickname, maybe? Term of endearment?’

  Abruptly he stood up and strode to a bookshelf to Hope’s right. ‘I’m sure it’s here somewhere,’ he murmured, trailing one hand along the spines of the titles that lined the top shelf. ‘Five Years at Thebes… The Tombs of Tutankhamun… Ah, here it is!’

  He pulled a slim volume from the bookshelf and held it out so Hope could see the title. ‘Uncovering the Valley of the Kings, by E.E. Brunton,’ she read. ‘I suppose the B could stand for Brunton.’

  But Professor McCormack wasn’t listening. His attention was focused on flipping the pages of the book, scanning each one until he found what he was looking for. ‘This is our girl,’ he said, raising the open book and tapping one finger on a fuzzy black and white photograph of what was clearly a group in front of a sizeable archaeological dig. ‘Elenor Beatrice Lovelace, who was born in York in before the turn of the century and vanished without trace in 1923.’

  ‘Vanished?’ Hope echoed, staring at the photo in consternation. ‘What do you mean vanished?’